Kiteman of Karanga (6 page)

Karl shook his head. "No Karangan would leave his wing behind. I have it. Its up there." Karl pointed to the ridge high above the village.

The jaw muscles in Athgars cheeks tightened as he stared at the spot Karl had pointed out. He looked back at Karl with a frown, and Karl felt he was being examined under Athgars stern eye. "You've told us a tale beyond belief, but thieves will say anything to avoid punishment. To prove your story, you will go under guard and retrieve this kitewing. If you've told us the truth, I will not deliver you to the Hrithdon. But if you've lied to us, you will probably fill a lizards belly before sundown."

A short while later, Karl was climbing up the mountain with a half dozen sturdy shepherds, who guarded him as if they were protecting a lamb from the wolves. To Karl's relief, his wing was exactly where he had left it. Soon they were back in the village, and he was setting up in front of Athgar and an audience of amazed shepherds. The morning sunlight blazed on the bright orange and yellow Asti pattern dyed into the wings smooth surface.

Athgar walked around the kitewing, examining it admiringly. "I no longer doubt your story. But for reasons of my own, I want to see you fly."

Surprised, Karl looked up and Athgar caught his eye. The older man's strong gaze held him and seemed to tell him many things. To Karl there was some memory of Bron in Athgars look.

"Karangan," the village leader continued, "I want your promise that you will not use this opportunity to escape."

For a moment Karl hesitated, but then he nodded his assent. Athgar stepped back, and Karl got into the harness of his kitewing. He walked over to the edge of the steep meadow that fell away from the village. The heated valley air was rising up the slope from far below, and he knew that there would be an abundance of thermals. With a few running steps Karl launched himself and glided down across the meadow, hardly a foot above the grass. Then, pulling up sharply to miss the stone wall at the bottom, he soared out into the mountain air.

Free! He was free! He would not be tied up or ordered about any longer. It would be a simple matter to circle back to the ridge and pick up his hunting kit, which was still hidden in the bushes. Then he would push far, far to the west until he had left this land of shepherds and lizard riders behind.

As he found a thermal and began riding it higher and higher, Karl remembered his promise to Athgar not to escape. But he had been a captive, he reminded himself, and a promise made under those circumstances wasn't a real promise. Athgar might decide to take his wing and turn him over to the Hrithdon anyway in order to save fifty sheep from the village tax. But as Karl remembered the look that Athgar had given him, he realized that perhaps he was being put to a test, that if he broke his word and flew away, he might not fare so well. And something in Athgar's gaze had reminded Karl of Bron. Like Bron, Athgar was giving Karl a chance to prove himself. Karl decided to return. He did not know what Athgar was going to do, but he was willing to take a chance and find out.

Reaching the top of the thermal, Karl rolled off into a steep spiral, which he then straightened out into a dive. A few hundred feet below, the villagers watched him intently. Picking up speed, Karl pulled his wing up into a loop. As he came out of it, pointing at the ground again, he could see the astonished expressions below. He dove straight at the crowd and swooped over their heads. Then he pulled up and around and floated back slowly to land a few feet from where he had taken off.

To Karl's surprise the noisy shepherds were quiet as he got out of his wing, and their leader's stern expression seemed to have softened.

"Kiteman, you have spoken truthfully to us, and now we must deal fairly with you. For a wanderer in need to kill a lamb is not a great offense. Yet, for reasons you will learn of, we are a poor people, and the loss of the lamb must be made up to its owner." Athgar turned to the grandfather. "Gardo, how long would you want the Karangan to work for you to repay the loss of the lamb?"

"Three months," said the grandfather. "From now until the end of summer."

"Grandfather! That's much too long," Rika protested.

"No it isn't," her grandfather answered. "That was a prize lamb."

Karl watched Rika suck in her breath, her eyes widening with exasperation. He guessed that she didn't want to call her grandfather a liar publicly.

"Three months does seem severe, Gardo," said Athgar. "However, Eftian law gives you the right to decide. Is that your final decision?"

The old man nodded. "Till the end of summer," he said stubbornly.

Athgar waited silently for a few minutes, as if giving Gardo time to reconsider. Finally he turned to Karl. "Karangan, in accordance with our laws, Gardo insists that you work for him for three months, and so it will be. During that time you will live with him and his family. When the summer is over, you will be free to continue on your journey, but in the meantime I want your promise not to leave early."

Karl agreed. Athgar announced that the matter was settled and went into his house. The crowd of shepherds dispersed as Karl dismantled his wing, but Rolf, having been told by his grandfather to stay with Karl, remained, observing Karl's every move.

"I watched you flying," Rolf said. "I never saw anything so wonderful. Does everyone in Karanga fly?"

"Just the hunters," Karl said.

"Then you must be a hunter," Rolf concluded.

Karl nodded, hoping that the flush of shame that he felt was not visible to the younger boy. He shouldered his kitewing, and with Rolf beside him, they followed Gardo and Rika up the winding path to their house.

After Rolf had helped Karl hang up his kitewing in the barn, they went inside for the noon meal. Rika set the table with bread, cheese, sheepmilk yogurt, and eggs chopped with a spicy green. Karl's mouth watered as he tasted these delicious new foods. A lunch in Karanga might have consisted of an antelope stew or steak, raw vegetables, bread, and fruit. But even though cheese, yogurt, and eggs were unknown to Karl, he ate them ravenously.

When they had finished, Gardo turned to his grandson. "Rolf, take Karl with you and drive the flock back onto the ridge for the afternoon. Teach him how to watch sheep. In a few days, when he knows enough to be useful, we'll start north for the high meadows."

"So soon?" Rika exclaimed. "Grandfather, we'll lose sheep to the Northmen for sure going alone. We ought to wait until someone else is going too."

"Rika, when you've been managing flocks as long as I have, you'll recognize an opportunity and know how to grasp it. The snow has gone early this year, and by the time the others move up we'll have a fat flock. Now lets get on with our work."

Rika returned Karl's spear and knife to him, and Karl and Rolf left to herd the sheep back up toward the ridge. Karl was surprised how easily all hundred sheep could be guided up the trail. Now and then Rolf had to run and yell and prod the stragglers with his staff, but most of the animals seemed to know where they were going.

When they reached the broad ridge top, the sheep fanned out and began grazing. Below them were the fifty or so houses of the village, and far away where the valley broadened, Karl could see a small cloud of yellow dust moving along the river bottom.

"Look! Hrithdon riders," Rolf said, pointing at the dust cloud. "You'll see a lot more of them if you stay with us."

"I don't want to see them," Karl said. "I was almost eaten by a lizard on the desert."

"You should have had some oja," Rolf replied.

"Oja? What's that?" Karl asked.

"An oil made from the oja bean. That's how the Hrithdon control their lizards. When riders rub oja oil on themselves, they're safe. The lizards won't eat anything with the smell of oja on it."

"Then why don't you wear some oja oil?" Karl asked.

Rolf rolled his eyes. "Karanga sure must be different from Eftah. Only Hrithdon guardsmen are allowed to have oja. If they caught you with even one oja bean in your pocket, you'd be killed on the spot. Grandfather says that's how the Hrithdon are able to conquer everybody. They control all the oja. That way they are the only ones who have war lizards. And men on foot can't stand up to
them."

All afternoon, while the sheep grazed contentedly, Karl answered Rolf's unending questions about Karanga and kitewings. Finally, when the sun was setting behind the mountains in the west, they gathered the sheep into a herd and started back to the village.

"I wish I lived in Karanga so I could learn to fly a kitewing," Rolf said as they walked downhill.

"You could learn to fly a kitewing here in Eftah," Karl said. The younger boy's interest in flying pleased him. Already he missed not being able to teach his brother, Lars, how to fly.

"You mean it, Karl, really?"

"Yes," Karl answered. "All the steep pastures around here would make an excellent learning ground. Maybe someday I'll let you try my wing. In the meantime, watch the birds. You can learn a lot from them. And start studying the sky and wind. If you're aloft in a kitewing, you must always know which way the wind is blowing."

Rolf agreed to do these things enthusiastically. Together they drove the sheep into a walled pasture for the night and then they went inside for supper.

During the next few days, Rolf and Rika taught Karl to herd sheep. They showed him how to keep the flock moving, how to spot stragglers and chase them back with the others, and how to watch for predators—on either two feet or four. Then one night Gardo told them that they were going to leave for the high pastures the next day.

In the morning, after a breakfast of tea and bread, Rika and Rolf tidied up the cottage while Gardo finished loading four packs with provisions and bedding for their trek into the high mountains. Karl went to the barn and a moment later emerged with his kitewing.

"Are you going to bring that thing?" the old man asked.

For a few seconds Karl stood silently. "I'm a Karangan," he said finally. "I don't go anywhere without my kitewing."

"And who will carry your pack while you carry your plaything?" the old man asked.

Without answering, Karl put on his pack and shouldered his kitewing. Gardo stared hard at Karl, then turned away to his own pack. He beckoned to Rolf to join him, and together they went to the head of the flock, leaving Karl and Rika to take up the rear.

"That's the only way to handle him, Karl," Rika said after they had started walking. "Stand up to Grandfather, or else he'll make life difficult for you."

"I learned that from watching you," Karl said with a wink. He liked Rika. She was understanding and at the same time outspoken, and he admired her for it.

"Are you going back to Karanga when you're finished working for Grandfather?" Rika asked.

"I can't go back. The desert's too large. It was a miracle that I got here alive. I'll have to look for a place where I can hunt and live without having to worry about Hrithdon lizards."

"You won't find such a place on this side of the desert," Rika said matter-of-factly. "Except for the lands to the north, the Hrithdon are the masters of the continent. And they've been our masters since they expanded their empire and conquered us ten years ago."

"What's to the north?" Karl asked.

"Hungry hunters. They come from the plains north of the mountains, but something has affected the supply of game there, and so they've moved south into the mountains. And for the past few years they've been coming even farther south to raid our flocks."

"Have you lost many sheep?"

Rika shook her head. "Not too many. But last year a shepherd from Eftah went up to the high country after everyone else had come down, and the Northmen stole his entire flock and killed one of his sons. And now my greedy grandfather is risking his flock so that he can get into the high pastures a couple of weeks ahead of the others. We'll be up there alone," Rika said, gesturing with her staff toward the high mountains to the north, "just the four of us. It would be a lot safer to wait until all the flocks go together."

Karl looked ahead toward the northern mountains. They were rugged, wild-looking slopes, yet they were also invitingly green with new spring growth. As they continued, Karl remembered what Rika had said about hungry hunters and began looking for signs of them—smoke from cooking fires, branches left bent, or rocks overturned to mark a trail. He could tell Rika was watching him as he scanned the sky for signs of lift around the mountains.

"Is it hard to learn to fly a kitewing?" Rika asked.

"Yes, it is," Karl answered. "It took me several years to learn.

"Several
years?"

Karl reddened. "Well, several years to become the best flyer in Karanga."

"How do you know you're the best?" Rika asked.

As they walked, Karl unfolded the story of how Bron had become his teacher, how he had taught Karl to fly and then continued to teach him until he had won the cross-country contest. But Karl did not mention the disastrous terry hunt and his banishment. He wished he could tell the truth, for he felt uneasy not being honest with Rika. He sensed that somehow she knew he wasn't telling everything.

In the evening they stopped by a pond that rested in a low, flat dip in the ridge line. A few spruces grew along one side of the pond, and a jumble of boulders near the campsite provided a windbreak. Gardo took the first watch to guard the sheep. He insisted that Karl stand his watches with one of them in order to learn how the sheep were guarded. Karl objected, but the old shepherd was adamant.

"Guarding sheep at night is not the same as watching them in the daytime," the old man said. "You've got to learn to listen to the sheep; they can tell you as much as your own senses. When you've had more experience, we'll trust you to watch alone."

Persuaded by Gardo's reasoning on this point, Karl agreed to watch with Rolf. When their turn came, they spoke little. They listened to the wind and gazed up into the cold clear sky at the stars. At midnight Rika took her watch. The final watch would be Gardo's; he planned to take two watches himself that night. Karl had to admire the old shepherd. Whatever his other failings, he was doing more than his fair share of the work.