There was no prisoner exchange that time. Tuva Culik, the compound warden, came running from its office, its skin reddish with rage. Culik had heard that the humans had begun executing their prisoners. From Culik’s belt the warden pulled a pulse weapon and fired into the humans. The humans roared and charged the fence. I cut into them with an energy knife. Two other guards joined in and the four of us fired into the eleven unarmed humans until there was nothing left but a lumpy puddle of steaming muck. Afterward, silence. Then another message.
It was a false rumor. The humans still honored the agreement. Tuva Culik had been wrong. We had murdered the eleven humans. When the Front heard about what we had done to their comrades, the rumor was righted. The humans executed forty-four soldiers of the Mavedah and the truce was ended. Culik had been proven right after all.
"Tuka nue!" commands an adult voice weary with scolding.
The children halt their war and face a Drac adult who is holding a bundle of hand-washed clothes in its arms. It carries no weapons.
"Neleh Ve?" I ask.
Its eyes, the lids narrowed, study me for a moment. Without removing its gaze from my eyes, the Drac gestures with its head toward the house and says to the children, "Tean, benga." With the children in the shack, the Drac shifts the washing, resting it on a hip, leaving its right arm free. "I am Neleh Ve."
"Yazi Ro," I answer. "It is good to see children again."
"The battle cry of the childless," says Neleh Ve without changing expression. "Is there something you want?"
"I look for the JetahTalman, Zenak Abi. I was told you could instruct me where to go."
Amusement touches Ve’s lips. "What use has a soldier of the Mavedah with a master of paths?"
"Perhaps the path of the Mavedah no longer serves me." I frown at Ve and invite a wound with my question. "I have no weapons, no armor. How do you know I was Mavedah?"
"Your eyes, Yazi Ro. They belong to a killer."
I take the wound and add it to my collection. "Zenak Abi," I repeat. "Where may I find the Jetah?"
Ve gestures with its head toward the mountain. "Up there somewhere."
I look up at the mountain, its peaks capped with snow. "It is a big mountain. Is there a particular trail I should follow?"
"Go, and if Abi wants to talk with you, it will find you. Be warned, though, that the Jetah can defend itself."
"I mean the Jetah no harm. I only seek information."
"So said many who sought to slay the traitor." Neleh Ve turns and begins spreading its wash on the drying boards. I am dismissed.
Neleh Ve has no reason to believe differently about me. There is no reason why I should concern myself about what it thinks. I feel the need, though. I feel the need to tell Ve that I am no longer one of them. My only proof, though, is that I have killed no one today. I aim my steps up the mountain as the children in the shack resume their pretend killing.
I still hear their voices as I turn on my receiver and listen to a little zidydrac before the music is interrupted to inform us that the village of Riehm Vo has been retaken by the Front. I think about the dead woman I beheaded and know that I have added luster to some Amadeen Front soldier’s resolve to exterminate every Drac from the face of the planet. As the music returns, I place the receiver on a rock and leave it there, the music fading as I climb.
There are trees on the mountain, great towering things with craggy black skin and reddish-green leaves as wide as my hand is long. Among the rocks and grasses are flowers, berry hushes, and blossoming vines that reach high into the trees. The air is cooler and there is a breeze. I can hear the sounds of battle, but they are distant, not as loud as the dark-brown furred shade nit at my feet. Its sound is a chip-chip and it sits within a thicket on its hind legs, its thin black tail wrapped around its legs, making its sound, warning me not to approach.
I search my pockets. The creature defends its territory. It is not begging me for ancient battle rations. Still, I find an end of ration bar, pinch off a piece, and toss it to the nit. It springs back, increases its cry in volume, and paws at the air with its front legs. I back away a step and, after a moment, the creature quiets, leans forward and sniffs at the piece of food. Darting out to pick it up, the nit rushes back to the safety of the deep thicket. As it eats I turn and look around me.
Something inside me is outraged at this corner of Amadeen that has missed the warring. Where is the justice that claimed the lives of Anta, Ki, Pina, and Adoveyna, yet lets a bloody shade nit live? I cross my legs and sit where I am.
I have no argument with justice. I lost my belief in such things long before my parent died. My argument is with reality. My comrades should not be dead. Instead we should all be here on the side of this mountain, cooling ourselves in the shade, tossing bits of food to the nits. There is a pain in me so intense that I cannot afford to let it claim me.
Suddenly I feel something dig into my back. "I see I have a visitor," says a voice from behind me. "Let me see your hands, child, and do not clutter them with weapons, I beg you."
I sit up and hold my hands out to my sides as I condemn myself as a fool. "Zenak Abi?" I ask.
With steps as silent as the mist, it moves slowly around me until I can see it. The Drac is old but looks to be strong. It wears pieces of camouflage uniforms, human trousers, a Drac jacket and boots, a soft human brimmed hat. All that remains of a Talman master’s robe, the blue stripe at the hem, it wears draped around its neck. In its hands it holds a long walking stick. "I am Abi. Who might you be?"
I lower my hands to my sides and climb to my feet. "I am Yazi Ro." I think for a moment and then add, "I used to serve in the Mavedah. The Okori Sikov of the Ninth Shordan."
The old one’s brow rises in amusement. "Eh, a proud band, the Okori Sikov." Abi lowers the end of its staff to the ground. Grasping it with both hands, the Jetah rests its weight on it. "And what is a hero of the Okori Sikov doing so far from the fighting?"
I feel the heat coming to my face. "Your mockery is out of place, old one. I come here for answers, not to provide you with entertainment."
It grins at me, the broken edge of its upper mandible quite visible. "Perhaps I cannot remember the answers, Yazi Ro, unless I am entertained."
I turn, see the trunk of a fallen tree, and go to it. I sit down, cross my arms, and rest my elbows on my knees. I do this to avoid slitting open the old fool with the knife hidden in my boot. I feel twice the fool for coming here. Perhaps my questions have no answers.
Abi squats down before me, leans the stick between its neck and shoulder, and studies me. The longer the Jetah stares at me, the more foolish I feel. Just as I am about to rise and flee from the mountain, Abi says, "What is your question, soldier? Ask it honestly and I will provide you with an answer as honest as your question."
I remain quiet as my anger wrestles with my thoughts, leaving nothing clear. My question? Who knows what my question is? Why is there a war? Why is peace impossible? Why was I born into the center of this holocaust? Why are my comrades dead? Why is my parent dead? Why is life and the world excrement?
I can feel the tears dribble down my face. My question. What is my question? My mind is blanked by the futility of it all. "Very well, old fool. Why do you wear human trousers?"