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You play dangerous games, Ngangata told him as the Black-god walked back off
the way he came.
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Not a game, Ngangata. You know that.
I know.
Don t forget your own advice, my friend, Perkar said.
Which advice?
About heroes. My fights are not your fights. When I provoke my doom, you
should walk away.
That s true, Ngangata acknowledged. I should. But until you provoke it
again, why don t you gather some wood while I see if our friend, here, is
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still alive. He gestured at the crumpled figure of the Mang warrior.
What will we do with him? Perkar muttered.
Depends. But we should learn why they attacked us.
Perhaps they know my people and theirs are at war. Perhaps they merely wanted
our skins as trophies for their yekts.
Perhaps, Ngangata conceded. But did you hear what they were yelling as they
attacked?
I don t remember them yelling anything.
They called us shez
. Shez are demons who bring disease. This is not an ordinary sort of insult.
Oh. Perkar watched Ngangata kneel by the side of the injured man. The
warrior was still alive, though breathing shallowly. Perkar walked back toward
the stream, searching for deadwood, trying to keep his feelings from crowding
out reason. What could Karak or Blackgod, or whatever his true name might be
what could he offer to set everything right ? The Raven was glib and clever,
had a way of making the absurd seem reasonable. Yet one thing he said rang
powerfully true to Perkar. Why would Karak care about him
? Karak had changed his whole destiny or at least given him the means to
change his own destiny and follow a certain path. Why would a god take such an
intimate interest in him?
He glanced back, to see that the Raven was leading his mount to where Ngangata
still knelt over the injured man. Perkar pushed a little farther into the thin
trees, trying to remember what he could about
Karak while also searching for firewood.
Ngangata had reminded him that Karak was an aspect of the Forest Lord. The
Forest Lord had other
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aspects the Huntress, for instance, and the great one-eyed beast who had
carried on the actual negotiations with the Kapaka but Karak seemed to be the
most deviant, the most free-willed of those avatars. And Karak himself was
said to be of ambiguous nature, the Crow and the Raven. The Crow was greedy,
spiteful, a trickster who took pleasure in causing pain. Raven the songs spoke
of Raven as a loftier god, one who went about in the beginning times shaping
the world into its present form. Some said that he had actually drawn the
original mud from beneath the waters to create the world. Others claimed that
he stole the sun from a mighty demon and brought it to light the heavens.
Perkar had paid little attention to such stories; the faraway doings of gods
distant in both time and space had never been as important to his people as
the gods they knew
, the ones who lived in pasture, field, forest and, of course, stream.
Now he was camping with a god said to have created the world, and he could not
remember which stories about him were supposed to be true and which were told
merely to entertain children on dark winter evenings.
Tell me about Karak, Harka, he said.
About Karak or about the Blackgod?
They are the same, are they not?
Mostly. But different names always make a difference.
Did he really create the world?
I wasn t there.
Don t evade.
No one created the world. But I think the Raven may well have created dry
land.
I can t believe that.
Why is it important? What does this have to do with the present?
Perkar sighed. I don t know. I just& what does he want with me?
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I think that he will tell you, soon enough
, Harka replied.
Just keep your wits about you. Listen to everything he says, so that you can
go over and over it later. The Raven gets things done.
He is the
Forest Lord s wit, his cunning, his hand. He goes about making things and
unmaking them. The Crow always tries to twist around what the Forest Lord
commands, make it into something different, and even
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when the Crow and Raven are in accord, the Crow works through treachery,
deceit, and chicanery. Still, they say, if you pay close attention
very close attention
you can hear the Raven telling you how to defeat the Crow
.
That doesn t make sense.
It makes perfect sense. You ve done it yourself made excuses for doing things
you knew you shouldn t do. Planning to check on the cattle because your father
wanted you to, but finding just enough other things to keep you busy so that
you didn t have time to.
That doesn t seem like the same thing, Perkar answered doubtfully. But I
will think on it.
By now he had an armload of deadwood and so, with many misgivings, turned back
toward Ngangata and Karak.
He got the fire started in silence, as Ngangata erected the tent. The Mang
warrior had regained consciousness and regarded them with a mixture of bleary
resignation and hostility. Karak merely sat, silent, watching them. Perkar
decided that if the god was going to speak, it would be in his own time; he
would not beg him to talk, certainly.
What are you called? he asked the warrior instead.
The man narrowed his eyes. You are not my friend, and you are not kin to me.
I didn t ask for your name
Perkar persisted. Just something to call you.
The man regarded him sullenly for a moment more. Give me a drink of water,
he finally said, and I
will give you something to call me.
Wordlessly Perkar handed him a water skin. The warrior drank deeply.
Does your leg hurt? Perkar asked.
It hurts. He took another drink of water, then threw the skin back at
Perkar, who caught it deftly. You may call me Good Thief.
Good Thief, Perkar repeated. Fine. Good Thief, why did you attack us?
To kill you. The warrior sneered. Across the fire, the Black-god chuckled in
appreciation.
Well, you failed in that, Perkar apprised him lightly.
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Yes. Because we did not believe, the man retorted bitterly. We thought the
gaan was exaggerating.
A shaman?
He saw you in a vision. He said you were a disease upon the land. He said you
brought the war with the
Cattle People.
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Perkar stared. What?
Yes, but he said you were also demons, that only by singing and drumming
could you be killed Only by fighting you with gods. He turned to gaze at his
companion s corpse, at the messy ruin of the horse.
We should have listened, but we wanted your skins. We were fools.
You came after us, specifically after ? Perkar pressed, frowning, poking at
the fire with a branch, us unwilling to meet the Mang s accusing eyes.
The Brush-Man and the Cattle-Man, traveling together at the stream. The gaan
saw you in a vision.
Saw us in a vision, Perkar echoed dully.
The Blackgod sidled up to the fire, sat closer. Ngangata, finished with the
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