It appeared Sol needed no advice on terms of combat.
Sav took it philosophically. "I looked pretty foolish, didn't I, after all my talk," he said, and that was all. He didn't mope and he made no further overtures to Sola.
The law of averages Sos had read about indicated that it would be a couple of weeks before they encountered any really able warrior. That afternoon, notwithstanding, they met two men with swords, Tor and Tyl. The first was swarthy and greatbearded, the second slim and cleanshaven. Sworders often shaved, as did daggers; it was an unofficial mark of their specialty, since it subtly hinted their skill with the blade. Sos had tried to shave with his sword once and had sliced his face severely; after that he stuck to the shears and did not try for closeness. There were electric razors in the ëabins, though few men condescended to use them. He had never understood why it should be considered degrading to use the crazies' razors, while all right to eat their food, but that was the way convention had it.
Both sworders were married, and Tor had a little girl. They were friends, but it turned out that Tyl was the master of the group of two. Both agreed to fight, Tor first, with the stipulation that what he won belonged to Tyl. That was the way of a tribe of any size.
Against Tor, Sol took a matching sword. These were straight, flat, slashing instruments twenty inches long, pointed but seldom used for stabbing. Sword contests were usually dramatic and swift. Unfortunately, wounds were frequent, too, and deaths not uncommon. That was why Sol had taken the staff against Sos, weeks ago; he had really been sure Of his skill and had not wanted to risk injuring his opponent seriously.
"His wife and daughter are watching," Sola murmured beside him. "Why does he match weapons?"
Sos understood her question to mean Tora and Tori as spectators and Sol's matching sword to sword. "Because Tyl is also watching," he told her.
Tor was powerful and launched. a vigorous attack, while Sol merely fended him off. Then Sol took his turn on the offense, hardly seeming to make an effort yet pressing the other man closely. After that there was a pause in the circle as neither attacked.
"Yield," Tyl said to his man.
Tor stepped out and it was over, bloodlessly after all. The little girl gaped, not understanding, and Sola shared this confusion, but Sos had learned two important things. First, he had seen that Tor was an expert sworder who might very well have defeated Sos himself in combat. Second, he knew Tyl was even better. This was a rare pair to come upon so casually, after going so long without meeting anyone of caliber-except that that was the way the averages worked.
Sola had thought that sword against sword meant inevitable bloodshed, but in this situation the truth was opposite. Tor had felt out Sol, and been felt out in turn, neither really trying for a crippling blow. Tyl had watched, not his own man whose capabilities he knew, but Sol, and made his judgment. He had seen what Sos had seen: that Sol possessed a clear advantage in technique and would almost certainly prevail in the end. Tyl had been sensible: he had yielded his man before the end came, accepting the odds. Perhaps the little girl was disappointed, thinking her father invulnerable-but her education in this respect would have been rude indeed.
"I see," Sola said, keeping her voice law. "But suppose they had been just about even?'
Sos didn't bother to answer.
As it was, Sol had won painlessly again, and added a good man to his roster. Only by employing a weapon Tyl knew well could he have made his point so clearly.
Sos had maintained a wait-and-see attitude on Sol's plans for empire, knowing how much more than speed and versatility in the circle was required. His doubts were rapidly evaporating. If Sol could perform like this in the time of his weakness, there seemed to be no practical limit to his capabilities as he regained strength. He had now demonstrated superlative proficiency with staff, club and sword, and had never been close to defeat. There seemed to be no barrier to continued additions to his tribe.
Tyl stood up and presented a surprise of his own: he set aside his sword and brought out a pair of singlesticks. He was a man of two weapons and had decided not to tackle Sol with the one just demonstrated.
Sol only smiled and drew out his own sticks. The fight was swift and decisive, as Sos had expected after witnessing the skill of Sol's wrist. The four sticks flashed and spun, striking, thrusting and blocking, acting both as dull swords and light staffs. This was a special art, for two implements had to be controlled and parried simultaneously, and excellent coordination was required. It was hardly possible for those outside the circle to tell which man had the advantage-until one stick flew out of the circle, and Tyl backed, out, half disarmed and defeated. There was blood on the knuckles of his left hand where the skin had been broken by Sol's connection.
Yet bruises were appearing upon Sol's body, too, and blood dripped from a tear over his eye. The battle bad not been one-sided.
Three men now belonged to his group, and two were not beginners.
Two weeks later Sos had his twenty men. He led them back toward the badlands, while Sol went on alone except for Sola.
CHAPTER SIX
"Pitch your tents well up on the hillside, two men or one family to a unit, with a spare pack stacked across the river," Sos directed the group when they arrived in the valley. "Two men will walk guard day and night around the perimeter; the rest will work by day and be confined to their tents by night, without exception. The night guards will be entirely covered with mesh at all times and will scrupulously avoid any contact with the flying white moths. There will be a four-man hunting party and a similar carrying party each day. The rest will dig our trench."
"Why?" one man demanded. "What's the point of all this foolishness?" It was Nar, a blustering dagger who did not accept orders readily.
Sos told them why.
"You expect us to believe such fantastic stories by a man without a weapon?" Nar shouted indignantly. "A man who raises birds instead of fighting?"
Sos held his temper. He had known that something like this would come up. There was always some boor who thought that honor and courtesy did not extend beyond the cirele. "You will stand guard tonight. If you don't choose to believe me, open your face and arms to the moths," He made the other assignments, and the men got busy setting up the camp.
Tyl approached him. "If there is trouble with the men ." he murmured.
Sos understood him. "Thanks," he said gruffly.
There was time that afternoon to mark off the trench he had in mind. Sos took a crew of men and laid out light cord, tying it to pegs hammered into the ground at suitable intervals. In this fashion, they marked off a wide semicircle enclosing the packs stored beside the river with a radius of about a quarter mile.
They ate from stored rations well before dusk, and Sos made a personal inspection of all tents, insisting that any defects be corrected immediately. The object was to have each unit tight: no space open large enough for a moth to crawl through. There were grumbles, but it was done. As night filled the valley, all but the two marching guards retired to their tents, there to stay sealed in until daylight.
Sos turned in, satisfied. It was a good beginning. He wondered where the moths hid during the day, where neither sun nor shrew could find them.
Say, who shared his tent, was not so optimistic. "There's going to be trouble in Red River Valley," he remarked in his forthright manner.
"Red River Valley?"
"From that song you hum all the time. I know 'em all. Won't you think of the valley you're leaving, Oh, how lonely and sad it will be; Oh, think of the fond heart you're breaking, and the grief-'"
"All right!" Sos exclaimed, embarrassed.
"Well, they aren't going to like digging and carrying," Sav continued, his usually amiable face serious. "And the kids'll be hard to keep in at night. They don't pay much attention to regulations, you know. If any of them get stung and die-"
"Their parents will blame me. I know." Discipline was mandatory. It would be necessary to make a convincing demonstration before things got out of hand.
The opportunity came sooner than he liked. In the morning Nar was discovered in his tent. He had not been stung by the moths. He was sound asleep.
Sos called an immediate assembly. He pointed out three men at random. "You are official witnesses. Take note of everything you see this morning and remember it." They nodded, perplexed.
"Take away the children," he said next. Now the mothers were upset, knowing that they were about to miss something important; but in a,few minutes only the men and about half the women remained.
He summoned Nar. "You are accused of dereliction in the performance of your duty. You were assigned to mount guard, but you slept in the tent instead. Have you any defense to make?"
Nar was vexed at being caught but decided to bluster it Out. "What are you going to do about it, bird-man?"
This was the awkward point. Sos could not take up his sword and remain true to his oath, though he had no doubt of his ability to handle this man in the circle. He could not afford to wait the weeks until Sol would show up again. He had to take action now.
"Children might have died through your neglect," he said. "A tent might have been torn unnoticed, or the shrews might have come after all by night. Until we have security from these dangers, I can not allow one man's laziness to endanger the group."
"What danger? How come none of us have seen this terrible horde of itty-bitty critters?" Nar exclaimed, laughing. There were a few smiles around the group. Sos saw that Sav was not smiling; he had predicted this.
"I'm granting you a trial, however," Sos said evenly. "By combat."
Nar drew his two daggers, still laughing. "I'm gonna carve me a big bird!"
"Take care of the matter, Tyl," Sos said, turning away. He forced his muscles to relax so that he would not show his tension, knowing that he would be branded a coward.
Tyl stepped forward, drawing his sword. "Make a circle," he said.
"Now just a minute!" Nar protested, alarmed. "It's him I got the fight with. Bird-brain, there."
Stupid perched on Sos's shoulder, and for once he wished the bird's loyalty lay elsewhere.
"You owe service to Sol," Tyl said, "and the forfeit is your life, as it is for all of us. He appointed Sos leader of this party, and Sos has appointed me to settle matters of discipline."
"All right!" Nar shouted, brazen through his fear. "Try one of these in your gut!"
Sos continued to face away as the sounds of battle commenced. He was not proud of himself or of what he had to do, but he had seen no alternative. If this action served to prevent recurrences, it was worth it. It had to be.
There was a scream and a gurgle, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground. Tyl came up to stand beside him, wiping the bright life blood from his sword. "He was found guilty," he said gently.
Why, then, was it Sos who felt guilty?
In a week the trench was complete, and the crews were working on the ramp just inside it. Sos insisted that the bottom of the trench be level and that the water be diverted to flow through it steadily. "Little dribble like that won't stop the beasties," Say remarked dubiously. "Anyhow, didn't you say they could swim?"
"Right." Sos went on to supervise the installation of mounted fire-strikers, set in the inner edge of the trench and spaced every hundred yards.
Meanwhile the bearers were hauling drums of alcohol from all cabins in range-but not for drinking. They were stored at intervals along the ramp.
Another week passed, and still the shrews did not come. A row of battle circles was set up, and a huge central tent fashioned of sewn family-tent sheets-but the group continued to camp at night in the tight little tents across the river. The hunting parties reported that game was moving into the area: deer and wild goats, followed by wolves and large cats and a few fierce pigs, as well as more numerous rodents. There was fresh meat for all.
Tyl went on enforcing discipline, usually with the sticks; one execution, though of doubtful validity, had been enough. But the seeming pointlessness of the labor made the men surly; they were accustomed to honorable fighting, not menial construction, and they did not like taking orders from a coward who bore no weapon.
"It would be better if you did it yourself," Sav said, commenting on one of Tyl's measures. "It needs to be done-we all know that-but when he does it it makes him the leader. No one respects you-and that bird doesn't help much, either."
Sav was such a harmless, easygoing sort that it was impossible to take offense at what he said. It was true: Sos was accomplishing his purpose at the expense of his reputation, which had not been good to begin with. None of these people knew the circumstances of his deprivation of weapons or his bond to Sol, and he did not care to publishize it.
Tyl was the de facto leader of the valley group-and if Sol did not return, Tyl would surely take over. He had had aspirations for a tribe of his own, and he was a highly skilled warrior. Like Sol, he had spurned inept opponents, and so hid accumulated only one tribesman in his travels; but also like Sol, he was quick enough to appreciate what could be,done with ordinary men once the way was shown. Was he being genuinely helpful-or was he biding his time while he consolidated the group around himself?
Sos could not carry a weapon. He was dependent upon Tyl's good will and his own intellectual abilities. He had a year of service to give, and he meant to complete it honorably. After that-
At night it was Sola's face he saw, and Sola's body. he felt touching his, her hair upon his shoulder. Here, too, he would never prevail without a weapon. The truth was that he was as dangerous to Sol's ambitions as was Tyl, because he wanted what only complete leadership would bring. Sola would not accept the bracelet of the second warrior of the tribe, or the third or fourth. She had been candid about that.