“You are capable of divining information about those you see?” the herbalist, Grubs-in-the-dirt, asks. And honestly, between all the names I’ve heard of the lizard-folk so far, that is the one I can least take seriously. And I need to take the samuran herself seriously – she seems to be at the centre of so much recently.
“I am,” I reply briefly.
“What else are you capable of, I wonder,” she says, her tone wary. “Controlling the life-devourer. Somehow converting the loyalty of my kin to you. Now divining information that should remain personal.”
“Many things,” I answer, not giving an inch. “I find your abilities to be quite interesting, too. Transmutation and Healing Infusion. Care to explain what those might be?”
“No,” she answers, just as short with me as I was with her. “Not before I know why you’re doing what you’re doing. Why did you steal Runs-with-the-river?” The ‘from me’ is unsaid but loud nonetheless.
“I didn’t ‘steal’ Runs-with-the-river,” I refute. “We had a conversation and he decided that he’d rather help me in exchange for my help with your problem with the ‘Forest of Death’. Especially when compared to the alternative of me just doing what I needed to do and probably killing more of your kin in the process.”
“You expect me to believe that he was willing to sit down and talk to you about traitorous actions?” Her tone is incredulous. “That a mere conversation could create the changes I see in him and my sister?” Joy shifts a little uneasily at that.
“It’s a special type of conversation,” I tell the herbalist. “If you wish to live, you will find that out for yourself soon enough.” After all, the herbalist in particular is one who will either submit to a Dominate Bond or die. For her actions against Lathani, I highly doubt that Kalanthia will be satisfied with anything less than a full Dominate Bond – if that. And nor will I, when it comes down to it. Not when I’m realising just how much risk these Evolved samurans could offer to my family if not Bound to me.
The samuran stills.
“Is that a threat?” she demands, a hiss underlying her clicks and grunts, angry red spilling into her spikes.
“It’s a consequence,” I tell her, outwardly calm and unconcerned, but actually preparing to defend myself if she suddenly decides to attack me. River knew little of how the Pathwalkers attacked, but Joy was a mine of information which I took full advantage of in our journey away from Kalanthia’s cave.
Apparently, the herbalist tends to use a mixture of concoctions and, unusually for a Pathwalker, mundane ranged attacks with precisely thrown slim wooden daggers or darts shot through a blowgun, often laced with some sort of debilitating poison. It seems like the healer specialises in disabling her opponent one way or another, and then only gets close when they’re already down.
What that means is that where a Warrior might be significantly disadvantaged by starting a fight from sitting on the ground, the herbalist is not. However, I think her wooden daggers and darts would have a hard job piercing both my armour and silken undershirt, so she might have a surprise if she does try to attack.
Thankfully, after a tense moment, she settles down. I still stay on alert in case it’s just a facade.
“A consequence,” she repeats doubtfully. “Of what? Is this where you tell me that we were wrong to try to save ourselves? I have heard Runs-with-the-river’s story. He claims that we would have been destroyed by the Great Predator if we had continued with our plan to kill her cub. If so, where is she? Why did she send you in her place?”
“Because I argued against genocide,” I tell her, weariness suddenly dragging once more at me. The pain of burning myself briefly chased my exhaustion away, but it’s back with a vengeance. “Because her ultimatum for allowing you to live was to take control over your village, to ensure that you would no longer pose a threat to her or her cub.”
“Who is she to impose such on us?” the herbalist snaps back at me with abrupt fury. “She is not our conqueror; neither are you. We succeeded in taking her cub from her against her will; she could not stand against even half our Warriors. If she is weak enough to allow that to happen, why should we bare our throats to her threats?”
“Answer me this,” I say instead of continuing this tit for tat argument. “Is this whole ‘might is right’ philosophy working for you?" I ask, almost softly. “Just because you can, does that mean you should?"
I’m suddenly tired of all this. The posturing, the resistance. I’ve dealt with the Forest of Death for them, advocated for their lives, River almost died trying to save them from themselves while the rest of them just watched him battle a samuran much older and more powerful than him….
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I sigh and shift so I’m looking the herbalist right in her bronze-coloured eyes. They’re similar to River’s and Catch’s but not identical, I realise. Though the base colour is the same, there are flecks of other metallic colours which spike out from the slit of black that makes the pupil.
“River…Runs-with-the-river said that almost half the village’s Warriors were killed in the expedition to kidnap Lathani. If Kalanthia attacked, this time on the offence rather than the defence, there would be far more deaths. Your village would be destroyed even if you managed to kill her before she wiped you all out. And that’s by no means a guarantee, especially since I would have fought to protect her, and my Bound with me.”
Joy shifts again, discomfort flashing through her spikes.
“What is your point?” demands the herbalist, tensing as if she is about to attack, or is perhaps bracing for one.
“My point is that there is a better way of doing things.”
“And you think you can teach us that?” she asks, hints of contempt in her voice as she looks me up and down. “Who are you to come and criticise the way we’ve been doing things for generations?”
“You’ve been killing hatchlings for generations?” I ask pointedly. She shifts and looks away.
“No, but our sister’s motivations were good. She wished to protect our village.”
“Did she?” I ask shrewdly. “Or did she just want to protect her own power?” It’s just a theory here, but River told me how she had rejected the idea of moving away from their ‘ancestors’ bones’.
Given that she was known to control ‘spirits’ – indeed, that was the whole idea behind kidnapping Lathani in the first place – I have to wonder if her power was actually dependent on being close to the bones of creatures she had either killed or who were connected to her through blood ties. She’s dead now so I can’t ask her. Still, if the way the herbalist goes quiet is any judge, she either knows more or feels like my supposition might have merit.
“I’m not from here,” I tell the herbalist softly. “And my people have learned that though having a philosophy of the strongest rule can be good in certain ways, it doesn’t allow a society to grow beyond a certain point. How many hatchlings who might have become Pathwalkers or Warriors die in their first year because of bad luck? Or how many intelligent minds which could have created ways of making your life easier and better have been lost because they were born into weak bodies?
“My people have set foot on the moon, have plumbed the deepest oceans, and those even though we can neither fly naturally nor breathe water. All because we recognised that different people have different strengths and weaknesses, and that by offering support for the weakest, we actually help the whole of society.”
The herbalist says nothing, just gazing at me thoughtfully, then turning to look at the fire River…Runs-with-the-river has made off to the side of the camp. He is lying next to it, gazing up at the stars which peek through the canopy above – I wonder if he’s planning on joining everyone in the shelter later. Joy is still looking uncomfortable, darting glances between the fire and me.
We need to sleep – the morning will come earlier than we’d like it to, considering how late we’ve been awake. I push myself to my feet, making both Pathwalkers look up at me, the herbalist tensing again.
“I’m going to sleep,” I tell them. “I suggest that you do the same.”
Joy scrambles to her feet as quickly as she can, and catches up with me when I’m only a couple of paces away.
Wait, Markus, she said. I pause, turning slightly to look back at her.
“What is it?” I ask her wearily.
Would you… she hesitantly starts, then continues silently across our Bond. Would you…if the Great Predator had attacked the village and you fought with her, would you have…required us to fight too? I sense that she hasn’t asked it privately, and that the other samurans around us, apart from the two which are not currently part of the network, are listening intently.
I’m dying to lie down, but it’s an important question for them, so I give it the time it deserves.
No, I wouldn’t have, I tell them after a period of thought. Not if the goal was to wipe out your village. I would have only taken part myself to keep Kalanthia alive. After all, at the time, Kalanthia meant a lot more to me than any of the group of villagers, apart from River. I wouldn’t have actively taken part in the genocide, but I would have used my healing to help Kalanthia stay alive, and if she retreated, to defend her retreat. But if that had been the decision, then it would have happened long before we met each other, so it’s irrelevant in a sense.
And if it turns into a fight now? This time, the question is from Lee. I hesitate for a long moment.
This is different. I would like to keep deaths to a minimum. Among the leadership, it must be either submission or death; among the Unevolved, if they would prefer to leave the village entirely instead of submitting to my rule, then I may permit it. But I will need your help – either to convince or to control. I will not ask any of you to kill your kin, I say making a decision about a question which had been playing on my mind for a while, and no doubt on theirs as well.
Then we shall try to convince as many of our kin to submit as possible, Lee says, apparently acting as spokes-samuran for the group, if the chorus of agreement from the other lizard-folk is anything to go by.
And I will continue talking to Herbalist, Joy chimes in. That way, hopefully she will offer a supporting voice tomorrow. Then, privately to me, she adds further thoughts. I am still not entirely sure whether this upheaval is a good idea, but I have seen enough that I’m willing to support it for now – and not only because you could oblige me to do so.
Alright, thanks Joy, I say to her not sure if it’s a true compliment or a bit of a back-handed one. Still, if she can convince her kin not to engage in an all-out battle, that will save us all a lot of time and pain.
With that, I say goodnight to everyone, cast an uncertain glance at the figure of River still lying on the ground, staring up at the stars, and then duck inside the shelter for some much-needed sleep.