One of the younglings grunted and his neighbor shouldered him roughly into silence. Encouraged, Furtig ran through his signs slowly, began to tell the same tale again. This was no exchange of general news about the countryside; he must improvise signs to explain things totally new to both their peoples.
And having told it twice, he could only wait to see if he had been clever enough to get his message into a form Broken Nose could understand. For a very long moment he waited and his heart sank. The boar made no move. It could be Furtig had failed. He was about to begin again when Broken Nose grunted.
One of the younger of his band moved forward a little. He squatted clumsily on his haunches, balancing so he could raise one hoofed foot from the ground to gesture or use to draw in the leaf mold.
It was a complicated business that exchange of information. But at last Furtig thought he had the story, and his fur stiffened and he hissed.
The Tuskers had witnessed the landing of the Demon ship, though its final settling to the ground had been hidden by the lairs. The unusual flashing of fire had alarmed Broken Nose. He was old and wily enough to know that suspicion and safety went hand in hand. So he had sent his females and younglings into what he believed good hiding in a rock-walled place where there was but one entrance, which would be well defended by two nonbreeding females, both formidable opponents. Then he, with his warriors, had set out to discover the meaning of the strange fire.
Having prowled along the edge of the flat lands beyond the lairs, they had decided there was no danger and had withdrawn. But they had been starting out of their stronghold among the rocks only this afternoon when the flyer had appeared.
There was a sudden giddiness, a strange feeling in their heads. Even Broken Nose had fallen as one gored. From the belly of the flyer had come what the Tusker could only describe as a long root. This had somehow caught up two of the smallest younglings, jerked them aloft. Then the flyer had gone away.
It was Broken Nose’s firm intention to track down the attacker and wreak full vengeance—though he was clever enough not to charge in, but to scout the enemy position first. And the fact that he had seen the flyer disappear into the lairs had shaken him. For that was country he did not know, and many dangers might lurk there.
“Hunters—at least of Tuskers—“ Foskatt spoke for the first time.
The soft growl in Furtig’s throat grew louder. Not that he had any kin ties with the young of the Tuskers. But if today it had been those of Broken Nose who disappeared into the flyer, tomorrow that might appear at the caves and lift some youngling Furtig knew.
That there was any hope of freeing the captives he doubted. And Furtig thought the old Tusker knew that, knew also that his proposed expedition against the lairs would be hopeless.
Alone, yes. But what if Gammage’s urging could not only benefit the People, but the Tuskers as well? Furtig rubbed his hands across his tufted chest, tried to think out telling signs for communication.
Furtig was startled by a sharp grunt from one of the young Tuskers. A moment later the familiar scent of Liliha filled his nostrils. She came to sit down beside him, no longer muffled in that distorting material. And her coming gave him an idea of how to approach the Tusker Elder.
Swiftly he began to sign, trying to put all the meaning he could into that flexing of fingers, waving of hands, drawing on the ground. The moon was full tonight, and this small clearing was well lighted.
The Tuskers appeared to follow the explanation that this female was one who lived in the lairs, one who sought the secrets of the Demons in order to defeat them with their own weapons. Having finished, Furtig spoke to Liliha without turning his head:
“Show them something to prove the powers of the lairs.”
There on the ground where he had drawn suddenly shone a round of yellow light. The Tuskers grunted. Furtig could hear the youngsters stamp nervously, though Broken Nose betrayed no sign of surprise. As Elder he must so assert his superiority.
“This”—Furtig moved his hands into that light—“is one of the secrets of the lairs. We have others, many others. So that this time the Demons will not find us defenseless. There is one ship of them only, and we have counted but four Demons.”
“Scouts may run before the tribe,” pawed out the young boar. “There may be many more coming.”
“True. But now we are warned. There are many hiding places in the lairs.” Furtig was getting a little excited. It might be that he was going to win allies for Grammage even before he reached the caves and had to face the skepticism of his own Elders.
“And no dangers?”
“There are Rattons there, on the lower levels.” This time Broken Nose himself grunted. Rattons could be understood better than Demons. If the Tuskers had not seen Rattons, they had heard of them and their devilish traps. Then Foskatt spoke softly:
“We have little time to argue with the Tuskers. This is a matter of our own people.”
He was right. They had delivered a warning to the Tuskers, who must now make their own decision to flee beyond the range of the flyer or to stand and fight. Furtig began the last signs—
“We go to our people. But watch for the flyer—stay under cover.”
Again Broken Nose grunted. This was an order to his own followers, for they turned and trotted into the bushes, only the old boar and his interpreter lingering. The latter signed:
“We stay to watch.”
Furtig was glad of their choice. Those eyes in the huge tusked head, swung low before him, seemed small. But he knew their keen vision. There was no more deadly foe to be faced than this clan when its anger was roused and it prepared for battle. There could be no strangers leaving the lairs along here that the Tuskers would not mark. And, Furtig thought, even armed though they might be with strange weapons, if the Demons-came on foot, they had better come warily. For all their bulk and seeming clumsiness, the Tuskers were able to lurk undetected in hiding. They had vanquished Barkers many times in red defeat, using the wind itself to mask their scent.
Ayana gazed at the plate before her. The meat’s rich juices formed a natural gravy. The others were eating eagerly, with the greed of those who have been on E rations for a long time. The meat had tested harmless, resembling the best one could find on Elhorn. Why then did it nauseate her to look at it? She lifted a piece to her lips, found she could not bite into it. Why?
“A whole herd,” Tan said between mouthfuls. “We shall have food in plenty close to hand.”
Ayana continued to look at the meat. It was well cooked, and, while it had been cooking, the savor had made her mouth water. She had hardly been able to wait, any more than the others, until it was ready. She had been as eager as they to taste the first real food they had seen since they lifted.
“Luck, pure luck,” Tan continued, “running into these on my first cast into the open country. They have not been hunted for a long time. Easy enough to pick up a couple.”
Ayana stood up. She had been fighting the thought valiantly with all her strength of will. But it broke now through her defense, and she could not control her words.
“How do we know that—this is an animal?”
She was a fool, of course. But there were those furred things on the bridge. Without the trappings, the weapon, they might be called animals. Yet she was sure they were not. These things they had cooked had not had the same appearance, that was true. But they knew too little, far too little of this world. She could not stomach meat which might be—be the flesh of intelligent beings. There, she had faced the thought which had struggled darkly in her mind. With a little cry she clapped her hands over her mouth, pushed past Jacel, and hurried, not only from the cabin but down through the ship until she reached the ramp hatch.
But that was closed; they were sealed in. And it seemed to her that she must have fresh air, that the fumes of the cooked meat, which she had thought so appetizing earlier, were now a sickening vapor.
Ayana battered at the hatch fastening, the door rolled open, and she could fill her lungs with the air of night. Then hands fell in a harsh, punishing grip on her shoulders, jerking her back into the ship’s shell.