Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [114]
“Make it get up and bellow again!” someone yelled laughingly.
“Somebody get a long stick and poke it!” suggested another.
Ultimately the mob grew bored. Evidently this was not the first time they had amused themselves at the pitiful creature’s expense. Ignoring the cage and its lone occupant in their midst, they returned to their banqueting, trading jokes and gossip and casual conversation as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. Simna and Knucker slipped back into the easy camaraderie tendered by the citizens of Netherbrae more comfortably than did Ehomba.
“That’s a beast and a half.” The swordsman tore into a hunk of fresh, heavily seeded bread. “Where’d you capture it?”
A woman seated across and slightly down the table from him replied. Not because it was her place, but because all the men within range of the swordsman’s question had their mouths full of food.
“It was taken in the forest far from here, where the Hrugar Mountains begin to climb toward the sky.” She sipped daintily at her tumbler. “Not far from the lowest slopes of Mount Scathe. It took two parties of men to bring it down with ropes, and three to haul it back to Netherbrae on a makeshift sled.”
“An impressive feat.” Ehomba spoke quietly, as always. “What was it doing?”
She blinked at him, her eyes still lively but her tone momentarily confused. “Doing?”
“When it was captured. Who was it attacking, or threatening?”
The husky man seated next to her cleared his throat and replied before she could respond. “It wasn’t attacking or threatening anyone, friend. I know—I was there.” He grinned proudly. “I was one of the woodcutters who brought it down. Such strength! It fought us like a mad thing, which of course is what it is. A savage, unclean beast.”
Ehomba considered. “But surely the forest is full of animals. Why take this one from where it was living and bring it all the way back to Netherbrae?”
“Because it’s not useful.” Another man spoke up. “The wapiti and the rabbit, the birds and the rodents, are all useful, all nutritious.” With a piece of pork he gestured in the direction of the now silent cage. The slice of meat flapped loosely in his hand. “Just by looking at this thing you can tell it’s no good to eat.”
The herdsman nodded understandingly. “Then why go to the trouble of bringing it all the way back here?”
Several of the diners exchanged looks of incomprehension. “Why, because its presence was defiling our forest!” another woman declared. Her explanation was seconded by numerous murmurs from those seated nearby.
The oldest man at the table spoke up. “The teachings of Tragg tell us that the forest and everything in it belongs to us, the people of Netherbrae. We have followed those teachings and they have been good to us. Tragg is much pleased. The trees are ours to cut down, the nuts and berries ours to gather, the animals ours to eat. Anything not of use must be given a use, or eliminated.” A chorus of exuberant “Aye!” s rose from his fellow citizens.
“You have seen how clean our community is. That is because we are careful to get rid of everything that is not useful.”
“Very interesting,” Ehomba admitted. “What about us?”
Next to him Simna paused in midbite. Knucker’s eyes began to dart and his fingers to fidget. But the silence that enveloped their table lasted barely a second or two before the old man responded.
“Visitors bring stories of other lands, new knowledge, and amusing tales. These things are useful.