第30节

Did the clan not harbour him in their midst and treat him as one of

their own to the point of even giving him a bedmate? Did they not

release him? Had he not returned the following year on a new mission

for his masters? Had Mr Snow not brought him to the trading post where

he had stolen aboard a wheel-boat to join his two accomplices in

Ne-Issan?

And once there, had they not wreaked bloody havoc at a place called the

Heron Pool - slaughtering the true friends of the Plainfolk? The Iron

Masters who furnished them with weapons and the necessities of

existence? But even that was not enough! These ingrates had murdered

Domain-Lord Yama-Shita, Captain of all the wheel-boats and master of

the Great River! The visionary who over the past years had sought to

deepen the links and friendship between Mute and Iron Master.

It was a long time since Mr Snow had heard such sycophantic rubbish but

it was clear that Prime-Cut's share of the audience were swallowing it

whole. And they were cheering him on!

The calumny reached its climax. The M'Calls had betrayed their

brothers, but that was only to be expected.

Such treachery was in the blood of the She-Kargo. No longer able to

maintain their superiority by force of arms, they were now seeking to

bolster their position by secret deals with the sand-burrowers!

Again there was uproar, each side trying to howl the other down. It

was a serious charge and it confirmed Mr Snow's reading of the

situation. His knowledge of what had happened in Ne-Issan was limited

to what Cadillac had told Carnegie-Hall. But at Mr Snow's request,

Carnegie-Hall - when addressing the wordsmiths in the bull-ring - had

not mentioned the battle at the Heron Pool or the death of Lord

YamaShita: Prime-Cut could have only gotten this information from the

Iron Masters. The D'Troit and their allies the C'Natti were acting as

mouthpieces for the YamaShita, but how deep did their involvement go

and how long had they been getting their act together? Long enough to

put the She-Kargo on the spot. The degree of coordination between the

D'Troit and She-Kargo and the inflated size of their delegations was

proof of that. The Iron Masters intended to take their revenge here,

at the trading post. Tomorrow. And they were using Prime-Cut to set

the stage with his accusations.

It was time to begin the fight-back. He had to defend himself, his

clan and the good name of the She-Kargo.

And he had to do so publicly in a way that was effective but did not

provoke an immediate and violent response.

The battle, if there was to be one, had to be on a ground of his own

choosing.

By putting him in the dock and trying to make scapegoats out of the

M'Calls, Prime-Cut seemed to be trying to isolate the clan from the

rest of the Plainfolk. Having achieved that, it would not be too

difficult- in view of the enormity of their crimes - to persuade the

gathering to hand the M'Call delegation over as a sacrificial offering

to appease the Iron Masters. But it hadn't worked. The vociferous

support he had received from the other She-Kargo wordsmiths was proof

that the M'Calls had not been abandoned. Which was, Mr Snow realized,

just what Prime-Cut intended. The blow, when struck, would be aimed at

the entire She-Kargo faction. The hand of the D'Troit would be on the

knife but they would be acting for the dead-faces. And by this

unparalleled act of treachery they hoped to fulfill their long-held

ambition to become the paramount bloodline. It was ironic. The

D'Troit had become the running dogs of the Iron Masters and yet it was

the M'Calls who were accused of betraying the Plainfolk.

But it was not over yet...

The focus of Mr Snow's attention turn outwards as the noise subsided.

Prime-Cut stood in front of him, trembling as he cranked up the

required level of indignation.

'How do you answer? I' Mr Snow chuckled then raised his voice to

address the assembled wordsmiths. 'How do I answer?" He turned full

circle, arms out-stretched. 'My brothers under the sun, you have heard

what passes as the truth fall from the lips of the D'Troit. You have

seen their spokesman circle me like a hungry jackal around