The Last Hour of Gann (51 page)

He prayed.

At last, Meoraq buried the meat and moved his fire atop it. He threw the most of the emptied bones into the coals to burn, trusting the foul smoke to ward away any beasts who might otherwise be drawn in by the smell of
blood. He bundled his marrow and all the clean fat he’d scraped off to render down if he had the time. Into the last carrying pouch of his possession, he set the edible offal, wrapped in grass to soak in the blood. Then he left it all in Sheul’s hands and walked half a span across the plains to the nearest stand of zuol trees.

Making the spear took all the rest of that day, which was fine, because the saoq had to roast anyway. He hadn’t made one, even for idle amusement, since his boyhood days, but it was one of the lessons Master Takktha had taught and what the body has had beaten into it by Master Takktha, it does not soon forget. This spear might never have had the honor of hanging on the wall in the training yard, but Meoraq was certain it would have earned a turn in Takktha’s hand at least. He’d cut six zuol saplings before he’d found the balance he’d desired in a haft; he did not consider this
a waste, since there were ten thousand uses for the fine, straight poles of young zuol and the humans were entirely without them. He then spent easily two hours peeling bark, trimming branches, and smoothing its length with the rough side of a stone—far more work than was strictly necessary, but it did look damned nice when it was done. There was plenty of xuseth around, all gone to seed this late in the year, but he dug up a few roots and split them to rub its oily fibers into the green wood. After some meditation, he took the flared wings of the saoq’s hip-bones (which he had tossed to the coals earlier, but which had fallen aside by Sheul’s grace and gone unburned, though heat-cured and hard as rock) and carved along their outer edges. Then he carefully split the green wood of the spear’s tip—a difficult task made infinitely easier by the xuseth oil—and worked the shards of bone beneath so that they protruded in flaring points along four sides. By this time, the fire had died down to perfect coals and he spent the rest of the day alternately baking the spear over them and applying more xuseth until the spear was as strong as stone. He made a few practice throws just to satisfy his vanity, then swiftly bound his spare poles into a sled and loaded the meat for travel.

I
t was dark when he finally left, but the shine of the moon behind the clouds was enough to guide him until he could make out the many fires of the humans in his camp.  He was surprised to see meat in several hands as he pulled his sled through their slow-moving bodies, and he saw that they were almost as surprised to see him at all. So. They thought he had abandoned them, and this had been all the motivation they required to see to their own survival. He was now of half a mind to abandon them again tomorrow.

He could not see Amber at a casual glance, so Meoraq turned himself and his sled toward the sound of
Scott’s voice, because Scott sounded angry and that usually meant he was talking at Amber. Soon, he saw the man himself at the fore of a loose ring of other humans, all together around a fire where the smell of roasting meat and burning bones was strongest, and yes, Scott stopped his angry words at the first sight of Meoraq and said instead, “He’s back. Get up right now and apologize,” so Amber had to be there somewhere.

Meoraq hissed and humans moved aside for him, revealing her on her knees with the fire
turning her hair to red and her back full to him, but she was starting to turn and there was a grudging sort of curl on her mouthparts as she raised her hand to greet—

The poles of the sled fell out of his grip and the world itself seemed to drop away with it.

There was a knife in her hand.

“O my
Father, no,” he heard himself say.

She
scowled, deciding to be angry. “What the hell is it now?”

He threw the spear down—the spear he’d spent all damned day making—and turned away from her with both hands digging at his scales. He closed his eyes, not daring yet to speak, not daring even to think.

“Meoraq?”

The law was clear.

“What’s wrong with him?” someone asked and Scott said, “If you two are going to fight again, do it somewhere else.”

Was that it? Because he’d shouted at her? ‘Pleas
e,’ he prayed. ‘I didn’t mean it.’

His will was nothing. The Word of the Prophet must be upheld.

‘She’s human. She didn’t know.’

But the law was Sheu
l’s. If the humans were His children, they were subject to His rule and to the judgment of His Swords.

And after all
, some evil voice observed,
you don’t even like her
.

“So this is Your lesson,” he said in the dark. His voice, no louder than a whisper, caught at his ears like hooks.

“Well, Jesus Christ, lizardman, what the hell did I do n—”

He pulled
a knife as if it were a bone he pulled from his own body. He used the knife of his fathers. He could do that much. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

“Amber!
” Nicci cringed back even as she cried out, but no one else moved. “Someone do something! He’s going to kill her!”

“No, he’s not,” said Amber, frowning uncertainly at the knife he held.

It hurt.

“Do you wish to pray?” he asked hoarsely.
“Please. Do not make me send you from this world into darkness.”

There
followed a terrible stillness. Amber looked past the gleam of ancient metal to search his face and for a long time, it was only that and the watchful eye of Sheul upon them both.

“Are you really going to kill me?” she asked at last. Her voice trembled, but only once.

“I am a Sword and a true son of Sheul. I am the arbiter of His law, which you have broken. I have no choice in this matter.” And then he said, not thinking, what he had never said with a blade of judgment in his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Someone stop him!” Nicci begged
.

“We can’t interfere with their customs.”

Amber’s baffled stare turned briefly molten. She swung around, snarling, “Fuck you, Scott! Nicci—” Her voice trembled again, then turned harsh. “Don’t look. Someone get her out of here. Dag…or someone…Don’t let her see this.”

Nicci began to wail, but she walked away, she was not carried. Many other humans faded back with her.
Scott stayed. Scott meant to watch. His eyes were bright in the firelight.

Amber
turned her back on them all. She lifted her chin with a defiance belied by her too-bright eyes. “Do it, if you’re going to do it. I don’t care.”

“Will you not pray?”

“I had nothing to say to God before. I’ve got nothing to say to him now.” Her jaw clenched, biting on the shiver in her words.

“So be it. Human, you have
broken the Third Law and taken up a bladed weapon—”

“Wait a minute, what?” Amber looked down at the knife in her hand and then back at
Scott.

All
the remaining humans were looking at Scott, whose skin had gone a curious greyish color. And as Amber opened her mouth to speak, he lurched forward and shouted, “She’s a fucking liar!”

T
he temper broke in Meoraq and suddenly his kzung was in his other hand—not his father’s knife, not for this human—and he shouted, “I do His will now, but I will be free to do my own when it is over, so do not provoke me!”

Scott
put up his open hands, but his eyes stayed on Amber, hissing, “There’s nothing anyone can do about this and you know it, so don’t you even think about getting anyone else in trouble!”

“You fucking yellow bastard.” Amber put her hands on the knife, folding the blade into its own haft, then threw it to the ground between
Scott’s feet. “It was my knife,” she said loudly. And turned to face Meoraq. “But I didn’t know that was your law.”

“It is Sheul’s law
and not mine to forgive.” Meoraq took resolute hold of her shoulder and put the blade against her neck. “I will be quick.”

“Wait, j
ust…What is the law exactly?” she asked. “The actual words.”

He frowned.

“Humor me,” she said. “As my final request.”

He could feel the heat of her shoulder through his hand. Living warmth. He could feel the tremble of her mortal fear, but she stood and she faced him.

“No man may raise his judgment higher than the true Word of Sheul,” he said, reminding himself as much as her. “I am Sheulek. I have no mercy to show you.”

But he did not make the killing cut and after another long moment, he eased the edge of his blade away from her thin skin. Red blood, red as dye-berries, welled up where it had rested.

“‘And the third law writ was this,’” he said in something like surrender. “‘Let no man who is not born of the warrior’s caste and raised under its sign take up the bladed weapon, for the age of the Ancients is ended and wrath belongs to Sheul alone. For he who is born under the Blade, all liberty is given, but for all other men of this world, this sin shall be unforgiveable.’” The last word fell like a hammer on his heart, briefly silencing him. “No allowance can be made,” he told her, as soon as he felt he could. “The Prophet writes plainly that whatever man touches the bladed weapon, even if he has taken it up in defense of his life or that of his son or even of his abbot, if he is not born to that caste, he must be judged unforgiveable. He…
You
must die.”

Amber’s eyes had narrowed. “Are these laws open to
any interpretation?”

“N
one.”

“Not even from you?”

“I would spare you if I could.” He raised the knife. “But I am Sheulek and His law is mine. I will be quick.”

“You said
no man can hold a knife,” she said, and reached up to catch the bone-hilt of his. “But I’m a woman.”

The world dropped away for a second time.

“Is there a law against women holding knives?” Amber asked. Her eyes were intent. Elsewhere, at some unknown distance, human voices began to whisper.

Meoraq bent his head. He breathed.

The First Law: Sheul is master over all His children. There is no mortal being or beast born of clay who does not bend before Him and none whose judgment can be raised higher than His sacred Word.

The Second Law: The Age of the Ancients is ended. Let their cities fall to ruins. Let their time pass out of memory. Let no
one seek to master or remake the machines with which they poisoned Gann, lest they be corrupted in return.

The Third Law: Let no man take up the bladed weapon…no
man
…

Meoraq opened his eyes and found them already gazing into Amber’s. He sheathed his father’s knife. Then he bent, as a man in a fever, without conscious thought or plan, and licked the blood from her neck. It tasted coppery and bitter
and he drank it in like wine and pressed his brow to her warm shoulder.

“I t
ake it that’s a no,” said Amber. Her air fell out of her in a shaky rush. “You scared the
piss
out of me, lizardman.”

“Sheul instructs with a burning hand,”
he replied, still somewhat light-headed. “I have to pray.” He turned around, but caught her arm as she first moved away, no doubt to find her weeping Nicci.

She waited, tense, while he tried to puzzle out his reason for
stopping her. He only knew that he wanted to say something, but whatever it was would have to be witnessed by all these damned staring humans.

Nicc
i was coming. He could hear her sobbing through the crowd, as hysterical with joy as she’d been with grief. Amber’s gaze wavered; she looked behind her.

Meoraq released his hold and stepped back. “I have meat,” he said, and rather unnecessarily plucked up his travel-pack to thrust into Amber’s arms. “See that your people are fed.”

Then Nicci was there and Meoraq retreated so he wouldn’t have to watch them embrace and feel…whatever the hell he was feeling.

* * *

Meoraq was sleeping when Amber finally nerved herself up to try and talk to him, or at least, he was lying down with his eyes closed and his arms tucked beneath his head. He was outside though, and fully dressed, boots and all, so Amber waffled for a second or two, and maybe he could feel her stare, because he said, without opening his eyes, “What do you want?”

“Nothing. I brought your, uh, entrails. Thanks for the food. Go back to sleep.” Amber set the leather pack down by his mat, trying to get in and out of his space fast to disturb him as little as possible, but he was faster.

His scaly hand locked around her arm. He sat up, frowning at her, then beyond her, and then let go. He grunted, pointed at the ground and picked up his pack.

“I don’t want to keep you awa—”

“Sit down.”

She sat.

He rummaged through the organs, pulling out this or that disgusting lump of bloody grossness and occasionally grunting to himself. One of them he set on the ground, hesitated, then picked it up and gave it to her.