Noman Read Free Page A

influence over him, and even that was waning.
    No time to lose. Go to him now.
    Morning Star rose to her feet and turned towards the great camp. Every day it grew bigger. New bands of spikers came from far and wide, drawn by the Wildman's ever-growing prestige, and pitched their tents and threw up makeshift shanties. They dug fire pits and latrines, tethered their bullocks, and set their children loose to run about the alleyways. No one knew any more how large the spiker army had become; but it covered the land all the way from Spikertown to the swamps.
    She walked back down the packed earth of the camp's main street, passing a platoon of armed men loping out to one of the training grounds. As they went by, red-faced and sweating, a gaggle of small boys punched the air and cried, "Wild
man
! Wild
man
! Wild
man
!"
    So much training. So much cheering. What else could an army do when there was no enemy left to fight?
    Turn in on itself, thought Morning Star. Fight itself.

    A scarfed woman came out of a tent and ran to overtake her. She tugged at her sleeve.
    "Little mother, help me. My husband's a good man, but he beats me. When he's drunk, he beats me."
    She drew back the scarf and showed the bruises on her face.
    "One day he'll kill me, little mother," she whispered. "But he's a good man."
    Morning Star touched the woman's wounded cheek.
    "Tell him I'm watching," she said. "Tell him I see everything he does."
    "Oh, I will, little mother!" The woman was filled with joy. "He won't hurt me while you're watching! Oh, thank you, thank you!"
    Morning Star continued on her way. She no longer tried to tell the people that she was no different from them. It had begun with the Wildman, who called her "the spirit of the spikers." From there the rumors had multiplied. Now she was looked on with reverence, as something between a lucky charm and a god.
    A band of Tigers was approaching. They walked with an easy roll of the hips, filling the roadway from side to side, so that she had to step out of the way to let them pass. They looked about them with bold, insolent stares, inviting challenge. Their colors were easy to read. They wanted action.
    Ahead she saw the high canopies of the command tent; not so much a tent as a long open-sided space formed by rows of poles, over which were stretched sailcloth awnings.
In this shade, on benches or on cushions among tables and water vats, gathered the chiefs of the spiker army. Here she would find the Wildman, each day quieter than the last, moving more slowly, speaking more softly, his gaze taking in everything and nothing. He was still wild, still beautiful, still unpredictable in his anger; but these days he felt so far away.

    Now, she promised herself. Tell him now.

    Snakey was prowling up and down, his eyes bright in his striped black-and-yellow face, stabbing the air with his hands.
    "March on Radiance! What's to stop us?"
    "What do we want with Radiance?"
    The Wildman lay stretched out on the ground, his back supported by a mound of cushions. He was eating nuts from a bowl by his side, cracking them with his teeth, dropping the shells into a growing pile on the dry earth floor.
    "Spiker rule!" exclaimed Snakey. "Spiker power!"
    A growl of assent sounded from the Tigers gathered behind him.
    "You want to rule Radiance, Snakey?"
    Snakey stopped prowling and turned on his friend.
    "You got an army here, Chick. Lot of itchy blades. Lot of hungry mouths. How long do we sit here and cook in the sun?"
    "Till I say we go."
    "Used to be you were the one in front and the rest of us running to keep up."
    "No call for running till you know where you want to go."

    The Wildman's slow speech frustrated Snakey. He squatted down before him and boxed his friend's arms with light jabs of his fists. He was only playing. He wanted true attention.
    "Don't matter where we go," he said. "Let's go! Let's move!" He stabbed one hand at the bright light of the street. "Look out there! The women are planting corn