The Peasant (24 page)

“Lady Water,” Snarling Jaguar said petulantly, “I felt so insulted by the Lord General's rude assault on my person yesterday! Nine months.”

“Not unreasonable, considering what you endured. Unless Sparkling Stream decides she wants to stay longer, I agree.” My niece will do whatever I tell her, Bubbling Water thought. If I ask Sparkling Stream to continue to bear children for Stalking Jaguar and spy for me, she'll obey without blinking.

“We have one more matter to discuss, Lady. What are you going to do with my seed, eh?”

She feigned shock. “
I
, Lord?”

Interrupting further protest, Snarling Jaguar shook a large ebony finger at her. “Don't fool yourself, eh? I'm not like the Lord General, who disseminates freely and copiously, leaving a trail of offspring.”

She laughed, liking his misuse of the language. “I've considered asking something from you, Lord. Your trading the talented tiger to that despicable bandit gave me the idea. What prompted the trade, anyway?”

“My brother had a vision. 'Purring Tiger will need a helpful companion when she gets older,' he said, suggesting the trade to me and Scowling Tiger.”

“Is the Lord Elk's talent controlled?”

He shook his head. “Spontaneous, like yours.”

“Anyway, what I want from you is a tame, talented grizzly for my mate. What do you want in return for such an animal?”

“Possession of the Lord General himself! Do you know what you're asking? Those animals require generations to develop! You can't interest me.”

“Not even with children?”

“How many?” Snarling Jaguar asked.

Bubbling Water laughed at his sudden change of mind. “Four.”

“Six,” he countered, “all borne by daughters of the Matriarchy.”

“You're going to mate with
six
of my daughters? They'll turn you into an old man before you're done!”

“I'd rather fornicate with you and have you bear the children.”

“If only I could—I've borne my last child, Lord. While I haven't reached menopause, my old husk won't survive another birth.”

“That old husk looks like it just went through puberty.” Loosening her sash, Snarling Jaguar sampled the firmness of a breast. Warmth spread through her body like morning sun chasing away the chill of night. “Besides, Lady Water,” he added, his cheek on her sternum, “I know what a nefarious woman will do with an eminent man's seed. Perhaps your own body's too old, but half your daughters would beg you to inseminate them, eh?”

“True,” she conceded, “but I thought you wanted the children to be mine.”

“Oh, I do, but your body—”

“My ova are perfectly healthy,” Bubbling Water interrupted, indignant.

“Oh,” he said. “Six children conceived of your ova and my sperm but borne by your daughters, in trade for a tame, talented menagerie grizzly. What about the children's gender?”

“Any combination you'd like, Lord.”

“Eh? You'd relinquish a daughter?”

“Why shouldn't I? I know that's not the custom, but I rarely let custom proscribe my behavior.”

“Three of each then. I, uh, don't have a young grizzly in my menagerie, but I'll breed one.”

“Good, and I'll keep the children until you breed and train the grizzly to your satisfaction and deliver it. I warn you; I'll have the animal examined and rejected if I find it has questionable loyalties—as I suspect the tiger does.”

Snarling Jaguar chuckled. “Oh, Lady Water, you're more astute a bargainer than the bandit Scowling Tiger. So much more astute!”

“Thank you, Lord.” Bubbling Water smiled. “Are we agreed?”

“Agreed. You weren't lying when you said pleasure is a business with you.”

“No, Lord—and your pleasure is my highest order of business.”

Snarling Jaguar guffawed, reaching for her hungrily.

T
heir shared values brought them together. Their shared outrage at the inequities of their society gave them purpose. Since neither fit well within the rigid strata of their respective origins, the contrasts of their stations complemented each other. They both sought to change themselves and those around them. They both succeeded beyond their ambitions.—
Noble and Peasant
, by the Matriarch Rippling Water.

* * *

Sighing, the medacor Calming Touch entered the tapestry-walled room inside the main tent of the Imperial Jaguar Entourage. Looking down at Guarding Bear, she reflected how cruel and calculating the Matriarch could be, even toward her own mate. Bubbling Water had ordered her to keep Guarding Bear sedated until the Emperor Snarling Jaguar had transported him across the border. He looks so old and helpless, Calming Touch thought.

She'd disobeyed the letter of the Matriarch's instructions. Calming Touch had disabled Guarding Bear's body with a neural block, not a sedative, suspending his mind in a whirling storm of thought bereft of all sensory input. The effect was the same as sedation but less of a threat to the General's health. Calming Touch didn't know how long he'd have to remain unconscious. Prolonged sedation would sicken anyone.

Probing the edge of the damper field, Calming Touch assured herself it was still on. Satisfied all was well, she yawned and prepared herself for sleep. Weariness washed over her as she stripped to her loincloth and halter. She felt so tired! Yawning again, she crawled between the blankets on the pallet beside Guarding Bear's. Soon, Calming Touch slept so soundly she didn't hear anyone enter.

* * *

The person peeked between tapestries at the medacor's sleeping form and smiled, then looked at the sedated General. Stealthily, the figure slipped into the enclosure and stepped toward Guarding Bear. A hand too large for the small body adjusted a few dials on a shield unit, placed the unit beside the damper generator, and turned a switch. An electrically-generated shield, about the same size as the damper field, enclosed Guarding Bear. The person then flipped a switch on the square damper unit; the globular pattern collapsed. From the outside, shields looked little different from dampers, the interference pattern the same. Shield units generated hollow shells, damper units, solid globes.

That same oversized hand reached for the General's throat.

* * *

Guarding Bear stirred when it touched him. “Eh?” he said drowsily.

A long finger on the hand touched his lips. Looking at the person through sleepy eyes, Guarding Bear nodded his understanding. A finger across the lips meant silence in any language. The slight figure rose, stepped to a tapestry, and nudged it aside to look beyond. Nodding, the person moved to the sleeping medacor and peered into her face. Smiling, he returned to Guarding Bear's side.

“We can talk now, Lord Bear,” Healing Hand said quietly. “She won't wake up until
I
wake her up.”

“She's keeping me asleep until I'm safe in the Southern Empire?” He too spoke quietly, guessing someone might easily hear them through the flimsy walls. “Is this Snarling Jaguar's tent?” The boy nodded. Guarding Bear asked, “How did
you
get here?”

Healing Hand grinned. “I followed the Lady Water when she brought you here this afternoon. Then someone saw me, and Snarling Jaguar sent a guard after me. They made me bathe with them, then I slipped away from Stalking Jaguar. I hate baths, Lord Bear, don't you?”

“They're a gift of the Infinite, Hand. She traded me, eh?”

“To Snarling Jaguar. Something about a consort for you, Lord Bear. Her name's Sparkling Stream. She's very pretty. Why's Snarling Jaguar getting you
and
Sparkling Stream?”

“I'm a hostage, Hand. I've never been a hostage before.” Guarding Bear sighed and lay back on the pillows. “How did the negotiations go? Were you watching the flow? What happened after I attacked Snarling Jaguar?”

The boy grinned. “Some say the Infinite's addled your brains. Others say you
must
be brave to attack an armed Emperor with your bare hands, eh?”

“Stupid's another word.”

“That's the one I'd use.”

Guarding Bear covered his mouth with both hands to keep from laughing. “I've done stupid things in my life, but never
this
stupid. Now Flying Arrow's howling for my head.”

“Oh,
now
I understand. Snarling Jaguar gets Sparkling Stream for keeping you safe until Flying Arrow stops howling. Bubbling Water's got such good shields I couldn't find all her reasons for bringing you here.”

“You probed her?”

Healing Hand nodded. “Wasn't easy—like I said, good shields.”

Snorting, Guarding Bear shook his head, knowing how strong her shields were. She could fend off Lurking Hawk's probe if she needed. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you. Was attacking Snarling Jaguar like pissing on the feet of Emperors?”

Guarding Bear peered at the boy. “I thought you were
asleep
when I finished that story!”

Healing Hand grinned, his large palms open at his shoulders.

Chuckling, Guarding Bear tousled the boy's hair affectionately. “You're special, Healing Hand; I like you. You came here to see me?”

The blond-haired boy nodded.

Warmth spread through Guarding Bear. “Thank you, my friend.”

Healing Hand smiled. “Will you tell me a story?”

“You
do
like my stories, eh? Where did I leave off?”

“Last time you told me about Smoking Arrow. That wasn't as good as the one about the Lady Water, though. That one was sad, but good.”

Guarding Bear chuckled. “I'm glad you enjoyed it.” Wondering what story to tell, the garrulous General began to talk aimlessly at first, finding direction as he spoke.

Lowering himself to the edge of the pallet, Healing Hand sat beside the General.

“My 'vacation' in the Southern Empire might prove interesting. Perhaps I can learn something about our neighbors to the south, eh? Besides, Flying Arrow will kick my corpse if I don't go, not realizing I keep Scowling Tiger from organizing the bandits. Who else keeps the Empire safe from them, eh? I do, even though I don't really
do
anything except distract him. Scowling Tiger has sent so many assassins, I lost count about five years ago. How do I tell Flying Arrow I'm the one who'll keep snatching his sack from their vise?”

Guarding Bear sighed. “I'm not indispensable, though, am I? No man is. Perhaps we each influence the course of events a little, as I did in the Caven Hills. Hand, sometimes I forget how much I've helped my Empire. Over the course of ten years, I changed the face of that wild unruly land.”

* * *

A month after my first audience with the Imperial Ruling Council, tragedy struck. The Empress Steaming Water miscarried. The Empire mourned the loss, and Smoking Arrow was inconsolable. Even though they'd mated ten years before, the Empress had conceived only once. I heard later that the reason her womb stirred so little was her tempestuous moods. The Imperial Shrew, we often called her.

At the time of her miscarriage, I was in the Caven Hills, preparing for the winter rains. To water the next year's crops, we needed reservoirs. In less than a month my brother and I'd supervised the construction of five earthen dams. The neighboring Prefects didn't like our taking their water, but because of the Emperor's mandate, they could only pull their hair and rend their clothes.

To stop them from becoming too interested in our land, we terraced from the center of the hills outward. Others had tried what we were doing. They'd tamed the outskirts of the Caven Hills first, then extended their control toward the center, forcing the natives off the land as they went. Once tamed, the land drew the attention of neighboring Prefects, who sought only to extend their own domains hectare by hectare. They couldn't see the region as a unified whole. When the natives saw what the outlanders harvested from land formerly theirs, they'd reclaim it by force. That's why previous efforts to tame the wild hills withered like a vine stripped of unripe grapes, the harvest sour.

From the center of the Caven Hills, near Bastion Valley, Brazen Bear and I began our terracing. We'd already tried our idea on a limited scale. We'd terraced the first farm a few weeks after we massacred the Imperial Battalion. The yield from that one single-family farm was greater than the harvests of whole villages. With results like that to show the natives, we easily convinced them to adopt our methods. They clamored for our help, but we didn't have the people or resources to help them all.

Terracing is a multi-stage process that requires a kinathon and chemathon to combine their talents. First a chemathon tests the soil quality to determine the content of decomposition—how much of it is phosphates, nitrogen, carbonaceous matter, and so on. Below a certain percent of each, the land isn't worth cultivating. Above a certain percent, a telekinetic clears away most of the brush. To husband the fragile ecology, Brazen Bear and I insisted on leaving the larger trees and sometimes whole hillsides of indigenous flora. Then the kinathon and chemathon combine their talents. While the kinathon sifts rock from soil, the chemathon fuses the rocks together to form a wall. Against this wall, the kinathon piles soil already sifted. To get the highest-grade soil and the strongest walls, a kinathon has to sift the earth several times.

Most the kinathon-chemathon teams I've seen can make a terrace only at ten linear feet per hour. We had only thirty kinathons and fifteen chemathons with enough skill to terrace the steep, rocky hills. Even so, I encouraged them to work slowly and thoroughly. The difference would show when crops grew the next year. The soil where they'd worked patiently grew lush, thick plants, and elsewhere sickly, stunted ones.

The work was slow. Only ten farms were ready for planting. We expected a yield worth a thousand taels, if the sun shined when we needed it, if the rain rained when we needed it, if the insects didn't eat too much. I despaired that we'd have no more than a tenth of the Caven Hills terraced in ten years, when I'd promised Smoking Arrow we'd have it
all
done.

The day Bubbling Water arrived, I was surveying an area near Bastion Valley, where Brazen Bear and I wanted to build our castle. Being the geographic center of the Caven Hills, Bastion would become our redoubt, the eyry from which we'd watch the world.

On the psychic flow, a border guard near Nest reported that a contingent of several hundred women were requesting permission to enter the Caven Hills. Leading them was the Matriarch Bubbling Water. She asked if she could come to Bastion—as if we'd refuse. I directed the sentry to arrange a small escort for them, and set off toward them with my brother and a contingent of warriors. Being natives, we made better time than they. The lack of roads must have dismayed those tenderfoot outlander women.

I've never seen a stranger company. On the flow they looked like a traveling brothel—like the armies of whores who follow warriors between battles. They were different of course. Enlivening the mood of the flow, these women were curious about everything they saw. Chattering amongst themselves like a flock of sparrows, they asked their guide more questions than he could answer. I felt how excited they were to be on their adventure, and wondered how long that'd last. The region is cruel and unforgiving, especially toward outlanders and especially during winter.

In the time the women traveled ten miles, we traveled a hundred. Our delegation approached theirs only five miles beyond the Burrow-Eyry road. Bubbling Water called a halt, then came toward our delegation alone.

When I first saw her, I didn't recognize her. Bubbling Water wore her hair bound in a braid. Her thick-soled moccasins reached her knees. Her breeches were a loose, thickly padded cotton. Her fur-lined leather tunic dropped to her thighs. From a distance her face looked severe and sharp. She didn't look happy as she descended the hill, striding like a man. She wasn't wearing an electrical shield—her mindshields were like the stone walls of a castle.

Our company bowed as she reached the base of hill.

Nodding, she said, “Infinite be with you, Bear.”

“And with you, Lady Matriarch,” I replied, introducing her to the ten warriors in our delegation.

“Where'd you find so many beautiful women, Lady?” Brazen Bear asked.

She smiled, a mere crack in her ice. Nearly everyone liked Brazen Bear instantly, so I wondered what was bothering her. “Would you and the warriors help them set up camp? We're done traveling for the day.”

“Happily, Lady Matriarch.” Bowing, Brazen Bear gestured the warriors to follow him.

A cold wind began to blow as the contingent climbed the hill. Bubbling Water looked at me. I saw her deep, deep sadness. “I'm sorry your sister miscarried,” I said—and instantly wished I hadn't.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. “That was my fault.” She looked off to the north to avoid looking at me.

“Let's walk, eh?” Knowing to ask nothing from her—not even for her to tell me her troubles—I emitted acceptance, guessing she needed that more than anything.

Nodding, she fell into step beside me. Skirting a large boulder, we began to climb a hill, weaving our way through thick manzanita. She slipped once or twice but soon walked on the leaves like a native. “Six weeks ago, before your audience with Smoking Arrow, he and Steaming Water promised Scowling Tiger I'd mate him to redress him for his loss of the Caven Hills. When they told me—last
week
—I was furious, and refused.”

Nodding, I held out my hand to help her over a deadfall.

“Even if I
did
want to mate that fur-licking alley cat, I'd have refused because they didn't ask me first. 'I don't understand,' Steaming Water said. 'Scowling Tiger's the perfect mate. He's young and immensely wealthy. Other than that stupid revolt of those dung-headed peasants, his reputation is immaculate. Why don't you want to mate him?' I couldn't stop myself from laughing in her face.”

Her care-worn face saddened me. “Watch the gopher holes here,” I said. Pushing aside a heavy bough, I let her pass and settled into step beside her.