their last preparations, and his heart pounded. How could he tell her that she was to be left behind?
'You made me a promise, Grandson,' she told him, when she saw the look on his face. 'I hold you to it.'
Duwan consulted his father about his grandmother's determination to accompany them. Duwan the Elder thought for a moment. 'I have been anticipating this, and I think this way. Your mother's mother will soon harden, cease to be mobile, and then her heart will stop and she will be dead. It is true that the remaining time of her life could be spent in comfort here in this house, but when she hardened she would be just as dead as she will be if she perishes in the cold of the barrens or in the land of the fires.'
Duwan lowered his head in sadness. He was about to speak when there was a call at the door and his father invited Belran the Leader to enter. The warrior stood stiff and silent for a moment, looking around the workshop to see the newly forged arrow heads, the newly polished swords.
'I had suspected that the younger Duwan would leave us again for the south,' Belran said. 'Now it appears that our chief elder is also contemplating a journey.'
'Old friend,' the Elder said, 'I was going to postpone that news as long as possible, but now I suppose it is time we talked. Yes, I will go with my son.'
'Then count my swords among your number,' Belran said, holding his chin high.
Duwan the Elder clasped Belran's right arm with his. 'There is no Drinker I would rather have fighting by my side, but if you go who will lead these Drinkers who remain?'
'Many of the young warriors will choose to go,' Belran said.
'And leave anarchy behind?' Duwan the Elder asked. 'This one is my son, Belran, and he has given his word to those he left behind in the south. I, as you can see, must go, but you must stay. I know that it is much to ask, but both of us cannot throw over our responsibilities to our village. It is not yours to support the word of a son, as it is mine. You must stay, my friend, and, moreover, you must control your young warriors. If we bled off the strength of this village it would cease to function. It would be absorbed by the other villages. Can we be responsible for that?' Belran's chin lifted even higher. 'You speak the truth, but it is painful.'
'I know,' Duwan the Elder said.
'I will stay.' Belran turned to Duwan. 'I see something in you that was not there when you first left us. I see, I suspect, the quality that makes a Drinker a leader, and perhaps something else. When you begin to train your slaves, remember the lessons of Belran. Neither push them too hard nor allow them to be slack. And remember that you train the mind as well as the arms.'
'I will, Leader,' Duwan said.
Belran shook, his head. 'Two Drinkers to do the work of an army. I feel shame for my people.'
'No,' Duwan said, 'there is no shame. This is their world now, and change is difficult. Change comes usually by outside agencies, and not from within, although that is not as it should be.' He clasped Belran's arm. 'We will send word. When we have proven that we can free the Drinkers of the Land of Many Brothers, when we have forged an army of them and have begun to retake our lands, we will send word and then perhaps the elders will choose to join us.'
'I will wait with great impatience,' Belran said. 'My heart will be with you, and, some day, my swords.'
As it happened, Belran's desire to leave the valley, to accompany the two Duwans to the south, was shared by others, and that, too, presented a problem. On the day that the journey began, when the Duwans and their mates emerged, laden, into the square, they were awaited by what seemed to be every aged member of the village, over Fifty oldsters, and each of them was dressed warmly and carried a pack.
Duwan felt his heart sink. He knew, from talking with his grandmother, what wild hope beat in the hearts of those old, hardening Drinkers, and he quailed at having to tell them that they could not possibly make the trip, that four younger Drinkers could not be expected to tend to the needs of so many feeble old ones. Before he could speak, however, an old Drinker pushed forward. He was a warrior of note, had once been a Leader.
'Duwan the Elder, and Duwan the Son,' the old Drinker said, 'the mother of Sema, mate of Duwan the Elder, goes to the south to return to the blessed earth in the land of our fathers. We, too, will go.' Duwan swallowed and looked at his father, who was silent. 'Honored old ones,' he said, 'someday, the ones who grow old after you will have that right, or so I pray. Now—' He opened his hands and stood mute for a moment.
'We take the responsibility for ourselves,' the old one, Dagner, said.
'We will not burden you. We realize that some of us will die in the barrens, some in the land of the fires, that not all of us will reach the lands of the south.' He drew himself up. 'However, unlike some here in this valley, we will die trying to reclaim our heritage.' Duwan whispered to his father, 'They are weak, old, and they will
'Death will find them, wherever they are,' Duwan the Elder said. 'Give them their hope, son.'
