Blade felt his blood pressure rising, but kept his temper. He didn't want to annoy the woman. Like her husband, she would be a dangerous enemy, and she was telling him a lot of things about the Uchendi that just might be useful. He also suspected that she was a much better listener than she seemed, and would remember any slips of his tongue.
Finally, Kyarta ran down enough to say, «But I do not worry about Eye of Crystal. She knows what she's doing with you. She is strong.» And that was that.
Of course Eye of Crystal was strong, Blade realized. After all, she'd reached the age of twenty living with this woman without going out of her mind. He wondered sometimes how the Guardian put up with her.
The Guardian would not bother Blade or his daughter as long as his wife insisted they be left alone. And River Over Stones was not going to go against the blessing the Guardian had given Blade. At least not in public, and so far he'd found no chance to do anything in private.
The rest of the warriors of the Uchendi seemed to be waiting to make up their minds about Blade. Or perhaps they were waiting for someone to help them decide? Blade suspected it was the latter. The warriors of the Uchendi were an independent-minded lot, but in some matters they followed their leaders.
Who was the key leader in this case? It didn't take Blade long to know it was Winter Owl.
The Guardian's brother-in-law was the most famous living warrior of the Uchendi, one of the dozen greatest the tribe had ever known. He hadn't said anything against Blade, but he hadn't said anything much for him either. As long as he held his tongue, the warriors would keep an open mind on the subject of Blade of the English.
All very well, as far as it went. An open mind meant safety for Blade, but it didn't help the Uchendi. The Rutari might declare war any day; certainly they would make more raids. Blade knew he could help, if they let him, by giving the Uchendi weapons and teaching them to use them to overcome the shpugas. Without those hairy menaces, the Rutari would be no match for the plainsmen.
He'd need Winter Owl's support for any such new weapons, though. Without it, none of the warriors would listen to him. Even worse, Winter Owl might see Blade as a menace to his authority and influence. Then he would speak out against Blade, even in the face of the Guardian's blessing. Blade might have to leave the Uchendi for his own safety, and they would have to face their enemies with their two leaders quarreling.
An ugly picture, it seemed to Blade. And easily avoided, if he could just win over Winter Owl.
But how?
Chapter 17
It sounded like a small war going on beyond the hill. Ezintis bawled, men shouted, hooves thudded on hard-packed ground, and every so often something went thump or whuck. It couldn't be a Rutari raid, not this close to the main village, but Blade was curious. He ran out of his hut, hurried up the hill, and looked down on the field along the bank of the stream beyond it.
More than two dozen Uchendi warriors were riding back and forth on ezintis. Each warrior was guiding his ezinti with one hand, and the other hand held something like a polo mallet with a wicker cup on the end. They seemed to be chasing small feathered balls around the field, trying to catch them in the cups of their mallets. If they couldn't do that, they'd whack each other or the ezintis with the mallets. Blade saw two men go sprawling on the ground, but both promptly got up again, cursing much too loudly for injured men.
Blade was almost at the edge of the field before anyone noticed him. Then someone shouted, scooped a ball into his cup, and slammed the ball straight at Blade. Blade didn't even have time to consider ducking. He felt a whfffff as the ball nearly parted his hair.
«Hey, you-!» Blade shouted. He went on to describe what the man's mother had eaten the night she conceived him, who his father had been, and why no woman would touch him. By the time Blade ran out of breath the man was laughing so hard he could barely stay on his mount. He rode over as Blade bent to pick up the ball.
«I am sorry, Blade. It seemed a good jest.»
«Well, it was not you whose skull might have cracked,» said Blade. The ball was solid brass, wrapped in leather and with feathers woven into the leather. The weight made it fly far, but the feathers made it fly wildly.
He tossed the ball back to the rider. «I have not seen this game played here before. What is it called?»
By now other riders had seen Blade and come up. «It is called nor,» said one. «We are the White Tree team, or will be. We practiced to play against the Black Rock team of Winter Owl. Why do you ask, Blade? Is there a game like this in England?»
«There is, and I have played it.» He hadn't played much polo, and none since he left Oxford. He didn't have the time or money to keep in practice, let alone maintain a stable of ponies.
Several riders exchanged significant looks. «Would you like to play for us?» said the same man.
«As a rider or as an ezinti?» said someone else, and there was laughter. «No, in truth,» said the man, «you may laugh, but look at him. He could carry you on his shoulders for half a game, Friend of Lions! What ezinti could carry Blade? Certainly not mine, and I would not let him try, either. He may be needed for other work than carrying vast English warriors before long.»
Everybody stopped smiling at the reminder that war with the Rutari could not be far off. Blade had to admit the man had a point. He weighed two hundred and ten pounds; most Uchendi warriors weighed a good deal less. He would be enough of a load for an ezinti to slow it down, and success in nor depended heavily on speed.
It wouldn't help, either, if he wound up playing against Winter Owl. He didn't know how important having his team win was to the warrior, but why take chances?
But why not take a chance? He couldn't go on sitting on his arse much longer, not with the Uchendi needing help. Even if he annoyed Winter Owl, there must be other warriors with some influence. Friend of Lions, captain of the White Tree team, might be one of them.
«I will play as one of the White Trees, if there is an ezinti fit to carry me. I will not need one who can carry me fast, as long as he can carry me for a full game.»
«How can you hope to play at all, if you are slow?» said Friend of Lions. He sounded honestly confused. «That is not the way of nor. «
«It is not the old way of nor, this I know,» said Blade. «But the old way of a thing is not always the only way or even the best way.» He was bluffing about the game of nor. He didn't have much idea of what he was going to do once he got on the back of an ezinti. He did want to start getting the Uchendi used to the idea of change, and this was too good an opening to miss.
Friend of Lions shrugged. «You are the best judge of what you can do, Blade. Perhaps you are not so good a judge of the game of nor, but I will give you my own second mount for your riding until the game.» He grinned. «But if you kill it or hurt it past use, you shall go among the Rutari to find me a new mount.»
That was the standard penalty for killing or stealing another man's ezinti among the Uchendi. To most men, it was as good as a death sentence. To Blade, it sounded almost like an opportunity to spy on the Rutari with the blessing of Uchendi custom.
That might be handy.
Don't get ahead of yourself, he told himself. If you don't make a good showing in the game of nor, Friend will just take away your mount and you'll have even less honor than before.
«Among the Uchendi, I shall be as one of them, unless the spirits of my English ancestors turn their faces away from me. Now, let me see this stick you use in the game of nor.»