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Authors: James Alan Gardner
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needles on the ground.
“Before you try that again,” Rashid told Bonnakkut, “I’ll remind you, each bullet is worth twenty crowns, and when they’re gone, they’re gone. So make up your mind: do you keep stinking up the forest with pricey gunpowder, or do you escort Steck and me to Tober Cove?”
Bonnakkut stood still for a moment, weighing the gun in his hand. I could guess what was going through his mind. Tober Cove’s patron gods hated firearms. It was said (by both the Mocking Priestess and the Patriarch’s Man) that Master Crow and Mistress Gull might boycott Commitment Day completely if any gun lurked within a day’s ride of the cove. On the other hand, Bonnakkut must have wanted that gun the way a beetle wants dung. He wanted to strut with it. He wanted women to show fear and men to pucker with envy. He wanted word to pass down-peninsula all the way to Ohna Sound: First Warrior Bonnakkut of Tober Cove has himself a Beretta.
And he’s not afraid to use it.
“For heaven’s sake,” Leeta said, “put that wicked thing down.”
“It scares you, does it?” Bonnakkut asked.
“Of course it does. And on Commitment Eve too! Give it to your fastest runner and rush it off Tober land before Mistress Gull and Master Crow get angry.”
“It would be faster to put it on a boat,” Bonnakkut replied. “If the mayor decides it’s necessary.”
“Ah,” smiled Rashid, “we’re going to let the mayor decide. I love the chain of command. By all means, let’s see this mayor of yours. I’ve brought something for him too.”
“No good will come of this,” Leeta said darkly.
“Stop muttering,” Bonnakkut told her. “You were the one who chewed us out for wasting arrows; you should be happy we’ve stopped. We’re going back to town so the mayor can sort everything out. Discussion and negotiation . . . aren’t you always saying we should solve problems through discussion and negotiation?”
“I’d prefer less negotiation,” she answered, glaring at the pistol in his hands.
“Why expect consistency from a woman?” Bonnakkut asked no one in particular. Then he turned to face the bushes and called, “Fall in, men. We’re taking them back to the cove.”
As members of the Warriors Society emerged from the darkness, Bonnakkut made a show of shoving the pistol into his belt. Rashid winced. “Steck,” he whispered, “show the First Warrior how to put on the safety before he does himself an injury.”
SIX
A Maiden Speech for Cappie
Leeta led the way home, milkweed pods clacking. Bonnakkut’s three warriors followed her—Kaeomi, Stallor, and Mintz, all of them bullies when I was growing up—then Rashid and Steck.
Rashid kept his arm around Steck’s shoulders as they walked, even in places where the trail was narrow enough for them to be knocking heels. He obviously wanted Steck close enough to be covered by that violet glow that grew out of his armor. Rashid was wise to take precautions—if Steck ever stepped out of the glow’s safety, Bonnakkut would certainly pump bullets into the Neut’s back. Since I was walking behind Steck, and Bonnakkut marched behind me, I was just as happy that Bonnakkut never got an opening to use his bang-bang: I was straight in the line of fire. When the trail widened enough to walk three abreast, I caught up with Rashid and Steck, so I wouldn’t be sandwiched between the Neut and that gun.
“Hello again,” Rashid said cheerfully. “How are you feeling? All recovered from the tear gas?”
“I’m all right.” In a lower voice, I added, “It’s too bad you used that stuff on me instead of Bonnakkut.”
“Back at the creek,” he replied, “you and your lovely companion were close to perforating my Bozzle’s liver— I had to take drastic action. But in the clearing, Steck was safely under my force field, so we could afford to wait things out. Besides, I have my helmet off. If I started playing with gas, I’d gag with the rest of you.”
“It
“Before you try that again,” Rashid told Bonnakkut, “I’ll remind you, each bullet is worth twenty crowns, and when they’re gone, they’re gone. So make up your mind: do you keep stinking up the forest with pricey gunpowder, or do you escort Steck and me to Tober Cove?”
Bonnakkut stood still for a moment, weighing the gun in his hand. I could guess what was going through his mind. Tober Cove’s patron gods hated firearms. It was said (by both the Mocking Priestess and the Patriarch’s Man) that Master Crow and Mistress Gull might boycott Commitment Day completely if any gun lurked within a day’s ride of the cove. On the other hand, Bonnakkut must have wanted that gun the way a beetle wants dung. He wanted to strut with it. He wanted women to show fear and men to pucker with envy. He wanted word to pass down-peninsula all the way to Ohna Sound: First Warrior Bonnakkut of Tober Cove has himself a Beretta.
And he’s not afraid to use it.
“For heaven’s sake,” Leeta said, “put that wicked thing down.”
“It scares you, does it?” Bonnakkut asked.
“Of course it does. And on Commitment Eve too! Give it to your fastest runner and rush it off Tober land before Mistress Gull and Master Crow get angry.”
“It would be faster to put it on a boat,” Bonnakkut replied. “If the mayor decides it’s necessary.”
“Ah,” smiled Rashid, “we’re going to let the mayor decide. I love the chain of command. By all means, let’s see this mayor of yours. I’ve brought something for him too.”
“No good will come of this,” Leeta said darkly.
“Stop muttering,” Bonnakkut told her. “You were the one who chewed us out for wasting arrows; you should be happy we’ve stopped. We’re going back to town so the mayor can sort everything out. Discussion and negotiation . . . aren’t you always saying we should solve problems through discussion and negotiation?”
“I’d prefer less negotiation,” she answered, glaring at the pistol in his hands.
“Why expect consistency from a woman?” Bonnakkut asked no one in particular. Then he turned to face the bushes and called, “Fall in, men. We’re taking them back to the cove.”
As members of the Warriors Society emerged from the darkness, Bonnakkut made a show of shoving the pistol into his belt. Rashid winced. “Steck,” he whispered, “show the First Warrior how to put on the safety before he does himself an injury.”
SIX
A Maiden Speech for Cappie
Leeta led the way home, milkweed pods clacking. Bonnakkut’s three warriors followed her—Kaeomi, Stallor, and Mintz, all of them bullies when I was growing up—then Rashid and Steck.
Rashid kept his arm around Steck’s shoulders as they walked, even in places where the trail was narrow enough for them to be knocking heels. He obviously wanted Steck close enough to be covered by that violet glow that grew out of his armor. Rashid was wise to take precautions—if Steck ever stepped out of the glow’s safety, Bonnakkut would certainly pump bullets into the Neut’s back. Since I was walking behind Steck, and Bonnakkut marched behind me, I was just as happy that Bonnakkut never got an opening to use his bang-bang: I was straight in the line of fire. When the trail widened enough to walk three abreast, I caught up with Rashid and Steck, so I wouldn’t be sandwiched between the Neut and that gun.
“Hello again,” Rashid said cheerfully. “How are you feeling? All recovered from the tear gas?”
“I’m all right.” In a lower voice, I added, “It’s too bad you used that stuff on me instead of Bonnakkut.”
“Back at the creek,” he replied, “you and your lovely companion were close to perforating my Bozzle’s liver— I had to take drastic action. But in the clearing, Steck was safely under my force field, so we could afford to wait things out. Besides, I have my helmet off. If I started playing with gas, I’d gag with the rest of you.”
“It
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