He had been a reluctant pupil but she had persevered. Male She-Kargo
Mutes were renowned hunters of buffalo, fast-foot and bear; fishing was
rated on a level with grinding bread-stalks - women's work.
This disdain had its roots in the warrior/hunter-ethic, the prowess
displayed in battle which made the Plainfolk superior to the riverfolk
such as the Clan Kojak who lived on the shores of Me-Sheegun.
Fishermen with cold water in their veins.
Cadillac knew from personal experience that this wasn't strictly
true.
The Kojak had fought well. On the other hand, they hadn't had much
choice. It was either kill or be killed. And it's not too difficult
to be brave when your enemy is staggering ashore half-drowned onto a
dark, booby-trapped beach and you have promise of Clearwater's magic to
stiffen the sinews.
Back at their hidden campsite, they gutted and boned the fish, stuffed
them with a mixture of dried herbs, pinned them round long skewers with
thin slivers of wood, then roasted them over the glowing embers of a
fire made with larch wood. When the fish were ready, they cupped them
in several broad leaves and bit hungrily into the steaming flesh.
It tasted good. And as Roz juggled the juicy morsels around her mouth
to avoid burning her tongue, she thought back to the time when she and
Steve had watched the same dark brown shapes gliding beneath the
rippling surface of the pool surrounding the base of Santanna Deep.
Fish. She hadn't even known what they were.
And she remembered the wave of revulsion that had swept over her when,
without knowing why, Steve had said they were good to eat. And now,
here she was, doing just that, enjoying it, and revelling in the sense
of achievement.
It was incredible yet, at the same time, there was something inevitable
about the way one thing had led to another, drawing her life towards
this point, to this conjunction with Cadillac's life. The Mutes used
the term 'life-currents' which they likened to crystal-clear streams
that converged, ran alongside one another, merged into one or separated
again, going their different ways. It was part of an immutable plan.
Destiny. The Wheel turns.
The Path is drawn. For good or ill, it was a force which the
Federation, with all its weaponry, could not hope to match.
