FullReads

Anketam frowned. He’d heard that there might be war, of course. There had been all kinds of rumors about how some of the Chiefs were all for fighting, but Anketam didn’t pay much attention to these rumors. In the first place, he knew that it was none of his business; in the second place, he didn’t think there would be any war. Why should anyone pick on Xedii?

What war would mean if it did come, Anketam had no idea, but he didn’t think the Chiefs would get into a war they couldn’t finish. And, he repeated to himself, he didn’t believe there would be a war.

He said as much to Russat.

His brother looked up at him in surprise. “You mean you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Why, the war’s already started. Sure. Five, six days ago. We’re at war, Ank.”

Anketam’s frown grew deeper. He knew that there were other planets besides Xedii; he had heard that some of the stars in the sky were planets and suns. He didn’t really understand how that could be, but even The Chief had said it was true, so Anketam accepted it as he did the truth about God. It was so, and that was enough for Anketam. Why should he bother himself with other people’s business?

But–war?

Why?

“How’d it happen?” he asked.

Russat sipped at his hot drink before answering. Behind him, Memi moved slowly around the cooker, pretending to be finishing the meal, pretending not to be listening.

“Well, I don’t have all the information,” Russat said, pinching his little short beard between thumb and forefinger. “But I do know that the Chiefs didn’t want the embassy in Chromdin.”

“No,” said Anketam. “I suppose not.”

“I understand they have been making all kinds of threats,” Russat said. “Trying to tell everybody what to do. They think they run all of Creation, I guess. Anyway, they were told to pull out right after the last harvest. They refused to do it, and for a while nobody did anything. Then, last week, the President ordered the Army to throw ’em out–bag and baggage. There was some fighting, I understand, but they got out finally. Now they’ve said they’re going to smash us.” He grinned.

Anketam said: “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, they won’t do anything,” said Russat. “They fume and fuss a lot, but they won’t do anything.”

“I hope not,” said Anketam. He finished the last of his spiked tea, and Memi poured him another one. “I don’t see how they have any right to tell us how to live or how to run our own homes. They ought to mind their own business and leave us alone.”

“You two finish those drinks,” said Memi, “and quit talking about wars. The food will be ready pretty quickly.”

“Good,” said Anketam. “I’m starved.” And, he admitted to himself, the brandy and hot tea had gone to his head. A good meal would make him feel better.

Russat said: “I don’t get much of a chance to eat Memi’s cooking; I’ll sure like this meal.”

“You can stay for breakfast in the morning, can’t you?” Anketam asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you to all that trouble. I have to be up to your Chief’s house before sunrise.”

“We get up before sunrise,” Anketam said flatly. “You can stay for breakfast.”

II

The spring planting did well. The rains didn’t come until after the seedlings had taken root and anchored themselves well into the soil, and the rows showed no signs of heavy bruising. Anketam had been watching one section in particular, where young Basom had planted. Basom had a tendency to do a sloppy job, and if it had showed up as bruised or poorly planted seedlings, Anketam would have seen to it that Basom got what was coming to him.

But the section looked as good as anyone else’s, so Anketam said nothing to Basom.

Russat had come back after twenty days and reported that there was an awful lot of fuss in Chromdin, but nothing was really developing. Then he had gone on back home.