Truja nodded numbly, stunned into silence by his anger.
«And as for the rest-curses are something I didn't expect you to believe in. Not even curses from the disaster. I-«
«But the curse is from the violence of the men. They-«
«Balls! They weren't any more violent than the people today, men or women. Look at what's ripping the city apart. That silly quarrel that still has everybody so furious they won't cooperate in the face of an invasion. And the hunting parties' treatment of the Senar! Is that gentle, is that anything but violent? Curses!» Blade spat. «You women are just as bloody as the men from before the disaster. But if you believe in curses, you're a damned sight less civilized!» Blade turned angrily on his heel and strode away, to lean against a tree where he could quietly watch Truja.
She sat cross-legged on the grass for some time, her shoulders heaving with her indignant breathing. She was obviously deeply moved, and Blade could not help wondering if he had gone too far. But he knew that what he had said needed saying, whether gently or not.
Eventually Truja stopped holding her head stiffly erect, and let it sag down until her chin was on her chest. Blade noticed the sparkle of tears in the corner of dark eyes suddenly gone blank. He was tempted to go over to her and comfort her, but decided against it. She would have to work herself out of this mood and into whatever decision she would make without help from him.
It was hot even in the shade of the little grove, and Blade felt sweat starting out on his forehead and arms. Insects whined around his face, and he batted them away. The sound of cattle mooing reached him, carried on the breeze from far away.
Finally Truja sighed and stood up, turning toward Blade. She shook her head wearily. «Blade, I suppose you are right.» Silence. «No, you must be right. I wish you were wrong. We have believed so much about the men, their violence….» Her voice broke for a moment. «We were blind to our own. I almost wish I were still blind. It-it does not feel very good.»
Blade shrugged. «I did not say what I did because I wanted to hurt you.»
«I know. But-I think you had better lead us now. I–I do not really know what is right and what is wrong any more. And that is not a state of mind for a leader,» she ended, with a flash of her old spirit.
«All right,» said Blade slowly. «If you want me to-«
«I do. Very much.» For a moment her hand reached out and groped blindly, then found his. Her fingers closed on his with a firm, hard pressure. Then her hand dropped to her side.
«Come on, let's go back to the others. They will be thinking we're making love on the grass.»
Blade raised an eyebrow, and Truja shook her head hastily, laughing. «No, Blade. Not now, not for a time. Perhaps… But then there is Himgar.» She shook her head and turned away.
With Truja's doubts resolved, the scouting party broke camp that night when the light was barely out of the sky. Driving hard through the darkness, they reached the War House well before dawn. They saw it looming out of the forest, towering a hundred feet high and spreading five times that wide, vast, black, and sinister. Even the Purple River scouts, less aware of the legends of the disaster, hung back at first.
Blade and Truja set the doubts more or less at rest by walking into the house side by side and then out again half an hour later. They were dusty but unharmed. Assembling everyone in the gloom of the ground floor, Truja handed over her leadership to Blade. The cheers that rose into the darkness made it obvious that Blade was a more than acceptable choice.
That was well and good, but there was much more that needed to be done before the old War House was a fit refuge. A certain number of rooms had to be cleared of dust, mold, spider webs, bird's nests, and the remains of long-dead animals. A nearby spring had to be found. A regular roster of guards had to be set, and much else.
The house was a good ten miles from the nearest farm, so they could do much of this by daylight. Before darkness fell again, the scouts were as settled in as they could be. Blade and Truja went out into the twilight and sat down to plan the next move.
«The women who are going to the city must leave soon,» said Truja. «There is no time to waste in getting them out of the way of Rilgon. He may march any day.»
Blade nodded. «The rest of us will keep our heads down until the women start coming out from the city. It won't help if the patrols find out that we're here.»
Truja laughed. «That's putting it mildly. But there is one thing you can do. I don't know if there's any game in this forest, so it might be wise to take a look at the local farms. I know some of them around here have fishponds and poultry runs, where a few people could snatch a good bit of meat.»
Blade nodded. «But what about guards?»
«The farms this close to the city are seldom well guarded. What do they have to fear? Or at least-what did they have to fear?»
The idea of a little quiet chicken stealing was a good one. Or at least it might have been a good one, if Truja had been right about the guards at the farms. But there were supposed to be a number of escaped slaves roaming the area, so the farmers had taken precautions. And when Blade and Nugun came slipping up to a farm in the darkness, they ran into those precautions.
When dawn broke the next day, neither Blade nor Nugun had returned to the camp in the War House, Truja paced up and down, face grim, wondering what could have happened to them, fearing the worst.
She was almost right. Blade and Nugun were both lying on the bottom of a deadfall pit at the edge of the nearest farm. There were no stakes in the bottom of the pit, so neither had impaled himself like a fowl on a spit. But both were bruised, battered, and in no shape at all to fight the score or so of armed women who ringed the edges of the pit. The women stared down and occasionally brandished their scythes, hoes, and clubs. Blade stared back up at them and occasionally made a rude gesture.
He felt rather disgusted with himself.
Chapter 13
Blade felt even more disgusted with the women than he did with himself. But he kept his mouth shut.
Nugun didn't, however. He beat his chest and jumped up and down. He bellowed and roared and cursed and screamed. He even snatched up clods of earth from the sides of the pit and hurled them up at the women standing around the edge. One clod hit hard. The woman clapped a hand to her arm and swore back at Nugun. The women on either side of her raised their scythes and glared down.
Blade realized that Nugun's rage was likely to get both of them killed outright.
«Nugun!»
The Senar spun around, with another clod raised in one massive hand.
«Blade?»
«Nugun, stop that at once!»
«But women, they-«
«I said stop it!»
Nugun grunted a reluctant agreement and let the clod drop. Blade could see the women above relax.
A thick rope snaked down over the edge of the pit. Blade walked over to it and found that it would hold his weight. Slowly he began to climb, hand over hand, looking up occasionally. If the women above were just a little careless when he reached the top…
But as he crawled out on the edge of the pit, the women stepped back, holding their tools in front of them. As Blade rose to his feet, three of them ran forward, carrying a tight-meshed net of heavy rope, with stones tied around its edges. The net soared into the air and came down on top of him, weighing him down until he could barely lift his arms.
A bellow from below told of another burst of rage from Nugun. Blade turned and saw the Senar swarming up the rope like a maddened ape. As his massive head burst over the edge of the pit, one of the women stepped close to Blade and thrust a knife against his ribs. Then she shouted over her shoulder to Nugun: