At the center flared a bonfire, flames roaring three meters aloft, smoke washed red with their glare. Around it danced the young men, stripped to the waist, shining with sweat. They waved knives and staves, they ululated, their faces were stretched out of shape with passion. At the corners squatted the drummers and whistlers. Along the right side clustered the women, children, and elderly, a shadowy jumble wherein firelight glistened off eyeballs. Their keening wove like needles through the male chant. “Ee-ya, ho-ah, hai-ah, ho!”
Through Aleka whirled recollections of ceremonies at home, solemn or merry, cheering at sports events, and a police parade. This too was human.
Better get away. Fast.
A hand clamped on her shoulder. In her amazement she had not noticed anyone behind her. “Who you? What you doin’ here?”
The man was gray and portly, unfit for campaign, but his muscles were still big and he carried a knobbed staff as well as a dagger. Yes, she realized, a few guards would be posted, even in this dement hour. “P-por favor,” she choked, “I’m a, a visitor. Bound for your inn.”
“Ungn? Spy, mebbe. We see. Come.” He took hold of her arm and wrenched. Biting back fear and anger, she obeyed. They skirted the left side of the square.
A man came dancing solitary down that street. He was swathed in a knee-length hooded coat. As he passed, Aleka saw by the veined hands and withered face that he was aged beyond any further help from biotech. Then she saw that his coat was identical front and rear, and that on the back of his head he wore amask of himself as a young man. That face bore the same blind ecstasy. He jerked his way on out of her sight. She wondered what magic he was working.
The guard took her up the stairs of a big, grotesquely colonnaded building. On the porch stood several men, also old but as richly attired as the four young women with them. At the middle hulked another man, in the prime of life, huge and shaggy-blond, a horned fillet and a gold chain declaring his rank. Beside him, a table held a jug and goblet. He was taking a long draught.
Gazes went from the warriors to the newcomers. The guard bent a knee and dipped his staff. “’Scuse, senorissimo,” he said through the noise. “I caught this here moo over yonder. Dunno who she is or wha’ she wants.”
“Yah?” growled the giant.
Aleka mustered resolve. “Are you the mayor, se-nor?” she asked as calmly as she was able. “My respects. I didn’t mean any harm or, or qffense or anything. I just came to meet another visitor here. Nobody was at the airfield, so all I could do was make for the inn where he is.”
“Ah-h. Yah. That there Hannibal, huh?”
“Yes. He messaged that he’d gotten permission for me.”
“I know. Yuh.” The mayor’s glance slithered up and down and across her. He grinned. “Yuh, sure. You goin’ to the inn, um? Awright. Stay there. I can’t leave yet, but I’ll see y’ later. Stay, y’ hear?” To the guard: “Follow ‘long, Bolly, an’ watch t’ make sure they stay inside.”
Unease quickened. “Why, sefior?” Aleka protested. “I assure you, we’re only transients, we have nothing to do with—”
A slab of a hand chopped air. “I know. I wanna talk wi’ you, tha’s all. Move on. Don’t hurt her none, Bolly, long’s she behaves. You got me? Awright, move
on.
Evidently the mayor’s part in the celebration must not be interrupted any more than necessary. The guardsman led Aleka back down the stairs. He had released his grip, but sullen silence told how he resented being posted away from the fun. She suspected he would have found ways to take it out on her except for his orders. The database had said the chief enforced an absolute governance, personally and brutally.
But it was limited to his subjects, who could always leave, she told herself. It existed on sufferance. Unless he was a total fool, he wouldn’t provoke national intervention.
Still, relief streamed through her when the escort stopped and mumbled, “Here y’ are. Go on, get inside.” He hunkered down on the grass by the steps and brooded on his wrongs.