Climate of Change (42 page)

“For what?” Keeper asked. It was his prerogative, as this was his station; he was in charge here despite being younger than his brother and sister.

“Guard mine as you do your own.”

This did not register. “Your what?”

The leader was pacing back and forth, not facing them. “My child.”

All four of them must have shown their surprise, for there was a
rumble of laughter around the circle. Surprise was, however, a tolerable weakness. The Toltecs knew something they did not. Even so, they would not have laughed had they not known that their leader permitted it.

“What child?” Keeper asked.

“My motherless daughter, the age of yours. I need a home for her, and that cannot be on the battlefield.”

“For sure,” Rebel muttered.

The officer heard her, but spoke to Keeper. “She is right. Your child is here because your wife would not leave her unguarded. But I have no wife.”

Keeper realized that the man thought that Rebel was his wife, because she was the woman with the child. For the moment, that did not matter. “Hire a woman.”

“I have done so. She does not care, and will not move. In any event, she cannot provide what my daughter needs. Very few can.”

This was weird. This enemy warrior leader was talking family with him, in the guise of negotiation. “Move where?”

“To Xlacah.”

It began to register. “You are to be garrison commander?”

“When the city falls, I will be one of the administrative officials. I must be there. I want my child with me, in a family. One with courage and caring.” He paused, evidently troubled. “I am not yet ready to marry. My wife—her memory lingers. My daughter is all that remains of her. I must have her close and safe.”

“But you cannot trust an enemy!” Keeper protested.

The officer shrugged. “Your brother could have shot me at any time.”

Again they were startled. This man knew their relationship. That meant he had studied his enemy, targeting its commanders or key personnel. He had missed on Rebel, but that was understandable; he knew that Keeper was the married one. And it seemed that it had not been chance that had trapped them here.

“Your men would have killed us all,” Craft said.

“Four captives, for one officer. An even trade?”

Point made. One commander was worth a hundred lesser men. An
arrow could have reached Craft before he threw a spear, but instead he carried a good bow. At this point-blank range his arrow could penetrate the body armor. Most soldiers would have made the trade. “I would have killed you, had you attacked,” Craft said.

“You would have been dead before you could strike back. You had to strike first. You knew that.”

Craft nodded, yielding that point too. The man had almost dared them to strike first, killing him, and they hadn't done it. The man had known their nature. “This is embarrassing,” Craft said.

“Not necessarily. You also knew I had something on my mind, or I would have had you killed without pause. So you waited to discover what that was.” He glanced around. “All of you waited.”

Indeed. “Why us?” Craft asked.

“My wife was Maya. Her matrilineal clan relates to yours. My daughter needs that support.”

That explained much. The man wanted his child to have the association of her clan. Children who did not, could be cursed. Men were the leaders, but the power of the women was subtle and pervasive. Most of a girl's education was handled by her matrilineal clan relatives, especially the aspects relating to her status and marriage. So the man had searched out those relatives, however distant, and pounced when he found them within his grasp. This encounter was no coincidence.

“For the support of your daughter,” Keeper said. “What price?”

“Safety of your household—because it would become hers. After hostilities cease.”

“Our household includes warriors.”

“Two, besides the two of you,” the officer agreed. “They too will be spared.”

“And you, sir,” Rebel said, speaking directly to the officer for the first time. She included a signal of respect for his status that Keeper had not. Now that they were negotiating, this was appropriate. “You would be there with your child.”

“When not in the field,” the officer agreed again.

“What would you expect of the women of the house?”

“Of a married woman, only meals and domestic chores.” He
glanced around. “The rules of war would not apply, even for one as lovely as you.”

Meaning that sexual service was not required; he sought only compatible environment for his half-orphaned child. Considering that there would be chaos when Xlacah fell, such protection of their household would be more than welcome. Keeper glanced at Craft, then at Rebel, and then at Allele. They all understood; it was a generous offer, one that they could accept with honor. The fact that the officer evidently assumed that Rebel was Keeper's wife hardly mattered; relatives of favored captives normally shared privileges. His military research had evidently applied to warriors, ignoring women, who were beneath notice.

“Agreed, sir,” Keeper said, setting aside his spear in a ritual token of peace. Craft set aside his bow, and Rebel put away her knife. Allele turned into her, sobbing, seeking comfort.

The circle of warriors turned their backs, signaling withdrawal of threat, and privacy for the dialogue to follow.

The officer nodded. “I am Tuho. My child is Tula, after our capital. She is unusual, as you will discover, but not difficult. You are now my guests. Your wife and child will be guided to my present home in Chichén Itzá to meet my daughter. You and your brother will acquaint me with the location and description of your home, so that I can protect it from the carnage to come.”

Keeper nodded. They had in fact surrendered, but Tuho was being careful not to use the term “prisoner.” He was guaranteeing their safety. “Agreed,” Keeper said again.

“One detail, sir,” Rebel said.

Tuho looked at her.

“I am not his wife. I am his unmarried sister. This girl is my niece.” She squeezed Allele reassuringly.

The man was clearly taken aback. “I apologize. You will of course have similar status.”

Keeper was surprised again. An officer, as a rule, did not apologize to a subordinate, and a man did not apologize to a woman. Unless he especially wanted her favor.

“Perhaps I will accept alternate status, sir, should it be proffered.”

Tuho studied her, appreciating her meaning. She turned her profile to him and inhaled. It was a gesture she had always been good at; she had as fine a profile as any woman could desire. Keeper could not remember when any man had ever turned her down. “As you choose,” he said. “It would be appreciated. Though temporary.”

“Temporary,” she agreed. She had just undertaken to become his mistress, for a while. Tuho had impressed her favorably. She would return the favor, in good measure. An affair with a ranking officer would have benefits well beyond that of mere survival, but this was more than that, because grace had already been granted. Rebel would give him passion. Now he had double incentive to see that they were treated well. Rebel normally had more than one reason for what she did.

Tuho signaled, and two men stepped forward. “Take this woman and this girl to my premises in Chichén Itzá. They will be guests there until return to their own home is feasible.” He paused. “There will be no presumption as to their status. They are mine.”

“Yes, sir.” If any man touched woman or girl, or failed to safeguard her from molestation, he would incur the wrath of his commander, surely a lethal malady. The Toltecs had already demonstrated their discipline; the order would be obeyed.

Tuho signaled again. Two more men reported. “Ascertain the details of the home residence of these men, and arrange that it and its occupants be protected from molestation. See that these men are courteously treated; they are noncombatants, though they will not be disarmed.” Which meant that they could keep their weapons. That was another generous gesture, for a man's weapons were valuable in more than the physical sense; they lent ongoing status, particularly in an enemy camp.

“Yes, sir.” They focused on Keeper and Craft as the commander walked away.

The men guided them toward the rear of the battle area, but Keeper could see the action occurring. The surprise raid to intercept the water women had been only part of a general attack. The Xlacah troops were having the worst of it, having been caught out of position and unprepared. They would have lost anyway, being outnumbered
and out-disciplined, but this was a rout. The end of Xlacah was late in coming, but certain.

Keeper and Craft gave the necessary detail, and the two Toltec soldiers departed. No one guarded the family or paid undue attention to them, though several glanced at their weapons. They were garbed as members of the Xlacah army, yet were obviously not prisoners. “It is almost as if we could just walk away,” Keeper murmured.

“We would die if we did,” Craft replied. “We are being watched. Tuho doesn't seem to leave anything to chance.”

“A competent commander doesn't.”

As dusk came, the battle concluded. Little quarter had been given; those Old Town soldiers who had not fled or surrendered had been slaughtered. Spear, arrow, or claw-knife—it hardly mattered as the blood flowed. Soon enough the way of it had become clear, and the surrendering had become general. Enslavement was after all better than death. High-ranking captives would be ransomed back to their families, in due course. Useful service personnel had of course been spared, such as the cooks, porters, and prostitutes. The Toltec army was set to march on Xlacah without further significant resistance.

Tuho returned. “If you will accompany me to the officers' mess, we will talk again,” he said.

“Sir, if I may—” Keeper said.

“You may.”

“My wife will be fleeing the house, fearing that we have died and that it will be savaged.”

“A reasonable concern. But it would be difficult for you to cross the lines at this time, in order to reassure her. Our scouts pursue any strangers, and of course your own people are not necessarily friendly to any of ours caught alone.”

“I am familiar with the terrain,” Keeper said. “I could cross unobserved.”

“Yes, I suppose you could. It is my hope that your facility with natural things can be turned to our advantage, once hostilities cease.”

“I think so, then. But right now—”

“I appreciate your concern, and it is also my concern, as I want your household intact. I believe that your family is capable of providing what Tula needs. Very well; you will be released at a site of your choosing, and you and your family members will thereafter remain in your house until it has been secured. The troops will be perhaps exuberant when they first pass.”

Meaning that they would be pillaging, raping, killing, and burning, in the manner of victorious savages. This was not official policy, but the tensions of recent battle had to be released. It would definitely not be safe outside the house.

“Your brother will remain with me, to make certain of the identity of the house as we approach.”

Meaning that Craft would still be a prisoner, and would pay if there were any betrayal. Tuho was no fool, for all his indirection. He knew that they, as lesser officers, comprehended the nuances.

“Understood, sir.”

The two soldiers who had interviewed them returned to take Keeper to the edge of the Toltec boundary. He chose his place, and slipped away. The two Toltecs neither spoke nor moved; they were guarding his rear, ensuring that there would be no pursuit. Not that that mattered. He understood the way of the natural land; no one would be aware of his passage.

Well before dawn, he reached the city. It was in a nervous state despite the hour, for news of the disaster in battle had spread. Families were already moving out, bearing their meager belongings on their backs. But not many, for most had nowhere else to go.

His house was near the central plaza, with its own internal well; that was the first detail Keeper had seen to, as he had a number of unusual plants that needed extra water. It would have been a shame to have to leave it, for the plants would soon die. Now, as much by happenstance as design, he would be able to remain.

His house was large, with many chambers, for the entire double family shared it, and they were well off. Around it were a number of much smaller round and rectangular homes belonging to poor families,
for the neighborhood was mixed; there was no segregation by class. So the social levels were mixed, and neighbors did their best to ignore each other when their classes differed.

He used his secret entrance, then called out softly. “Crenelle.”

She answered immediately. “Keeper! Where is Allele?”

“She and Rebel are safe. And Craft. We were taken by the Toltecs—”

“The Toltecs!”

“A surprise foray. They knew who we were. We will be protected. But we must take in boarders.”

“Boarders!”

“The commander of the Toltec expedition, and his daughter. She is Allele's age, and needs a family.”

“And what does he need?”

“Rebel will cover it.”

Only then did she relax enough to embrace him. “Oh, Keeper, I was so worried. When Rebel and Allele didn't come home at dusk. . .”

He held her, and kissed her, and went into more detail about the events of the day. She was of course horrified by the slaughter, but relieved that those she loved were safe. “And this child—what do you know of her?”

“Nothing, except that she lost her mother. Her father is really concerned for her. Haven can surely see to her.”

“Yes. It will be awkward having a Toltec in our house, but the child is surely a human being.”

“She surely is.” He was relieved; she was accepting it. “He suggested that this girl, Tula, is unusual, and that she has a special need, apart from the importance of association with members of her matrilineal clan.”