Some of the other men, however, were impressed enough by the runner’s tale and Agat’s warning to argue with those who discounted or distrusted the news.
“Now listen to the man who called this Stone-Pounding,” the shaman-herald called out; and Wold got up with difficulty. He stood in his place, gazing straight ahead, massive, scarred, immobile, an old boulder of a man.
“A farborn came to my tent,” he said at last in his age-weakened, deep voice. “He is chief of them in Landin. He said the farborns have grown few and ask the help of men.”
A rumble from all the heads of clans and families that sat moveless, knees to chin, in the circle. Over the circle, over the wooden roofpeaks about them, very high up in the cold, golden light, a white bird wheeled, harbinger of winter.
“This farborn said the Southing comes not by clans and tribes but all in one horde, many thousands led by a great chief.”
“How does he know?” somebody roared. Protocol was not strict in the Stone-Poundings of Tevar; Tevar had never been ruled by its shamans as some tribes were. “He had scouts up north!” Wold roared back. “He said the Gaal besiege Winter Cities and capture them. That is what the runner said of Tlokna. The farborn says that the warriors of Tevar should join with the farborns and with the men of Pernmek and Alakskat, go up in the north of our range, and turn the Southing aside to the Mountain Trail. These things he said and I heard them. Have you all heard?”
The assent was uneven and turbulent, and a clan chief was on his feet at once. “Eldest! from your mouth we hear the truth always. But when did a farborn speak truth? When did men listen to farborns? I hear nothing this farborn said. What if his City perishes in the Southing? No men live in it! Let them perish and then we men can take their Range.”
The speaker, Walmek, was a big dark man full of words; Wold had never liked him, and dislike influenced his reply. “I have heard Walmek. Not for the first time. Are the farborns men or not—who knows? Maybe they fell out of the sky as in the tale. Maybe not. No one ever fell out of the sky this Year.… They look like men; they fight like men. Their women are like women, I can tell you that! They have some wisdom. It’s better to listen to them.…” His references to farborn women had them all grinning as they sat in their solemn circle, but he wished he had not said it. It was stupid to remind them of his old ties with the aliens. And it was wrong … she had been his wife, after all.…
He sat down, confused, signifying he would speak no more.
Some of the other men, however, were impressed enough by the runner’s tale and Agat’s warning to argue with those who discounted or distrusted the news.
