“When did it begin with valley people that a man, killing meat, can send a woman to bring in that bird or beast? I ask you when, Blackbeard?”
Blackbeard scratched his head. “I was asleep, O Marzumat!—It was not a freewoman, but a bondwoman.”
“Bondwomen are ours, not yours!—O Mao-Tan! a woman to be bidden by a man to do his work and save him trouble! The sky will fall! If it falls or not, O Endar, do that again and valley women will deal with you!”
Saran appeared beside them. “She is angry,” explained Endar, “because I bade one of those mountain women do a small thing! War-men may bring the meat, but they must not put hand in the pot!”
The outer corners of his eyes moved up, his white teeth flashed, he laughed and stretched his arms. The huge muscles showed.
Marzumat’s eyes narrowed. “My heart will not be heavy,” she said, “when Mao-Tan gives Endar to the beasts to eat!”
Endar’s laughter stopped. He put up his arm and with the fingers of the other hand made a sign in the air. “Do not wish evil upon me! In-Tan hear me say it! I will bring the next bird myself!”
The tree under which he lay edged a grove that stretched toward the stream. Marzumat went away into this and Saran moved with her.
“What harm,” said the latter, “if Gilhumat brought the bird that Endar shot? Endar is next to me in the valley.”
His tone was sullen. Marzumat stood still. They were in the heart of the grove, out of earshot unless they raised their voices loudly. The people of the valley had hardly as yet developed restraint in quarrel. But something in this man and woman kept them from shouting each at the other, made them prefer the space of trees to the trodden earth by the huts.