Evolution

He’d actually put off the call. As the youngest son of the Potus, he routinely got the worst jobs, and checking on the tribute collection from these outlying towns at the fringe of the city’s hinterland was about as bad as it got.

"And this place," he told his friend Muti, "is the worst of them all. Look at it." The riverbank town was just a huddle of dung-colored huts, eroded to shapelessness by rain, stinking smoke curling up from their roofs. "You know what they call this place? Keen" The word meant "Heart" in the language the two young men spoke, a language that was used throughout a wider belt of colonization spreading back from this place far to the east.

Muti grinned. "Keen I like that. Can this be the heart of the world? Why does it look so much like its arsehole, then?" The two of them laughed together, their necklaces of shell and gold nuggets tinkling softly.

Cahl came up to them. The trader joined in with their laughter, his gaiety forced, his dim, piglike eyes darting from one to the other. The guards behind Keram moved subtly, showing their alertness, tilting the tips of their pikes.

Cahl said, "Master Keram. It is a pleasure to see you. How fine you look, how your clothes shine in the sunlight!" He turned to Muti. "And I don’t believe—"

Muti introduced himself. "A second cousin of Keram. Cousin and ally."

Keram was amused to see the naked calculation in Cahl’s eyes as the trader added Muti’s name and position to the tentative map he was so obviously making of the power structures within Cata Huuk. Cahl began to flap and fuss as he led them into the town. "Come, come. Your tribute is ready, of course, piled in my hut. I have food and beer for you, fresh from the country. Will you stay the night?"

Keram said, "We have many more places to visit before—"

"But you must enjoy our hospitality. Your men too. We have girls, virgins, who are ready for you." He eyed Muti and winked. "Or boys. Whatever you desire. You are our guests, for as long as you choose to be with us."

As they walked delicately over the muddy, shit-strewn ground, Muti leaned closer to Keram. "What a repulsive fat slug."

"He’s just trying his chances. He isn’t even the chief of this little band of dirt-grubbers. And he has some interesting weaknesses, notably for fat women. Perhaps they remind him of the pigs who are no doubt his real loves. But he is useful. Easy to manipulate."

"Will he ever get to Cata Huuk?"

Keram snorted. "What do you think, cousin?"

Now they were approaching Cahl’s hut — one of the grander in the town, but still a heap of mud in the eyes of the young men.

Keram asked Muti, "Do you want to stay awhile?" He nodded toward the four guards. "I usually let the dogs out of their pen for a while. And Cahl’s usefulness does include digging out the more attractive sows from this sty. Sometimes their mud-hole desperation makes them — interesting. It’s fun, in a strenuous sort of way. But you have to be prepared for a little filth—"

Muti, distracted, asked, "What’s this?"

A girl had come out of Cahl’s hut. She was quite unlike the dark, dumpy women of the town. Though scrawny and obviously careworn, she was tall — as tall as Keram, in fact — slender, and had blond hair that shone strikingly gold, despite the dirt tangled in it. She might have been sixteen or seventeen.

Cahl looked outraged at the girl’s approach. He slammed his meaty fist into her temple, knocking her down in the dirt. "What are you doing? Get back in the hut. I will deal with you later." And he made to kick the girl as she lay helpless on the ground.

Smoothly, Muti grabbed Cahl’s pudgy arm and twisted it behind his back. Cahl howled, but he quickly subsided.

Keram took the girl’s hand and helped her to her feet. A bruise was already gathering on her temple. He saw now that her legs and arms were discolored by bruises. She was trembling, but she stood straight and faced him. He said, "What is your name?"

Cahl snapped, "Sir, don’t talk to her—" Muti twisted his arm harder. "Ow!"

"Juna." Her accent was thick and unfamiliar, but her words were clear. "My name is Juna. I am from Cata Huuk," she said boldly. "I am like you."

Keram laughed at that, disbelieving — but his laughter died as he studied her. Certainly her height, her grace, her relatively good condition did not speak of a life with the pigs of Keer. He said carefully, "If you are from the city how did you end up here?"

"They took me as a child. These people, the people of Keer. They raised me with the dogs and the wolves, and so I don’t speak as you. But—"

"She is lying," Cahl breathed. "She doesn’t even know what Cata Huuk is. She is a savage from the tribes to the west, the animal people I have to deal with. Her mother is a fat slut who sells her body for beer. And—"

"I should not be here," Juna said steadily, her eyes on Keram. "Take me with you."

Uncertain, Keram and Muti exchanged glances.