Arno's face went tight and angry. "Fine, then," he said. "We take him to Old Mother."
Jabbing with their spears, the men drove the stranger into the cave. By then, most of the people of the clan had gathered around and they were muttering angrily.
Old Mother was the oldest woman in the clan- the great grandmother of Hana and Ryl and almost everybody. She had a face covered with wrinkles and a body like a dried stick. But her dark eyes were full of wisdom. She was the clan's shaman. She was the one who interceded directly with the Earth Goddess, the Bright Mother, the Giver of Life who was above all other spirits.
She listened to the story seriously, sitting on her leather pallet while the others crowded around her.
Hana edged close to her and Ryl was placed in her lap.
"They want to kill him," Hana murmured in the old woman's ear when the story was over. "But look at his eyes. I know he's sorry, and I think maybe he didn't mean to hurt Ryl. Can you talk to him, Old Mother?"
Old Mother knew a lot of different languages; she'd traveled very far when she had been young. But now, after trying several, she shook her head.
"Demons don't speak human languages," Arno said scornfully. He was standing with his spear ready .
although the stranger squatting in front of the old woman showed no signs of trying to run away.
"He's not a demon," Old Mother said, with a se--veie glance at Amo. Then she added slowly, "But he's certainly not a man, either. I'm not sure what he is. The Goddess has never told me anything about people like him."
"Then obviously the Goddess isn't interested," Arno said with a shrug. "Let the hunters take care of him."
Hana gripped the old woman's thin shoulder. Old Mother put a twiglike hand on Hana's. Her dark eyes were grave and sad.
"The one thing we do know is that he's capable of great harm," she said softly. "I'm sorry, child, but I think Arno is right." Then she turned to Arno. "It's getting dark. We'd better shut him up somewhere tonight; then in the morning we can decide what to do with him. Maybe the Goddess will tell me something about him as I sleep."
But Hana knew better. She saw the look on Arno's face as he and the other hunters led the stranger away. And she heard the cold and angry muttering of others in the clan.
In the morning the stranger would die. Unpleasantly, if Arno had his way.
It was probably what he deserved. It was none of Hana's business. But that night, as she lay on her leather pallet underneath her warm furs, she couldn't sleep.
It was as if the Goddess were poking her, telling her that something was wrong. Something had to be done. And there was nobody else to do it.
Hana thought about the look of anguish in the stranger's eyes.
Maybe ... if he went somewhere far away ... he couldn't hurt other people. Out on the steppes there were no people to hurt. Maybe that was what the Goddess wanted. Maybe he was some creature that had wandered out of the spirit world and the Goddess would be angry if he were Jailed.
Hana didn't know; she wasn't a shaman fef. All she knew was that she felt pity for the stranger and she couldn't keep still any longer.
A short time before dawn she got up. Very quietly, she went to the back of the cave and picked up a spare waterskin and some hard patties of traveling food. Then she crept to the side cave where the stranger was shut up.
The hunters had set a sort of fence in front of the cave, like the fences they used to trap animals. It was made of branches and bones lashed together with cords. A hunter was beside the fence, one hand on his spear. He was leaning back against the cave wall, and he was asleep with his mouth open.
Hana edged past him. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain it would wake him up. But the hunter didn't move.
Slowly, carefully, Hana pulled one side of the fence outward.
From the darkness inside the cave, two eyes gleamed at her, throwing back the light of the fire.
Hana pressed fingers against her mouth in a sign to be quiet, then beckoned.
It was only then that she realized exactly how dangerous what she was doing was. She was letting him out-what was to stop him from rushing past her and into the main cave, grabbing people and biting them?
But the stranger did no such thing. He didn't move. He sat and his two eyes glowed at Hana.
He's not going to come, she realized. He won't.
She beckoned again, more urgently.
The stranger still sat. Hana's eyes were getting used to the darkness in the side cave and now she could see that he was shaking his head. He was determined to stay here and let the clan kill him.
Hana got mad.
Balancing the fence precariously, she jabbed a finger at the stranger, then jerked a thumb over her shoulder. You-out! the gesture meant. She put behind it all the authority of a descendant of Old Mother's, a woman destined to be co-leader of the clan someday.
And when the stranger didn't obey immediately, she reached for him.
That scared him. He shrank back, seeming more alarmed than he had at anything else that had happened so far. He seemed afraid for her to touch him.
Afraid he might hurt me, Hana thought. She didn't know what put the idea into her mind. And she didn't waste time wondering about it. She simply pressed her advantage, reaching for him again, using his fear to make him go where she wanted him to.
She herded him into the main cave and through it. They both moved like shadows among the shelters built along either side of the cave, Hana feeling certain that they were about to be caught any minute. But nobody caught them.
When they got outside she guided him toward the river.
Then she pointed downstream. She put the food and the waterskin in his hands and made far-flung gestures that meant, Go far away. Very far away. Very, very far. She was going into a pantomime indicating what Arno would do with his spear if the stranger ever came back when she noticed the way he was looking at her.