At the worst, Blade might wind up seeing the Uchendi exterminated, all because his knowledge of weapons had been communicated telepathically. At best, he'd wind up a closely guarded prisoner, certain to be killed if he made a single move to leave the village.

No matter how Blade looked at the situation, one bleak fact looked back at him. If he stayed with the Rutari, a lot of innocent people were going to die-horribly. So it was very simple; Blade would not stay.

Unfortunately there was a fly in the ointment. Or, more accurately, a flying feather-monkey. Cheeky didn't want to leave his new love, Moyla.

(«Not good for her, I go,» he said over and over again.)

(«Not good for you, you stay behind-«)

(«Behind?»)

Blade reshaped his thoughts to reflect Cheeky's limited vocabulary. It was growing rapidly, though, now reminding Blade of a bright seven-year-olds.

(«You stay here without me. Then Moyla not like you anymore. Bad for you.»)

(«Moyla always like me. You think that cannot be. I think it can be.»)

(«You would.») Blade saw no point in arguing with Cheeky on the basis of his own experience with love. He was inclined to doubt declarations of undying passion, and also Cheeky's judgment.

(«You not trust me?») Cheeky asked, having heard what Blade was thinking.

The devil take telepathy-far far away, and bury it! If Cheeky was really getting intelligent, perhaps it would be possible to teach him some manners about listening in on Blade's thoughts. But he wouldn't be teaching Cheeky anything if he had to leave him among the Rutari.

(«You not trust me, Master?»)

(«No. You not think-strong thoughts, not any kind of thoughts. I trust you like-like a Great Hunter. It thinks only of food, you think only of Moyla. «)

(«If you not trust me, why I stay with you?») Cheeky sounded both angry and unhappy. Blade felt the same way, but had to recognize that the feather-monkey had some logic on his side. If Blade didn't trust him anymore, what could Cheeky hope to gain from the relationship?

(«You no stay with me, if you think that way. Stay with Rutari, Mistress Wise One, Moyla. Be happy, if you can.»)

(«You, too.») Cheeky hopped down from Blade's shoulder and began collecting his gear. It didn't take him long-there was only his knife, plastic harness, and sweater. Cheeky pulled on both, and without a backward glance at Blade scurried out the door of the hut. Blade stood in the doorway until Cheeky was out of sight, and for a moment longer. Then he went back inside. There was nothing for him to do there, but he didn't want to stand where everyone could see him.

He hadn't felt so disgusted with the world since the day Zoe Cornwall, his Home Dimension girlfriend, had said goodbye because he couldn't tell her about Dimension X. Of course, Zoe had meant a lot more to him than Cheeky-but Cheeky didn't have as good an excuse for leaving. It was understandable that Zoe would want a man who didn't disappear for months at a time without any explanation. All Cheeky had for an excuse was a bad case of the hots for Moyla.

Anger, grief, and disgust boiled over. Blade kicked a stool clear across the hut, so that it shattered against the far wall. Then he slammed his fist hard against the stone wall. Pain shot up his arm, and he saw that his knuckles were bleeding. He sighed, now disgusted with himself as well as with the world. After a bit, his mind started working again.

His best chance for leaving the Rutari was coming up within a few days, during the Hunters' Long Race. Fifty men competed in a sort of marathon, which took two days from start to finish. What could be simpler than to discreetly slip away during the race? With luck he could be so long gone that his trail would be too cold for even a Great Hunter to find before he was missed.

Then he would be free to head south to the Uchendi, without any suspicion falling on Cheeky. Angry as he was, Blade really didn't care for the idea of Cheeky's being thrown to the Great Hunters or cut up alive by the Wise One. Wiser beings than Cheeky had made fools of themselves and done more harm over love. Cheeky deserved the best chance Blade could give him to make a new life for himself here among the Rutari with Moyla.

But damn it, he was going to miss the little fellow! Cheeky had become a powerful barrier against the loneliness of Blade's life. He'd been that even before the kerush-magor. Now, just as Cheeky was becoming more intelligent, everything was ending.

No doubt Leighton would mostly mourn the loss of Cheeky's help in learning more about telepathy. Blade wouldn't quarrel with that. But he would regret much more the loss of Cheeky's friendship, both what had been already and what might have been in the future.

Chapter 11

The day of the Hunters' Long Race dawned cloudy and windy but dry. Blade would have preferred fog or even rain, even if it made parts of the race heavy going. Fog would hide him from the sharp-eyed Rutari hunters, and rain would diminish the Great Hunters' ability to smell and hear if they were sent after him.

However, here in the mountains it was early summer and the autumn rains were months away. He would just have to run like the devil and trust his luck and skill at evasion for the rest. The Rutari were undoubtedly good trackers, but Blade refused to believe they were supermen, even with the help of the Great Hunters and telepathy. And since the alternative to running was staying among the Rutari until his distaste for their customs betrayed both him and Cheeky-well, that was no alternative at all.

The starting line was at the bottom of the village, made of fifty carved stones, one for each runner. Blade studied the stones carefully. They were sacred, kept under the Wise One's care most of the year and only brought out for important rituals such as the Long Race. He'd also heard it said that these stones were carved in the shape of the head of one of the Idol Makers who had made great magic among the Rutari.

Unfortunately the stones were worn and the carving had been stylized to begin with. He couldn't even tell if the stones showed a living creature, let alone the head of one, or what kind. So much for his last hope of finding out about the Idol Makers and the Idol before he left the Rutari!

At least the Uchendi would also know something about the Idol Makers. After all, the Idol had originally been theirs, before the Rutari declared a holy war on the other tribe and stole it. If Blade had better luck winning cooperation among the Uchendi from somebody besides lusty women…

The first leg of the race ran north, the second south. Blade planned to take leave of the Rutari on the northbound leg. It would mean farther to go to safety, since the Uchendi were to the south, but it would also confuse the Rutari about what happened to him. They might think he'd suffered an accident and spend days looking for his body, while a live Richard Blade tramped south toward the plains.

The drum sounded to call the runners to their marks. Blade stripped off his clothes down to his loinguard and piled them in the sacred circle with the weapons and clothes of the other runners. He'd be leaving the Rutari in his bare skin and the Kaldakan plastic harness and wrist braces. He could only hope that the compass, knife, and other gear he'd be leaving behind wouldn't teach the Rutari too much. Cheeky might be able to explain some of it, but that wouldn't be entirely bad; it would earn the feather-monkey the Wise One's goodwill and make his position secure. He was no longer bitter about Cheeky's desertion; now he wished the feather-monkey as long and happy a life among the Rutari as he could reasonably expect.

The drums thudded again, longer and louder. Blade stepped up to his rock and began his warming-up exercises.