Read Online Maeve by Jo Clayton - Free Book Online

faster and a good deal more easily. Aleytys’ smile widened as she saw him fingering the flute. She gazed thoughtfully at the finely crafted instrument, remembering the meeting in the long house …
    â€œI can’t be sure yet,” Aleytys said.
    The calm, strong face of the old woman was undisturbed by her uncertainty. Qilasc nodded. “Sister of fire,” she said quietly, looking once around the still faces of the women to gather their agreement for her words. “You can injure the harvester. I know it. And I know that we wish this.”
    â€œThere’s something else to consider. Have you thought about reprisals?”
    Qilasc frowned, her hand going automatically to the heavy wooden beads. “The forest is big. What could they do? Attack women and children?”
    â€œThe Company men have the morals of a starving wolf. Or worse. If you hurt them badly enough they might quarter the forest with their energy weapons until there was nothing left but ash.”
    â€œWhat choice have we?” The old woman shook her head. “Better to die in struggle and free than to lie down until we are nibbled to death.” She turned her head slowly around the silent circle of women. Each in turn nodded agreement. “Father of men?”
    Tipylexne nodded shortly, not wasting breath on unnecessary speech.
    A sigh exploded out of Aleytys. She rested her hands lightly on her knees. “I can’t stay too long with you. I’m on quest. My baby son was stolen from me by a crazy woman and I now travel in search of him.” She sat very straight, her face stern. “As you must see, people of the forest, I can let nothing hinder me.”
    â€œI understand.” The beads clacked again as Qilasc settled back to listen.
    â€œEventually you’ll have to make some kind of bargain with the starmen. In the meantime, I need a distraction, something to mislead the Company men when I do my bit with the machine. One thing I’ve learned in my travels—starmen are bundles of superstition where groundings are concerned. Anything that smells of native magic scares hell out of most of them.”
    Qilasc stirred. “The only magic we know is that of fostering, the magic of growing things.”
    Aleytys smiled briefly. “I thought so. The spirits of the earth on this world are gentle and lazy. But the starmen don’t know that.” She snorted. “Anyone who’d ravage a forest with that hideous creation has the sensitivity of a …” As she sought an adequate comparison, she glanced at the somber faces around her, halting at Gwynnor who sat huddled near her in one corner of the torchlit house. “Of a peithwyr. So I suggest we play on the fears they already have. The physical they handle with contemptuous ease. As you have already seen. Shall we see what magic can do?”
    Qilasc frowned. “I don’t understand.”
    â€œI don’t mean real magic. I mean tricks. I do my tricks with the machine and you provide a cover that should convince the Company men that you’re doing the things I make happen.”
    â€œHow will that help?”
    Aleytys sighed. “From my experience,” she said patiently, “the only thing some Companies respect is power. If you bargain from a position of power, then you have a chance of getting what you want. Otherwise, they’re likely to ignore you.”
    A sudden smile lightened Qilasc’s straining face. “Like facing a rutting bull weywuks. You don’t argue about who rules the path unless you have a spear in the throwstick.”
    â€œRight.” She frowned. “I don’t find a word in your tongue for …” After struggling for a way to say what she meant in the limited tongue of the cludair, she went on slowly, “for the making of pleasant sounds like bird talk.”
    â€œBird talk?”
    â€œDamn. That’s the closest I can get to …” She shook her