Rebel Ice by S.L. Viehl

Author:S.L. Viehl [Viehl, S.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101563403
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2006-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

Navn considered staying the night at Iiskar Sverrul. The rasakt, Knab Sverrul, was an old friend, and with the rebellion upon them it might be months, even years, before they saw each other again, if at all.

Knab, who had already sent his men to serve the Raktar, had been philosophical about his decision to back the rebellion. “I do not wish it, but I have little choice. It is not as if we have never fought before. Our fathers’ tribes went to war, as did their fathers, and their fathers. Men fight.” He shrugged. “It is the way of men.”

“The tribes before us fought each other over hunting territory. The windlords are our masters. We displease them, and they withhold our food, and we starve.” Navn shook his head. “The rebels are fools.”

His old friend’s gaze turned shrewd. “How much meat is on your table of late, Deves? How long has it been since your women baked bread? Do you think the vral will come to find your iiskar worthy?”

“I do not believe in vral.”

“Neither do I, but the hunters begin to.” Knab rolled his eyes. “I think the rebellion preys on more than our stores.”

Since the windlords had stopped sending the foods that could not be had on the planet, all the iiskars that had not allied with the rebellion had been gradually using up their stores. Some said the Iisleg might adapt to eating nothing but meat—the beasts thrived on it—and their hunters could provide meat for a hungry tribe, but only for as long as the game held out. Navn knew as well as Sverrul that there were now too many tribes competing for the same food. In time, that would dwindle, as well, and the Iisleg would turn on each other or sicken and die. They needed the synthetics and foods the rebels were growing in the abandoned trenches to survive. Word had been sent that the only tribes permitted to share in the bounty were those who joined the rebellion.

The Raktar was no better than the windlords.

“Even if your tribe does not join the rebels,” Knab told him, “the windlords will not reward you for it. I have friends in the west, and they have attested to the fact that the few loyal tribes have received nothing from above. The rebels will not share their food with those against the rebellion. There is no alternative.” He gave Navn a pained smile. “You must send your men to fight.”

“We trade one cruel master for another,” Navn said bitterly.

His old friend gave him a pitying look. “That is also the way of men.”

Before he left the iiskar, Navn embraced Sverrul, and once more refused the gifts his friend wished to make him. “Your hunters serve the Raktar now,” he told Knab. “Save your stores, for you will need them if the rebels are defeated. I will look after my own.”

“Send word if you decide to move on,” Sverrul asked as he embraced him. “If we survive this, I want to know where I can find you.

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