Children of God

Too stu

"I am Shetri Laaks." With the instructively dead froyil still dripping blood in one foreigner’s grip, Shetri kept his voice mild, but nevertheless used the dominant pronoun to invite dispute, if the foreigners were inclined to offer combat. "Rukuei is my wife’s cousin and I must not tolerate offense to my affinal kin. He has not lied, nor is he a bastard, but the song of his birth would take long to sing. I believe our purposes will be better served if none of us indulges in further insult."

There was an uneasy silence as both parties waited for Sandoz to respond. "I grant parity," he said finally, and the tension relaxed fractionally. "You speak of purpose," he said, addressing Shetri.

But it was Rukuei who answered him. "I know why you came here," he said, and noted the reaction: a quickening of breath, an intentness. "You came to learn our songs."

"This is true," the small foreigner allowed. "Rather, it was once true." He stopped and drew himself up, throwing his head back to glare at them from a distance with small eyes, black and alien — not like Isaac’s, which were small but blue as normal eyes should be, and which had never stared like this. "We came because we believed you sang of truth, and of the Mind behind truth. We wished to learn what beauties this True Mind had revealed to you. But you sang of nothing beautiful," he said with insulting softness. "Your songs were of the pleasure to be found in unmerciful power, the satisfaction of crushing opposition, the enjoyment of irresistible force."

"Everything is changed from those days," a Runao said. "This one is Kaj — pin," she told them, raising both hands to her forehead. "Now it is the southern Runa who enjoy such power. We VaN’Jarri are different."

"We have one among us who has learned the music you sought—" Rukuei started.

"If you want to hear it, you’ll have to come with us," Tiyat added quickly. "Isaac wishes you to—"

There was a small convulsion among the humans. "Isaac," Sandoz repeated. "Isaac is a foreign name. Is the person you speak of one of us?"

"Yes," said Shetri. "He is of your species, but he is not like his mother, nor like his sister—"

"His sister!" Sandoz cried.

"His sister, my wife, whose name is Ha’anala and whose foster mother was Sofia Mendes u Ku’in," Shetri continued, despite the uproar this provoked.

"You knew my cousin’s sire," Rukuei said then, hoping to reassure Sandoz and the other foreigners, who were clearly upset. "Ha’anala is the daughter of my father’s sister and of Supaari whose landname was VaGayjur—"

"This whole thing stinks to high heaven," Sean was muttering. "Why didn’t Isaac come here with you then?" he demanded in K’San. "Why hasn’t he contacted his mother? Does he live still, or do you merely use his name?"

Not waiting for the answer, Joseba said in English, "What if they’re holding him hostage? Sandoz, what if they’re using him—"

"Hostage!" Kajpin cried, startling them with her knowledge of English. "That’s Athaansi’s game!"

"We do not hold hostages," Rukuei began.

"Nico," Sandoz said quietly, "take that man down."

Before anyone else could move, Rukuei Kitheri had been slammed to the ground and was choking wide-eyed on the gun that Nico had jammed into his mouth with professional efficiency.

"Hear me, Kitheri: if you are tired of life, lie to me now," Sandoz suggested, dropping to his knees to whisper his threat. "How many are there in your party today? Nico, let him talk."

"Four," Rukuei said, the taste of steel in his mouth. "Truly. Only those you see."

"If there are more, I will have you and them killed—you last. Do you believe me?" Rukuei lifted his chin, the gorgeous eyes wide with a satisfying fear. "I say you hold the foreigner Isaac against his will. I say you use him as your father used me."

"These people are crazy!" Tiyat cried above him.

Without taking his eyes off Rukuei, Sandoz shouted, "I will hear this man’s words! Speak, Kitheri: is the foreigner Isaac alive?"

"Yes! Isaac is a person of honor among the VaN’Jarri," said Rukuei, swallowing uselessly, dry-mouthed and confused. "He left the southern Runa many years ago of his own volition. He is free to go or stay. He chooses to stay among us. He likes our songs—"

"Sipaj, Sandoz, we could have taken you hostage last night as you slept!" Kajpin pointed out, too exasperated by this inexplicable hostility to sway. "It was Rukuei’s idea to be honest with you! The escort from Gayjur will be here soon—"

"How do you know that?" Sean demanded, but Kajpin went on, "It is we-but-not-you who are in danger! We are no threat to you. We need you, and we have something to offer in return, but if we’re captured, we’ll be executed!"

Emboldened by the small foreigner’s stillness, Shetri knelt at Sandoz’s side, and spoke with quiet urgency. "The last three times the VaN’Jarri tried to make contact with the government in Gayjur, our delegates were killed on sight. Please. Listen to me. We wish an agreement with the southerners, but the VaGayjuri will not negotiate with us because my nephew Athaansi keeps raiding Runa villages, and we are all held responsible!" He stopped, and calmed himself. "Hear me, Sandoz. I will stand surety. If we lie, if we deceive you in any way, then have me killed as that froyil was killed. I will be your hostage."

"We as well," Kajpin said, standing with Tiyat.

"I also offer you my neck," said Rukuei Kitheri, from the ground. "But you will have to go to Isaac, for he will not come to you. We can take you to him, but you have to trust us. Some of us believe that Isaac has learned the music of the True Mind, which you sought, but he will not come to you to teach it."

"Lies," Sandoz said at last. "You say what we wish to hear—"

"How could we know what you wish to hear?" Tiyat cried.

With a sudden short gasp, Sandoz staggered to his feet and walked a few paces away, his back to them all. "Let him up, Nico," he snapped, but did not turn, unable to sustain the pose any longer. He felt sick, and he needed time to think. "Watch them," he flung back over his shoulder, and strode away.

IT WAS HARD TO SAY WHICH GROUP WAS MORE RELIEVED TO SEE SANDOZ go, but with his intimidating presence removed from their midst, there was a distinct lessening of strain all around.

"It would be a shame to let that froyil go to waste," Shetri commented to Joseba Urizarbarrena once Sandoz was out of hearing, and the hunter in Joseba agreed. So a fire was prepared, and the froyil gutted and hung on a spit, and other provisions brought from the boat by Tiyat, under guard. As meat and vegetables roasted, Sean and Joseba and even Nico questioned hard, and listened hard, and considered at some length what they had been told: whether it was accurate, and what it might imply. In the end, they went to Sandoz.

He was a few hundred meters away, sitting hunched and haggard on the ground. "Nico, why aren’t you watching them, as you were told?" he demanded, hiding behind as much severity as he could still muster.

"They don’t want to run away. They’re waiting for us to go with them," Nico said mildly. "Don Emilio, I had a thought: if we find out where Isaac lives, Signora Sofia will be pleased." The pistol was still in his hand and he kept an eye on his charges, just in case. "Don Carlo will know where we are," he said, glancing at the small lump on his forearm where the GPS transmitter capsule was lodged. "We have guns, and they don’t."

"We’re not going anywhere with them. We’re waiting here for Sofia’s escort," Sandoz said, not moving from the ground.

Joseba looked at Sean and then said, "Nico, would you please get Don Emilio some water? Perhaps a little something very plain to eat?" Nico nodded and trudged off toward the camp as Joseba sat down across from Emilio. "Sandoz, do you have any idea what the population of the Jana’ata was, when you were here before?" he asked.