"No, dear, a little younger."
But Spearman seemed older by far, appearing abruptly in the doorway,
arms spread against its frame, face thrust intently forward and eyes
squinting as if they troubled him. He wore a black loincloth of bark
fabric, nothing else. His sparse hair was wholly gray with streaks of
white at the temples, his cheeks, leathery, deeply grooved, and
flushed. "I didn't believe her," he said. Seeing him, the guards held
their spears as if they were Earth-born soldiers presenting arms, then
grounded the butts; they remained rigidly at attention when Spearman
paid them no heed. "I didn't suppose...." Spearman hiccuped; he rubbed
both hands across his face.
Seeing tormented uncertainty in Christopher Wright, Paul stepped
forward. "Sears died, long ago. Doc and I got through, with--some of
our friends." He paused, short of the guards, and held out his hand,
and Spearman stared at it, communing somehow with himself, approaching
at last, clumsily, to take hold of it in the old Earth gesture. There
was alcohol on his breath; his bloodshot eyes fought an open struggle
with bewilderment; his handclasp was damp, unsteady, quickly
withdrawn.
"Sorry," he said, "not well. Hard to get it through my head.
Well--Christ, I'm a bit drunk. Not strange, is it...? Mijok." His
glance traveled over Pakriaa and Nisana without recognition; it
lingered at Arek, but he did not speak her name. There was the
beginning of a stiff smile, unreadable, as his eyes fixed on
Christopher Wright.
"Ann--reached us," Wright said, hardly audible. "She--"
"Why don't you speak up, man?"
"She came along the coast," Wright said, not much more clearly. "The
baby died--a little while before she reached us."
Spearman blinked, glanced at his hands, let them drop. He noticed the
tight soldiers; in the antique military manner of Earth he said, "At
ease...." The spearwomen relaxed part way, eyes front. "Maybe,"
Spearman said, "maybe you came too soon."
"What do you mean?" Paul asked. "We had to come as soon as we knew you
were alive.... Are your other children well, Ed? Are they here?"
"Oh...? Yes, I see.... You came too soon. I still have a little town
of seven or eight thousand and some very loyal followers."
Wright struck his fist into his palm. "We are not your enemies. We
never were. There was a place for you at Adelphi. There is now."
"Oh...? I can imagine it. So--Ann--"
"Ann came back to us. It took her a hundred days, she says. She
was--is--skin and bone--"
Paul said, "She'll recover, Ed. Only needs rest and food. She wants
John and David--naturally. They're her children too, Ed."