Mutiny in Space by Avram Davidson Page B

to lay out soap and towels and water, he wondered if he himself would be able to keep from staring if seven strange men, twelve feet tall, came to call on him. He decided that he would have had a difficult time to keep from running like hell. Lady-Moha and Lady-Sejarra, with an outward calm they could hardly be feeling at heart, politely discussed the journey hither from Fief-Moha, the details of the hunt, and similar small talk with O-Narra as she made her own toilet.
    They never alluded by word or glance to her informal attire and appearance.
    Not until the meal was over (“Excuse the informality,” said Lord Clanan, with every appearance of sincerity, waving his hand in deprecation toward the ornately set table, the elaborate garb of the servitors, “but one of the advantages of getting off into the woods is that much ceremony can be dispensed with”), did anyone bring up what must have been uppermost in most minds.
    “Now there must be speech,” said their hostess, Lady-Moha, simply. Suspicion did not form part of her nature. She merely wished to know more.
    O-Narra nodded. “Sword-Moha has had the honor,” she said, “of being the first to give food to the Great Men, newly come once more to the Great North Land.”
    “I thought as much,” Moha said. She and her husband bowed down at once; Lady Sejarra bowed more slowly. Plainly, she was far from liking it; plainly, she had no choice. As she straightened up before her host and hostess did, Sejarra put a question.
    “Why does Sword-Narra wear armor-clothes, but no armor?”
    From O-Narra, in clipped tones, came the answer. “Sword-Sejarra does not as yet know the customs of greeting the Great Men” — which was incontrovertable — “but I shall presently share with her what little knowledge has lately been taught to me” — which had to be swallowed.
    “Let us not be so courtly and formal,” Lord Clanan begged. “Unless,” he said, uncertainly, “such is the proper custom. In which case …” His voice ended on a troubled note.
    “The custom which Lord Clanan has kept at this first meal,” O-Narra said, “is proper, and henceforth will be known and taught in the name of Lord Clanan.” The little Lord’s rosy face beamed, his wife looked infinitely honored, and Lady-Sejarra at least kept silent. Moha was a big bulk of a woman, though she moved with an ease which bespoke practice and exercise; Sejarra was thinner, bony, sallow. Hers was obviously not a happy nature.
    The silence was long. Had it not been for Sejarra’s sour presence, Jory might have said it was luminous.
    At length, Moha spoke. “When I was very young I remember my old grandfather telling me of the times before time, when the Great Men were in the land. Of course, he told me many things which one might say were nothing but old daddy’s tales — sword-demons, were-
tans
, nightleapers and such. But no one has ever denied the tales of the Giants, the Great Men. I mean, if such a thing had not been true, who would have invented it? And why? No, no — now we see that it was all true.”
    Her husband clapped his hands. “To think that we are privileged to live in the days of the return of the Great Men! and to have given them our food for their first meal! The children of our children’s children will tell of this!”
    Rond shifted slightly in his place, whispered to Jory Cane, in Inter-Gal, “Will you take a look over the terrain with your farseer?”
    Jory nodded, rose. But he had not counted on custom, curiosity, and Lord Clanan. Lord Clanan immediately rose, too — and so did his wife and her Lady guest. Jory smiled, moved off to the highest point at hand. So did everyone else. And there, before Jory could think what else to do, Sejarra squinted — frowned — pointed.
    “Look there!” she exclaimed.
    Jory had not counted on such clear vision. He himself could see nothing until he lifted his glass, but Moha at once exclaimed, “A courier! See the white band on her