Eric Flint: Mother of Demons

But Kopporu maintained her silence. She had already lost much of the prestige with which she had entered the meeting. What little she retained would vanish if she engaged in a futile religious debate with the Great Mother. Most battle leaders believed in the existence of the demons, but it was a difficult thing to prove. Especially to old clan leaders, who did not look kindly upon new concepts.

Eventually, the discussion turned to battle stratagems. Kopporu knew that it would be a distressingly short discussion.

Amass our invincible warriors. Attack.

It was a method of battle which had served the Kiktu well in their various clashes with neighboring tribes. Not only did they outnumber any of the other tribes, but even when faced with combinations of tribes the Kiktu had always been able to rely on the justly famed individual prowess of their warriors and battlemothers.

It was difficult to argue with success. But Kopporu knew that the underlying reason for their victories against other tribes was simple:

Because the other tribes fight as we do.

The Kiktu methods had even served, in the past, to defeat invading Anshac legions. But Kopporu had participated in the last battle with an Anshac legion, as a young warrior. She had been stunned by the military effectiveness of the disciplined and organized tactics used by the legion. True, the Kiktu had won the battle. But they had greatly outnumbered the legionnaires, and, even so, had suffered three times the casualties.

In the years which followed, as she rose in status until she became a battle leader, Kopporu had attempted to adopt Anshac tactics to the extent possible. She had never been able to use the Anshac methods as much as she would have liked, of course. The inveterate individualism of the Kiktu warrior was a constant obstacle, as was their loosely organized tribal society.

Despite her efforts, the traditional tactics still prevailed. And those tactics would be disastrous against the Utuku.

They are the most brutal and vicious tribe which has ever existed on the Meat of the Clam. But they do not fight like savages. Their discipline is even harsher than that of the Anshac legions. The Utuku tactics are crude and simple. But what does that matter-when the Utuku warriors fight like mindless clams? And there are so many of them!

As she pondered these thoughts, Kopporu was waiting for the right moment to speak. It came unexpectedly-a gift handed her by the braggart Taktoko.

"And where does Kopporu wish to muster her warriors? In the rear-guarding the gana?"

Silence fell over the meeting. Only the faint sound of the wind-most of its force reduced by the ganahide walls which surrounded the leaders, isolating them from the curious tympani of the tribespeople-could be heard.

Kopporu rose slowly to her peds. She said nothing; simply stared at Taktoko for a long moment. With amusement, she noted the traces of pink which rippled through Taktoko's mantle.

Taktoko has just remembered that I am the best warrior as well as battle leader in this group. Not the best in the tribe-by a small margin. But more than good enough to peel her mantle.

Taktoko was nervously watching Kopporu's mantle, but Kopporu let not a trace of her emotions show.

Taktoko fears blue rage. Ironic-what I fear is a trace of green relief. The arrogant fool has given me exactly what I needed.

When she was certain that she had her emotions under control, Kopporu allowed black to darken her mantle. Her arms assumed the gesture of command. She spoke.

"I will lead the right flank. I demand the privilege, since my courage has been insulted."

As she expected, there was no argument. Several of the clan leaders spoke sharply on the subject of proper conduct in debate, rebuking Taktoko. In soft voices-still loud enough to be overheard-two of the battle leaders exchanged quips as to the probable position of Taktoko. (The old leader's high clan status was not accompanied by any comparable reputation on the battlefield.) The Great Mother even interjected a remark concerning Kopporu's unquestioned valor.

By Kiktu battle standards, leadership of the flanks was considered the most prestigious position. There were no tribesmen to guard one's unprotected side. True, in this coming battle, the small Opoktu tribe would marshall on the right-but the Kiktu did not consider the Opoktu comparable to themselves as warriors. Kopporu herself did not share that general assessment. She had found the Opoktu as brave as any gukuy, within the limits imposed upon them by their small numbers. She even admired them for their cleverness, and was on good personal terms with their battle leader Lukpudo.

In the coming battle, moreover, the right flank was considered the most dangerous position. The Kiktu on the right would be against the Lolopopo Swamp, with little of the maneuvering room that the warriors preferred.

Uncertain allies, and a swamp at my side. They think me brave because of that, when it is those two factors that I will need in order to accomplish She hesitated, grieved, completed the thought:

My treason.

That night, in the yurt she shared with Aktako, she finally told her the truth. She was hesitant, but knew she had no choice. Aktako was her most trusted lieutenant, as well as her lover. Without her conscious assistance, the plan could not succeed.

She had expected resistance, even vehement resistance. But she had underestimated Aktako. After listening to the plot, the old veteran simply whistled softly-not in fear, but in admiration.

"I knew you were weaving some kind of scheme, but I didn't realize how big it was. You always did have a better brain than me."

Kopporu began stumbling through an apology, in which the word "treason" featured prominently, but Aktado cut her off with a rude hoot.

"That's nothing but shit! It's not your fault the clan leaders are idiots. You're just trying to save something out of the wreckage."

Ochre indecision mottled Kopporu's mantle.

"But how can you be so sure I'm right? What if we defeat the Utuku?"

"Then we defeat them, and life is simple. No one will ever know what you were planning except me." A whistle of amusement. "And maybe those swampsnails you've been collecting around you-for reasons which mystified me until tonight."

"They will say nothing. And I told the clan leaders-those few who asked-that I wanted the swamp-dwellers for scouts. To make sure the Utuku didn't surprise us by coming through the swamp."

Aktako's whistle combined amazement and humor.

"And they believed you?"

"I think so. They give almost no thought to the nature of the enemy, Aktako. The Utuku would never come through the swamp. Their tactics are designed for dry land-flat, open areas. In the swamp, they would be at a great disadvantage."

"That's what you're counting on, isn't it?"

"Yes. That and-" She paused, brown misery washing over her. "And the fact that the Utuku will be wallowing in their victory."

Brown rippled across Aktako's mantle as well. But within a short time, the brown deepened to black.

"Life is what it is, Kopporu. We do what we must. I have always taught you that-from the first day you joined my battle group."

The veteran stroked Kopporu's arms.

"So bright and fierce you were. And beautiful. I thought for sure you'd choose one of the younger and better looking veterans."

Kopporu whistled derision. "I may have been young, but I wasn't stupid. Much good it does you to have a pretty lover when the forks are shattering. I knew what I wanted-a scarred old warrior, wise in battle."

The two gukuy gazed at each other lovingly. Theirs was an unusual romance. Most Kiktu warriors went through a succession of lovers, but Kopporu and Aktako had been together for eightyweeks. At another time, under other circumstances, their mantles would already be turning white with passion. But on that night of sorrow, there was only the soft green of long affection.