Chapter 10

Mak was only one of several scouts who ranged out ahead of the caravan. They wove from side to side, always picking out the easiest paths for the laden donkeys to follow. Even so the pace gradually slowed as the forest grew thicker, darker, damper. The game trails narrowed and were less frequent, cutting deep into the yielding soil.

"We're coming to a river," Mak trotted back to report. "The ground is getting pretty swampy up ahead."

Nurm brought out his map, laboriously handcopied on vellum from old manuscripts and now much folded and worn. "There's no such river marked on my map. Well, there is one, but it should be to the north of us, away off to our left. I suppose that its course could have changed in a thousand years. Which way does it run?"

"It flows to the north, what little current there is."

"We'd better swing off to the right and work our way upstream then, and hope that this is just a loop that the river has thrown across our path. If we cross it here, we'll just have to swim it again in a day or two since the city we're heading for should be on this same side. We'll head south for a while, at least until we find a place to camp. Why don't you go on ahead and see how far this swampy ground extends."

"Right." Mak tossed his bow and arrows to Lyssa and trotted off, carrying only his spear and a small packet of food. "I probably won't be back for a day or two."

He jogged silently along dim game trails, stopping once in a while to listen. All he could hear was moisture dripping from a mossy branch, or the faint rustle of an unfelt breeze stirring damp leaves in the tops of the trees. There was no sound of life other than his own breathing, but slowly the conviction grew ever stronger within him that he was being watched.

The ground grew damper and swampier until at last he had to swing farther west to find higher, firmer ground away from the river. By climbing the tallest tree that he could find, Mak was able to see to where the river's course swung back to the east and north, leaving the way clear for travelers.

He could also see, several days journeying away and veiled by a soft haze, a low range of hills whose crests caught the light of the setting sun. The gloom of evening was deepening beneath the trees, and he still hadn't caught a glimpse of whoever or whatever was trailing him. This should be as good a place as any to hole up for the night, he decided, so he selected a place where several large limbs branched out from the trunk of his tree. He'd often spent nights out like this, and he quickly settled himself to sleep.

He napped lightly, waking abruptly at intervals through the night. The hairs down the center of his back prickled as he felt eyes watching his every move. At last, shortly before dawn, he caught a glimpse of something palely glimmering in the branches below, and heard the faint rustling of leaves as something moved toward him. He lay very still, one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

The stalker drew closer, moving silently. Just below him it paused, as though uncertain of what its next move should be. He heard the hiss of an indrawn breath, then a trembling whisper.

"'Ello? 'Ello, you awek?"

"I'm awake," he whispered back. "Who are you?"

"Name of this one is Kinna. You not hurt Kinna?"

"I won't hurt you," he replied in a soft voice. "My name is Mak. Where do you come from?"

The pale figure moved uneasily on its branch, still poised to flee at the first sign of a hostile move.

"From city of T'Chak." It gestured toward the low range of hills that he had seen to the east. "From place where Chakcha live. Kinna see you with strange Chakcha and strange shelka. Kinna afraid, but follow you when you run from Chakcha." The voice was stronger now and easier to understand, though the accent made some of the words sound strange. Kinna drew closer still, then shrank back as Mak eased himself to a sitting position in his nest of branches.

"Where are your people, Kinna?" He could see more clearly now as dawn lightened the eastern sky, and Kinna's pale figure resolved itself into that of an unclad young girl of the True Folk. She was small, no larger than a child of ten summers, but budding curves proclaimed the approach of maturity. Her hair was even lighter than his, almost white, and her eyes were so pale a blue as to be nearly lavender.

"Kinna not have people. Kinna run away. Chakcha live in Chakcha city, tell wekind what to do, when to have babies. Kinna not want to do this, so run away. Live all summer in deep woods. Kinna lonesome." Her soft, lisping voice reflected a wistful sadness that tugged at Mak's feelings. "Now you run away from strange Chakcha. Kinna no alone any more. We live free in woods."

"But I'm not a slave, and I didn't run away. Those people back there are my friends and companions. We all work together. Our law says, no one owns another." Mak used his most persuasive voice. "Come back with me and you will see this for yourself."

"No!" Kinna's gasp was one of pure fear. "Not go back." She retreated along the branch as though to flee from the very idea. "They will hurt Kinna, cut ankles so Kinna not able to run ever again. They take Kinna back to Chakcha City!"

"No one is going to hurt you, Kinna. Mak promises you this. They are my friends, and they will be your friends. They won't make you go anywhere that you don't want to."

It took much more persuading, but by the time that the sun was halfway up the morning sky he finally got her to agree to return to the caravan with him. She trailed fearfully after him through the dark forest, ready to take to the nearest trees at every unexpected sound. Her courage failed her when it came to actually approaching the caravan's camping place.

"You bring one friend here, talk to Kinna. Then maybe Kinna will stay." That was her final word, and Mak finally agreed. As he turned away his last glimpse of her was a flash of pale gold as she scampered lightly up the trunk of a tall tree.

"Ho, Mak," a sentry greeted him. "Glad you're back. Nurm! Here's Mak."

Nurm looked up from where he was helping Jewel to clean a mess of fish. "Fish for dinner tonight. Did you find a way around this swamp?"

"I sure did, and I found something else, too." He gave a terse account of his meeting with Kinna. Nurm listened intently as he related what she'd said about the 'Chakcha' and their ways. "She wants to talk to someone else before she comes into camp. I thought that she might be more at ease with one of the women."

"Good idea. Would Amy do?"

"She'd be perfect. I thought about having Lyssa talk to her, but I didn't know how she would take my bringing a strange girl into camp." He grinned at Lyssa, who stuck her tongue out at him.

"Amy! Come here, please." She looked up from where she was setting out more fishing lines, then came over to join them.

"Of course, I'll be glad to," she answered when they'd explained Mak's problem. "Where did you leave her?"

"Over this way." He led the way to where he had last seen the stranger. "Kinna. Kinna, come here and meet my friend Amy."

Mak's lowvoiced call brought Kinna's head peering from behind a nearby tree. She approached hesitantly, then smiled in wonder.

"But her hair! It is the color of sunlight!" She came up to Amy and placed her small hairy hand trustingly in Amy's smoothly tanned one. "Mak tells true that you are not Chakcha. They would not let a child of theirs live with hair so light, just as they not let one of us live with dark hair."

Convinced now, Kinna chattered away with Amy as they walked into camp. "No, we not have menfolk to live with us. Chakcha take away all boy babies of usfolk. They keep only good strong boys in big stone house, and we not ever see others again. They take usfolk to big stone house when they want us to have babies, and keep us there until babies are born. That only time us see men like Mak." She was quite matteroffact about the way she had lived all of her life. "That way usfolk no can run away. No men, so if us run to woods us just grow old and die, no can have babies of our own."

By this time they were in camp. Kinna was nervous at first, meeting Nurm with his dark hair and burly height, but his smile and evident interest soon had her chattering away as freely with him as she did with Mak and Amy.

She had no clear idea of the number of Chakcha. The nearest that they could figure was the city held at least five or six hundred people, but that there were fewer of them than in the past. Houses were empty in many parts of the city of T'Chak that had once been lived in.

"They called town Chakcha City," Kinna told them. "I one time hear it called 'the City of T'Chak' by one of court people who walk past field where I work. City is all made of stone, with baked clay pieces for roof. In middle of city is big stone house!"