Yet none of this explained the special anger that Heldo-Bah reserved for those “blessèd” men back in Okot who were periodically chosen by the Priestess of the Moon for entry into the Outragers. Heldo-Bah would often speak of that hatred, first to Veloc and, later, to Keera, when she began to slip away from her tracking duties and join her brother and the friend they had known since childhood on their increasingly infamous forays across the Cat’s Paw. After Keera married Tayo (a young tanner and butcher who made good use of the game that Keera hunted) and gave birth, in rapid succession, to three children, her participation became more limited, as was natural; but on occasion, she would still find herself drawn into the many arguments with the Outragers that Heldo-Bah and Veloc indulged in wherever they went; and if apprehended, she shared their terms of foraging. Yet through all these years and the many adventures and punishments that the three experienced together, neither Keera nor Veloc ever learned the reason behind Heldo-Bah’s hatred for the knights, which rivaled even his loathing of the Tall.
A sharp scream suddenly interrupts the monotonous roar of the Ayerzess-werten, along with Keera’s remembrances, and causes the tracker to bolt upright from her seat on the rocky lip of the crag. Is it a cry of pain, Keera wonders, or merely of terror? Not that it is of consequence; she has no intention of returning to the spot until her companions call for her. Keera has seen enough of death and blood and strange events, this night, and she will be happy to get home to the good-hearted Tayo and their three playfully obstreperous children: two boys who have, thankfully, taken after their father, and a girl, the youngest, who, just as thankfully, is much like her mother. Keera sits again, listening to the pre-dawn chatter of birds that are nested close by the Ayerzess-werten and chiding herself for having once again gotten mixed up in trouble between Veloc and Heldo-Bah and a group of Outragers, and thus securing for herself a place on this term of foraging. She does not seriously believe that either she or Veloc will ever so associate themselves with Heldo-Bah’s troublesome ways as to earn lifetime terms of foraging, as he has already done; but such consolation does not free her of the shame and heartache of being absent from her children. How would she feel, she sometimes wonders, if the situation were reversed? If her children ran away, even for a short time, leaving her naught to do save await their return? Keera cannot imagine life without the little creatures of her flesh, who have already begun to learn to hunt, and hunt properly: with respect for the Wood, for the spirits of the game, and finally for those other, far less visible spirits that lurk in the forest. How could she ever exist without the companionship of those pieces of herself?
A bad churning in her stomach, a cold rattling up her spine: the mere notion has frightened Keera more seriously than any of the night’s other peculiar events. She remembers, too, that she has not yet reasoned out any adequate explanation for the many soundings of the Voice of the Moon, but has been left with the shapeless dread of some sort of attack on Okot. With these considerations in mind, she decides to brave the short screams that continue to emanate from the direction of the oak, and begins to gather up all her party’s goods, ready to tell her brother and Heldo-Bah that she will continue on her way home immediately, whether they accompany her or not. The weight of her bag so customary as to be unnoticed, she seizes the other two sacks and easily lifts what would be a taxing load even for a strong Bane man, then races round the crag and heads directly for where Veloc and Heldo-Bah — both with gutting blades in hand — kneel to some urgent task. A few more steps, and Keera can see that the Outrager Welferek is no longer held to the tree by Heldo-Bah’s knives: he is lying on the ground between his two captors, looking quite dead.
Keera feels anger grip her spirit at what she thinks her brother and Heldo-Bah have done. Arriving at the tree, she throws the pair’s sacks to the ground, causing Heldo-Bah to loose a dog’s high cry of surprise and alarm; but he quickly caresses the bag, opening it and finding that its contents are safe.
“I thought we understood each other!” Keera lectures, infuriated by the sight of Welferek’s motionless, bloody body. “No more killing!”
“Save your scolding, sister,” Veloc answers; and for the first time, Keera notices that he is using his gutting blade, not to torment Welferek, but to cut bandages from a length of Broken broadcloth that he has unwound from one of his leggings. “He’s not dead.”
Heldo-Bah spits once before rejoining Veloc in binding the wounds on Welferek’s arms. “Though he’ll wish he was dead, when he wakes and remembers all this: the damned idiot fainted—dead away!”
Keera is still not certain of what she is seeing. “Fainted?” she asks. “And what could you two do to make an Outrager like this one faint?”
“I did nothing,” Veloc protests, glaring at Heldo-Bah.
“You—? Did nothing?” Heldo-Bah groans mightily. “You did nothing less than persuade him that I would carry out the threat!”
“Threat?” Keera demands.
Heldo-Bah turns to her, his face a mask of unjustified persecution. “I would not have done it, Keera, I swear to you — it was only to loosen his tongue! I cut his breeches open, put my knife against his stones, and told him that I would certainly geld him if he didn’t tell us—”
Keera nods. “Those were the girlish screams I heard?”
“I drew not one ounce of blood!” Heldo-Bah stamps his feet in protest. “As soon as the blade was on his manhood, he screamed like an ill-used sow, and down he went. He struck his head on that rock there.”
Glancing at a sizable lump on Welferek’s head, Keera examines the ground beneath it, and finds the rock in question. Heldo-Bah, meanwhile, waits for a further rebuke — and is surprised when none comes. “Then,” Keera continues, “he told you nothing about Okot?”
With uncharacteristic suddenness, both Veloc and Heldo-Bah become utterly somber; and as Heldo-Bah undertakes the job of binding Welferek’s arm wounds, Veloc takes his sister aside.
“He was nearly unconscious, when he spoke the words, Keera.” Veloc is as grave as Keera can remember him ever being.
Keera waits an instant, then slaps her brother’s shoulder. “And—?”
Veloc’s brown eyes stare directly into Keera’s blue, knowing what effect his next statement will have: “He spoke of — of plague. In Okot …”
The word is nonsense to Keera, at first; but with Veloc’s continued hard stare, she allows it as a possibility — and is so stunned that she forgets even to breathe, for an instant, and then must hurry air into her body with a panicked gasp. “Plague? But — we have never—”
“No. The Wood and the river have shielded us,” Veloc agrees.
“Which may mean,” Heldo-Bah says quietly, with what might pass for tact, “that our luck has held too long. And has now run out …”
Keera can say nothing for a moment. When she regains her composure, her mind fastens on practicalities. “Strap your sacks on, both of you,” she says, noting Welferek’s bound hands. “I’m going to wake him.”
“We’ve tried, Keera,” Heldo-Bah says. “It’s like asking a log to get up and dance. The man’s past distraction.”
“We are going to wake him, damn you,” Keera begins to shout. “I want to know what he’s talking about — there has never been plague in Okot!”
The shrillness of her voice has apparently succeeded where all Heldo-Bah’s and Veloc’s efforts failed. Welferek’s head tosses and he murmurs nonsense for a moment. He then opens his eyes, looking at the foragers, but clearly unsure if he is seeing them.