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Darkness and Dawn by Andre Norton

He headed directly for the distant line of forest, misliking the feeling of nakedness that he had in the open, a sensation the plains bred youth had never experienced before. As he rode, he tried to see traces of the path the voice had taken. But, save for the tracks near his improvised camp, Sander found nothing that would suggest he and Rhin were not alone.

Resolutely, he kept from glancing back at the now-distant village. Perhaps his visitor had returned there, since it was plain from the words they had exchanged that the unknown had been in search of those who had despoiled the town. What had the stranger named it? Padford. Sander repeated the word aloud. It was as strange as the accent of the other’s speech.

Sander knew so little of the land beyond the Mob’s own range. That such villages existed he had picked up from the Traders’ guarded accounts. But the herdspeople of the wide lands in the west had no personal knowledge of them. He wished now that he had made a closer examination of the dead. It seemed to him, trying to recall those glimpses of the bodies, that they had been unusually dark of skin, even darker than he was himself, and that their hair had been of a uniform black. Among his own people, who were an even brown in skin color, hair color varied from light reddish gold to dark brown.

The Rememberers told strange tale, saying that before the Dark Time, men did not always share the same skin color or features. Their tales carried other unbelievable statements also—that men could fly like birds and traveled in boats that went under the surface of the water and not over it. So one could not believe every remnant of the supposed old knowledge they cherished.

Rhin abruptly halted, startling Sander out of his thoughts. The koyot gave a sudden shake of body, which was his warning that he must be free of his rider to confront something. Sander slid off as Rhin whirled about to face their back trail, his lips wrinkled to show his formidable fangs, the growl in his throat rising to a snarl.

Sander thrust his sling into his belt, whipped free his thrower, making sure there was a dart set within the firing groove. There were no stones to back them here. They had been caught in the open.

Plain to see were two shapes humping along with a curious up and down movement, at a speed Rhin could only equal by short bursts of determined flight. A third figure on two legs ran behind, like a hunter urging on hounds, though the two forerunners bore no likeness to any of the small dogs the Mob knew. Sander dropped to one knee, steadying the dart thrower. His heart beat faster. Those animals, whatever they might be, were remarkably agile, continually twisting and turning, yet always advancing. To sight a dart on one was almost impossible.

“Aeeeeheee!”

The cry came as sharp as the scream of a seabird, while the running figure behind the first two flung up both arms as if urging on its furred companions. It was that runner who must be his target, Sander decided.

“Aeeeeheee!”

The foremost of the animals halted and rose on its haunches to stare at the smith. A moment later its mate froze likewise. But Sander did not relax his grip of the dart thrower. The distance, he judged, was still a fraction too far for a telling shot. Rhin snarled continually. The koyot was already on the defensive, prepared for attack. It would seem that Rhin regarded these as formidable opponents.

The human companion of the pair drew level with them, so the three moved together toward Sander and the koyot. But they no longer ran. Sander rose to his feet, his weapon at the ready.

He stared at one of the strangest sights he had ever seen. The newcomer was plainly a woman, as her scant body covering revealed. Like the villagers, she had very dark skin, and her only clothing was a piece of scarlet cloth wound from armpit to knee. Around her neck rested a massive chain of soft, hand-worked gold, which held pendant a disc set with gemstones in an intricate pattern. Her dark hair had been combed and somehow stiffened, to stand out about her face like a halo of black. On her forehead was a tattooed design, much like the one Sander himself wore. But while his was the proud badge of a smith’s hammer, hers was a whirl he could not read.

She wore boots that reached nearly to her knees, not as well-fashioned as the leatherwork of his own people, and a belt twisted of gold and silver wire from which hung, on hooks, a number of small cloth bags in different colors. Now she walked proudly, as if she were one to whom others paid deference, like a clan-mother, each hand resting on the head of one of the animals.

These were of the same breed, Sander believed, but they differed greatly in coloring and size. The larger one was creamy fawn in color. The smaller was dark brown with black feet and tail. Their long tails lashed back and forth as they came. It was plain to Sander that they did not have the same confidence in his harmlessness as their mistress did, for they were ready to do battle. Only her will kept them in check.

Some distance away she stopped, her dark eyes surveying him coolly. The animals once more reared on their haunches to flank her, the lighter-colored one’s head now topping hers.

“Where do you go, smith?” she asked imperiously. By the sound of her voice, he knew that this was his questioner of the night before.

“What matters that to you?” He was stung by her tone. What right had she to demand any answer from him in this fashion?

“The seeing tells me that our paths now run together.” Her eyes were very bright. They caught his gaze. He did not like her calm assumption that he was some tribesman under her command.

“I do not know what a seeing may be.” With determined effort he broke that linkage of eyes. “What I seek is my own affair.”

She frowned as if she had not believed he could withstand her control any more readily than the hissing beasts by her side. That she had tried to control him in some unknown manner he was now certain.

“What you seek,” she returned, a sharper note in her voice, “is the knowledge of the Before Men. That is what I must also find, that my people may be avenged. I am Fanyi, one who talks with spirits. And these be Kai and Kayi who are one with me where there is need. My protection lay over Padford, but it was necessary for me to go to meet the Great Moon. And while I was gone”—she made a slight gesture with her hand—”my people were slain, my faith to them broken. This should not be!” Her lips drew back in a snarl as marked as Rhin’s. “The blood debt is mine, but for its paying I must draw upon the Before Ones. I ask you, smith, have you knowledge of the place you seek?”

He longed to say yes, but there was something in her gaze, which, though he would not allow it to bind him, compelled the truth.

“I am Sander. I seek one of the Before cities. Such may lie to the north along the sea—”

“A Traders’ tale perhaps?” She laughed and there was a note of scorn in that sound, angering him. “Traders’ tales are not to be depended upon, smith. These seek always to deceive, not revealing what they deem their own hunting grounds. However, for once, this is partly right. To the north—and the east—there lies a great place of the Before Men. I am a Shaman—to us remains some of the ancient knowledge. There is a place—”

“To the northeast,” Sander continued, “lies the sea. Perhaps your city is now buried under waves.”

She shook her head. “I think not. The sea has eaten deep into the land in some places; in others it has drained from ancient beds, leaving land long hidden once more revealed. But,” she shrugged, “of that we cannot be sure until we see. You seek, I seek—but in the end our quest is not too divided. I want knowledge of one kind, you of another, is this not the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Well enough. I have powers, smith. Perhaps more potent than you carry in your hands.” She glanced at the weapon he held. “But to fare forth into the wilderness alone, that is folly when we are traveling in the same direction. Therefore, I say to you—let us journey together. I will share my certain knowledge of where the Before Place lies.”

He hesitated. But he believed that for some reason she was in earnest. Why she made such an offer he could not quite understand. She might have been reading his thoughts, for now she added:

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Categories: Norton, Andre
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