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over them. Wait, hear me out. Whether or not you
believe in that or any spirit is not the point. The Owl Spirit People have our
eagles and are trying to destroy us. And if they succeed in breaking our
people's faith, they will succeed in all. I cannot use my powers from afar; the
shaman of the Owl Spirit People would know, and kill the eagles. And I no
longer have the physical strength for the necessary journey.
                 Someone
else must go there and bring them back."
                 "But why me? Go to the true believers, send them on a—a sacred quest!"
                 "Send
them so blinded by their own beliefs they cannot see reality. Or be
sufficiently profane. Besides," Wenketh added dryly, looking Arikan up and
down, "no one, not even our enemies, would ever recognize in so ragged a
being one of the Eagle Spirit People."
                 Arikan
ceded that with a shrug. "But why should I risk—"
                 "Why
did you return?"
                 "Because
. . ."
                 "Well?"
                 "All
right, yes, because these are my people! Because, yes, I am
part of them, body, heart and mind—Oh, you are manipulating me most
beautifully, shaman!"
                 "One
does," Wenketh replied tranquilly, "what one must. But you will
survive, Arikan."
                 "A vision?"
                 "Knowledge of you. Yes. Still. Even after so long a
while. You are a clever man, Arikan, perhaps too clever."
                 " 'For there is a gap between 'clever' and
'wise,'" Arikan quoted.
                 "You
may yet bridge that gap," the shaman said dryly. "Come, I see you
have more to say."
                 "To ask. One question: How, exactly, did the Owl Spirit
People steal away the eagles?"
                 Wenketh
flinched ever so slightly. "By magic. And before
you ask: By magic so sudden and overwhelming that I could do nothing."
                 Arikan
stared. "And you want me to go up against that?"
                 "As
I say, you are a clever man. If you are clever enough, there will be no need
for them to rouse any great and terrible powers."
                 "Of course not. All they need rouse is some arrow or
spear. No need for sorcery at all."
                 "There
is always risk," the shaman retorted. "But there is reward as well.
At the very least, you will, if all is well, find your home anew, and know you
have preserved it. Is that not reason enough?"
                 "I
. . ." But Arikan suddenly could find no useful argument at all.
                 "If all is well." If. And
I believed him, Arikan thought. Hah.
                 He
was standing before the Owl Spirit People's village, which was, like his own
home, sheltered between cliffs, with its skin lodges looking so alarmingly like
his people's own— alarmingly, because there should be something different,
something to mark this as Enemy Territory .
                 I
let Wenketh overwhelm me with thoughts of home and family.
                 Arikan
stiffened. Grim-faced warriors armed with bows and spears were swarming out of
the village to block his way. I let him talk me into this. Now, if only I can
talk my way out again!
                 There
was a trading language held in common by many of the Peoples. In it, Arikan
said, keeping his voice carefully neutral and his hands outspread,
                 "Greetings. I come in peace."
                 "Who
are you?" a warrior asked coldly.
                 "A
wanderer, no more , seeking only a fire by which to
rest for the night."
                 "We
have no space for wanderers."
                
                 "Have
you not? How strange! I have heard tales of the kindness of the Owl Spirit
People toward those alone and in