rned to leave but Jason reached out and grabbed his ankle with
a wrestling grip, twisted it and brought the man thudding to the
ground. The fall dazed him and Jason pulled the skins back over the
raw-boned form.

"We're even," Jason said. "You saved my life last night, just now I
saved yours. You're bare-handed and wounded--while the old man of the
mountain up there is a walking armory, and anyone with the personality
to wear that kind of an outfit will kill you as easily as he picks his
teeth. So take it easy and try to avoid trouble. There's a way out of
this mess--there's a way out of _every_ mess if you look for it--and
I'm going to find it. In fact I'm going to take a walk right now and
start my research. Agreed?"

A groan was his only answer since Mikah was unconscious again, fresh
blood seeping from his injured scalp. Jason stood and wrapped his
hides about his body as some protection from the wind, tying the loose
ends together. Then he kicked through the sand until he found a smooth
rock that would fit inside his fist with just the end protruding, and
thus armed made his way out through the stirring forms of the
sleepers.

* * * * *

Mikah was conscious again when Jason returned, and the sun was well
above the horizon. The people were all awake now, a shuffling,
scratching herd of about thirty men, women and children. They were
identical in their filth and crude skin wrappings, milling about with
a random motion or sitting blankly on the ground. They showed no
interest at all in the two strangers. Jason handed a tarred leather
cup to Mikah and squatted next to him.

"Drink that. It's water, the only thing that anyone here had to drink.
I didn't find any food." He still had the stone in his hand and while
he talked he rubbed it on the sand: the end was moist and red and some
long hairs were stuck in it.

"I took a good look around this camp, and there's very little more
than you can see from here. Just this crowd of broken down types, a
few bundles rolled in hide, and some of them are carrying skin water
bottles. They have a simple me-stronger pecking order so I pecked a
bit and we can drink. Food comes next."

"Who are they? What are we doing?" Mikah asked, mumbling a little,
obviously still suffering the after-effects of the blow. Jason looked
at the contused skull, and decided not to touch it. The wound had bled
freely and clotted. Washing it off with the highly dubious