“Please don’t be concerned. There’s no one waiting, I’m sure of that.” Brion looked after the fleeing man, then stood and stretched. “Sprinting is good exercise. I don’t get enough of it.”

  As she watched him, Lea knew that she has been foolish to worry. When Brion began to run she realized that she had never seen him move at top speed before. She had forgotten that he was a world champion athlete, a victor in twenty sports — and this had to have been one of them.

  For Ravn it was an unwelcome shock. One instant he had been ready to sing a victory song, having run so far and so fast that he knew that he could never be caught. When he looked back and saw the Hunter beginning to chase him he laughed, going faster himself in order to open the distance. But when he looked again the Hunter had halved the distance — and was still coming on. Ravn wailed in despair and ran, but he could not escape. Heavy footsteps pounded close behind him while the trees were still too distant. His lungs ached, his heart was bursting — a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder and he shrieked aloud and fell.

  Brion felt no pity as he looked down at the old man writhing and wailing in the grass. He felt his heart beating strongly after the run, and with each pulsation the stump of his amputated finger throbbed with pain. An uncomfortable reminder that this grovelling creature was the very one who had amputated it. Anger cut through Brion’s pain as he saw that same finger around the filthy creature’s neck, saw the man clutch to the necklace of bones with both hands as he lay there screeching with self pity. Holding on to it as if it gave him strength.

  When he saw this, Brion knew what he had to do. He remembered that the ragged lizard skin clothing and crude stone weapons were the only artefacts that these people appeared to have. Other than this necklace. It must be valued highly, or was some kind of honour to wear. Good! In that case he was the one who was going to have it.

  Ravn wailed even louder when Brion tried to take the necklace from him, clutching to it desperately with both hands. But Brion’s strength could not be resisted. He seized Ravn’s wrists with his mighty hands and squeezed, numbing them instantly so that the fingers lost their strength and simply fell open. Brion pulled the necklace off over Ravn’s head, then put it slowly on himself. The old man’s waiting gave way to screamed entreaty.

  “Mine — give me! I am the Ravn, mine to wear, mine …”

  He spoke in his own language and Brion found that he could understand it easily enough. The Heuristic Language Programmer had done its work well. Brion stepped back and placed his hand on the necklace, speaking slowly in the same language.

  “It is mine now. I am Brion. While I wear it I am the Ravn.” If Ravn were a title as well as a name this should make sense to the man. And it did. The screaming stopped and Ravn’s eyes narrowed with anger.

  “Only one Ravn with the people. Me. Mine.” He extended his hand with a demanding gesture. Brion took the necklace off again but did not release it. “Is this yours?” he asked. “Mine. Give me. Belongs to the Ravn.” “What is a Ravn?”

  “l am. I tell you to give it. You are rotten meat, you are shit, you are woman …”

  Brion casually took the old man’s neck in one hand and tightened his grip, pulling the man up towards him at the same time, until their faces almost touched. He growled as he spoke.

  “You curse me. You do not curse Brion. Who could kill you in an instant by making tighter his fingers — like this.”

  Ravn’s body flapped about in agony; he could not breathe or talk and death was very close.

  Brion shook him about like a rag, then waved the necklace of bones before his face. “You will tell me what I want to know. Then you will have this back. You understand me? Say yes. Say yes!”

  “Yes …” Ravn gasped. “Yes.”

  Brion did not let the sensation of victory show in his face. The anger was still in his voice when he dropped Ravn to the ground and sat beside him. His questions were imperative and demanded an answer. Ravn answered them, as best he could, concealing nothing. After a great amount of time had passed his voice became hoarse and his words stumbled one over the other. It was more than enough for a beginning, Brion thought. He was about to return the necklace when he noticed his own amputated finger threaded into place among the bones. It was a part of him — and it must have had some important meaning to these people or they would not have taken it in this manner. Well they weren’t going to get it back. Brion seized the dry flesh of the thing and tore it from the necklace.

  “This is mine forever. The rest you can have for now.” Brion hurled the necklace to the ground. “We will now go back to my place. You will talk to me again whenever I wish it.”

  Ravn slipped the necklace over his head with trembling hands, then pushed himself to his feet. All rebellion had vanished. Brion knew that from now on the old man would do everything that he was told. As soon as the other’s back was turned Brion let the desiccated finger slip to the ground, happy to be rid of the thing. It had served its purpose.

  “Woman, we will eat!” Brion called out in the native language as he led his exhausted prisoner back to their camp. Lea flared her nostrils at his words and tone of voice.

  “Does this male chauvinist pig act mean that we are finally getting somewhere with Old Dirty here?”

  “It does, my precious one.” He winked as he shouted the words. “Please feed him, then I can put him to bed, after which I will tell you some of the interesting things I have learned.”

  “If you don’t mind, we’ll eat separately. I never have got used to his diet of decayed raw meat.”

  “I’ve found out about that as well. Let’s feed him and stake him out. I don’t think he’ll give us any more trouble.”

  Ravn’s loud snores sounded from the high grass where he had been bedded down for the night — with a braided length of rawhide securing his foot to a stake driven deep into the ground. He would be there when they wanted him.

  “They’re primitives,” Brion said, chewing steadily on the dried rations. “Unbelievably primitive in every way, with all of their activities determined by strict taboos. Men are hunters and in control of all activities …”

  “Not for the first time in the history of mankind.”

  “Agreed. But this an all or nothing society, completely black and white without any shades of grey that I can find so far. The men hunt, and everyone eats what they bring back. Raw, as we know. Eating anything else is taboo. Eating cooked food is taboo. Leaving the forest for the plain is taboo — other than brief forays for hunting. Men may make and use weapons, but anyone else …”

  “I know. It’s taboo. Did you find out why they staged that night attack when they captured us?”

  “Still the taboo thing. They saw us near the lifeship — and machines appear to be the biggest taboo of all.”

  “That might have something to do with the war machines.”

  “I’m sure it does, but that’s all I could get out of him at the time.”

  “Did you at least discover what was so important about the bone necklace.”

  “I think I did. It’s complicated and I didn’t follow some of the words, but it seems to work like this. A man has a spirit, some sort of essential being. Women and children don’t, as you might have guessed. They just die and are forgotten like animals. But if a piece of a man is kept by the Ravn, why then he is considered still alive and part of the tribe, and still subject to the Ravn’s discipline. They were going to kill us in some ritually delightful way because we are taboo. But he was keeping my finger because that way I would always be under his control.”

  “Delightful. Does this mean that stashed away someplace they have the finger bones of all their ancestors?”

  “Probably. But essentially this sort of logic is no different in principal from all of the other cultures that bury their dead. In fact this is more practical. Just keeping a finger bone is a lot easier than a complete skeleton.”

  Lea looked up at the star-filled sky and shivered.

  “And these people are descendants of cultured and intelligent human beings. How did this ever happen?”

  “I have no idea. Yet.”

  “What is the connection between these primitives and the modern warfare we have seen here?”

  “I have no idea of the answer to that one either. But I intend to find out. If Ravn doesn’t know, or pretends not to know, then some of the others will tell me. And they may have artefacts that will give us a clue. So this all comes down to the inescapable fact that we will just have to go up into the hills and see them. Find out for ourselves. They have been on this planet for thousands of years, probably since before the Breakup. They must be able to tell us something.”

  “You keep saying us. Are you trying to tell me that you intend to risk our necks back at their campsite again?”

  “The risk will be minimal this time.” He pointed to the case of weapons. “We go armed and we go by choice.”

  11: Trek Into Danger

  Slowly, in single file, they trudged across the plain towards the forested hills beyond. Ravn led the way with Brion following closely behind him. Lea stumbled along far in the rear, heavily burdened by the skin-wrapped bundle on her back. She wiped the perspiration from her face with her forearm and called out.

  “Hold it right there! It’s well past time for a break.”

  She threw the bundle to the ground when she had caught up with Brion, then dropped down on it with a grateful sigh.

  “Drink some water,” Brion said. “Take a rest.”

  “How nice of you to offer!” She spat out the words. “Generous too, to let me drink some of the water that I have been carrying on my back all day.”

  “But we have no other choice, do we?” he said, speaking with the voice of sweet logic. She wasn’t buying it.

  “What does that we stuff mean — when I’m the one doing the carrying. I know that the argument is foolproof, that women do all the heavy work, like beasts of burden, in this broken-down society, that you would sacrifice all your prestige if you carried anything. Meanwhile I’m sacrificing my spinal column and will undoubtedly develop terminal hernia — don’t smile at me in that condescending manner, you filthy brute!”

  “Sorry I wish I could help. But we should be there soon.”

  “Not soon enough …”

  She opened the pungent lizard skin wrappings — the creature had reluctantly become dinner for Ravn just two days earlier — and rooted about until she found the water bottle. She drank deeply, then passed it to Brion. He just used it to wet his lips. Since she had drunk from it the water was taboo for a Hunter; they made no attempt to even offer it to Ravn.

  “When you put the water away, hand me the case of percussion grenades,” Brion said it too casually. She looked up, startled.

  “Is there trouble coming?” she asked. He nodded slowly.

  “They must be under cover in the forest. I can feel their hatred, the same as last time.”

  “But not quite the same as last time!” She passed him the flat box and nodded encouragingly as he slipped a handful of the metal spheres into his pocket. “You don’t know how much I’m looking forward to this.”

  “We don’t want to injure any of them. But it will be most effective to throw a large fright into them. If we can establish ourselves on top of the social structure, they should answer any questions that we might ask. We’ll move now, but stay near me because they are sure to close in behind us. They’re good hunters and they are armed, so we don’t want to take any chances.”

  If Ravn was aware of the prepared ambush he gave no sign, just trudged on ahead of them at the same steady pace. They wended their way through the shrubs, then on among the taller trees. A large clearing opened up before them. Their path lay across it.

  “Stop here,” Brion called out in the native tongue when they were halfway across. “Give me water to drink,” he ordered Lea. Then added more quietly; “They are on all sides of us now and they are very tense. I’m sure that they’ll attack any moment’ now. Keep your hand in the bundle and near the guns, just in case …”

  The silence of the forest was shattered by a high-pitched, warbling cry that echoed across the glade. It was instantly joined by the massed war-cries of the Hunters as they erupted on all sides. Ravn started forward to join them — but Brion was on him in an instant; a single blow of his fist against the man’s shoulder sending him crashing to the ground. Brion placed one foot on his back to hold him there, then began to throw the grenades towards the encircling trees, one hurtling after the other.

  Flame and sound exploded on all sides. Lea had known what was coming and had covered her ears; nevertheless she still fell to her knees, quivering under the impact of the brain-shattering sound. The battle cries turned to howls of pain as the men fell back or collapsed. In the silence that followed Brion’s voice roared out with anger, cursing them in their own language.

  “You are dirt. You are women. You are shit! You raise a spear towards me and I kill you. You are dead meat under my foot — like this Ravn who is dead meat.” He leaned some of his massive weight onto the man as he talked and the Ravn wailed impressively. Brion had the upper hand and he meant to keep it. He sensed nothing except unreasoning fear from all of the Hunters. One of the sensation patterns was more familiar than the others.

  “Vjer — come here,” he ordered.

  The Hunter rose hesitantly to his feet and stumbled forward. There was blood running from his nose, and he was dazed, numbed by the explosions. Brion fixed him with a glare.

  “Who am I?” he called out.

  “You are Brrn …”

  “Louder, I cannot hear you.”

  “BRRN.”

  “What is this piece of dirt I stand upon?”

  “That is the Ravn.”

  “Then who am I now?”

  “You must be … the Ravn Above Ravn!” His eyes were wide as he spoke and Brion could sense the awe, the almost worshipful quality of his emotions. Brion pointed to the plasteel knife that Vjer was holding.

  “What is that in your hand?”

  Vjer looked at the knife and began to shake. He dropped to his knees with fear and crawled forward to lay it at Brion’s feet. Brion picked it up and slipped it back into his empty sheath.

  “Now we will go on,” he said, taking his foot from the Ravn’s back. The title he had been given was of greatest importance; he could sense that by the reactions of the men around him. The aggression and fear were fading as he was accepted in his new role.

  “They still have their weapons,” Lea said, eyeing the Hunters with suspicion.

  “There is no need to disarm them, since I am now a part of their culture in this new role.”

  “And what about me? I know, a woman, less than nothing. Carry the bundle and shut up. But wait until I have you out of this male-chauvinistic paradise, Brion Brandd! Oh, how you are going to pay for this …”

  As they climbed the hillside through the trees, Brion kept his senses aware of the men about him. As long as they accepted him he was safe. But this could change in an instant, for reasons he might not even be aware of. But if this new-found status continued to work this would be the quickest and most successful way to penetrate the culture and talk to the people. It was dangerous. But it was too late to turn back.

  Once the aggression and hatred had been removed, with no reason to stay together, the Hunters began to drift away one at a time. Only a handful stayed with them all the way to the settlement. They worked their way up a steep hill, until a rocky cliff was visible ahead through the trees. It slanted back to form a string of natural caves. A small group of women were working here, scraping the flesh from lizard skins with bits of sharp stone. They retreated when they saw the strangers, being speeded along with kicks and blows from a grey-haired woman. “Must be a female version of Ravn,” Lea said, looking on with interest. “Since you seem to have established yourself as top dog with the Hunters, I’m going to do the same with the ladies.” She dropped the bundle and followed the women-towards the cave, calling out for them to stop. They only ran the faster, all except the grey haired woman. She wheeled about and rushed at Lea.

  “I kill! You dirt,” she screeched.

  Lea settled her weight evenly on both feet and drew back a small, hard fist. As her adversary ran up she swung a punch with all of her strength right into the pit of the woman’s stomach. She folded nicely, wailing with pain, her arms clutched about her midriff. Lea seized her by the hair and dragged her face around.

  “Shut up and tell me your name — or I’ll hit you again.”

  “I am … First Woman.”

  “No more. I am First Woman. You are now Old Woman.”

  The newly named Old Woman wailed again in protest, at the same time trying to pry Lea’s fingers from her hair. The wail turned to a scream of pain as Ravn passed by and casually kicked her in the side.

  “You are now Old Woman,” he said, happy to see some one else humiliated as he had been. He went on to seat himself against the rock wall, in the sun, then screamed for food.

  “Charming people,” Lea said.

  “Products of their culture,” Brion answered, wrapping a piece of lizard skin around the communicator before he took it from the bundle. “And the system obviously works for survival on this planet — or these people would not be here. I’m going to have the lifeship’s computer enter a report into its memory about what happened today. We want to keep the record complete and up to date, just in case something happens to us.

  “Don’t depress me any more, if you please. I believe that we are going to finish this assignment — alive. Keep that idea firmly in your skull. While you’re doing that I’m going to talk to the women. See what this repulsive world looks like from their point of view.”

  “Good. We need information, but we don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to. Most of them have vermin, have you noticed that?”

  “Hard to miss. I get itchy just looking at them. Don’t go too far away.”