Our circle froze, awaiting Greater Than’s reaction to Question raising a weapon against him. Only Question reacted, obviously not seeing the brandished bow as symbolic or rhetorical. He nocked a slender arrow in his own weapon and was watching our warder with the eye of a hunter.
Greater Than uttered what was obviously a stock phrase for such situations. “Put your weapons down and submit to the order of the Stand.”
“What Stand?” The shrill question from Euro brought up another good point. Which he couldn’t resist twisting. “You don’t know what world you’re standing on, do you bully-boy?”
Before Greater Than could respond Underscore chipped in, “Ascending souls don’t recognize your authority, anyway. The stand exiled us, so they have no further say in our lives.”
This brought another stock phrase. I got the feeling there was a manual somewhere with a sequence of responses, the last one being violence. “If you continue to hold weapons, you are in defiance of Stand principles and will forfeit a hand. Submit to reason. Now.”
Well, “reason” is always a subjective concept. And unlikely to hold any sway if kits get involved. Which they did. They had melted away when Dash and Question jumped out of their circle to join their mentors, but were back now, swarming down the trunk of the Oak carrying sharp, polished eight penny nails. They formed a sort of phalanx across the supper grill from Greater Than and gibbered at him truculently.
Greater Than shared my impression that he could easily sweep the kits away with a few swings of his brass baton, and wouldn’t run away from arrow pricks like the fox. And was furthermore conditioned to his very core to stand firm and retaliate. But I also saw Dollar walking back to the fire holding one of the large nails. Various metal instruments were appearing in hands, and even some of the females were producing tin knives. I noticed a certain consolidation in the group, people shifting into a shoulder-to-shoulder formation that made me wonder if it was an innate trait.
Point stood to one side of the axis of confrontation with his hands spread wide apart, unconsciously I’m sure, as though to restrain and protect Semi and Star from what appeared to be happening. The forces were brought to opposition and hovered there, awaiting the precise word or gesture to ignite into casualties and incurable recriminations. I could think of nothing to say.
The tension was palpable between the two Trinchans and the rest, like a magnetic field. At only heightened the tension when stepped forward into the no-man’s-land in between and paused significantly, his bow held across his chest. I could hear breaths being taken, smell the esters of harsh, ancient body chemicals being exuded. Then At threw his bow down at his feet, held up both hands with empty palms towards Greater Than, and said, “We’re not going to obey you any more.” Question’s bow fell on top of his a heartbeat later.
I almost collapsed in relief and heard a sharp woof of expelled breath from Point. But it wasn’t over, was it? Not until Greater Than conceded what had been offered. And he stood silently, no sign of relaxing his pose.
There was no letup of vigilance among the rest, either. The kits in particular pressed forward, silent for once in their lives, their animosity focused on the big Trinchan. I reflected that so much of the worlds’ troubles stemmed from the vivid impulses of the young. And was immediately served with a rebuke.
Dash had stood on guard, but looked troubled during the entire encounter. Now he stepped forward from the cover position he’d assumed at his leader’s side. Greater Than made no move or utterance as he walked forward towards the others. He stopped and faced his fellow kits, tchurix at port arms. He stood there, obviously seething with inner conflict. Then he tossed it on top of the two bows and turned to Greater Than with tears falling onto his stubby whiskers. “I’m sorry,” he called out in a cracking voice. “But they’re us! Don’t you see?”
Humiliated and hounded by feelings beyond his age, he ran to the trunk and started climbing, sobbing. In a flash Question was right behind him. The other kits, and their elders looked at one another. Moved, but still awaiting the resolution.
Greater Than stared around, simmering behind a blank mask. Then he said, “Fine.”
That was when I felt and smelt the tension release. That one word meant it would probably be okay. Still…
The Trinchan tucked the baton into his harness and pulled his Trinchan out of the ground, but held it in an offhand way that wasn’t particularly threatening. He looked up in the limbs where Dash had disappeared, swept a glare around to each one of us. And said, “I must have some brain malfunction to have put up with this whole thing anyway. You want to be so free and make your own decisions, to ahead. You’re on your own.”
Gently, but with a solid ring of truth, Tilde said, “You’ve got it backwards, Greater. You’re the one who’s been on your own. Now you can be one of us.”
His nostrils flared and ears whipped again as he barked, “NO! I am not one of you. You are convict scum: you’re just the trash they made me take out!”
I happened to catch Point’s sharp reaction to that. Once again I wondered if he guarded some answers to our being here. Or if I was just reading it into his gestures. He spoke in a bluff, comrade-in-arms tone, “Look around you, Trinchanrank. Do you see anybody out there that looks like us? We’re castaways here. Pioneers. Colonists. New gods. We need to stick together. Didn’t they teach you that in the barracks? To stick together?”
Greater Than ignored his sentiments, but as if reminded of something, he looked up to the tree and gave a peculiar four-toned whistle. Little Dash appeared on the lowest limb, Question at his side. He studied his mentor nervously, then descended the tree, his friend following him. He walked up to Greater Than staunchly enough, but was obviously upset and insecure. Greater Than stared down at him over folded arms.
“You’ll always be different from the rest, Younger. You are marked.” He leaned down to tap Dash’s faint black chevrons. This isn’t something I did or you did. You were born to be who you are. What I am doing is teaching how to be better at it.”
Dash, relieved, stood waiting. Greater Than straightened up, sneered at our company and said, “Pick up your weapon. We’re leaving.”
Dash ran to grab up his tchurix while Greater Than headed towards the StagPak. Point was already there, and nodded to him as if they were already in agreement. “Don’t worry,” he said, between warriors, “I’ll keep a good eye on it for you.”
I admired the diplomacy of that. It would have been difficult to say if Greater Than was fed up with arguments at that point or spoiling for another confrontation that he could win to even things out. As it was, he nodded stiffly at the pilot and turned away. Point stepped up behind him and softly said, “We still need you, you know.”
Greater than half turned and looked down at him impassively. He said, “Do you?” Then turned again and walked away from the lighted circle of the fire. Dash fell in behind him unhesitatingly.
Backslash, as good as Euro with cutting remarks, called out, “Don’t go too far. It’s dangerous out there on your own.”
Neither of the fading gray backs paused and Tilde was kinder. “Come back tomorrow night, we’re having pie.”
Question grew more and more agitated as they dwindled into the darkness. He looked helplessly to At, got only a sad shrug. He suddenly dashed after the pair, but just as quickly stopped and stared until they’d faded into the night. Turning back, he walked towards the fire in a dejected slump.
As he passed At he got a manly pat on the shoulder and Carat and Stroke were immediately all around him, smothering him in soft fur and ear strokes. The other kits, as much envious as supportive, I suspect, swarmed around him as well. But he did not seem greatly consoled. Looking out into the black woods I was also far from overjoyed at the prospects of not having Greater Than around to persecute us anymore.