hear the tramp of the horses' hooves, and the creaking of the wagon wheels, and the thin high cry of the driver urging on the weary horses: "Tuk-tuk-tuk!"
He was so focused on his prey that he barely noticed the curious features of the valley through which he was passing. It was dominated by a soaring massif called the Scar, a lone crag whose sheer sides rose up from the sandy ground like a castle in the sea. Beyond the Scar stood hundreds of towering sandstone tines, jagged needles of rock, which cast before them long shadows, bruise blue on the hot amber of the desert land. Seeker strode on, now lost in the shadow of one of these natural columns, now emerging suddenly golden into the slanting sunlight, throwing before him like an avenging arm his own long purple shadow.
As the setting sun touched the ridge of the Scar, some instinct told Seeker to pause and look back. The sun's final descent was rapid. The burning disc dwindled to a dome, a streak, a gleam, and it was gone. Then all at once a spark sprang to life on the upper wall of the Scar, and without warning, a shaft of brilliant light streamed out over the valley. There followed another and another, and then a curtain of light burst through a narrow cut in the crag. As the angle of the sun's rays changed second by second, so the beams of light came and went, and the Scar glittered like a colossal lantern. Cracks and fissures in the sandstone, invisible to the eye of the traveller, were penetrated by the brilliant light and turned into lancets of crimson and gold. The long beams lit up the tines in the valley, picking out one here, one there, as the rest of the land slipped into soft twilight.
Seeker saw the streams of dazzling light and was overwhelmed with awe. The crag was glowing as if it were alive. Only a trick of the setting sun, but all at once the whole world was charged with light. At any moment now, it seemed to him, the very earth on which he stood might shiver and crack and send forth from its secret depths rays of glory, as if it were a second sun.
What is this place? I must come back.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the dazzling display was over. The sun sank below the mountain horizon, and darkness flowed over the valley like sleep.
Seeker set off again, moving more rapidly now to make up for lost time. The wagon was out of sight over the crest of the hill. Beyond the line of hills lay the plains; beyond the plains, the great forest. Somewhere between here and there he would meet the savanters for one last time.
Then it would be over.
2 A Kiss at Last
M ORNING S TAR LAY ON HER BACK ON THE WARM EARTH and gazed up at the sky. Not a cloud broke the blazing blue of the summer morning. The branch of a tree overhead shielded her from the burn of the sun; its leaves stunted and already beginning to wither. No rain had fallen for six months. Even the grass was dying.
I must tell him, she thought to herself.
She heard shouts from the river below and, turning her head, looked down the bank to the cluster of men and boys gathered there. Two were standing ankle deep in the brown water, one with his head bowed, the other wielding a razor. As she watched she saw the razor slick neatly over the bowed head, and the last thick hank of hair plop into the water.
"Now get your stripes," said the man with the razor.
The shaved man looked up, grinning, uncertain, and felt his bare scalp with both hands. Morning Star was struck by a deep sadness. Now this youth would have his head and face and neck painted with black-and-yellow stripes, and the Tigers would be one man stronger. Already they formed the biggest single band in the spiker army.
I must tell him today.
He wouldn't believe her, but still she must tell him. He was in danger. But when she told him, what would he do? What could he do? The Wildman's sudden rages had grown more frequent in recent months, and he could be murderous when roused. Only she could restrain him. Only she had some degree of
He was so focused on his prey that he barely noticed the curious features of the valley through which he was passing. It was dominated by a soaring massif called the Scar, a lone crag whose sheer sides rose up from the sandy ground like a castle in the sea. Beyond the Scar stood hundreds of towering sandstone tines, jagged needles of rock, which cast before them long shadows, bruise blue on the hot amber of the desert land. Seeker strode on, now lost in the shadow of one of these natural columns, now emerging suddenly golden into the slanting sunlight, throwing before him like an avenging arm his own long purple shadow.
As the setting sun touched the ridge of the Scar, some instinct told Seeker to pause and look back. The sun's final descent was rapid. The burning disc dwindled to a dome, a streak, a gleam, and it was gone. Then all at once a spark sprang to life on the upper wall of the Scar, and without warning, a shaft of brilliant light streamed out over the valley. There followed another and another, and then a curtain of light burst through a narrow cut in the crag. As the angle of the sun's rays changed second by second, so the beams of light came and went, and the Scar glittered like a colossal lantern. Cracks and fissures in the sandstone, invisible to the eye of the traveller, were penetrated by the brilliant light and turned into lancets of crimson and gold. The long beams lit up the tines in the valley, picking out one here, one there, as the rest of the land slipped into soft twilight.
Seeker saw the streams of dazzling light and was overwhelmed with awe. The crag was glowing as if it were alive. Only a trick of the setting sun, but all at once the whole world was charged with light. At any moment now, it seemed to him, the very earth on which he stood might shiver and crack and send forth from its secret depths rays of glory, as if it were a second sun.
What is this place? I must come back.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the dazzling display was over. The sun sank below the mountain horizon, and darkness flowed over the valley like sleep.
Seeker set off again, moving more rapidly now to make up for lost time. The wagon was out of sight over the crest of the hill. Beyond the line of hills lay the plains; beyond the plains, the great forest. Somewhere between here and there he would meet the savanters for one last time.
Then it would be over.
2 A Kiss at Last
M ORNING S TAR LAY ON HER BACK ON THE WARM EARTH and gazed up at the sky. Not a cloud broke the blazing blue of the summer morning. The branch of a tree overhead shielded her from the burn of the sun; its leaves stunted and already beginning to wither. No rain had fallen for six months. Even the grass was dying.
I must tell him, she thought to herself.
She heard shouts from the river below and, turning her head, looked down the bank to the cluster of men and boys gathered there. Two were standing ankle deep in the brown water, one with his head bowed, the other wielding a razor. As she watched she saw the razor slick neatly over the bowed head, and the last thick hank of hair plop into the water.
"Now get your stripes," said the man with the razor.
The shaved man looked up, grinning, uncertain, and felt his bare scalp with both hands. Morning Star was struck by a deep sadness. Now this youth would have his head and face and neck painted with black-and-yellow stripes, and the Tigers would be one man stronger. Already they formed the biggest single band in the spiker army.
I must tell him today.
He wouldn't believe her, but still she must tell him. He was in danger. But when she told him, what would he do? What could he do? The Wildman's sudden rages had grown more frequent in recent months, and he could be murderous when roused. Only she could restrain him. Only she had some degree of
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