Savages of Gor (38 page)

"I see," I said.

"What is this?" he asked. He placed his left fist in front of his mouth and sliced between it and his face with the edge of his opened right hand.

"I do not know," I said.

"Knife," be said. "See? One holds the meat in one's hand and clenches it between the teeth, too. Then one cuts a bite from the meat, to eat it, thus the sign for knife."

"Good," I said. "And what does this mean?" I drew an imaginary line across my throat with my right index finger. I had seen Corn Stalks make this sign in his talk with Grunt.

Grunt's eyes clouded. "It is the sign for the Kaiila," he said, "the Cutthroat Tribe."

"Oh," I said.

"You may have seen this sign," said Grunt. "It is an interesting one." He then held his fists in front of his chest, his thumbs almost touching, and then spread his fingers out, horizontally.

"I have no idea what it means," I said.

"Does it remind you of nothing?" be asked. He repeated the sign.

Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck rose. "It is like men breaking out of columns," I said, "fanning out, to take up positions for battle."

"Yes," said Grunt. "It is the sign for soldiers." He then added to it the sign for riding, that of the kaiila in motion.

"Kaiila soldiers," I said. "Cavalry."

"Yes," said Grunt, soberly. He then held both fists close to his chest, with the backs of his hands down and the index fingers curved. He then made a forward, circular motion.

"Wheels?" I said. "Wagons."

"Yes," said Grunt.

These last signs had been used by Corn Stalks. Grunt knew that I had seen them.

"I do not mean to pry," I said.

"It is all right," said Grunt.

"We need not continue," I said.

"It is all right," said Grunt.

I held my hands near the ground, with my fingers curved upward and slightly apart. I then swung my bands out in a small, upward curve.

"Grass," said Grunt.

I held my right hand, palm down, even with my shoulder, and lowered it, until it was about eighteen inches from the ground.

"Height," said Grunt. "High. High grass. Summer."

The Summer solstice had taken place a few days ago.

I folded my arms, the right arm resting on top of the left. I then raised both hands until my fingers pointed skyward.

"The spreading of light," said Grunt. "Day. Light."

I repeated the gesture twice more.

"Three days," said Grunt. "Three days ago, we may suppose."

I raised my hands in front of my body, my fingers slightly curved. I then swept my hands together in a looping curve.

"Many," said Grunt. "Much. Plenty."

I rubbed the back of my left hand from the wrist to the knuckle with my right index finger.

"Red savages," smiled Grunt. "Fleer," he then said. "Kaiila, Sleen, Yellow Knives, Kailiauk."

I had smote my hands slowly together three times. It was like the beating of wings. It now stood, I saw, for the Fleer tribe. The fleer is a large, yellow, long-billed, gregarious, voracious bird of the Barrens. It is sometimes also called the Corn Bird or the Maize Bird. I had then drawn my finger across my throat. That stood for the Kaiila, the Cutthroat tribes. The sign for the Sleen tribe had been the same as that for the sleen, the resting of the middle fingers of the right hand on the right thumb, extending the index and little finger, this suggesting the animal's pointed snout and ears. The sign for the Yellow Knives had been the sign for knife, followed by the sign for fleer. I later learned the sign for knife alone would suffice for this tribe. In the compound sign fleer presumably occurs as a modifier in virtue of the bird's coloration. Adjectives in sign commonly, though not always, follow the noun, so to speak. This arrangement is doubtless to be expected, for it reflects a common grammatical feature of the spoken languages of the red savages. The word 'mazasapa', for example, literally means 'black metal'. 'Maza' is the word for 'metal' and 'sapa' is the word for 'black'. We would translate the expression, of course, as 'iron'. The sign for Kailiauk, as I had expected, was to hold up three fingers, suggesting the trident of horns adorning the shaggy head of this large, short-tempered, small-eyed, lumbering ruminant.

"You have an excellent memory," said Grunt. I had been, of course, as best I could, reconstructing portions of the conversation which I had earlier seen take place between Corn Stalks and Grunt.

I held my hands in front of my body, with the palms facing one another, with the left hand a bit ahead of the right. I quickly brushed the right palm pass, the loft palm.

"Fast," said Grunt. "Quick. Hurry."

I held my left hand before my body, palm out, with my index and second fingers spread, forming a "V." I held my right band at my fight shoulder, the index finger pointing up. I then, quickly, brought my right index finger down, striking into the space between the index finger and second finger of my left hand.

"Kill," said Grunt, soberly. "Hit. Strike."

I followed this with the sign for many, and then the signs for white man and white woman, and for soldiers, and kaiila soldiers, or cavalry.

"Yes," said Grunt

"What is this sign?" I asked. I cupped my right hand close to the ground, my fingers partly closed. I then raised it a few inches from the ground, with a short, wavy motion.

"It is the sign for fire," said Grunt. "Flames."

"It preceded this sign," I said. I then held my fists close to my chest, with the backs of my own hands down, my index fingers curved. I then made the forward, circular motion, indicative of turning wheels. "This latter sign, as I recall," I said, "Signifies wagons."

"It does," said Grunt. "Yes."

I was then silent. I did not feel much like speaking. I listened to the crackle of the fire.

"A wagon, or wagons, of course," said Grunt. "The specific meaning depends on the context. It is the same with my signs."

"I understand," I said.

"Three days ago, or some three days ago," said Grunt, "a party of red savages, consisting of Kaiila, Yellow Knives, Sleen, Fleer and Kailiauk fell suddenly upon a wagon train and a column of soldiers, both infantry and cavalry. Wagons were burned. There was a massacre."

"I think I know the parties," I said. "The first left Kailiauk sometime before I reached it. They were settlers. The second must have been the mercenaries of Alfred, a captain, from Port Olni. He left Kailiauk shortly before we did."

Alfred, not stopping to trade, and moving swiftly, not slowed by a coffle of slaves, had, it seemed, made contact with the settlers. Doubtless they would have welcomed his presence. I wondered as to the fate of the settlers and soldiers, and if any survived. Alfred had seemed to me as though he might be a good commander. He would not have been familiar, however, I speculated, with the warfare of the Barrens. He had perhaps rated his red foes too lightly. He had perhaps discounted their possible numbers or skills.

I thought of the squarish wagons, which had been with the soldiers, doubtless concealing the beasts of Sardak and Kog. There had been seventeen such wagons. If these beasts had been destroyed I might, perhaps, consider leaving the Barrens. Zarendargar, then, would be safe, at least until another such force might be sent against him. Perhaps Priest-Kings, through their agents, might monitor towns such as Fort Haskins and Kailiauk.

I thought, too, briefly, of the red-savage youth, Urt, the red slave, supposedly a Dust Leg, who had been with the soldiers. If the red savages had found him in his chains, fastened to a white man's wagon, they might have chosen, with amusement, to leave him there, to die. I thought, too, of the lofty, veiled Lady Mira of Venna. No doubt now, she no longer wore her veils. I did not think the red savages would have killed her. There are better things to do with such women. Doubtless she would have been stripped, a thong perhaps on her neck, and assessed as casually as a tethered kaiila. If her captors found her of interest, perhaps they would give her a chance, albeit perhaps only a slim one, to strive to save her life, by absolute and total submission, and pleasingness, as a slave.

I did not fail to note, incidentally, that several, often mutually hostile tribes, had cooperated in the attack, with its attendant destruction and killing. The Memory, as it is called, and their hatred for the white man, had taken priority, as it commonly did, over their bloody and almost continuous intertribal differences. The red savages, I speculated, if they wished, with their numbers, and their unity, conjoined with an approximate technological parity in weapons, should be able to hold the Barrens indefinitely against white intrusion.

"It is a horrifying thing," said Grunt, almost numbly.

"Yes," I said. "What does this mean?" I asked. I placed my right hand against my heart, with the thumb and fingers pointing down and slightly cupped.

"Heart," said Grunt.

I then lowered my hand toward the ground. I had seen Corn Stalks do this, after his account of the battle, if battle it had been.

"The heart is on the ground," said Grunt "My heart is on the ground. I am sad."

I nodded.

"My heart, too," said Grunt, "is on the ground. I, too, am sad."

I nodded. "Do you think there were survivors?" I asked.

"In actions of this sort," said Grunt, "our friends of the plains are seldom inclined to leave survivors, but perhaps they did, perhaps, say, some children, to be herded to Waniyanpi camps, to be raised with Waniyanpi values, suitable for slaves, or, say, perhaps, some females whose exposed curvatures at their feet they might have found acceptable. Who knows? They are the victors. It would depend on their whim."

"What of a red slave of white men?' I asked.

"Male or female?" asked Grunt.

"Male," I said.

"I do not think I would give much for his chances," said Grunt.

"I thought not," I said.

"We should perhaps turn back," mused Grunt

I did not speak.

"It will be dangerous to move eastward now," he said. "The blood of the young men will be high. The killing lust may yet be with them."

"They have done, surely," I said, "what they purposed. They have enforced their laws, against both the innocent and the guilty. They will now be returning to their tribal areas."

"Smaller parties can be more dangerous than larger parties, at such a time," said Grunt "The larger party has done its work and is returning to its home, presumably under the command of a blotanhunka, a war-party leader, usually a fellow of mature and experienced judgment. He exerts control; he commands restraint. The smaller party may consist of young men, insufficiently disciplined, urging one another on to yet another hazard or feat, fellows who are unwilling for the fun to be over, fellows who are eager to try for yet one more killing, fellows who wish to obtain yet one more trophy."

"Such, you fear, might linger in the area?" I asked.

"Sometimes they are even left behind," said Grunt, "to track survivors who might have hidden in the grass."

"But we were not of the attacked parties," I said.

"One might hope, of course," said Grunt, "that they would be sensitive to such distinctions."

"We have not broken the laws," I said.

"We are white," said Grunt.

"I must move eastward," I said. It was important for me to determine the fate of the Kurii who had been with the mercenaries.

"Grunt," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"It is my understanding, gathered along the perimeter, that you are unusual among traders, that you, of all of them, have penetrated most far into the Barrens, and know them best of white men."

"Perhaps," said Grunt. "It is hard to tell about such things."

"It was for this reason that I sought you out," I said.

He regarded me, not speaking.

"I have something among my stores, which I would show you," I said. "I suspect that it is something which you have seen, or that you have seen similar things and are familiar with their origins."

"I shall be pleased to look at it," he said.

I returned to the fire in a few moments, and, on the dirt, in the light of the flames, spread the hide which Samos and I had obtained in the ruined tarn complex some four pasangs from the northeast delta gate of Port Kar.

"It is a story hide," said Grunt.

"Can you read it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"But you are not reading it," I said. I noted that he did not, with his eye or finger, trace the spiraling account painted on that almost-white, softly tanned surface.

"I have read it," he said. "Where did you get it?"

"Near Port Kar," I said.

"Interesting," be said.

"Why?" I asked.

"It is so far away," he said. "It is in the delta of the Vosk."

"This hide, I gather," I said, "has passed through your hands."

"Last fall," he said, "I obtained it from Dust Legs. They, in turn, had it from Kaiila."