Part 22 (1/2)

”The stream's turned all b.l.o.o.d.y!”

”The demons have cursed it!”

”Who brought their wrath upon us?”

”Find him!”

At those last words Bora broke into a run. He wanted to reach the stream before the crowd decided he was the one they should find and turned into a mob searching for him.

The shouting swelled. Bora had never run so fast in his life, save when fleeing the mountain demons. He burst out of the village and plunged through the crowd. He was on the bank of the stream before anyone saw him coming.

There he stopped, looking down into water commonly as cool and clear as his sister Caraya's eyes. Now it was turning an evil, pustulant scarlet. Bits of nameless filth floated on the surface and an evil reek smote Bora's nostrils.

Around him the villagers were giving way. Did they fear him or was it only the stink of the stream? He laughed, then swallowed hard. He feared that if he began laughing now, he would not easily stop.

Holding his breath, he knelt and scooped up a bit of floating filth.

Then he smiled.

”Now we know what became of Perek's cattle!” he shouted. ”They must have fallen into some ravine upstream. Hard luck for Perek.”

”Hard luck for us, too!” someone shouted. ”Can we all drink from the wells, until the stream runs clear again?”

”What else is there to do?” Bora asked, shrugging.

This reasonable question made some nod. Others frowned. ”What if the cattle died-in a way against nature?” one of these said. None dared say the word ”demons,” as if their name might call them. ”Will the water ever run clean again?”

”If-anything against nature-had a hand in this, it will show in the water,” Bora said. He had to take a deep breath before he knew he could say the next words in a steady voice. ”I will step into the water. If I step out unharmed, we need fear no more than rotting cattle.”

This speech drew both cheers and protests. Several arguments and at least one fight broke out between the two factions. Bora ignored both and began stripping off his clothes. If he did not do this quickly, he might well lose the courage to do it at all.

The water was chill as always, biting with sharp, angry teeth that began on his toes and ended at his chest. He would not sink his face and head in that filthy water.

Bora stayed in the stream until numbness blunted the water's teeth. By then the crowd was silent as the mist in the demons' valley. He stayed a trifle longer, until he began to lose feeling in his toes and fingers. Then he turned toward the bank.

He needed help to climb out, but enough villagers rushed forward to help a dozen men. Others had brought towels. They surrounded him, to chafe and rub until his skin turned from blue to pink and his teeth stopped chattering.

Caraya came, with a steaming posset cup and a look he had seldom seen on her face. Her tongue was no more gentle than usual, however. ”Bora, that was a foolish thing to do! What would have become of us if the demons took you?”

”I didn't think there were any demons. But I could hardly ask anyone to believe me, unless I proved it. If I hadn't-what would have become of you if they thought I'd brought the demons and stoned me to death!”

”They wouldn't dare!” If her eyes had been bows, half the crowd would have dropped dead with arrows in them.

”Caraya, men in fear will dare anything, if it lets them strike back at that fear.” It was one of Ivram's pieces of wisdom. Now seemed a good time to bring it forth.

Another charitable soul brought a bucket of hot water and a sponge.

Bora sponged himself into a semblance of cleanliness, then pulled on his clothes. The crowd still surrounded him, many gaping as if he were a G.o.d come to earth.

Anger sharpened his voice.

”Is there no work that needs doing? If nothing else, we must bring water from Winterhome if our wells cannot give enough. Doubtless they will share if we ask. Not if we stand about gaping until the birds build nests in our mouths!”