Six Moon Dance by Sheri S. Tepper

“So what’s one of those?” his father asked.

“Somebody that gets off on a certain thing, like shoes, or gloves, or women’s underwear, or even parts of flesh … “

Ashes turned on Webwings, giggling like a schoolboy. “So what’d you collect? Dead birds? Girly feathers?”

“Forget it,” said the other, sharply. “I just thought it might explain things.”

“What did Pete collect?” Ashes went on. “I mean … “

“I said forget it,” Webwings said, launching himself upward. “I’ll tell ‘em you’re on the way.” He spiraled high and then flew back the way he had come, toward the camp.

“What was he talking about?” asked Bane.

“Oh, he probably was talking about some of us, from Thor,” Ashes said, once more in that dreamy, half-hypnotized tone. “Half of us, almost. The way they came out of that pond. They didn’t want to come back to the towns, looking like that. They wanted to stay there. Well. So they stayed.”

“You said they came to the edge of the camp, sometimes?”

“Not the ones that stayed by the pond, no. The ones that come to the camp are more like Crawly than anything. People like Rogger the Rock. And Black Cliff. And Hughy Huge. Back on Thor, they were muscle men, always on the body machines. Big guys, strong as bulls, and that pond made ‘em more so than ever. And they’ve grown since. Oh, I tell you, they’re just mountains of muscle. They don’t talk much anymore, they just roll over everything, like it wasn’t even there. That’s why we built camp where we did, down in that hot pot, so they can’t get down into it and roll over us all.”

“Why?” asked Bane. “Why would they roll over you?”

“Oh, they still get mad, sometimes. When we take the towns, we’ll use ‘em all. Talk ‘em up. Use real short words … “

They sat silent for a long moment. Bane asked, “So. We goin’ on, or what?”

Ashes merely sat, staring at the sky, indecisively musing aloud, as though he had forgotten they were there.

“Web could be right. I did know about Foot’s shoes, back on Thor. I just hadn’t thought of it for a few hundred years. And Tongue, well, he had some dirty habits, too. And it makes me remember when we were in that pond … the thing was … Well, you ever see one of those joke mirrors, the ones that’re all curvy, make you look like you had wobbly legs? In that pond, it was like looking into one of those mirrors. Being outside, looking in. Looking at what I was, moving a little, making this bigger, that smaller, you know how you do. And when I came out, I was what I am now because that’s what I always thought I was. Even the whip, I’d always had one, not a real one, but in my mind. They used to say that about me, old Ash, he can take the skin off. Old Ash, he can turn you raw. Well, I could.” He giggled, very lightly, a strange, quavery sound. “I did. All of us did what was natural to us. You can’t do that, what can you do, huh?”

Dyre started to answer, but Bane caught him, keeping him quiet, letting Ashes talk. He’d already said more than they’d heard him say before, and over the last few days, Bane had decided he needed to know everything there was to know about all this.

Ashes kicked his horse into motion, saying, “But those bastards on Thor, when this one or that one got skinned or tromped on or rolled over, they weren’t man enough to take it or fight it, either one. Had to run to daddy this or uncle that and complain about us. We weren’t orderly enough. We used up the women, we didn’t accept the discipline. Discipline, hah!” He giggled again, that high, quavering giggle. “They had one thing right, though, we did go through the women. It was getting hard to keep ‘em in supply.”

He turned toward his sons, his face alight with malice. “Trouble was, the good ones were stupid and the bad ones were rotten. Like Marool. If they’re bad enough to be interesting, they’re not good enough to use. Not fit to live, right?”