forced from them.
She took her eyes from the weapon and shook her head. It wasn't fair to think of him as uncivilized. What Andrew was describing was as old as civilization itself. In school, they'd talked about this sort of blood feud. And the Rusties had only been worse, inventing mass warfare, creating more and more deadly technologies until they'd almost destroyed the world.
Still, Tally couldn't afford to forget how different these people were from anyone she'd ever known. She forced herself to stare at Andrew's grim expression, his weird delight in the heft of the knife in his hand.
Then she remembered Dr. Cable's words. Humanity is a cancer, and we are the cure. Violence was what the cities had been built to end, and part of what the operation switched off in pretties' brains. The whole world that Tally had grown up in was a firebreak against this awful cycle. But here was the natural state of the species, right in front of her. In running from the city, perhaps this was what Tally was running toward.
Unless Dr. Cable was wrong, and there was another way.
Andrew looked up from his knife and sheathed it, spreading his empty hands. 'But not today. Today I will help you find your friends.' He laughed, suddenly beaming again.
Tally breathed out slowly, for a moment wanting to reject his help. But she had no one else to turn to, and the forests between her and the Rusty Ruins were filled with hidden paths and natural dangers, and probably more than a few people 'who might think of her as an 'outsider.' Even if she wasn't being chased by a bloodthirsty raiding party, a sprained ankle alone in the freezing wilderness could prove fatal.
She needed Andrew Simpson Smith, it was that simple. And he had spent his life training to help people like her. Gods.
'Okay, Andrew. But let's leave today. I'm in a hurry.'
'Of course. Today.' He stroked the place where his slight beard was beginning to grow. 'These ruins where your friends are waiting? Where are they?'
Tally glanced up at the sun, still low enough to indicate the eastern horizon. After a moments calculation, she pointed off to the northwest, back toward the city and, beyond that, the Rusty Ruins. 'About a week's walk that way.'
'A week?'
'That means seven days.'
'Yes, I know the gods' calendar,' he said huffily. 'But a whole week?'
'Yeah. That's not so far, is it?' The hunters had been tireless on their march the night before.
He shook his head, an awed expression on his face. 'But that is beyond the edge of the world.'
They left at noon.
The whole village turned out to see them off, bringing offerings for the trip. Most of the gifts were too heavy to carry, and Tally and Andrew politely turned them down. He did fill his pack, however, with the scary-looking strips of dried meat that were offered them. When Tally realized that the grisly stuff was meant to be eaten, she tried to hide her horror, but didn't do a very good job. The only gift she accepted was a wooden and leather slingshot offered by one of the older members of her littlie fan club. Tally remembered being pretty handy with slingshots back in her own littlie days.
The headman publicly bestowed his blessing on the journey, adding one last apology — translated by Andrew— for almost cracking open the head of such a young and pretty god. Tally assured him that her elders would never be told about the misunderstanding, and the headman seemed guardedly relieved. He then presented Andrew with a beaten copper bracelet, a mark of gratitude to the young holy man for helping to make up for the hunters' error.
Andrew flushed with pride at the gift, and the crowd cheered as he held it aloft. Tally realized that she had caused trouble here. Like wearing semiformal dress to a costume bash, her unexpected visit had thrown things out of whack, but Andrew's helping her was making everyone relax a little. Apparently, placating the gods was a holy man's most important job, which made Tally wonder how much city pretties interfered with the villagers.
Once she and Andrew were past the town limits, and their entourage of littlies had been called back home by anxious mothers, she decided to ask some serious questions. 'So, Andrew, how many gods do you know…uh, personally?'
He stroked his non-beard, looking thoughtful. 'Since my father's death no gods have come but you. None knows me as holy man.'
Tally nodded. As she'd guessed, he was still trying to fill his father's shoes. 'Right. But your accent's so good. You didn't learn to speak my language only from your father, did you?'
His crooked grin was sly. 'I was never supposed to speak to the gods, only listen as my father attended them. But sometimes when guiding a god to a ruin or the nest of some strange new bird, I would speak.'
'Good for you. So … what did you guys talk about?'
He was quiet for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. 'We talked about animals. When they mate and what they eat.'
'That makes sense.' Any city zoologist would love a private army of pre-Rusties to help them with fieldwork. 'Anything else?'
'Some gods wanted to know about ruins, as I told you. I would take them there.'
Ditto for archeologists. 'Sure.'
'And there is the Doctor.'
'Who? The Doctor?' Tally froze in her tracks. 'Tell me, Andrew, is this Doctor really…scary-looking?'
Andrew frowned, then laughed. 'Scary? No. Like you, he's beautiful, almost hard to look upon.'
She shuddered with relief, then smiled and raised an eyebrow. 'You don't seem to find it too hard to look upon me.'
His eyes fell to the ground. 'I am sorry, Young Blood.'
'Come on, Andrew, I didn't mean it.' She took his shoulder lightly. 'I was only kidding. Look upon me all you…um, whatever. And call me Tally, okay?'
'Tally,' he said, trying out the name in his mouth. She dropped her hand from his shoulder, and Andrew looked at the place where she had touched him. 'You are different from the other gods.'
'I certainly hope so,' she said. 'So this Doctor guy looks normal? Or pretty, I mean? Or, anyway… godlike?'
'Yes. He is here more often than the others. But he does not care for animals or ruins. He asks only about the ways of the village. Who is courting, who is heavy with child. Which hunter might challenge the headman to a duel.'
'Right.' Tally tried to remember the word. 'An anthro—' 'Anthropologist, they call him,' Andrew said.
Tally raised an eyebrow.
He grinned. 'I have good ears, my father always said. The other gods sometimes mock the Doctor.'
'Huh.' The villagers knew more about their divine visitors than the gods realized, it seemed. 'So you've never met any gods who were really…scary-looking, have you?'
Andrew's eyes narrowed, and he started hiking again. Sometimes he took a long time to answer questions, as if being in a hurry was another thing the villagers hadn't bothered to invent. 'No, I haven't. But my father's grandfather told stories about creatures with strange weapons and faces like hawks, who did the will of the gods. They took human form, but moved strangely.'
'Kind of like insects? Fast and jerky?'
Andrew's eyes widened. 'They are real, then? The Sayshal?'
'Sayshal? Oh. We call them Specials.'
'They destroy any who challenge the gods.'
She nodded. 'That's them, all right.'
'And when people disappear, they sometimes say it was the Sayshal who have taken them.'
'Taken them?' Where? Tally wondered.
She fell silent, staring down at the forest path in front of her. If Andrew's great-grandfather had run into Special Circumstances, then the city had known about the village for decades, probably longer. The scientists who exploited these people had been doing so for a long time, and weren't above bringing in Specials to shore up their authority. It seemed that challenging the gods was a risky business.
