When the sun rose I was ready, as I had not been ready for that other thing. I was concerned with my death, thai morning of the needles, and here I was, alive, and whole.
Ettook’s painted tent stood higher than the tunnels, in the mouth of a vaulted cave. The land ran down from the mountains here on the eastern side to the winter byres of the goats and horses. There were always a few men moving about there to guard their livestock from the neighboring krarls of the campment, since any krarl would thieve from another when stores got low. Today I could spot only two guards, though the horses were out in the field, chewing the bark from the pines.
I soon found where the men had gone.
The slope below the painted tent was thick with warriors leaning on their spears, their faces, sneering and laughing, I could see even as I came up from the tunnel ways. They had scared the women off from the assembly, but big eyes had been staring all along my route, and fingers pointing me out. If I went unrecognized today, my life henceforth would not be easy. I should have the vixens on my back as well as the foxes’ teeth in my throat. I had no mind to be a joke for the women’s side.
A fire gemmed red on the lip of the cave. Ettook was by the fire, scratching his plaited beard. He had an expression I had seen before, uncertain whether my trouble angered or pleased him. Seel was at his elbow and, at his back, crouching to heat beer for them, Seel’s bitch-daughter. That whetted my mood, to be sure. Her hands glowed from the heat of the flames, but she was eager to warm herself at the> blaze of my shame. She was younger than Tathra but thin and stringy except for her breasts, which were heavy, shapeless, floundering things, not tempting to me in the least; her faded hair was the color of sour apricots.
I raised my arm to Ettook.
“Greeting, my chief. Your son salutes you.”
He looked down at me, glad, no doubt, of the cave’s eleva-
22
tion. Already he was no longer able to look down on me when we stood foot to foot.
“Greeting, Tuvek. I hear you are in a wasp’s nest once again.”
“Wasps are easily disturbed, my chief,” I said as sweetly as I could for the feel of vinegar in my guts.
Seel shouted something at me. He was often unintelligible in his rages, though his intentions were transparent enough.
“Seel says you have something to answer for,” Ettook said. “He suggests to me you have profaned the Rite, the thing which must not be spoken of.”
The Rite was usually given this extra title, implying some mystery that must once have belonged in it. I became aware that Seel had not told Ettook precisely what was wrong. It was to be a grand shock and show for them with me as the focal point.
“My chief,” I said slowly and clearly, “maybe the seer forgets I am your son, and that your honor is touched by mine.”
Ettook swallowed this down. His eyes narrowed and he stared at me, calculating. I said, “The seer shall say what I have done, then I shall reply, and then you, my chief, shall judge.”
“Very well,” Ettook said. He looked at Seel. “Say then.”
Seel drew himself up and quivered all over. He hawked and dislodged his phlegm in the fire, and cried, “I myself marked him as a warrior is marked. He was not willing, speaking oaths and struggling. When the other boys rose up men, he was groaning and insensible. The herb woman must tend him for a fever. Then I came and witnessed him bare, and saw the One-Eyed had punished him for his cowardice and weakness.”
I was dressed in winter gear like the rest, shirt laced and a cloak over it. They would see nothing yet. Seel leaned forward, scrabbling through the air at me.
“Take off the garment. Strip, strip and show your wretched shame.”
The warriors were rock still, waiting. Ettook grinned and scowled at once. Seel-Na’s eyes sparkled through their shireen eye-holes. I made no move and Seel’s attitude exploded into a hopping, frothing dance on the ledge.
Having incensed him before, there seemed nothing to gain by holding out any longer.
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“Be careful, grandfather,” I said to him courteously. “Your old bones must be brittle, you should be more gentle with yourself.”
“What is this shame?” Ettook snapped finally, impatience wiping his face over like a cloth. “You must answer, Tuvek.”
“Very well. I answer. The old madman there did his work so poorly with the needles that my flesh healed without a sign.”
I opened my shirt and showed them, and they grunted and jumped down the slope to get a better view, save for Ettook, Seel, and the fruit of Seel’s loins.
They were puzzled, the warriors. They prowled around me, lowering under their ginger brows, then went back toward the cave in a bunch. One said, “He is not warrior.” That was all that was needed. Everyone took up the howl.
At this, even though I had been waiting for it, the fury came up in me like a flood tide. My voice had broken early; from my twelfth year I spoke like a man. I filled my lungs and I roared loud enough to drown the lot of them.
“So I am not a warrior? Let each warrior who thinks I am a boy still come here and fight me. That is fair, I think.”
That quieted them. They glanced about, wondering whether to gibe or kill me, which was a hard decision for their fleas’ minds.
High on the ledge, Ettook laughed.
“My son is valiant,” he said. “He has fourteen years and seeks to slay grown men.”
“Do you require me to kill them?” I asked him. “Is it to the death? I’m ready.”
I had only my boy’s knife, but it was to hand, and I had spent some minutes sharpening it before I came.
Ettook glanced about at the warriors, still laughing. Seel cracked his knuckles, and the bitch-daughter had let the beer boil over.
“Yes,” Ettook said abruptly, “this matter of the patterns. Maybe there is some mistake; the sweat of the fever has washed out the inks. Let him prove himself. Let him fight. If he can best a warrior, he shall be a warrior. I am the chief, that’s my word. You, Distik. Give him one of your own knives and use the other. Don’t be easy on him just because he’s my blood.” Distik grinned.
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“I won’t, my chief.”
He was the biggest of them, packed with wads of lean muscle and wiry as a young dog. I could see then for sure Ettook wanted my face ground in the snow for me. It occurred to me that if I were beaten, he could simply disown me as a weakling and elect one of his bastards for the heir; he had a couple older than I, already proved. They were thick-witted as he was, and had given me not enough trouble that I should remember them by it, and beware. Of course, if he cast me down, he would cast down Tathra with me, but she would have no say in that. It would not matter to him, he could still go to her and stick himself into her whenever he chose, so she would have all his attention without the honor and safety of the title of wife.
Distik slung the knife to me. It was blunt, I could see, but I did not argue. I was not afraid; I had never feared a fight in my life. There had always been such a bitter snarling somewhere in me that I was only glad of the chance to give it something to bite on. And I had never been bested. Even when Distik came bounding along the slope, red and yelling, I had no doubt of myself. If I was the smaller I was not puny, and I had a brain to guide me.
First off, I could tell, he thought it would be amusing. He could toss me around and make sport of me, and give me a wound or two to insure I regretted my arrogance. After all, he was a man and I a boy, so he did not approach me as he would have done, his peers.
When he came running I waited, then stepped aside and kicked his right leg from under him. It seemed slow to me but it was too quick for Distik. He went down with a shout, hard on his left knee.
I let him slither up and whirl around on me. His face was red as his braids. He made a play with the knife. He was trying to get at my left side, for I had the long knife leading right, but I am agile with both hands, and when he swung in at me I brought up my left fist with my boy’s knife folded in it. He had not expected that, nor the sharpness of the blade. I cut his palm to the gristle and his own weapon went spinning down the slope.