As he spoke, a group of bandaged hillmen began to cluster around the caravan; some, who had been brought back on the captured carts, being borne on crude stretchers. Tram Bir gestured toward them.
“These are needed for the attack on Andres. With your powers, you must see that they are healed and ready to ride at first light.”
McCoy surveyed the group dubiously. There were ten on stretchers and at least forty walking wounded.
“We are a small clan,” Tram Bir added. “Without these, I will be forced to sit far in the rear during the gathering of the chiefs.”
Of course, thought Kirk, sensing an opening; in a society like this, a leader’s importance among his fellows is determined by the number of swords he can muster.
“Chief Tram Bir, come to the van,” Kirk said suddenly. “There are weighty matters we must discuss… alone.”
“Great as our skill is,” Kirk said, “it may be that some of the more seriously wounded will need a few days’ rest before they can join you. The others, however, can be ready to ride with you by dawn. But give thought to the future. When Andros is stormed, many of your men will fall. It is true that the Messiah’s strength will grow when he converts those who survive in the city and they take arms in his cause, but your numbers will shrink. What about your place among the chiefs?”
He poured Tram Bir another cup of wine.
“The others will have their losses, too,” the chief said. “Our ranking will remain the same.”
“True,” Kirk said, “but if your numbers shrank less than theirs, before too long you would be sitting in the front as a principal chief.” Kirk paused to let his words sink in and then added, “Of course, if you send your wounded all the way back here to be healed, many will die on the way.”
Tram Bir took another sip of wine and looked at Kirk thoughtfully for a moment. “So you wish to come with us. What’s in it for you? If the Messiah decides you are strangers, you will only hasten your death.”
“He won’t,” Kirk said. “From what you’ve told me about what happened in Andros, it’s obvious that he had spies from the city in mind when he gave that order about strangers. As for us, we are now of your blood; we wish to serve you as best we can.”
“Neelot dung!” Tram Bir snapped. “We of the clans take such things seriously, but Beshwa are only interested in trade. You claim kinship to save your throats.”
Kirk pursed his lips. “I know there would be good trading where the clans gather—excellent, in fact. There’s no reason why in helping others one can’t help oneself. How about a deal, Tram Bir? We’ll come along to care for your wounded if you let us do a little business on the side.”
Tram Bir pondered Kirk’s proposal for a long, silent moment then nodded slowly. “So be it. There will be a feast tonight when Afterbliss has set. We will talk more of this then.”
“Afterbliss?” Kirk asked. “The word is new to me. I have learned today that the clans have a new leader who converts all who hear his voice and that he gathers the clans for a holy war, but I have not been told what this thing is you speak of.”
“You must have seen it,” Tram Bir said, “a new star that moves swiftly through the heavens before dawn and after dusk. It is for this that we who have not heard the Messiah’s voice obey his orders and march to join him with our dead.”
“I know nothing of this,” Kirk said. “We saw a strange new light in the sky two nights ago and again last night, but we didn’t know what it was.”
“We had word of its first coming,” the chieftain replied. “Two days ago, a rider came from a western clan with word that the gods had sent a leader who was to remake Kyros into a holy place. As a sign of his greatness, they would place a shining city in the sky, a place where those who died for them would live forever. That night showed the truth of his words. We saw Afterbliss with our own eyes. No longer will the spirits of our dead sink into the ground and their bodies be left to rot! Tomorrow the bodies of those who died today will rise to be reunited with the souls that wait above.
“Yesterday another rider came with orders for us to raid the mining camp and destroy the bridge, so no more spearstone could be taken to Andros for weapons. After what we had seen, we obeyed without question. Tomorrow we hear the Messiah’s words with our own ears!”
He rose. “Heal as many as you can. We ride as soon as there is light enough to see the trail tomorrow. Your woman will remain behind with my wives. I will give orders that she be treated well.”
Before Kirk could respond, there was an angry bellowing from outside the van, followed by a Russian oath and a thudding sound. Kirk and Tram Bir dashed out and discovered the chiefs oldest son, Greth, sprawled on his back clutching a dagger—and an angry Chekov standing over bun.
Greth shook his head as if to clear it and got groggily to his feet, raising the dagger as he did so. He went into a half crouch and advanced slowly toward the Russian, whose fist was cocked, ready to deliver another blow.
“Greth! What’s going on here?” Tram Bir barked.
“This zreel struck me!” Blood began to drip from under his hood.
“I had to,” Chekov said. “This cossack pulled a knife on me.”
“All right, Hikif,” Kirk said, using the Russian’s Beshwa name. “Why?”
“It’s my fault,” said Sara, who had been standing to one side. “Greth ordered me into his tent. When I refused, he grabbed me by the hair and tried to drag me with him. Hikif tried to stop him, and Greth started after him with a dagger.”
“That was very wrong,” Tram Bir said, his voice solemn.
Chekov nodded his head in indignant agreement. “I’ll say it was. He could have killed me with that thing.”
“You misunderstand, Beshwa,” the chief said coldly. “You heard me give him Sahgor; you had no right to interfere. Greth may kill you if he wishes.”
Greth snarled and jumped at Chekov, throwing him to the ground. His right arm rose to drive the knife into the young Russian, when Kirk sprang forward. He grabbed the hillman’s wrist, and with a quick twist sent the weapon flying through the air. Greth scrabbled after it, but Kirk got there first and put a foot on the blade.
“Hold it!” he shouted. “You can’t kill Hikif. He’s your brother.”
“That’s absurd,” Tram Bir said. “I have no Beshwa get.”
“I didn’t say you did,” Kirk replied, still keeping his foot on the dagger, “but when your son Alt bound me to him with his blood, he bound himself through me to Hikif, who is my brother. So,” he continued, “since Greth is Alt’s brother and Hikif is mine, Hikif is Greth’s brother’s brother’s brother.”
Tram Bir stood for a moment, obviously bemused at his sudden accumulation of sons. “It sounds logical the way you put it, but I’m going to have to think about it for a while. Until I get it figured out, Greth, leave Hikif alone.”
“But I want to kill nun now,” Greth said petulantly. He thought for a moment, and a foxy light appeared in his red eyes. “If one of my kin does me harm, clan law allows me the right to challenge. Isn’t that so, father?”
‘True,” Tram Bir said, “but you cannot harm him if he doesn’t accept.” He turned to Kirk. “Your brother does well with his fists, but swords are another matter. He should know that my son has collected two-score heads in battle.”
“I’m sure he has,” Kirk said, looking apprehensively at the barrel-chested hillman. Dismayed at the sudden twisting of his inspired genealogy, he went to Chekov and whispered, “Easy does it. We can’t afford a row.”
Chekov nodded his understanding and made no response when Greth planted himself in front of him and said contemptuously, “Only Beshwa and women are too cowardly to bear arms.”
“Good bairn,” Scott whispered to McCoy, when Chekov accepted the insult impassively.
“But even a woman would respond to this!” Greth leaned forward and spat in the Russian’s face. A second later he went flying backward, as Chekov’s fist lashed up and slammed into his jaw.
Tram Bir gazed impassively at his prone son. “Your brother’s brother’s brother seems to have accepted your challenge,” he said. He turned to Kirk. “My condolences on what is to happen after the ceremony. Greth is a fierce swordsman.”
“Well, Mr. Chekov?” Kirk demanded coldly when the hillmen had left.
“He was going to rape her,” Chekov replied defensively.
“I wasn’t talking about that,” Kirk snapped. “You’re Beshwa, you idiot! You’re never supposed to have
