The beast was definitely slowed, perhaps in pain, and certainly even angrier than before. At intervals it stopped to pound its chest, let out bloodcurdling screams, and hurl gravel at Blade. It never found stones heavy enough to carry far or hurt much if they did hit. They usually didn't; Blade's attack hadn't done the creature's already dim eyesight any good.
However, the Great Hunter still had both arms in working condition and was moving much too fast for Blade's peace of mind. He was glad to see Cheeky darting away from the spring. The feather-monkey held the dagger aloft with his tail curled around the hilt, using all four paws to run. He reached Blade, raised his tail until Blade could take the dagger, then opened the distance between himself and his master.
The audience was completely, almost oppressively silent. The Wise One's face was still a stone mask, but the acolyte was leaning slightly forward, her full lips parted.
Blade and Cheeky darted toward the Great Hunter from opposite sides. As Cheeky approached he cried out. The Great Hunter stopped, undecided on which prey to seize, both arms outstretched. One hairy wrist was in reach of Blade's knife. The Kaldakan plastic, hardened like steel in the hot spring, slashed down. Fur, skin, and flesh gaped open to the bone, blood spurted, and an unearthly cry of rage, pain, and surprise echoed around the pit. Several hundred human voices joined the uproar.
The Great Hunter was still formidable. It turned toward Blade, lunging with its good arm. Blade sprang backward but not far enough. The hand came down on his left shoulder, fortunately without driving the claws in. Blade twisted free, feeling as if his shoulder were dislocated or his left arm out of its socket. Before the Great Hunter could move again, Cheeky closed in.
He swarmed up the creature's hairy back and gripped its neck with his hind legs and tail. Then he brought his forepaws around and clamped them hard over the creatures eyes. The Great Hunter howled again, shook its head in frustration, and raised its good hand to pluck away this annoyance.
That left Blade with a clear path. He lunged in and up with the dagger. The sharp point drove into the creature's right eye. It nearly took off a couple of Cheeky's fingers as it did, but the point drove deep. The Great Hunter lurched, jerking the dagger out of Blade's hand, and Cheeky leaped free. The creature lunged again, and went down on its knees, both hands groping blindly ahead of it, blood pouring from the slashed wrist.
Blade put both hands on the creature's shoulders, vaulted on to its back, got both arms around the massive neck, and jerked with all his strength. His arms nearly came out of their sockets, but the neck snapped with an entirely satisfactory noise. Then the Great Hunter went limp. Blade staggered to his feet, and all the Rutari around the pit started yelling themselves hoarse.
Blade bent down and picked up the dagger, then pulled out a handful of the dead Great Hunter's coarse fur to wipe the sweat and blood off his skin. Then he saw the matted filth in the fur and threw it aside. He stood silently, until blood and sweat together made a puddle in the gravel at his feet and the shouting died. Considering the exhaustion, loss of blood, strained joints, and narrowness of his victory, Blade would much rather have done almost anything else than to have fought the Great Hunter.
Oh, to lie down and be plied with massages and wine by six beautiful girls. He spat to clear the dust from his mouth and brushed the hair out of his eyes. Next time, if I have to choose between fighting a Great Hunter or going for a ride in a cement mixer, I'll take the cement mixer.
Then the acolyte was running toward him, all dignity and ceremony forgotten. She threw her arms around him and kissed him, and he was suddenly very aware of both his nakedness and hers. She was warm in his arms and smelled sweet even under the stink of the herbs and potions.
Fortunately the Wise One came down into the pit before Blade and the girl could forget he was still taboo. The Wise One was smiling now, but it was an odd, enigmatic smile. Blade would almost have preferred a glare of open hatred. Then he would have known where he stood. As it was, the Wise One was as much of a mystery as ever.
Chapter 7
The celebration of Blade's victory in the cleansing started almost as soon as he staggered up the side of the pit, with the acolyte on one side and Teindo on the other. It went on all that day and well into the next. Things didn't get back to normal among the Rutari until the day after that, when the last hangover wore off. The Rutari's homebrewed beer was crude, but there was a lot of it, and from somewhere they'd acquired the art of distilling. Their liquor was even cruder than their beer, but Blade couldn't deny that it was potent.
Everyone seemed to have forgotten Awgal, or at least be unwilling to admit that they remembered him. It was as if the young hunter had never been. Blade held his peace. There was more of his cleansing to come, and until it was finished he was neither fish nor fowl among the Rutari.
Not that he wasn't tempted to throw caution to the winds, surrounded by nearly naked young women who made it obvious they wanted him on their sleeping mats as quickly as possible. Blade lost count after the first dozen. None of them seemed to give an empty gourd for the taboos, and some of them said as much in plain language. Apparently war and hunting were so much more dangerous than childbirth among the Rutari that the adult women outnumbered men at least two to one. So unmarried women were as free as the air, and most married women were in polygamous households.
Teindo had three wives, all of whom seemed to have something of a reputation among the women of the Rutari. He finally drove all the other women away from Blade by warning them that his wives had been promised first chance at Blade when he was lawful. Any woman who got to Blade before them-well, he might help them after they were killed for breaking the taboo, but he would do nothing for them until then. The hovering women and girls couldn't have vanished faster if Blade had suddenly turned into a Great Hunter and devoured one of them.
«I thank you, Teindo,» said Blade, offering him a gourdful of liquor.
«It was my duty to save those women from unlawful beddings. The consequences would not speed up what remains of your cleansing.»
«And where is the Wise One?» Blade asked.
Teindo looked at the ground. «She has gone before the Idol, to seek its answer before she completes your cleansing.»
«Does she expect one?»
«Who can speak truly of the Wise One's mind, Blade? And who would dare speak of the Idol's will, save her?» The warning was unmistakable.
Blade decided to take it. «Not I, certainly.»
«You are not too drunk to be wise, Blade.»
«If a man's wits cannot survive much strong water, he does not live to travel as far as I have.»
Teindo seemed satisfied with that answer. Blade accepted a few more congratulations, then returned to his hut. He'd have liked to find out what the Wise One thought of her humiliation at Cheeky's hands, but suspected that anyone who knew wouldn't tell him.
However, Blade had long known that the best thing to do about something you couldn't predict was sleep on it. He curled up on his furs and fell quickly and soundly asleep.
In fact, he not only slept but snored so loudly that Cheeky woke him up several times during the night, squawking indignantly about the noise.
The Wise One spent several more days consulting the Idol of the Rutari, longer than usual. Blade saw Teindo beginning to look worried, and when he looked at Blade, suspicious. Blade made up his mind that if the Rutari tried to confine him he would assume the worst, and he and Cheeky would make a run for it, stark naked if necessary. He wasn't curious enough about telepathy to risk Awgal's fate.