Part 5 (2/2)
Before they could say or do anything, I spun around and grabbed Kraal around the waist. Lifting him high over my head, I held him there, squirming and bellowing, with one hand.
”Do you still want to fight us, Kraal?” I asked, laughing. ”Do you want us to take your women?”
”Put me down!” he was shouting. ”This isn't the proper way to fight!”
I set him down gently on his feet and looked into his eyes. He was angry. And fearful.
”Kraal, if we fight, I will be forced to kill you and your men.”
He said nothing. His chest was heaving, sweat trickling down his cheeks and into his grizzled beard.
”I have a better idea,” I went on. ”Would you allow my men to join your tribe? Under your leaders.h.i.+p?”
Noch yelped, ”But you are our leader, Orion!”
”I am a stranger here, and my true home is far away. Kraal is a fine leader and a good hunter.”
”But...”
They both had plenty of objections. But at least they were talking, not fighting. Kraal's face went from fear-driven anger to a more thoughtful expression. His eyes narrowed, became crafty. He was thinking hard about this new opportunity. I invited him to come and see the place where the G.o.d speaks, and as we walked back toward the echo canyon we continued to talk about merging the two bands.
The idea that had entered my mind was far greater than these two ragged gangs of Stone Age hunters. I reasoned that there were far more humans in these forests of Paradise than reptiles. If I could weld the tribes together into a coherent force, we would outnumber Set and his dragons. I knew that Set had a far superior technology at his command than my Neolithics did, but with numbers-and time-we might be able to begin fighting him on a more equal basis.
The first step was to see if I could merge Noch's band of ex-slaves with Kraal's tribe. It would not be easy, I knew. But the first step never is.
Chapter 8.
Kraal was impressed with the echo-the G.o.d who speaks. But he tried to hide it.
”The G.o.d only repeats what you say.”
”Most of the time,” I replied, a new idea forming in my mind. ”But sometimes the G.o.d speaks its own words to us.”
He grunted, trying to keep up an air of skepticism.
He was also impressed with Anya, who greeted him courteously, seriously, as befits a man of importance. Kraal had never seen a metallic fabric such as Anya wore: it was practically impervious to wear, of course, and literally repelled dirt with a surface electrical charge. She seemed to glow like a G.o.ddess.
He had never seen a woman so beautiful, either, and his bearded face plainly showed the confusion of awe, longing, and outright l.u.s.t that percolated through him. He was an experienced leader who seemed to grasp the advantages of merging Noch's band into his own. But it had never been done before, and Kraal was not the type to agree easily to any innovation.
We feasted that night together on the rocky canyon floor, our whole band plus Kraal's dozen men cl.u.s.tered around a roaring fire while we roasted rabbits, possums, racc.o.o.ns, and smaller rodents on sticks. The women provided bread, something Kraal and his men had never seen before, as well as mounds of nuts, carrots, berries, and an overpowering root that would one day be called horseradish.
Earlier, I had spoken at length to Anya about my idea, and she had actually laughed with the delight of it.
”Are you sure you can do it?” I had asked.
”Yes. Of course. Never fear.”
It was wonderful to see her smile, to see the delight and hope lighting her gray eyes.
After our eating was finished the women went back to the caves and the men sat around the dying embers of our big fire, belching and telling tales.
Finally I asked Kraal, ”Have you thought about merging our two groups?”
He shook his head, as if disappointed. ”It can't be done, Orion.”
”Why not?”
All the other men stopped their talk and watched us. Kraal answered unhappily, ”You have your tribe and I have my tribe. We have no people in common: no brothers or brides or even cousins. There are no bonds between the two tribes, Orion.”
”We could create such bonds,” I suggested. ”Several of our women have no husbands. I'm sure many of your men have no wives.”
I saw nods among his men. But Kraal shook his head once more. ”It's never been done, Orion. It's not possible.”
I pulled myself to my feet. ”Let's see what the G.o.d has to say.”
He looked up at me. ”The G.o.d will repeat whatever you say.”
”Maybe. Maybe not.”
Raising my hands above my head, I called into the night, ”O G.o.d who speaks, tell us what we should do!”
My voice echoed off the bowl of rock,”... tell us what we should do!”
For several heartbeats there was nothing to hear except the chirping of crickets in the gra.s.s. Then a low guttural whisper floated through the darkness: ”I am the G.o.d who speaks. Ask and you shall receive wisdom.”
All the men, mine included, jumped as if a live electrical wire had touched their bare flesh. Kraal's eyes went so wide that even in the dying firelight I could see white all around the pupils. None of them recognized Anya's voice; none of them could even tell that the rasping whisper they heard came from a woman.
I turned to Kraal. ”Ask the G.o.d.”
His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Most of the other men had gotten to their feet, staring toward the looming shadow of the hollowed rock. I felt some shame, tricking them this way. I realized that an unscrupulous person could easily make the ”G.o.d” say whatever he or she wanted it to say. One day oracles and seers would use such tricks to sway their believers. I would have much to answer for.
But at this particular instant in time I needed Kraal to accept the idea of merging our two tribes.
To my surprise, it was Noch who spoke up. His voice quavering slightly with nervousness, he shouted toward the rock wall, ”O G.o.d who speaks, would it be a good thing for our tribe to merge with Kraal's tribe?”
”...merge with Kraal's tribe?”
Again silence. Not even the wind stirred. The crickets had gone quiet.
Then the whispered answer ”Are two men stronger than one? Are twenty men stronger than ten? It is wise to make yourselves stronger.”
”Then we should merge our two bands together?” Noch wanted a definite answer, not G.o.dly metaphors.
”Yesss.” A long drawn-out single syllable.
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