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His smooth-shaven chin was long and angular, and his dark eyes were deeply imbedded beneath heavy, bushy eyebrows. And he was dressed in clothing cut in a manner that Anketam had never seen before. He stood there, tall and proud, a half smile on his face. It was several seconds before he spoke. During that time, there was no sound from the assembled farmers.
Anketam had a great deal of respect for the little, wide-shouldered, barrel-chested man who stood there looking at the scars on the backs of his hands. Jacovik turned his hands over and looked at the calloused palms. "How do we know? Maybe the Council of Chiefs has given up. Maybe they've authorized the President to surrender. After all, we're not fighters; we're farmers.
Basom, who had been relaxing on his bed, leaped to his feet. "What is it?" Anketam told him rapidly. Then he said: "Get moving! You're a fast runner. Spread the news. Tell everyone to get to the Swamp. We have less than an hour, so run for all you're worth!" Basom, like Kevenoe, didn't bother to ask questions. He went outside and started running toward the south. "That's right!"
A big occasion." She nodded quickly, very pleased, and went over to get another cup. "What brings you up here, Russ?" Anketam asked. "I hope you didn't just decide to pick up a bottle of your Chief's brandy and then take off." He chuckled after he said it, but he was more serious than he let on. He actually worried about Russat at times.
Anketam refused, in his own mind, to see any connection between Kevenoe's death and the fact that Basom and Zillia had disappeared the same day, probably to give themselves over to the Invader troops. A movement at the corner of his eye caught Anketam's attention. He turned his head to look. Then he spun on his heel and went into the hut. "Lady Samas," he said quickly, "they're coming.
Anketam stood at the door of the rude hut, looking blindly at the ruins of the village a hundred yards away. In the past few months, weeds had grown up around the charred blobs that had once been the homes of Anketam's crew. Anketam stared, not at, but past and through them, seeing the ghosts of the houses that had once been there. Behind him, Memi was speaking in soft tones to Lady Samas.
He felt a faint twinge in his shoulders, and there was a dull ache in the small of his back, both of which reminded him that he was no longer the man he had been twenty years before, but he ignored them and stretched again. He was still strong, Anketam thought; still strong enough to do his day's work for The Chief without being too tired to relax and enjoy himself afterwards.
Anketam turned away and started towards his own village. Most of the others had already begun the trek back. But Jacovik, Blejjo, and Basom were waiting for him. They fell into step beside him. After a while, Jacovik broke the silence. "Well, Ank, it looks like you've got a big job on your hands." "That's for sure," said Anketam.
Blejjo went on with his careful work, knowing that Anketam would take care of whatever it was. Anketam recognized the voice. He stood up and called: "Over here, Basom! What's the trouble?" A minute later, Basom came running through the trees, his feet crashing through the underbrush. Blejjo sat up abruptly, an angry look on his face. "Basom, you scared my fish away." "Fish, nothing," said Basom.
That situation will be changed now, but I am heartily sorry it took a war to do it." Anketam looked at the man. What was he talking about? He and his kind had burned and dusted cities and villages, and had smashed the lives of millions of human beings on the pretense that they were trying to help. What sort of insanity was that? The colonel took a sheaf of papers from his pocket.
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