The Sage by Christopher Stasheff Read Free Book Online

block with her legs as she blocked with her
fists. It was a hard school, and the first time a boy struck her, fear shot
through her, sapping the strength of every limb—but she realized what he would
do if she did not fight back, and struck at him in panic, then struck and
struck and struck until he ran.
    She
watched them practice with sword and dagger, then practiced herself with
sticks, but thankfully never had to use them— until young Cheorl was found
dead.
    “Murderess!”
Cheorl's father howled, pointing a trembling finger at her, there in front of
all the villagers assembled, and the village elders nodded.
    “Where
were you last night?” Goreh the chieftain demanded, eyes flashing from beneath
his bushy white brows.
    “At
home, helping my mother weave, then sleeping!” Kitishane answered.
    “It
is true,” her mother said. “She—”
    “Of
course she will say Kitishane was at home!” Cheorl's father snapped. “Of course
she will make excuses for her daughter!”
    He
should know, Kitishane reflected bitterly. She didn't doubt that he had done so
a score of times and more, for Cheorl.
    “We
know she can fight,” one of the boys put in, eyes gleaming at the prospect of
revenge.
    “We
have seen her practicing with sword and dagger,” another added.
    “A
wooden sword!” Kitishane cried. “A stick for a dagger!”
    “So
you would know how to use Cheorl's dagger when you wrested it from him,” Goreh
inferred. “Did he seek to rape you, maiden?”
    “I
was never there!”
    “I
saw her going into the wood with her bow last night,” Shchambe said loudly.
    “A
lie!” Kitishane said hotly, turning on her accuser. “I went inside my mother's
house at dusk, and did not come out!” She had learned the hard way to stay
indoors at night—it needed less fighting, and she never knew when two or three
of them might gang up on her.
    “ I saw her go into the wood, too,” Alluye said through her tears. Kitishane turned
to her, words of anger on her tongue, but she bit them back—Alluye had been
Cheorl's betrothed, and was deep enough in grief. She had always treated
Kitishane with scorn, and had hated her for not accepting that contempt
meekly—but Kitishane's heart went out to her nonetheless. To have found a love,
and lost it!
    Then
she remembered the hot looks Shchambe had given Alluye, not in the last week
alone, but for years—and she knew who had slain Cheorl. “Ask him!” she cried,
pointing at Shchambe. “Ask him where he was last night!”
    “Why,
at home with me, where he should be,” Shchambe's mother said quickly—and since
she had been wed, no one called her a liar, even though her husband was
dead.
    “Shchambe
is not on trial here,” Goreh said. “ You are. All who think she is
guilty, say 'aye.' “
    “Aye!”
all the villagers chorused.
    “Those
who think her innocent, say 'nay!' “
    Only
Kitishane's mother said 'Nay.'
    “The
punishment for murder is death,” Goreh said heavily.
    “No!”
Shchambe cried. “Let her be no longer a maiden, then cast her out!”
    A
chorus of voices agreed with him, both male and female. “Aye!” “Yes, that is a
fit punishment for being so unwomanly!”
    “I
would rather die!” Kitishane braced herself. It would be only tooth and nail at
the last, then—but she would take at least one of them with her as she died.
    “There
has never been such a punishment in our village!” Goreh spoke sharply, and the
tumult died. “But casting out has been done, and shall be done now. Give her a
pack, and a bow for hunting—then send her out!”
    There
were shouts of disagreement, but more of delight. They ran to bring her a pack
of food, ran to fetch her bow, then chased her out then and there, running after
her, throwing stones, but she ran faster than any, and only one or two stones
struck her. So she left her village, leaving her poor mother alone and weeping
in the village square.
    In
the darkness of the night wood she slowed, hearing the yells of