Climate of Change (9 page)

Crenelle laughed. “They don't find us sexually attractive. Maybe they don't mistreat children.”

“Then it might be safe for a woman to go to them, to trade.”

“They wouldn't trade. They would adopt her or ignore her. Or maybe kill her, if she made a nuisance of herself.”

“I will try it,” Haven said. “I will take Craft's toys and hope they appeal.”

Crenelle's face blanched. “So soon married, and you want to risk your life like this?”

“If I do nothing, we starve!” Haven flared. “If I succeed, we eat.”

Crenelle swallowed. Then her jaw firmed. “I'll go with you.”

They looked at the men. Both looked uncomfortable, but did not protest. It was a gamble, but things were desperate.

“Give me all your toys,” Haven said to Craft.

He dug in his pack and came up with four carved links. He did not have many, because it took time and concentration to carve each one.

“You're the one who makes those!” Crenelle exclaimed. “Haven gave me one before. I still have it.” She went to her own pack and brought it out. “It's fascinating. I could get to like you.”

Craft shrugged, embarrassed by the compliment.

Haven had to smile. They had just indulged in repeated sex, and now they thought they could like each other? But she had done the same with Harbinger. Sex was an act; liking was a feeling. They were different.

They made a plan to go to the other camp early the next day. The two women had to go alone, because the Others would know if the men were near, and that would prejudice their case. It was a dangerous mission, they knew, for they would be in the power of the Others. But if they were successful, it meant survival.

They had been sated of sex, but the prospect of danger restored interest, and they retreated to the house for another bout. This time, mischievously, the two women assumed exactly similar positions, lying on their bellies, spread out, letting the men lie on them and do their business from behind. When the men were done, the women turned over and demanded immediate repeat performances, knowing the men could not. “Then you must do it our way,” they said, and made the men go to work with their tongues, exactly where and how directed. Haven wasn't sure whether it was the delicate physical stimulation or the marvelous feeling of control, but she derived enormous pleasure.

In the morning the two women set off for the Others' camp, guided by the smoke. The day was calm, fortunately. They talked as they went, making no attempt at concealment, so that there could be no misunderstanding of their innocent purpose. They carried no weapons.

The Other camp was a crude collection of lean-tos and smoldering fires. They walked right up to it without attracting much attention. But they knew the Others were aware of them.

The Others were not tall, but were extremely solid. Their foreheads sloped back from massive brow ridges, and their noses were amazingly broad. Their breath steamed out in the manner of large animals. Their hands looked strong enough to crush rocks. They were indeed brutish in appearance, and Haven was frightened.

The two of them approached an Other man who squatted by his fire, roasting meat. But he bared his huge teeth and growled. Clear enough. They retreated.

They approached another man, but he too growled. He had a pile of stone tools he must have chipped recently. He picked one up, and the women quickly backed away. It was as if they were being taken for bothersome neighboring children, tolerated but not catered to.

Then Haven saw an Other woman, at a fire with a child who would have been about ten had he been human. He was probably younger; Haven understood that the Others grew faster. “If they take us for children, maybe a child will help,” she murmured, and approached.

This time Crenelle held back, not wanting to complicate the effort. “Grunge will trust two of us half as much as one,” she said.

Grunge? Well, it was a descriptive, if unkind name. Haven continued her motion, keeping it slow.

The woman stared at her without speaking, but did not make a threatening gesture. Haven smiled at her, hoping the expression meant the same in Other culture as in human culture. Then she oriented on the little boy. She brought out a wood link and held it out toward the boy. “Toy,” she said. “For you.” She shook the carving, so that the links shifted.

The boy was interested, but hesitant. He looked at the woman, but she gave no sign. Haven held it closer. Suddenly he snatched it away from her, so quickly she didn't see his arm move. He held it up, peering at the links, trying to figure it out. It was clear that he knew it was from a single piece of wood, but couldn't figure out how it got that way.

Haven waited, studying him. She saw that though the child was husky in the Other way, his cloak did not fit well. It was big enough, with holes cut for the arms and neck, but hung in such a way that it was drafty, letting air in through the holes. It would not be good protection in a wind. The boy surely got cold at night.

This was something she could do something about. “Let me help,” she said, though she knew the boy would not comprehend her words. She did not look at Grunge, but was acutely aware of her.

Haven reached back into her pack and brought out her bone awl. She moved very slowly, for alarm at this point could get her killed. She took hold of the boy's cloak and put the awl point to it, near the edge of an armhole. He ignored her, still fascinated by the toy. The woman
watched, but made no move. She surely could and would move rapidly and effectively if she perceived a threat to her child.

Haven applied pressure, pushing the awl point through the leather, making a small hole. Then she made another hole near it, and another, until she had worked her way entirely around the armhole.

Now she brought out a thin thong, and threaded it through the holes, outside, inside, outside, inside. She completed the circle, then drew the thong tight and knotted it. Now the cloak was snug around the arm.

Still no reaction from the woman. So Haven did the other armhole, and then the neck-hole, getting them all firm, but not tight, around their extremities. “Now show your mother,” she said to the boy, giving him a gentle shove in that direction.

Obediently, he walked across to Grunge. She inspected the cloak. Would she realize the significance of the change in it?

The woman uttered a guttural sound. Another woman responded, coming to study the cloak. Then a third, and a fourth. They tugged at it, trying to understand the new mechanism much as the boy was trying to understand the mechanism of the toy.

Then they turned as one and looked at Haven. This was the crux. Did they understand? Would they deal?

She put her hand to her mouth, then rubbed her belly. She wanted food.

Grunge considered. Then she went into her house, and emerged with a huge frozen haunch. She dropped it before Haven and returned to her fire. She did understand!

But now there was another problem. The haunch would provide them with meat for a long time, but it was too heavy for Haven to carry. She tried to pick it up, but could not. Could she drag it? That would take a long time, even if it slid across the snow.

Grunge watched for a moment, then got up again. She bent down, heaved up the haunch, and started walking out of the camp. The boy followed.

Haven exchanged a glance with Crenelle, who shrugged. Where was the Other woman going? Did she think they had rejected the food?

Helplessly, they followed. Grunge was walking straight toward their house, though it was far out of sight. She wasn't following their trail, which had been largely covered by blowing snow. She knew where it was.

Haven realized that the woman was not stupid at all. She had known their origin throughout. She had waited to see what they had to offer, then acted when it was time. All of the Others must have known where the two women came from, and perhaps also what they wanted. They had let the women make their case.

Soon they approached the house. But when Grunge saw the two men beside it, she threw down the haunch and went back the way she had come, her child following. “Thank you!” Haven called belatedly after her.

Then the men came out to join them. Harbinger bent to pick up the haunch. He strained, then got it to his shoulder. He trod with heavy steps, feeling the mass of the burden. Yet Grunge had carried it without seeming effort.

“It really is true,” Haven murmured, awed. “One of their women is stronger than one of our men.”

“She could have killed us,” Crenelle agreed. “Did you see how fast that boy took the toy? He could have killed us too.”

“Maybe that's why he wasn't afraid of me,” Haven said. “He let me punch holes all around his arms and neck.”

“He will be warmer tonight.”

“Yes.”

The haunch lasted them for many days. All they had to do was gather enough wood to keep the fire going. The trading mission had proved worthwhile beyond their dreams.

Craft found suitable wood, and carved more toys. Harbinger studied his technique, and learned to carve similarly. Now he knew the potential value of such items.

As they used the last of the meat, and had to consider another trading mission, they were surprised again. A figure approached the house, bearing a burden. It was Grunge, with her boy in tow. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the boy looked better. Warmer clothing could do
that. Haven went out to meet them, knowing that the woman would not stay if the men came out.

This time she had brought not only another huge haunch, but a pile of used cloaks. “Do,” she said.

Haven realized that the Others wanted more tightening done. They lacked the technology of awl and thong, but appreciated the improvement it made. She nodded. “Yes.”

Grunge turned to her son. She lifted the toy, which he now wore on a thong around his neck. “Do.”

They wanted more toys too. “Yes.” Haven turned to face the house. “Crenelle! Bring out the toys.”

Soon Crenelle came, carrying a basket of the little carvings. There were ten of them. Haven took the basket and gave it to Grunge. “We'll do the cloaks as fast as we can. Three days.” She gestured at the sun, three times.

The woman nodded, turned, and marched away, her child following. Then the men came out to fetch in the haunch and cloaks. They would be busy, but it was well worth it.

Craft had to use one of their own cloaks to cut into strips for thongs, but the trade was well worth it, because they had no problem of hunger. He used his stone carving knife to cut slowly and carefully, so as not to ruin a thong by a miscut. Harbinger wielded his awl, making holes. Crenelle threaded the thongs through and tied them in loose knots. Haven carved and cooked sections of the haunch. They actually got the job done in two days, and resumed working on toys.

On the third day Grunge reappeared, her boy in tow. Now Haven was sure he looked better. Haven and Crenelle hauled out the refurbished cloaks. “You tie them this way,” Haven said, demonstrating on one. “Put it on, pull the thong tight, knot it.”

The woman nodded. She clearly wasn't much for speech, though she understood it. Then she picked up the heavy pile as if it were light and trudged away.

Thus simply was trade with the Others established. The weather was terrible; more storms came, burying their house in snowdrifts. But whenever their meat ran low, Grunge appeared with another haunch,
and more cloaks. Sometimes there were edible tubers too, tough but amenable to cooking. Somehow Grunge knew their situation, which spoke disturbingly well for the Others' awareness of them. Haven gave Grunge the toys they had crafted, and reworked the cloaks to make them tight. She was sure that the Other children were happier, and that many of their adults were warmer. It was a fair trade: skill for food.

Between times they foraged for wood, and chinked the crevices of the house against the wind, and diverted themselves with further novelties of sex. Haven was amazed by the way she acted, but it was the only significant entertainment available. Crenelle was a constant font of ideas, coming up with ways to tease the men, to make it a challenge. Such as hooking the women's feet to lock their legs together and lying straight, so that it was difficult to get between their thighs. Or standing, and requiring the men to touch no other part of their bodies. Or having the man achieve entry, then having to assume every other possible position, front and rear, without ever losing that entry. It could be done when the women cooperated athletically; it was harder when they did not. Sometimes they had the men lie absolutely still, letting the women do whatever they wished to them, discovering just how far they could tease them without quite making them spurt. Or they demanded that the men bring them to orgasm first; that could be a real challenge to men eager for completion, especially when the women did not help them with guidance. The men went along with it, being as bored of the confinement as were the women. Sex the men's natural way was over rapidly; this way it stretched out to fill whole days.

The winter months passed slowly. The weather didn't seem to bother the Others, whose squat bodies were solidly clothed in muscle and fat. Only the children, sometimes. On the worst day Grunge's boy was shivering despite being well bundled.

When Grunge turned to go, having dumped down the haunch and cloaks, the child started to follow, then fell. Grunge glanced back, and grunted. The boy got up and took a step in snow that was thigh deep on him, and fell again.

“That child is ill,” Haven said, going to him. She reached out to
help lift him back to his feet, and saw his face. It was red and wet. She touched his forehead. It was burning hot.

Haven made a sudden decision. “We must help this child. He needs rest and warmth.”

“Grunge won't stay,” Crenelle warned.

“But she can return for him in a few days.”

“She wouldn't understand.”

“Let me try,” Haven said. “He'll die, otherwise.”

Crenelle nodded. “I'll tell the men.” She set off for the house.