Climate of Change (3 page)

“It is not good here in the Mountain area either,” Crenelle said. “The trees are dying. Game is scarce here too.”

“Maybe we need to look farther,” Haven said with regret.

“No, no need for that,” the girl said quickly, surprising Hero. “We can manage, if we just get more rain.”

Their gestures were gradually diminishing, as the concepts became more detailed and it was clear that their dialects were mutually intelligible. “If we got more rain, the lake would rise,” Haven said. “The game would return. But there is never enough.”

“Never enough,” Crenelle agreed. “Yet the weather changes as it wishes, and maybe will change again.”

Hero shrugged. “We have traveled far, and would like to return home. But I think we must go on until we find a land with enough rain.”

“But you can't,” the girl protested. “You come from the north. To the south is just mountains, and a big lake, and the lake folk are hostile. To the east and west are fire mountains. There is nowhere to go.”

“This is bad news,” Hero said with deep regret. “Perhaps I should talk with your brother.”

“My brother?” She stepped from foot to foot, in place, making her
loose reed skirt shift and reveal flashes of her thighs. She was trying to be seductive, and succeeding reasonably well, because they were good thighs, slender but firmly fleshed.

Hero smiled, masking his interest. “There are the possessions of a man here, and I'm sure you did not make this house yourself. I should meet with him before talking too much with you, lest he misunderstand my intention.”

“My brother is away,” Crenelle said. “He had to go to trade for dry fish.”

“Then we should not be here. You do not wish to sleep with strangers too near.”

“I think you are not strangers any more. Haven gave me a wonderful toy, and you I would like to know better.” She put her hands to her belt thong, and drew up her skirt so as to show a clear flash of her crotch. It was no longer possible to doubt the nature of her interest. She was being somewhat too obvious, but had the right motions. His interest was indeed being aroused.

Hero glanced quickly at Haven, but she turned away. This was his problem to settle. So he addressed it directly. “I have just appeared here, and you offer me your skirt, knowing that I must go on elsewhere tomorrow?”

“I think you would make a good husband. If you married me, you could stay and hunt here.”

“But what of my family? I have two grown brothers and two grown sisters, and younger siblings who may similarly have to find other territory.”

Crenelle shook her head. “My people let only spouses remain. Haven could marry my brother Harbinger, and stay. I'm sure he will like her. She has a full body.”

Haven jumped. “I'm not marrying either!”

Crenelle turned persuasive. “But then you could stay here. Your family would be free of two members, and the others could look elsewhere. That is better than failure.”

She had a point. But Hero refused to desert his remaining siblings. “We are close. They would not desert me; I will not desert them. So
I thank you for your interest, but we must be moving on, with regret.”

“You are generous,” Crenelle said.

“Not generous,” Haven corrected her. “Decent.”

“Yes. I like you.” She considered briefly, then shrugged, making her breasts jiggle. “If I were a year older, I could seduce you, and make you marry me.”

“Surely so,” Hero agreed. He was not merely humoring her; she was impressing him enough as it was, and the added flesh a year would bring would make her a beauty. “Now we must move on and find a place to camp for the night.”

“No need; stay here, by the fire. I have food enough, this night, and my brother will return tomorrow with more.”

“But I can't give you what you want, so should not take favors from you.”

She looked at him with a new sort of appraisal. “You are a hunter—and warrior. You can use those weapons.” Her glance flicked to the standing staff and spear.

“Yes. But never against a friend.”

“Bring them here, and protect me. I get nervous, alone. There is a lame leopard who may attack.”

That was fair enough. Normally leopards stayed clear of human settlements, but lame ones could not hunt well, and so could go after human beings in desperation. Hero walked to his staff, took it in his left hand, pulled the spear from the ground with his right hand, and returned. He set both down within reach. Meanwhile Crenelle was taking down the roast, which was now ready, and was using her stone blade to carve off chunks of meat for each of them. She also had some fermented berry juice to share. That was bound to be a pleasure.

They sat cross-legged around the hearth and ate. “This is a feast,” Hero said appreciatively. “I hope there is some threat in the night, so that I can justify my presence.”

“There may be a way,” Crenelle said.

Aware that she had something other than the leopard in mind, he glanced at her. Her position caused the strands of the skirt to diffuse,
showing aspects of her lightly furred crotch, surely by no accident. Haven was sitting similarly, but wore a loinskin that remained in place regardless of her legs. So did Hero. “A way?”

“There could be a storm, damaging the house. You could repair it.”

“A storm would bring water,” Haven said.

“Good luck, a blessing from the spirits,” Crenelle agreed.

He realized that Crenelle had diverted his question, not telling him her true thought. But there seemed to be no harm in her, and he did like the view she was giving him, so he did not pursue it.

“How is it that your brother left you here alone?” Haven inquired.

The girl grimaced. “He didn't want to. But since our father died, we have had to make do as a family of two, and can't be together all the time. So he leaves the spear in sight, and I pretend he's here. So far there has been no trouble. But there really is a leopard, so I keep the fire burning all night.”

“We would not have approached, if we had known you were alone,” Hero said.

“Why not? You would have taken me for easy prey.”

“We are not looking for prey. We want land to settle.”

“You could have killed me and taken this land.”

Hero laughed. “I doubt it, even were we so inclined.”

She glanced sharply at him. “Why do you doubt?”

He answered her seriously. “Because you are young, but not defenseless, even alone. You carry a knife at your waist, you use it with flair, and the house is booby-trapped.”

Her jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

“He is a good hunter, and warrior,” Haven said. “He is observant.”

Crenelle nodded. “The more I learn of you, the better I like you. You would be a good provider.”

“I like you too,” Hero said. “You are competent and clever, and you have nerve. Your body is most appealing. But I will not desert my siblings.”

“And I will not desert mine,” she said, flushing at the compliments. “Harbinger is all I have, and I am all he has.”

Crenelle ate less than they did, and finished sooner. Then she
brought out a small piece of bone. She put the end to her mouth and blew. Sound came out, high and sweet.

“You have a flute!” Haven cried, delighted.

“My brother sings and beats a drum. I play the bone. Our family likes music.”

“So does ours,” Hero said. “We listen when we hear it.”

“Then listen.” Crenelle applied her mouth to the bone, and her fingers to the holes in it, and played an appealing tune. Both Hero and Haven were enraptured; the girl was good at it. Her melody stirred something deep and vital.

As she played, she moved, swaying the upper part of her body to keep time. Her motion became more vigorous. Her breasts bounced and rippled, compelling Hero's attention. Breasts were always interesting, even small ones, but moving breasts were fascinating. Of course Crenelle intended to attract his gaze there, but he had no choice.

The combination of appearance and music and berry drink was having its effect. Hero was now pondering whether it would after all be possible to marry her. Of course he should not, yet it was easy to imagine holding her, loving her, being constantly close to her. She could be very nice to be with.

They completed their meal as dusk closed. Hero's head was pleasantly dizzy from the fermented juice. He stood, carefully. “I must urinate. Is there a safe region?”

Crenelle stood, putting away her flute. “I'll show you. Follow my tracks.” She walked around the house, showing some dizziness herself. Possibly it was feigned, as she had drunk sparingly, but it added to her appeal: the suggestion that she would be amenable to anything he might have in mind, because of the juice. Such an effect was common enough.

Hero and Haven followed, staying on the path she showed. They knew that one trap would not be the limit; there would be several. By daylight they could have spied them, but it was chancy by night.

“Here,” the girl said, and squatted, doing it herself.

Hero turned away, embarrassed by her openness. She was still trying
to seduce him, and was having more effect than perhaps she knew. He wished he could simply sweep her into his arms and have sex with her.

Crenelle stood, and walked back toward the house. Haven went to the spot and squatted, drawing aside her loinskin. He did not look, out of courtesy, but of course he had seen her do it before. It didn't matter, with a sister. But it mattered with an unrelated young woman. Then she moved to the house, leaving Hero to manage his half-erect state alone. Haven well understood what was occurring, but had the grace to pretend ignorance. She had seen him similarly embarrassed before, but was discreet.

He managed, in due course, and went to the house. The two girls were entering it, stepping on one side of the threshold. Hero removed his pack, brought out his cloakskin, and lay down beside the dying fire, his staff and spear beside him.

But before he could sleep, a figure emerged from the house. Darkness was closing, but he knew by the sound and smell that it was Crenelle, not Haven. Uncertain of her mission, he lay still, with his eyes closed.

She came to stand almost over him. “I could club you where you lie,” she murmured disdainfully.

His hand moved too swiftly for her to escape. He clasped her ankle. “I doubt it. You don't have a club.”

She neither moved nor screamed. “So you are alert. I like that.”

He slid his hand up to squeeze her calf, smiling. He opened his eyes, peering up under her skirt. “And I like that.”

“Like what?” she demanded, not trying to free her leg.

“That you do not spook frivolously. It could be dangerous, in the wrong circumstance.”

“Is that all you like?”

“No. But I told you, I am not seeking a wife.” He let go of her calf and averted his gaze. The two actions required more willpower than he cared to admit, especially since he knew she sought neither.

She squatted, one knee projecting over his head. He couldn't keep his gaze clear. The flickering firelight illuminated her inner thigh. She
was showing him, again, while pretending to be unaware of it. That enhanced the effect, for secret glimpses had more power than open ones. “I could be good for you.”

He sighed, with mock dismay. He was enjoying the game, despite its pointlessness. “You will not let me sleep until you argue the case?”

“If I let you sleep, you will depart in the morning, and I will never see you again.”

“Then lie under my blanket and let me feel your body, and I will listen as long as you wish.”

He had thought she might demur, but she did not. She stretched out beside him and tugged the cloak across to cover her. But it was not wide enough; the other side slid off his body.

She paused, lifting her head. “You do understand that if you take me, you marry me. I am not offering myself to you, I am only sharing your blanket.”

“Yes. In our tribe, a man must marry the woman he takes, if she wishes it.”

“Good.” She rolled to her side, came up against him, and reached down to spread the cloak so as to cover them both.

He rolled similarly, so that they were facing each other, and reached over to put his right hand against her back. He clasped her, so that neither of them was at risk of falling away. Her left hand rested on his thigh, and her breasts pressed against him as she breathed. He was of course aroused, and she was aware of that. But he made no further motion. She had said she was not inviting sex; he had to honor that.

“My brother won't marry until I do, though he is two years older,” she said after a pause. “He wants to be sure I am provided for.”

“But he could still provide for you, if he married.”

“His wife could make me leave. So he wants me married well before he does. He is handsome; he could steal the prettiest girl, and she wouldn't scream.”

“Why would she scream?”

“Some girls don't like getting raped.”

“Raped! I thought you were speaking of marriage.”

Her hand slid down inside his loinskin to cup his buttock. “You can do the same, you know.”

“I would never rape anyone!”

She laughed, which struck him as an odd reaction. “I mean your hand. You may touch me where I touch you.”

Oh. He slid his hand down her back until his fingers reached the curvatures of her warm bottom. The reed skirt offered no barrier. The flesh was tight and muscular, but also fuller than his own; she was definitely a woman. His desire for her magnified, but he limited himself to stroking her gently. “What is this about rape?”

“It must be different in your tribe. In ours, a man chooses a girl he likes, catches her alone, steals her, and rapes her. Then her family must give her to him in marriage.”

“I should think they would kill him.”

“No. Then she would be a widow, and unable to marry again for a year. They wouldn't like that.”