The Hunter (22 page)

“Why would it not?” asked Uba Mintch. “If such a thing were implanted in your body, would you wish to take the risk? Would
you volunteer yourself for the good and knowledge of the community?”

Braldt nodded, seeing what the old one was saying. “So, it is possible to cause pain with these things even though I am not
a hard one and did not know what I was doing.”

“I’d say that it worked well enough,” Uba Mintch said dryly. “But there is another thing that we have learned, a thing of
value. We cannot be controlled from a distance; it is necessary to be close or the crystals do not work. Were it otherwise,
the masters could have elected to take their own action in safety from afar. At least we are spared that concern. So long
as we can prevent their landing, we cannot be controlled.”

“But do you not fear that they will give up the thought of bringing you under control once more and simply destroy the planet
as was their original plan?” asked Braldt.

“I do not think that they will chance such a thing for there is the matter of the Grand Council. They would not risk their
censure for we are a registered people and there are guidelines that even the masters must observe. They cannot eradicate
us without facing the consequences.”

“But what about us?” asked Keri who had come into the room silently and unseen. “Would this council not object to the eradication
of our people?”

“I do not know,” replied Uba Mintch, exchanging a troubled glance with Sytha Trubal. “There are many peoples on many planets,
some more civilized than others. Some barely above the level of plants. There are rules for everything, this I know, but little
more, for the hard ones and the masters did not share such knowledge with us. It was not in their best interests,” he added
dryly. “Ahh, here are our cups, drink, everyone, drink.”

Braldt and Keri took the sturdy earthenware mugs from the serving girl’s tray and sipped at the tart red tea, a daily tradition
that was closely observed, even on a day such as this filled with pain and confusion. As he drank the pleasantly
sour brew, Braldt was struck with a sudden realization. “This, this is the berry you were speaking of! This is the stuff that
freed you from the masters!”

Uba Mintch nodded. Then he spoke, his voice oddly troubled. “Forgive me if I speak in rudeness, but there is a question I
must ask of you, you are unlike the Duroni and do not appear to be of their kind. How is this? Who are your people?”

Braldt was startled by the question and could not help but notice how closely Uba Mintch and Sytha Trubal waited for his reply.
He was puzzled by their interest but could not think of any reason to tell them anything but the truth.

“Odd, most odd,” murmured Uba Mintch after a quick exchange of glances with Sytha Trubal. “Please forgive the curiosity of
an old man,” he said with a smile, denying the importance of his own question. “Strange thoughts just come into my mind and
bother me till I have the answer. Think of it no more.

“Well, that will be Batta Flor, I imagine,” he said, rising quickly at the first sound of knuckles on the door, and, without
waiting for the serving girl, hurried to answer the door himself. Braldt thought the old man’s behavior to be most peculiar,
and that question… why would he wonder about Braldt’s parentage? But there was no time for that now for the sound of footsteps
echoed from the long hall and Braldt rose to his feet as Batta Flor entered the room.

Braldt was shocked at his appearance. The Madrelli’s eyes were ringed with dark black circles that extended from the bridge
of his nose to his ears, which were delicately bound up in thin bandages and fixed in place with sticking plaster. The whites
of his eyes were awash with burst blood vessels and the colors of his muzzle were faded and dull. But his posture was proud
and erect, even though he paced forward on stiff legs. Braldt knew that he must be in extreme pain, but he also knew that
it had been necessary.

“I have been telling Batta Flor that there was no reason
for him to have come so soon. He should be home, gathering his strength,” said Uba Mintch, “but he will not listen to me.”

“I am glad that you have come,” said Braldt as he crossed the room to greet his former opponent, extending his hand in a greeting
as he would have done to one of his own comrades. Beast detached himself from Sytha’s side and trotted forward on stiff legs,
hair standing up along the ridge of his spine, and sniffed at Batta Flor’s legs, then turned away with disinterest, all sign
of animosity gone.

After a moment of hesitation, Batta Flor took Braldt’s hand and clasped it in his own. His grip was powerful, and large as
Braldt’s hand was, it vanished in the Madrelli’s grip. Once again he realized his good fortune in winning the contest.

“Did you mean what you said,” Batta Flor asked abruptly, without any exchange of pleasantries.

“Yes,” replied Braldt, his hand still buried within the Madrelli’s firm grip. “I wish nothing but your friendship.”

“And for me to take you to the cavern,” added Batta Flor.

“That too,” admitted Braldt, meeting the Madrelli’s gaze.

“And you give up all claim to Sytha Trubal for now and all time?” asked Batta Flor.

“I do,” Braldt replied levelly, hearing the soft gasp that came from Keri and Sytha Trubal, “if such a thing is agreeable
to Sytha Trubal as well. Her wishes must also be considered in this matter.”

“Sytha Trubal, will you have me to mate,” Batta Flor asked softly, his red-rimmed eyes staring directly into hers.

“I will accept your proposal,” replied Sytha Trubal, “for the good of the tribe.”

“And for no other reason?” asked Batta Flor, dropping Braldt’s hand and turning away from him as though he did not exist.

A crimson flush suffused Sytha’s muzzle and she lowered
her head, her reaction all the answer that was required. Gently, Batta Flor gathered her into his immense arms and she rested
her head on his chest. They stayed like that for a moment and no one spoke. Finally, Batta Flor said, “I will do this thing
that I have promised. I will take these two-foots to the cavern and let them see for themselves that it is impossible to enter.
Then I will return for you and we will be mated.”

He turned to Braldt. “We leave at first dawning. Be ready.”

“But, but… neither of you are ready to travel!” protested Sytha Trubal. “Both of you are hurt and need to rest!”

“Surely it would be better if you waited a day or two,” said Uba Mintch.

“No good can come of waiting, waiting is for women, unless the two-foots want to wait,” said Batta Flor, his lips drawn back
in a sneer.

“This two-foot sees no reason to wait,” said Braldt, even though his arm was aching badly. If the Madrelli could think of
traveling with his injuries, then he would go as well.

“We leave at dawn, be ready,” said Batta Flor, punctuating his words with a stabbing finger, and then he was gone.

The serving girl, her giggles stilled for once, roused them before dawn, and as they assembled in the great room before the
blazing fireplace and took the steaming mugs of sour berry tea and the hot, buttered grain patties from the silver tray, they
saw that Uba Mintch was already seated, his old bones soaking up the welcome heat.

“I will not wish you well on your mission, for if you succeed, you will bring ruin upon us all. But I will pray that no harm
befalls you.”

“To whom or what do you pray, Uba Mintch, if as you say, Mother Moon is naught but a lifeless bit of rock and all our gods
are but a sham?” Carn asked bitterly.

“We Madrelli have traveled to many worlds, seen
many strange sights. If we were to tell you of our experiences, you would not believe us. This world, beautiful as it is,
is but a small dot in the universe that stretches beyond. Despite the cold words of the masters, to whom everything is but
a part of the plan, I believe that there is something more, something that cannot be explained, something too big for even
the masters to comprehend. It does not have a name, the word
god
will serve as well as any other. It is to that greater power that I utter my small prayers.”

The old Madrelli uttered these words while staring into the blazing fire and almost seemed to be speaking to himself. Now,
he turned and looked directly at Braldt, and almost for the first time, Braldt realized how old Uba Mintch must be, saw the
grey fuzz spreading out from the base of the muzzle, saw that his hands trembled slightly even when in repose, saw the haze
that clouded his eyes and knew that his end was drawing near.

Uba Mintch nodded once, as though confirming Braldt’s insights, and spoke with a great calmness. “You take with you on this
mission a heavy burden, for you carry with you the fate of your people as well as mine. Think carefully before you act, act
cautiously and without haste or anger, for what you do will affect us all. May you travel in safety and return in health.”

These words were spoken as a benediction, and turning, Braldt saw that CaRN and Keri and Batta Flor, who had arrived without
their notice, had taken it as such for all were subdued and silent. Somehow, as they gathered up their packs and filed out
of the home with Uba Mintch, Sytha Trubal, and the little one waving their good-byes from the doorstep, he knew that none
of them would ever see Uba Mintch again.

The valley of the Madrelli was soon left behind as the morning mists closed in around them, growing thicker as they climbed.
The elevation rose steeply and they were forced to follow hard on Batta Flor’s footsteps or risk being lost on the mountain.
Batta Flor remained silent and they all
found themselves wondering whether it was his intention to lose them, slipping away in the dense fog.

He called a halt by midmorning and it was a welcome relief for their legs were aching with fatigue and their hearts were pounding.
They collapsed where they stood, hiding their exhaustion as best they were able, for none of them were willing to admit that
they could not keep up with a Madrelli.

Batta Flor set about lighting a small fire with a cube of compressed wood chips, impregnated with a waxy substance. It lit
instantly and soon the blessed warmth of the tart berry tea radiated through their bellies, restoring them.

Braldt stood up to stretch his aching muscles and saw that the fog had burned off the lower elevations and was astonished
at how far they had come, the valley appeared to be no more than a child’s plaything far below them. Batta Flor joined him
and together they stared down at the peaceful scene below.

“I did not realize that we would climb so high,” Braldt said, hoping to engage the Madrelli in conversation.

“This high and higher still,” replied Batta Flor, his eyes still on the village. “If you can keep up.”

“Do not worry about us,” said Carn, “we can follow wherever you lead.”

Batta Flor turned to contemplate Carn, the black circles under his inflamed eyes giving him a brutish and malignant appearance.
“This is no game, two-foot. The way to the cavern will be difficult and dangerous. I do not even know if it can be done. I
have given my word to take you to the cavern and I will do it if I can. But I will take no stupid risks, nor will I be badgered.
I am the leader here, you are but the followers, and my word is law.”

Carn smarted visibly under the Madrelli’s words and he stepped forward, invading that personal space immediately in front
of the Madrelli, stepping so close as to present a challenge that could not go unanswered.

Anxious to avoid a confrontation, Braldt took Batta Flor by the elbow and turned him aside. “Tell me, if you
were working regularly in this cavern, surely it must be close by. Why is it necessary for us to travel so far and why will
the going be so difficult?”

Batta Flor did not answer, glaring back at Carn over his shoulder, but Braldt continued walking and asking his quiet questions
and after a moment Batta Flor allowed himself to be distracted.

“We flooded the chamber, this I have already told you. It is impossible to enter the chamber from below for the river runs
through the cavern. The only way it can be approached is from above, the way we ourselves entered. I do not understand what
good you think will come of this expedition. There is nothing to see but an empty riverbed and a fall of rock.”