neetha Napew - Son Of Spellsinger

“What’s that you say?” Chi-churog leaned forward, and Buncan remembered having read something about meerkats having exceptional powers of hearing. “Your great friend is already asleep?” The village leader burst out laughing in a series of sharp, squeaky barks, similar to but higher-pitched than that of the otters. “He should rest well tonight, men. As will you all.

“Tomorrow we will have the Ceremony.”

With studied diffidence Buncan slid the duar off his shoulders and laid it across his knees, making a pretext of checking the tightness of the strings. He tried to sound nonchalant. “What ceremony?”

“The Ceremony of Fertilization.” Chi-churog glanced at the roof of the tent. “Tomorrow night the moon will be full. We need to ensure that our fields will be also.”

Buncan untensed, his muscles relaxing. For a moment his natural suspicions had gotten the better of him. “What is this Ceremony of Fertilization?” However it was performed, he mused, it sounded anything but threatening.

“You have seen our fields.”

“Wonderfully kept they are, too.” Gragelouth was at his obsequious best.

Chi-churog accepted the compliment with a nod. “We are proud of what we have wrought from the Tamas. Our fields do more than sustain us; they provide us with the means to live well in a place where few others can even survive. We tend them as if our lives depend on them, which they certainly do. The Xi-Murogg wandered the Tamas for many years before finding and settling in this place. Since then we have cared for the soil of this canyon as if it were our own flesh. We have ample labor, and enough water. Only one shortage complicates our work.”

“I wondered about that,” Gragelouth admitted.

What are they talking about? Buncan mused. Though he’d been following the conversation closely, he felt suddenly lost.

Chi-churog stared evenly at Gragelouth. “You are perceptive, traveler. Many successful seasons have thinned and weakened this earth. Rain carries some nutrients down from the surrounding rim, but it is not nearly enough. Our springs run clear and clean, which in this case is less than helpful. We make use of the dung of our riding and pulling animals, but even this is limited in the results it can achieve.

“Therefore, whenever the occasion presents itself we miss no opportunity to lavish upon our precious sustaining fields whatever additional fertilizers may become available.”

Gragelouth smiled demurely. “If you would like to add our personal by-products to your efforts we will be happy to accommodate you, but except for what Snaugenhutt can produce I fear you will be disappointed.”

Chi-churog put the stub of his second smoking stick aside. “You underestimate yourself, sloth.” He grinned, his black nose twitching. “Crops do well on dung, but better by far on blood and bone.”

At which point Buncan knew exactly what had happened to the bodies of the original owners of the mounted skulls he had encountered earlier.

CHAPTER 19

With speed no one imagined he possessed, Gragelouth sprinted for the exit and straight into the arms of the half dozen guards waiting outside. Buncan wrestled his duar into position while Squill and Neena lunged for their weapons.

The meerkats and rats and ground squirrels were too fast. They poured into the tent and swarmed the travelers, too many for the otters, too quick for Buncan. Viz made a dive for the doorway and flew straight into a waiting net. Squill managed one good Sword stroke, slicing an overanxious meerkat from groin to armpit, before he went down under five or six assailants. Without Snaugenhutt’s aid they didn’t stand a chance in close quarters, and Snaugenhutt was apparently indisposed until morning.

They wouldn’t nave until morning.

It was all over in less man a minute.

It wouldn’t have mattered if the otters had fumbled for lyrics instead of weapons. The duar was quickly wrenched from Duncan’s fingers. Not because the Xi-Murogg had any idea it possessed unique powers, but because it was large and well made and if properly wielded could conceivably bash in an unwary meerkat’s skull. Which was just what the furious Buncan wanted to do, except that his hands and feet were being rapidly and expertly bound.

Anyone who could bind an otter to the point where it couldn’t move, much less free itself, knew how to handle ropes and knots, he reflected. If Squill and Neena couldn’t get loose, he knew he’d only be wasting time and energy trying.

In moments the travelers had been reduced to so many impotent bundles flopping futilely on the mats. Gragelouth was trussed so tight he couldn’t move, while Viz’s wings had been secured to his sides and his feet bound at the ankles.

Satisfied, their confident assailants left them to gaze longingly at then- weapons and worldly goods, which had been tossed in an indifferent pile in the center of the tent. Viz hung upside down from a cross-pole, bemoaning his fate.

“First trussed, next dressed?” Prom his ignominious position he glared at the contemplative Chi-churog.

The village leader winced at the affront. “We are not cannibals. We do not eat intelligent beings. Do you think we of the Xi-Murogg are uncivilized?”

Squill would have replied, except that Neena shot him a look threatening sudden death if he so much as opened his mouth. Under the circumstances it wasn’t much of a threat, but her brother kept silent anyway. Not, Buncan thought, that any otterish invective could make their situation any worse.

Chi-churog continued. “You will be drained of blood. This is not an unpleasant way to die. One drifts first into unawareness, then sleep, and finally death.”

“Yeah?” said the incorrigible Squill, unable to remain quiet for more than a minute. “ ‘Ow about you give us a demonstration, guv?”

The village leader did not deign to respond. “Afterward your bodies will be pulverized and ground to powder. During the height of the full moon you will be sown upon the fields of the Xi-Murogg. This is an honorable passing. That of which your bodies are made will contribute to the production of food and to the continued health of new, young individuals.”

“You can’t rationalize it,” Viz chirped from his inverted position. “It’s cannibalism by any name.”

“It is not.” Chi-churog was unmoved. “Your passing will inspire new life.”

“Because we’re bleedin’ unlucky enough to ‘ave arrived just before the full moon,” Neena muttered.

Chi-churog strolled over to peer down at her tightly bound form. “Blood and bone can be preserved between ceremonies. A full moon simply provides better light for the process of sowing. The presence in the night sky of a new moon, or a half-moon, would not have altered your fate.” “Gee, I feel much better now,” she said sardonically. Chi-churog stretched. “It is time to rest, but not here. If you moan and scream and disturb our sleep, it will be necessary to gag you as well. I would rather not do that. Your last night should be as comfortable as possible. Within reason.” He departed in the company of two guards. “I go first to check the ropes on your large friend. He is several fields’ worth of fecundity unto himself.”

A single meerkat was left to watch over them. Given the condition of their bindings, even one guard seemed superfluous, Buncan thought. They had been tied with fiendish invention. He could barely move his fingers, let alone a hand. No chance of working the heavy leather thongs against one another behind his back. His legs were bound at the ankles and knees. If he struggled too much, he’d probably fall over onto his side.

At least he was able to rest his back against one of the tent poles. Squill and Neena had been left on their sides, facing the center of the tent. Their bindings were secured to pegs hammered into the floor. They couldn’t even turn over. Like Buncan, Gragelouth had been favored with a sitting position. In addition to the usual thongs, leather mittens had been fastened over his hands and feet to make sure he could not make use of his heavy, albeit closely trimmed, claws. In his upside-down position Viz was less than helpless. Their captors were taking no chances.