Where records would be kept, and items rendered sacred by rarity and time would be housed. Alphanian… alpha… a word Dumarest knew meant the beginning.
"Varg, what do you people call yourselves?"
"We are of Ayat."
"And?" Dumarest pressed the question as the man remained silent. "Are you the Original People?"
"I-let me show you the fields."
Not an admission, but admission enough. And yet, a mystery remained. The name, Ayat, a cover perhaps. But why had Leon claimed he came from Nerth?
The fields were well kept, the rows of beans clear of weeds. Others held ripening grain, root crops, bushes yielding nuts and fruit. Domestic animals would be kept at the lower end of the valley. Dumarest watched as boys and young girls shooed away birds. Only when older, and puberty exercised its demands, would they be kept apart.
Eidhal paused as a man came shambling down the path. He was tall, big, shoulders wide beneath the drab gray of his smock. His face was vacuous, the eyes empty of intelligence, his mouth wet with spittle. The lips twisted into an inane grin as he halted before Dumarest.
"Give… you give…"
"He wants something sweet," said Eidhal. He rummaged in a pocket and found a dried fruit. "Give him this."
A splayed hand snatched the morsel and thrust it into the slavering mouth.
"That's all, Odo," said Eidhal as the hand reached out again. "Get back to your work."
"Give… you give…"
"No! To work now!"
"Odo want…"
"Odo will be beaten if he does not do as he is told." Eidhal was firm, but gentle. "Come on, now, back to work."
Dumarest stood to one side as the guard conducted the idiot back into the fields.
"A ghost," Eidhal explained as he returned. "A child who will never be a man."
"How did it happen?"
"It happens." Eidhal was grim. "Sometimes a boy grows in body, but not in mind. He is given every chance, as that one is there." He pointed to where a boy wore a yellow sash. "If a lad thinks he is unready for the ordeal, he is allowed to wait and no shame comes to him, or to his parents. If still he refuses, then he wears gray."
"Do many refuse?"
"In my lifetime, only one. He was sent to clear thorn and live in isolation. He died by his own hand."
"And Odo?"
"He was a bright lad, smart, keen and eager to become a man. The pride of all who knew him. I was on duty at the time. When dawn came, he was as you see him now." He added, bleakly, "It would have been better had he vanished."
An idiot condemned to a life of unending labor, castrated to avoid the continuation of his line, a man who had become little more than an animal. Despised, rejected, yet needed as an essential source of labor. A ghost.
And yet, Eidhal had been kind. Dumarest wondered if there was some relationship between them. It was more than likely; in any closed community blood-ties had to be plentiful. His son, perhaps, or the son of a sister, a cousin.
Kind-yet he would have been more merciful had he thrust his spear into Odo's heart.
* * * * *
Iduna was waiting as they returned. She ran forward, eyes anxious as they looked at the dressing on Dumarest's scalp.
"Earl! I was so worried. Your head?"
"Is fine. And you?"
She had lost the ghastly pallor of exhaustion. Her hair was a smooth russet helmet about her skull, the eyes clear, her skin carrying the faint sheen of health.
Like himself she wore purple, new garments which accentuated the lines of her figure.
She fell into step beside him, Varg Eidhal discreetly falling back. He, like them all, thought her to be Dumarest's woman.
"I've been listening," she said. "The woman talked when they thought I was asleep. Earl, they don't intend to let us go!"
"Did they say that in so many words?"
"They didn't have to. They talked of what I could do, and how I could be fitted into their community. They even speculated on a probable mate." Her voice carried undertones of disgust. "As if I had been a brood mare-good only to provide new children. My body used to increase their numbers."
And to provide a new source of genes. A cross would produce healthy offspring.
"Earl, what are we going to do?"
"We wait."
"For how long? Don't you understand what I'm saying? They spoke of me-not you. Whether I had any skills in weaving, pottery making, cooking, sewing of skins and cloth. All day they've been at it, questioning, probing, and never once did they mention you. They don't need you, Earl. I think they intend to kill you."
And, probably, her. The women had been gossiping, speculating, but the decision would not be theirs.
He said, "When they talked, did they mention a name?"
"A name?"
"That of this valley. Nerth."
"No." She was positive… "I asked them where we were and they wouldn't answer. But later, I heard one tell another that these were exciting times in Ayat." Her fingers tightened on his arm. "Earl, I'm afraid. We must escape before it is too late."
Escape into a wilderness without food, a map, or weapons. A short start with guards following, ready with their spears.
"We have to wait," he said patiently. "Take each thing as it comes. When our chance comes, we'll take it."
Empty words, but they seemed to give her courage.