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Authors: Piers Anthony

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BOOK: Shame of Man
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“You hold your knife in your left,” the man Bub said accusingly.

“Why should I not? One hand is as good as another.” He hoped they would not come up with the worst answer.

“Because that's the bad spirit side,” the woman said. “Everyone knows that those possessed by bad spirits are warped, and bring bad times to all with whom they associate.”

That was the worst answer. But Hugh could not afford to let it stand unchallenged. “This is not something
I
know,” he said mildly. His eye crossed the gaze of the woman, and it was as if something jumped between them. She had a brooding look, and considerable sex appeal. That might speak to her motive: she did not like being displaced for even a few days by another woman.

“Because you're warped,” Bub said triumphantly. “You bring trouble.”

Hugh looked at Joe, and saw that the man was in doubt. He evidently was not unduly smart, and could be guided by bad persuasion. “We have never had trouble with the spirits,” Hugh said mildly, though he was angry and disturbed inside. “We travel much, alone through the forests, and they leave us alone.”

“Because good spirits do leave folk alone,” the woman said. “It's the bad spirits who hurt people. They don't hurt the ones they possess, but do hurt
others. Those possessed by bad spirits can bring them into good tribes, and bring disaster. Our children are at risk.” Such folk always brought children into it, though it was Hugh's impression that they hardly cared for children.

Joe wavered. “That is known,” he agreed. “Sis is right.” It was evident that he did not want to have to send Hugh and Anne away, because the tribe liked their show, but he didn't want to risk mischief from the spirits.

Anne got in on it. “This is nonsense,” she said. “I use my right hand, and I have not suffered from my association with him.”

Sis looked sneeringly at her. “The bad spirits use you to lead them in. They will throw you away when they are done.”

Hugh saw that the two had rehearsed this, and would prevail unless he did something extraordinary. Similar complaints had gotten him exiled from his home tribe, starting his life as a wanderer. But he was getting less inclined to accept such charges without fighting back. “What would it take to prove that I merely use the hand I choose, and have nothing to do with bad spirits?”

“Go into the burial cave for a night,” Bub said.

Hugh felt a chill. He did not like burial places, and not just because they could be littered with bones and smell awful. It was that they had rescued Mina from such a place, and he feared that if she ever went there again, the spirits would change their minds and take her back.

Sis saw his doubt. For a moment as their eyes met, he thought she wanted something else of him—that she found him as guiltily intriguing as he found her. But he averted his gaze. Then she spoke: “You can't go there, because you know it is filled with good spirits, and they would destroy you. They don't like the intrusion of bad spirits.”

So that was it. Bub and Sis wanted to get rid of Hugh and Anne permanently by getting the spirits to kill them. All because the tribe liked the visitors and valued what they had to teach. The choice was now between death and ignominious departure.

Hugh looked at Anne, but before he could speak, she did. “We'll go to your cave,” she said. “We know the good spirits will not hurt us.”

Hugh winced. It was not at all smart to provoke the spirits like that. Spirits did not much like
any
intrusions, especially by night, especially by strangers. They could kill the family merely for being there, not even caring about who was left-handed. But he couldn't reverse what his wife had said; that would bring shame on her. So they would have to risk it. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Bub smiled grimly. “Tonight,” he said. “We will close you in so you can't sneak out before morning.”

Worse yet! Hugh might be able to stand it if he could remain near the entrance and see outside, able to escape if the spirits attacked. But to be closed in—!

“The spirits like music,” Anne murmured, reminding him.

So they did. But did they like it enough to counter their natural resentment of the intrusion? Hugh experienced a sick doubt.

“I will inform the tribe,” Joe said, obviously ill at ease. He had been maneuvered into this as much as Hugh and Anne had, but had to play it through, as they did.

Sis stared at Anne. “You fool,” she said witheringly. “You will never walk out of there. The spirits
know.”

It seemed that it was Sis's jealousy that drove this. She had fastened on Hugh's left-handedness as a pretext the tribe would accept. As his gaze crossed hers once again, Hugh had the odd feeling that the woman, far from being repelled by his reverse-handedness, was perversely attracted to it. Again he felt the tug of her sex appeal, though it disgusted him. There was something about her, and her hate/love focus on him.

Then the day returned to normal, seemingly. But when others could not hear, Bunny spoke to them, quietly, while facing elsewhere. “Those two are the ones possessed by evil spirits,” she muttered. “Bub and Sis—they are not really of this tribe. But somehow they got Joe to let them stay. They stop anyone else from being accepted. He's a tough fighter, and many men are afraid of him, and she seduces those who aren't.” She snorted delicately. “Though I don't see what they see in her.”

“Some men like willful women,” Anne remarked. “Not to marry, but to dally with.”

“I hope my husband encounters none such,” Bunny said. “At least I know he can't stand Sis.”

“How do you know?” Hugh asked, genuinely curious for more than incidental reason.

“His pupils narrow when she comes near, and his penis shrinks.”

Hugh forced a laugh. “Those are apt signs.”

“So why didn't yours?” Anne asked mischievously.

She had him there. She hadn't even been looking at him when Sis was close, yet she knew. But she also knew that he was in search of no other woman of any nature, however much he might react to them in passing. He already had the best. So she joked, having no concern on that score.

“I was standing too close to you, my love, to be repelled,” Hugh replied after a moment. “If I met her alone, it would be another matter.”

Both women laughed, appreciating an apt response.

But in the evening they had to go to the cave. “Why not sleep in the house?” Chip asked.

“We'll stay in the house again tomorrow night,” Anne told him reassuringly. “But tonight we must use the cave. Don't worry; we'll have warm blankets.”

“All right.”

“All right,” Mina echoed, as she tended to.

The cave was some distance from the settlement, as such places usually
were, because it was not wise to camp within the normal range of spirits of any persuasion. The entrance was dark and low; they had to duck well down to enter it. Hugh led the way, carrying his torch. He knew that the torch would not last long, and then they would be in complete darkness. They would have to find a suitable place to sleep before it guttered out. He dreaded the occasion.

“Oooh, it stinks!” Chip exclaimed, intrigued.

“Because this is where their dead live,” Hugh explained.

“Can I see one of the dead people?”

“Yes. Perhaps several.” They had carefully taught their children not to be afraid of the dead, because of Mina's origin; they did not want the spirits to think they did not appreciate Mina, or that they had any objection to anyone who had died. So they always spoke well of the dead, hoping to keep the favor of the spirits, and so far that had been effective.

But privately both Hugh and Anne had some concern. These were the dead of a foreign tribe, and their spirits well might be resentful of the intrusion. There was no doubt the hostile spirits could and would kill the living, if aggravated. Hence Hugh's dread. His first priority was to make peace with these spirits.

He moved his torch around, exploring the cave. It widened and deepened beyond the narrow entrance, so that there was room for them to stand without stooping. There were no bodies in view; they would be placed well inside the cave, for protection. But there was no doubt they were there, as Chip's nose had ascertained.

The tribesmen were meanwhile rolling the barrier boulder up across the entrance. It nudged close, closing them in. The seal was not tight, so that air came in around the edges, but the space was not large enough for any of them to get through. That air helped, for it carried the fresh outside odor of the forest, pushing back the queasy stench of death.

“First we must introduce ourselves to the spirits,” Hugh announced. “Otherwise they might not like our bothering their bodies. So we shall play and dance for them.” He handed the torch to Anne. Its smoke was moving forward, into the cave, as if this were the mouth of a huge beast that was inhaling.

Chip nodded, liking the notion. He had seen how living tribesfolk were charmed by music and dance, so it made sense that dead folk would have similar sentiments. They had on occasion entertained the spirits of animal skeletons, so that they could pass unmolested; the principle was clear.

So Hugh led the way deeper into the cave as it slanted up into the mountain, playing his flute. Chip followed, playing his own flute. Then came Mina, dancing in her fashion, and finally Anne, holding the torch steady despite the gyrations of her body. They were making a procession toward the chamber of the dead.

The cave went straight back into the mountain, on and on. Hugh had had
no idea it went so deep. He worried that the torch would burn out before they found the bodies. He did not want that; it would be an awful affront to the spirits if he stumbled over a body. So he walked faster, still diligently playing his music. The others followed, continuing their playing and dancing. They all understood how important it was to keep the spirits pacified.

At last the passage ended—in a sharp upturn. They had to scramble up into a higher level. Hugh removed his pack and set it on the floor, and Anne did the same; no one would steal them from this place. He played one-handed as he wedged his way up, while Anne danced below, charming the spirits with especially luxuriant swings of hair and hips. He reached the top, and looked around in the dim fringe of light from the torch below.

There was a much larger chamber, with points of stone rising from its floor like giant animal teeth, casting living shadows against the receding walls. And here were the bodies, spread between the teeth. The smell intensified. The drift of air had stopped; this was the depth of the breathing beast.

He found a place where he could hold on and reach a hand down to help the others. “I must pause, O spirits,” he said. “So I can bring my family up here to entertain you. I will play again soon.” He hoped that the spirits were not impatient. They had listened very quietly so far, so he thought they understood.

He caught Chip's hand and hauled him up. “Oooo!” the boy exclaimed, spying the bodies. He was fascinated.

“Play for them,” Hugh said quickly.

Chip settled himself and resumed playing his little flute, happily wrinkling his nose as he breathed. This was certainly a stink worthy of his appreciation.

Hugh hauled Mina up, and set her to dancing beside Chip. They made a nice miniature couple who would surely charm the spirits. Then he helped Anne up. She could not dance while scrambling, but she moved so lithely that the spirits might not know the difference. She held the torch in her free hand, and the rock shadows crawled weirdly as it came up.

When they all had secure footing among the dead, they did a full show for the spirits. Hugh played his flute as never before, and Anne danced so voluptuously that it seemed likely to lift any penises that hadn't rotted away.

When the show was done, they were quiet, waiting for the reaction. There was none. That was a good sign. The spirits were accepting them, having appreciated their offering of entertainment. Still, it was best to be sure that there would be no change of mind.

Hugh brought out some charcoal he used on occasion for drawing figures on outside rocks. Such figures had protective properties; spirits did not like to pass them. He would make a drawing here, to bar the spirits from descending into the lower tunnel.

He looked for a suitable place to draw. Then he thought of a better notion. Mina was a child of spirits, having been rescued from death; she had always been their real protection from spirits, ever since they had taken her from a death grove. The drawing should be hers. But she would not be able to do it effectively; she wasn't that skilled with her hands.

So he decided on a special technique he knew. He bit off a mouthful of charcoal. He chewed it up, getting it saturated with saliva. Then he guided Mina to the neck of the entrance cave. He took her tiny hand and laid it against the rough stone, the fingers splayed wide. And he pursed his lips and blew, spitting out a stream of liquid charcoal. She giggled at the feeling of it, but he held her hand firmly in place until he was done. Then he lifted it away.

There was her handprint—outlined in sprayed black. It was a marvelously spiritual effect. Mina was delighted, and Chip was jealous.

“But
your
hands must be clean, for playing the flute,” Hugh told him. The boy recognized the validity of that. Mina's little hand was filthy with charcoal spit.

They made their way back down into the lower tunnel. There was no further need to play and dance; the spirits had accepted them, and now Mina's handprint would prevent the spirits from coming down after them. They would be able to rest, and to sleep.

That was just as well, because the torch finally guttered out. Anne had kept it going as long as she could, but now its spirit would join those of the people in the main cave. The family was in complete darkness.

They linked hands and walked toward the entrance. It would be more comfortable there, and the air would be fresher. They would curl comfortably together, and in the morning, when the tribesfolk rolled away the stone, the four of them would emerge fresh and smiling. The troublemakers Bub and Sis would be discredited, and the rest of the stay here would be good. The spirits were still smiling on those who understood and honored them.

BOOK: Shame of Man
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