“Yes, thank you for freeing me from this tyrant!”
“Tell
us who you are, that we may praise your name,” Yocote implored.
“Call
me Illbane,” the old man said. He took a deep breath, heaved a sigh, and rubbed
his side.
“Are
you hurt?” Kitishane was by him in an instant.
“Bruised,
nothing more,” Illbane assured her. “Cursed we are, that we must grow old! If I
had taken better care of this body, I could have whipped this cub in three
blows!”
“It
seems a miracle that you won at all!” Lua said, eyes wide.
Kitishane
agreed. “He is so huge, so strong!”
“Strength
and youth, he has,” Illbane agreed, “and the quickness and endurance that go
with it—but he has very little skill, and is so clumsy that I should have had
him half a dozen times before I finally did. Yes, and without his even touching
me, too!”
Kitishane
stared. “Is it true? Can people learn such fighting skill as this?”
“I
stand victor, in testimony to it,” Illbane said with irony. “Believe me, there
is greater skill than I have shown you today, far greater!”
“Teach
it to me!” Kitishane pleaded.
“To
you?” Illbane looked up at her, frowning. “No, for I must take this bear in
hand and make a man of him.”
“Bear?”
Yocote studied the unconscious Culaehra with a frown. “They say that bear cubs
are born without form, and that their mothers must give it to them by licking
them.”
Illbane
laughed. “Do they truly? What marvelous tales people have made up in these
centuries! I can see the source of it—the newborn cubs do look like
shapeless masses, and the mothers lick them to dry them and warm them.”
Kitishane
stared. What manner of man was this, who talked as if he had been midwife to a
bear and seen the new cubs at arm's length!
“And
will you, like a mother, give this bear form?” Yocote nudged Culaehra with his
toe.
“I
shall lick him into shape, yes—but not like a mother.” The old man lifted his
head to look around at the three. “You may go now—you are free. Or, if you wish
justice, you may wait until he wakes, this lump of clay, and beat him as he
beat you.”
Yocote's
eye gleamed as he looked at the supine form, but Lua shuddered.
Illbane
noticed. “What troubles you, gnome-maid?”
Startled
and frightened that he should talk to her, Lua stared up.
Illbane
saw; his voice became much more gentle. “Come, you need not fear to tell me. He
has wronged you, he has caused you pain. Why not take the chance to give him as
much agony as he has given you? I assure you, he will never retaliate!”
“But—it
is wrong!” Lua exclaimed. “To beat another, to hurt someone else for your own
pleasure—what a horrible notion!”
Illbane
nodded gravely. “I see that you are too gentle to seek revenge.” He turned to
Yocote. “What of you, gnome-man?”
But
Yocote's eyes were on Lua. “It is wrong, as she says,” he said slowly, “and
would serve no purpose. Besides, if I beat him when he were helpless, I should
be no better than he, and—” His lip curled. “—be sure, he is the most loathsome
of creatures! Would he have sought to fight me if I were three times his size,
as he is to me? I think not! A bully and a coward!”
“A
bully surely, but perhaps not a coward,” Illbane said slowly, “and if he would
run from one three times his size, it would be because he found nothing worth
the fight or the risk.” He turned to Kitishane. “What of you, maiden?”
Kitishane
regarded Culaehra's unconscious bulk with disgust. “I would love to beat him as
he did the gnomes, Master Illbane, but I fear I would not stop until I was
exhausted—and by that time he might be dead.”
Low-voiced,
Illbane asked, “Do you care?”
Lua's
gaze snapped up to him, appalled, and Kitishane's eyes widened; she seemed
unsettled. “Care about him? No! But care that I not be a killer of people, yes!
I have slain rabbits and pheasants with my bow, slain deer, even slain a man
who sought
“Tell
us who you are, that we may praise your name,” Yocote implored.
“Call
me Illbane,” the old man said. He took a deep breath, heaved a sigh, and rubbed
his side.
“Are
you hurt?” Kitishane was by him in an instant.
“Bruised,
nothing more,” Illbane assured her. “Cursed we are, that we must grow old! If I
had taken better care of this body, I could have whipped this cub in three
blows!”
“It
seems a miracle that you won at all!” Lua said, eyes wide.
Kitishane
agreed. “He is so huge, so strong!”
“Strength
and youth, he has,” Illbane agreed, “and the quickness and endurance that go
with it—but he has very little skill, and is so clumsy that I should have had
him half a dozen times before I finally did. Yes, and without his even touching
me, too!”
Kitishane
stared. “Is it true? Can people learn such fighting skill as this?”
“I
stand victor, in testimony to it,” Illbane said with irony. “Believe me, there
is greater skill than I have shown you today, far greater!”
“Teach
it to me!” Kitishane pleaded.
“To
you?” Illbane looked up at her, frowning. “No, for I must take this bear in
hand and make a man of him.”
“Bear?”
Yocote studied the unconscious Culaehra with a frown. “They say that bear cubs
are born without form, and that their mothers must give it to them by licking
them.”
Illbane
laughed. “Do they truly? What marvelous tales people have made up in these
centuries! I can see the source of it—the newborn cubs do look like
shapeless masses, and the mothers lick them to dry them and warm them.”
Kitishane
stared. What manner of man was this, who talked as if he had been midwife to a
bear and seen the new cubs at arm's length!
“And
will you, like a mother, give this bear form?” Yocote nudged Culaehra with his
toe.
“I
shall lick him into shape, yes—but not like a mother.” The old man lifted his
head to look around at the three. “You may go now—you are free. Or, if you wish
justice, you may wait until he wakes, this lump of clay, and beat him as he
beat you.”
Yocote's
eye gleamed as he looked at the supine form, but Lua shuddered.
Illbane
noticed. “What troubles you, gnome-maid?”
Startled
and frightened that he should talk to her, Lua stared up.
Illbane
saw; his voice became much more gentle. “Come, you need not fear to tell me. He
has wronged you, he has caused you pain. Why not take the chance to give him as
much agony as he has given you? I assure you, he will never retaliate!”
“But—it
is wrong!” Lua exclaimed. “To beat another, to hurt someone else for your own
pleasure—what a horrible notion!”
Illbane
nodded gravely. “I see that you are too gentle to seek revenge.” He turned to
Yocote. “What of you, gnome-man?”
But
Yocote's eyes were on Lua. “It is wrong, as she says,” he said slowly, “and
would serve no purpose. Besides, if I beat him when he were helpless, I should
be no better than he, and—” His lip curled. “—be sure, he is the most loathsome
of creatures! Would he have sought to fight me if I were three times his size,
as he is to me? I think not! A bully and a coward!”
“A
bully surely, but perhaps not a coward,” Illbane said slowly, “and if he would
run from one three times his size, it would be because he found nothing worth
the fight or the risk.” He turned to Kitishane. “What of you, maiden?”
Kitishane
regarded Culaehra's unconscious bulk with disgust. “I would love to beat him as
he did the gnomes, Master Illbane, but I fear I would not stop until I was
exhausted—and by that time he might be dead.”
Low-voiced,
Illbane asked, “Do you care?”
Lua's
gaze snapped up to him, appalled, and Kitishane's eyes widened; she seemed
unsettled. “Care about him? No! But care that I not be a killer of people, yes!
I have slain rabbits and pheasants with my bow, slain deer, even slain a man
who sought
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