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Authors: Larry Niven
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looked at Manack. The Gleaner female said, “Just short of the tall grass, but let me tell my companions first. Vala, will your people hunt, too?”
“I think not, but I’ll ask.”
She spoke to the others. None were eager. Machine People did eat meat, but predator meat generally had a rank flavor. But Kay said, “We’ll look timid if someone doesn’t join the hunt.”
“Ask some questions,” she told him. “That thing looked dangerous. The more you know, the less often you get killed.”
He’d never heard the proverb. He stared, laughed, then said, “We want to bring it to less than once ?”
“Yes.”
She slept through the hunt. At midday she woke to share in the meal. Kaywerbrimmis bore a single slash along his forearm, the fool. Vala bound it with a fuel-soaked towel. Hakarrch meat had a flavor of cat.
The dead were fewer, but the stench of them hovered about the tent, and the dreadful night was coming.
The Ghouls would take her at her word, she thought. The bodies we guarded from vermin, the lords of the night will take last. Tonight.
Chapter FOUR—THE PEOPLE OF THE NIGHT
When shadow had nearly covered the sun, Vala found the Gleaners and Reds around a fire. The Gleaners were eating; they offered to share. The Reds had eaten their kills as they were made.
A fine rain began to sizzle on the coals. The negotiators retreated into the tent: Valavirgillin, Chitakumishad, and Sopashintay for the Machine People, three of the Reds, the four Gleaners. Anakrin hooki-Wanhurhur [sic—should be “hooki-Whanhurhur”] and the Thurl and a woman Vala didn’t know were already inside.
Stale grass had been replaced with fresh.
The Thurl spoke, his powerful voice cutting through all conversation. “Folk, meet my negotiator Waast, who has a tale to tell.”
Waast stood gracefully for so large a woman. “Paroom and I went to starboard two days ago, on foot,” she said. “Paroom returned with these Reds of Ginjerofer’s folk. I followed on foot with a guard of Red warriors, to speak to the Muddy River People. The Muddy River People cannot join us here, but they may speak of our sorrows to the Night People.”
“They’ll have the same trouble we did,” Coriack said.
(Something was tickling at Vala’s attention.)
Waast sat. To the Reds she said, “You cannot practice rishathra. But mating?”
“It is not my time,” Warvia said primly. Anakrin and Chaychind were grinning. Tegger seemed angry.
(The wind.)
Many hominid species were monogamous, exclusive of rishathra, of course. Tegger and Warvia must be mates. And the Thurl was saying, “I must wear my armor. We know not what might visit us.”
Too bad. They might have gotten some entertainment going.
(Music?)
Spash asked uneasily, “Do you hear music? That isn’t vampire music.”
The sound was still soft, but growing louder, almost painfully near the upper end of her hearing range. Vala felt the hair stir on her neck and down her spine. She was hearing a wind instrument, and strings, and a thuttering percussion instrument. No voices.
The Thurl lowered his helm and stepped out. A crossbow was in his hand, pointed at the sky. Chit and Silack stayed at either side of the door, their weapons readied. Others in the tent were arming themselves.
Tiny Silack walked backward into the tent. The smell came with him. Carrion and wet fur.
Two big hominid shapes followed, and then the much bigger Thurl. “We have guests,” he boomed.
In the tent it was almost totally dark. Vala could make out the gleam of the Ghouls’ eyes and teeth, and two black silhouettes against a scarcely brighter glow, Archlight seeping through clouds. But her eyes were adjusting, picking out detail:
There were two, a man and a woman. Hair covered them almost everywhere. It was black and straight and slick with the rain. Their mouths were overly wide grins showing big spade teeth. They wore pouches on straps, and were otherwise naked. Their big blunt hands were empty. They
“I think not, but I’ll ask.”
She spoke to the others. None were eager. Machine People did eat meat, but predator meat generally had a rank flavor. But Kay said, “We’ll look timid if someone doesn’t join the hunt.”
“Ask some questions,” she told him. “That thing looked dangerous. The more you know, the less often you get killed.”
He’d never heard the proverb. He stared, laughed, then said, “We want to bring it to less than once ?”
“Yes.”
She slept through the hunt. At midday she woke to share in the meal. Kaywerbrimmis bore a single slash along his forearm, the fool. Vala bound it with a fuel-soaked towel. Hakarrch meat had a flavor of cat.
The dead were fewer, but the stench of them hovered about the tent, and the dreadful night was coming.
The Ghouls would take her at her word, she thought. The bodies we guarded from vermin, the lords of the night will take last. Tonight.
Chapter FOUR—THE PEOPLE OF THE NIGHT
When shadow had nearly covered the sun, Vala found the Gleaners and Reds around a fire. The Gleaners were eating; they offered to share. The Reds had eaten their kills as they were made.
A fine rain began to sizzle on the coals. The negotiators retreated into the tent: Valavirgillin, Chitakumishad, and Sopashintay for the Machine People, three of the Reds, the four Gleaners. Anakrin hooki-Wanhurhur [sic—should be “hooki-Whanhurhur”] and the Thurl and a woman Vala didn’t know were already inside.
Stale grass had been replaced with fresh.
The Thurl spoke, his powerful voice cutting through all conversation. “Folk, meet my negotiator Waast, who has a tale to tell.”
Waast stood gracefully for so large a woman. “Paroom and I went to starboard two days ago, on foot,” she said. “Paroom returned with these Reds of Ginjerofer’s folk. I followed on foot with a guard of Red warriors, to speak to the Muddy River People. The Muddy River People cannot join us here, but they may speak of our sorrows to the Night People.”
“They’ll have the same trouble we did,” Coriack said.
(Something was tickling at Vala’s attention.)
Waast sat. To the Reds she said, “You cannot practice rishathra. But mating?”
“It is not my time,” Warvia said primly. Anakrin and Chaychind were grinning. Tegger seemed angry.
(The wind.)
Many hominid species were monogamous, exclusive of rishathra, of course. Tegger and Warvia must be mates. And the Thurl was saying, “I must wear my armor. We know not what might visit us.”
Too bad. They might have gotten some entertainment going.
(Music?)
Spash asked uneasily, “Do you hear music? That isn’t vampire music.”
The sound was still soft, but growing louder, almost painfully near the upper end of her hearing range. Vala felt the hair stir on her neck and down her spine. She was hearing a wind instrument, and strings, and a thuttering percussion instrument. No voices.
The Thurl lowered his helm and stepped out. A crossbow was in his hand, pointed at the sky. Chit and Silack stayed at either side of the door, their weapons readied. Others in the tent were arming themselves.
Tiny Silack walked backward into the tent. The smell came with him. Carrion and wet fur.
Two big hominid shapes followed, and then the much bigger Thurl. “We have guests,” he boomed.
In the tent it was almost totally dark. Vala could make out the gleam of the Ghouls’ eyes and teeth, and two black silhouettes against a scarcely brighter glow, Archlight seeping through clouds. But her eyes were adjusting, picking out detail:
There were two, a man and a woman. Hair covered them almost everywhere. It was black and straight and slick with the rain. Their mouths were overly wide grins showing big spade teeth. They wore pouches on straps, and were otherwise naked. Their big blunt hands were empty. They
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