'You could have come with us,' Jai whispered to dead ears. 'You could have left during the night, and we would now be marching to the west and you would be alive. You could have, you could have.'
Sema, mother of Duwan the Drinker, put fresh, dry wood on the fire. The cave was an ideal place, for there was a small vent at the very rear that allowed the smoke to be drawn straight up and out. She looked up as her mate entered.
'More have come,' he said.
'Is there word?'
'None,' he said. 'Save that the enemy marches south and does not pursue any toward the west.'
'And of Jai?' she asked.
Duwan the Elder shook his head. 'There is one of the newcomers who has an infected wound.'
Sema rose, reached for her bag of dried healing herbs.
'I will tell you immediately if there is word of either of them,' Duwan the Elder said. 'Go now, for the warrior is in pain.' They had joined Tambol and a growing group of Drinkers who had found their way into the hills of the west. The last stages of the journey had been made in snow and sleet and cold. Many wounded died. A few of the old valley Drinkers had chosen a pleasant valley in the foothills to go back to the earth. Now the cadre of valley Drinkers had been reduced to less than ten, and Dagner, as if the defeat in the canyon had taken away his seemingly newfound youth, was hardening and had spent the first few days in the hills looking for his chosen place to return to the earth. There were, counting females and the few young, just over three hundred of them in the valley they'd chosen when a band of free runners came. Duwan the Elder went out to meet the runners, marveling at their wasted condition in the midst of plenty. There were evergreens and plenty of dried fodder, enough food to make a Drinker sleek and fat.
'If you must make your presence so blatant, with fires and noise,' said the skinny spokesman of the runners, 'you will leave this area and go further west, lest you draw the masters down on us.'
'Who gives me orders?' Duwan the Elder asked.
'Farnee, Eldest of the free runners.'
'I see only a fool who starves with Du shining and good food everywhere,' Duwan the Elder said.
The group of runners, thirty strong, reached for weapons. Duwan the Elder clapped his hands and the group of runners were quickly surrounded by swordsmen, healthy, fat swordsmen who, except for their ragged dress, looked like masters. Farnee yelped and tried to run and two strong Drinkers seized him by the arms and brought him back to face Duwan the Elder.
At that moment Tambol appeared and Farnee, seeing him, cried out,
'Traitor, you have led them to us.'
'Be quiet, old one,' Tambol said. 'We are Drinkers, all. We have killed the enemy, and we give you one more chance to join us.'
'I see the new mounds of earth where you have buried dead,' Farnee said. 'If you have killed the enemy, why are you here, hiding as we hide?' All during the march to the west Tambol had been trying to come up with an answer to just that question, and others like it. There had been long days and night when he walked in miserable muteness, when he knew the blackest despair. From the beginning Duwan, the Master, had been the heart of it.
He had come from the earth to fulfill the ancient prophesy, that coming witnessed by his mate, Jai, and he had killed the enemy and taught others how not only to kill, but to live. Tambol could not delude himself into believing that things would be the same with Duwan gone. During those first grim days, when everyone was fearful that the Enemy was just behind them, he could not muster enough faith to believe that Duwan could escape the canyon of death. He knew that Duwan had accepted death, in exchange for a greater chance of escape for his followers. Try as he might, Tambol had never been able to hear the whispers from the trees, trees that Duwan called brothers, trees that, said Duwan, were the spirits of Drinkers. His entire faith was based on the Master. He had seen the evil in the pens, and he had heard others weep and pray to many dus. Emotionally, the concept of one Du, an all- powerful, merciful Du who was the Du of the Drinkers, appealed to him. Intellectually, he doubted during those days when it became apparent that Duwan had died in the canyon and would never rejoin them. He felt hypocritical when he told others, 'This is the way of the Master. He left us once before, to attend to the business of Du. He has left us once again, but only temporarily. It is up to us to honor him and what he has done for us by carrying on his work. In the days of final crisis he will return to lead us into the last battles.' As for the freed slaves, never having had anything in which to believe save some nebulous dus who seemed always to favor the stronger, the Devourers, they seized on Tambol's teachings and spread them. So, although Tambol, himself, knew doubt, he also knew the worthiness of the cause, and he still had some small hope that Duwan's ultimate goal, freedom for all, could be achieved under the leadership of the Master's father. So he was ready for Farnee's question.
'We will not regain the lands of our ancestors and rid ourselves of the Devourers without loss,' he said. 'The Master guides us, speaking to us through the spirits of our ancestors. He calls out to all to join in the battle.' He drew
