“Cloudsiders,” Jin muttered, still anxious, scowling, because he saw his men making light of it, because he saw his own camp less ordered than he liked. His men grew quiet, reading his mood. They were wise, the men nearest him, at least to duck their heads. But he suspected–in the least, niggling way suspected, that he was too cautious in their eyes, that there would be whispers if they dared. “This Elai,” he said, not for the first time, “this Elai’s nothing. But this isn’t one tower. There’s numbers. You keep thinking on that. Hear?”
They faced him across the fire, men he had won, tower by tower, themselves. He had his starman by him. Genley. Genley sat at his left hand, to do what he wanted, to tell him what he asked. The Cloud Towers…that had waited settling too long; there was MaGee; and that woman; and women worth the having; workers for the fields; these caliban‑riders to deal with at his leisure, to teach the others what defying him was worth, any of them they got alive…far from the sight of the Wire. These women that played at war. There would be scores settled. Indeed, scores settled.
“Tomorrow,” he said, having thought it out, “we go by them.”
“Past?” echoed Blue.
“We go out from the shore.” He signed it as he spoke, frowning to himself, to no one in particular, satisfied, well‑satisfied now he had mapped it out. “We come at them from the south. Let these Cloudsiders have the water at their backs. We drive them off the shore. Caliban matter then. All caliban.”
There were grins, figuring how it would be, darts for what riders remained astride, Calibans coming up from below, seizing legs, embattled calibans lashing the water to froth–it was not a way to get caught, in that kind of action. This woman, gullible, continued on the shore, going where calibans wanted to go–of course wanted to go, where the ground was soft, where they could throw up mounds to ring their camps, where there was fish abundant to satisfy caliban appetites.
Fish. On so small a thing, to lose a war.
There were voices, too loud, at the edge of the camp.
“What’s that?” he asked, vexed. He stood up. Genley started off from him. “What is that?”
“I’ll see,” Genley said.
Mannin. The starmen were in that direction; another matter with the starmen. Genley was running, crossing the ground. He went more slowly, overtook Genley where Genley came up against Vil and his lot: it was the starmen. Voices were raised. Genley shoved; Vil shoved back, and Vil’s band had weapons.
“Where?” Jin asked directly, thrusting an arm between Vil and Genley, levering them apart. Blue moved in, got Vil’s attention with a spearshaft. “ Where?”
“Don’t know where,” someone said.
Genley ran, riverward. The spear was quick, coming from the side.
Jin stood there a moment, seeing this, seeing Genley down, writhing on the spear. The hunter pulled it out. Jin drew a breath, just held out his hand.
Blue gave him what he asked for. The smooth wood filled his hand. He walked forward and swung the spear up; the hunter blocked it, instinct, but this was a dead man. He whirled the spear and thrust it up, under the jaw, whipped round with it ready for Vil, for the rest of them. One looked apt to try, but did nothing.
“Gen‑ley,” he said, not looking at him, watching kinsmen’s eyes. There was no answer. He had expected none, not the way that spear had hit. He stood there the space of several breaths. “I want Mannin,” he said very quietly, “I want Kim– Blue,”he said, “where’s Parm?” They were Parm’s men, these.
Parm came. Stood quietly. Jin saw him unfocused, to the side; his eyes were all for Vil, who had not yet said a word. All about the camp, everywhere, men were on their feet, weapons ready. He found himself shaking, voiceless in the vastness of his suspicions: Parm Tower, Parm, which had harbored a grudge of which the starmen were the center. Parm, defying him.
Parm, who was allied with Green Tower, had a Green Tower woman; Green had Parm’s.
The silence went on. It was Vil’s to speak. Or Parm’s himself. The calibans were off at hunt. From the river came splashes, grunts. There would be one already to deal with, its rider dead, when it discovered it.
“I’ll settle it,” Parm said.
It would not be safe. There would be Parm to watch. Parm knew that. They all did. But the structure was too fragile.
“Want those starmen back,” Jin said quietly. “Want this settled with Vil.”
“He’ll get them.”
“You be careful,” Jin said. He spared a slight shift of his eye to Parm. “You get this man out of my way. Hear?”
There was a slow sorting‑out, slow movements everywhere. Already an ariel had come to investigate the bodies. It tugged at one of Genley’s fingers.
Jin drove his spear through it, pinned it wriggling to the ground. Genley’s face still had its look of shock. “River,” Jin said. Burying was too much work. There was war to fight. He flung the spear down uncleaned, walked away to the fire, took up the skin of drink and had enough to settle his belly. He took a bit more. Tears welled up in his eyes, dammed up there, unsheddable.
Men came and went around him, moving softfooted. He sat there still, with his mind busy, ignoring the rage that had him near to trembling. There was Parm to reckon round now. This man would have to be killed. There were the calibans. When the dead man’s came in, that was to settle; kill the beast, before it spread. Let Vil make amends if he would; kill this man too, like killing infection, before it spread.
A tower had to fall over this. No, there was no stopping it. Unless Parm could die in battle. He considered this, more and more thinking of it.
“This Parm,” he said to Blue, who sat close by him. “Tomorrow.” He made a tiny sign.
Blue’s eyes lighted with satisfaction. He closed his fingers in a circle: band.
Jin met Blue’s gaze and smiled with the eyes only. Yes. Decimate the band. Blue would find a way, tomorrow, in battle: put Parm and his lads–Vil too–where they could die.
It would save a tower. Save the unity of the towers.
Thorn came in. So other calibans came, to the scent of blood, to the rumor of ariels. Thorn swung his head, swept the ground with his tail. “Hsss,” Jin said, leaning back when that great head thrust itself into his way. He grasped the soft wattle skin and pulled, distracting the caliban, but it wandered off, to walk stifflegged about the camp, just in case.
So he was whole again. Blue’s came. The pattern took shape again, men shifting to his side, gathering all about hisfire and not to Parm’s, not joining the search that Parm and his men made.
And when Parm brought the starmen back, he was obliged to cross the camp with his prisoners, to bring them to him, like an offering…offering it was. A placation. The starmen–muddy, wet, bedraggled–“Genley,” Mannin kept asking, looking about. “Genley?”–with fear in his voice. This was a nuisance, this man. To all of them. A small voice, while Parm looked at him and reckoned his chances, how much time this bought.
“Vil will pay for his mistake,” Parm said, having added up, it seemed, this silence in the camp.
Jin looked elsewhere, not willing to be appeased. The bands had made their judgement, silently, ranged themselves with him. The calibans were at hand, quiet on the fringes of the light.
“I will see to it,” Parm persisted, further abasement.
“Do that.” Jin looked at him. There was no reprieve. The man had lost his usefulness; now he lost his threat as well. Jin breathed easier still, assumed an easier expression; but Parm knew him. This was a frightened man. And would die before he recovered from it. Jin rose and dusted off his breeches, looked at the starmen.
Mannin snuffled. Kim stared, with dark, measuring eyes.
“These caused the trouble,” Jin said, snapped his fingers and pointed at Kim. “Kill that one.”
Kim started to his feet. A knife was in his back before he made it. He tumbled backward, and hit the ground the while Mannin simply stared, on his knees, stared and hugged himself and trembled.