第49节

, Steve

discovered the source of one of the smells that had plagued him. The

decaying heads of two Mute warriors were stuck on six-foot stakes set

in the ground on either side of the doorway. Steve studied them with

morbid fascination noting the wide, powerful necks and lower jaws, the

primitive helmets with their pattern of pierced stones, and the way the

point of each stake, roasted iron-hard over a fire, had been hammered

through the top of the skulls. Steve looked towards the other huts

scattered under the nearby trees and saw that several of them had

stakes outside the doors loaded with similar grisly trophies.

Around noon, Cadillac appeared carrying two freshly-caught salmon

trout. He used his flame-pot to kindle a fire, gutted the fish,

threaded them on his knifestick and proceeded to roast them over the

flames.

Steve's sense of smell had, by this time, adjusted itself to

accommodate the appetising aroma. His saliva glands began to work

overtime. He noticed that Cadillac was wearing his digital watch. A

calendar alarm model - strapped upside down on his left wrist. Steve

twisted his head round in an effort to read the date, failed, thought

about asking for the watch back and decided to wait for a more

appropriate moment. He drew Cadillac's attention to the head impaled

on the stake to his right. Shakatak. 'A friend of yours?"

Cadillac dropped his eyes onto the roasting fish, turning the

knife-stick so that they cooked evenly. 'He tried to invade our

turf."

'So you killed him?"

'Both of them,' said Cadillac. It wasn't strictly true but to tell the

whole story would mean explaining Clearwater's contribution. Mr Snow

had told him that the cloud warrior must not learn of her powers or her

presence in the settlement.

'And if you kill somebody else, will his head end up on a pole too?"

'It will join these,' answered Cadillac. He broke up some more

branches and fed them into the fire. 'Each pole holds ten heads. A

full head-pole is the sign of a mighty warrior."

'I see..." Steve glanced at Shakatak's sightless head. 'I guess that

means you've got some way to go."

Cadillac responded with a quiet smile. 'I am forbidden to run with the

Bears. But in their eyes I have standing. I have chewed bone."

'Chewed bone?"

'Killed in single combat. Taken the head and eaten of the knife

arm."

Steve felt queasy. 'Jeer - you mean you ate the arm of this poor

sonofabitch?"

'No,' said Cadillac. 'Our forefathers did many long years ago. The

arm and the leg. Now, Plainfolk custom demands that, on the first

kill, a warrior bite the fore part of the arm that wields the sharp

iron through to the bone."

'Columbus ..." Steve shuddered and lapsed into silence.

When the fish were cooked, Cadillac slid them off his knife-stick onto

a flat stone, cut off their heads, wrapped them in large red leaves and

handed one to Steve.

'Thanks..." Steve took it in his left hand and edged his right hand up

to help hold it. A sharp stab of pain pierced his torn biceps. He

gasped, then inhaled the aroma of the roast trout and forgot about his

sore arm and the artless savagery of his companion and concentrated on

assuaging his hunger.

He brought his lips gingerly onto the fish. It was still too hot to

eat. 'Smells good. Did you catch these?"

'Yes." Once again, it was not strictly true. Cadillac had gone

fishing with Clearwater and it was she who had gently stroked them into

immobility and lifted them triumphantly by the gills from the rock

pool.

Steve gave a quiet laugh. 'It's crazy, you know. I've seen fish like

this in the Federation. Swimming around in pools.

But they're just decoration. No one would think of eating one any

more than - ,' he hesitated, '- than they'd think of eating someone's

arm."

'A warrior who chews bone takes the strength of his enemy into his own