“What does that mean?” Vandler said, just as neutrally as Batanya. The mage was surprising her again.
“Alien People with Weapons.”
That pretty much said it all, Batanya thought. “So Hannuman taught you some mage craft?” Batanya asked, since it was her turn.
“Oh, yes, that was why he was given me as wife,” Marla said.She spoke calmly, but her expression said that some of the teaching had not been pleasant. “It helped us so much, having a mage. He could do things for the village that we didn’t know how to do.”
From the corner of her eye, Batanya saw Vandler’s hands curl into fists. The mage did not like that tidbit at all. “So Perro is your son with Hannuman.” Vandler managed to sound no more than mildly curious.
“Our middle son. We have three.” For the first time, Marla smiled.
Batanya could not feel sure how the local woman felt about Hannuman, but she could read loud and clear that Marla loved her sons.
The edge of the village was within sight by now. It had been built on the largest area of solid land Batanya had seen, possibly the edge of a major land mass.
First were outhouses... no trouble recognizing those. Then there were huts scattered at random in the cleared area.It must be a constant battle to keep the forest at bay, Batanya thought.
As they progressed into the heart of the village, there were pens of animals, some Batanya couldn’t identify, with children guarding them. She saw a well, a large communal cooking pit, and what might have been a village oven. Most of the people looked well-nourished and able, and there were plenty of children.
“Not many old people,” Clovache said quietly.
“No signs of any mining,” Batanya said. She would have liked to look longer, but Marla and Perro had picked up the pace.
An anxious group waited in the center of the village. The wounded were surrounded and taken off to a small hut. Perro peeled away to stand with two other young men, one golden-skinned but blond, one lighter but copper-haired.His brothers, Batanya figured. The three began to whisper to each other, but she could not interpret their expressions.
Now most of the villagers held back in a cluster. Only two sturdy Coturigan men and Marla led the newcomers forward. Marla’s sons followed close behind, looking grim.
There was one man waiting for them, under a sort of primitive pavilion.
The floor was beaten dirt and the posts holding up the roof were painted in bright colors. There were seats under its shelter, not the stools Batanya would have predicted, but real chairs with backs and arms and cushions to soften the wooden seats.
The largest chair, the only one occupied, held an old man who must be Hannuman. His hair was white and streamed over his bare shoulders in true mage style. His skin, after twenty years under the Coturigan sun, was brown and freckled, not the attractive gold of the local people.
“A mage, all right,” Clovache said with a grunt.
Hannuman had disdainful pride draped on his shoulders like a cloak.
Batanya, Clovache, and Vandler watched the old man for what seemed like a long time. Though he wasn’t looking back at them, at least not directly, Batanya was sure he was giving them a thorough examination. It appeared the old mage was not going to welcome them or acknowledge them first. But then, he’d been king in this swamp for two decades. It was a humble kingdom, but his own.
“Are we expected to bow?” Clovache whispered.
Damned if I will, Batanya thought. But she thought again, and inclined her head at the same moment Vandler did.
And Batanya noticed that despite his aloof air, Hannuman was gripping the arms of his chair so fiercely his hands were white.
Marla went to one knee in front of her husband and began to talk to him in their language. While Hannuman appeared to be listening, his head inclined, his eyes were actually on Vandler.
Batanya did not like the old man’s expression.Notgood. Why wasn’t Hannuman delighted at the arrival of another mage? Surely he was all excited about taking his family back to the Collective—or at the very least, he’d be full of the chance to tell his own story at last.
After all, he’d set off the beacon.
When Marla fell silent, Hannuman raised his hand. The few conversations among the people behind them stopped.
Batanya had to clamp her lips together to repress a sigh. Someone had a god complex.
“After all these years you have finally returned to get me,” Hannuman said coldly. “At least, I presume that the warriors my wife has told me of came from home?”
So this was Hannuman’s reaction. He was angry at them. Batanya remembered the bodies of her team strewn around the infirmary, and she shuddered. “Our people have died, and some of yours, too,” she said. “Why did you tell your people to attack when you had activated your beacon?”
