Waterborn

she spoke.

He turned after a moment and shouted back at them, 'They say the cave is just up here. We can dry off.'

That drew, if not elation, at least approval from the party.

Ngangata then sloshed over to Mang's flank, spoke to Perkar and only Perkar.

'This stream has a message for you,' he said. 'Sent by the rain from a goddess far away.'

Perkar's heart filled his chest like an anvil and a blacksmith's hammer. He moved his lips, but no words emerged.

'She says you shouldn't have sent him your blood. She says he has a taste for you now. She says to stay away from him.'

Ngangata's dark gaze held him for a moment, watched Perkar blink raindrops from his eyes. Then the halfblood waded out into the stream, tugging his horse behind him.

The rain still smelled of roses, but the scent was fading.

 

 

'What a stench,' Apad complained, wrinkling his nose in disgust. At first, Perkar thought Apad meant the soaked gambeson he had just shucked off—which did stink, noticeably, of sweat. But when Eruka added, 'Worse than animals,' he realized that they meant the Alwat.

Perkar wrinkled his own nose, but all that he could smell (save for Apad and Eruka) was the welcome scent of burning juniper and pine.

'At least they found us this cave,' he noted.

'Oh, and a fine cave it is, too,' Apad remarked. 'Tight, narrow, smoky—and now it smells like animals, too.'

'Better than being wet, I would say,' Perkar said.

'He has you there,' Eruka observed, gingerly touching the angry red skin where his armor had chafed through his quilted undergarment.

'Well, Perkar seems to be getting quite friendly with these Alwat,' Apad noted, his eyes narrowed. 'What did you find to talk about so long with our friend Ngangata, Perkar?'

Perkar shrugged, but he could also feel himself blush. 'Things. This forest and its gods. We were nearly killed by one of them, so I thought I would learn what Atti and Ngangata could tell me.'

'I don't trust those two,' Eruka said, glancing sidewise at Apad—as if for approval.

Apad nodded. 'Listen, Perkar. If they know so god-cursed much about this forest, why didn't they know about the Wild God?'

'It's a big forest,' Perkar said, frowning. 'Bigger than all of the Cattle-Lands put together. Who could know every inch of it?'

Apad smirked. 'They don't have to know every inch of it. They have the Alwat to tell them what they need to know. Do you think these are the first Alwat our friends have spoken to since we entered the forest? Don't you ever hear Ngangata out in the woods, jabbering?'

He was offering to his bow, Perkar nearly protested—but he only had Ngangata's word on that. True, he had seen the halfling with the stave, but that could have been a ruse. Still, Apad's proclamation rankled Perkar enough to pursue the conversation for another step. 'You aren't suggesting that Ngangata and Atti knew about the Wild God, led us there on purpose? Look at Atti; he's the only one who got injured.'

'It went straight for the Kapaka,' Eruka said. 'Did you notice that? It went right over Atti. If Apad hadn't been between it and the king…'

Perkar remembered Apad shrieking and jabbing at the monster. It had not seemed to Perkar that Apad actually interposed himself between the king and the god, only that it had been his poor fortune to be there.

'True enough,' Perkar said anyway. He did like Eruka and Apad; they were understandably upset. And he couldn't totally dismiss the possibility that they were right. After all, they knew Ngangata and Atti better than he. Ngangata had never entered the fray at all, had never really been in danger from the Wild God. Appearances could be deceiving, and Perkar thought it best to keep his mind open to possibilities. 'True enough,' he repeated. 'They will bear watching.'

Apad nodded. 'I trust you told them nothing of our plans?'

'Shh,' Eruka hissed. 'Sound carries strangely in caves. Let us not speak of it here.'

'I said nothing, of course,' Perkar said, a bit annoyed.

'I knew you would not,' Apad said. 'You are a good fellow, Perkar. Like the oak they named you after.'

Perkar nodded his thanks. 'That reminds me,' he said. 'I think I'll make an offering to Ko, who made my sword.' He clapped Apad on the shoulder as he stood, careful to avoid the tender strips of skin where the weight of the chain mail had pulled heaviest. He wondered if his friends would wear armor again the next day.

His offering to Ko was usually one of woti, but as far as Perkar knew, none was available. The king had a single flask left, but he had made clear to all of them that it was a gift for the Forest Lord. Still, Perkar had a bit of incense remaining. He would get a coal from the fire, then go a bit farther back in the cave.

The Kapaka, Atti, Ngangata, and the seven Alwat were huddled around the fire. Perkar did smell the Alwat now, but it was not a particularly unpleasant smell.

'Make room for some men,' Eruka said from behind him, and Perkar realized that the two had followed him over to the fire. Perkar caught Ngangata's scowl.

'Ngangata,' Apad asked softly. 'Could you ask your kin to move and let us next to the fire?'

The Alwat were all watching Apad. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking.

'There is room around the fire,' Ngangata observed.

'Sit down, join us,' the Kapaka said.

'They smell,' Apad said.

'Wait,' Perkar said quickly. 'Couldn't we build another fire, for the Alwat?'

Ngangata leveled his opaque gaze at Perkar and all but hissed, 'Perhaps you should build a fire for you and your kin.' Waving the back of his hand at the three of them.

Eruka gave a low whistle, and Apad made a little clicking noise. 'Well, Perkar,' he said. 'Seems like you and the halfblood aren't such good friends after all.'

Perkar was aware of the hot blood rushing into his face, and at first he wasn't even sure whom he was mad at. Then he was. He had tried to befriend the half man, hadn't he? Talked to him when the others would not. And this was how the little man repaid him, by insulting him when he was only trying to make things better.

'I think,' Perkar said, 'that you had better go get your sword.'

Ngangata shot him a little sarcastic smirk. 'Well,' he said, 'if I had a sword, perhaps I would.'

'No,' the Kapaka said. 'Stop this, you two.'

'If you don't have a sword, we can fight with our hands,' Perkar said. Apad and Eruka, behind him, made encouraging noises.

An odd look settled over Ngangata's face then. It was a look of weary resignation, of boredom almost.

'Let's go, then,' he said.

Eruka and Apad were hooting now, shouting Perkar's name. Perkar laid his sword carefully on a stone. He pointed to the widest, most open section of the cave. Ngangata nodded and strode there, turned to face Perkar with his knees flexed.

Perkar expected the king to stop them at any moment, but the older man, after his single injunction, had fallen silent.

Perkar wiped his hands on his trousers as he assessed his opponent. Ngangata was shorter than he by nearly a head, but more heavily muscled. Perkar remembered the half man's proficiency with the bow, wondered what other skills he might have.

Ngangata was waiting for him to make the first move; Perkar, to his astonishment, realized that the smaller man was reluctant to attack him.

Always keep your balance, Perkar's father had taught him. He did, stepping quickly but with his weight centered, and threw a punch at Ngangata's head. The half man jerked away from the blow, but the contact was still solid. Ngangata reeled away from him.