Keeper

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from Venture Science Fiction, July 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

  Frontispiece]

  _Evil men had stolen his treasure, and Raud set out with his deer rifle and his great dog Brave to catch the thieves before they could reach the Starfolk. That the men had negatron pistols meant little--Raud was the Keeper...._

  THE KEEPER

  by H. BEAM PIPER

  * * * * *

  When he heard the deer crashing through brush and scuffling the deadleaves, he stopped and stood motionless in the path. He watched thembolt down the slope from the right and cross in front of him, wishinghe had the rifle, and when the last white tail vanished in thegray-brown woods he drove the spike of the ice-staff into thestiffening ground and took both hands to shift the weight of thepack. If he'd had the rifle, he could have shot only one of them. Asit was, they were unfrightened, and he knew where to find them in themorning.

  Ahead, to the west and north, low clouds massed; the white front ofthe Ice-Father loomed clear and sharp between them and the blue of thedistant forests. It would snow, tonight. If it stopped at daybreak, hewould have good tracking, and in any case, it would be easier to getthe carcasses home over snow. He wrenched loose the ice-staff andstarted forward again, following the path that wound between and amongand over the irregular mounds and hillocks. It was still an hour'swalk to Keeper's House, and the daylight was fading rapidly.

  Sometimes, when he was not so weary and in so much haste, he wouldloiter here, wondering about the ancient buildings and thelong-vanished people who had raised them. There had been no woods atall, then; nothing but great houses like mountains, piling up towardthe sky, and the valley where he meant to hunt tomorrow had been anarm of the sea that was now a three days' foot-journey away. Some saidthat the cities had been destroyed and the people killed in wars--bigwars, not squabbles like the fights between sealing-companies fromdifferent villages. He didn't think so, himself. It was more likelythat they had all left their homes and gone away in starships when theIce-Father had been born and started pushing down out of the north.There had been many starships, then. When he had been a boy, the oldmen had talked about a long-ago time when there had been hundreds ofthem visible in the sky, every morning and evening. But that had beenlong ago indeed. Starships came but seldom to this world, now. Thisworld was old and lonely and poor. Like poor lonely old Raud theKeeper.

  He felt angry to find himself thinking like that. Never pity yourself,Raud; be proud. That was what his father had always taught him: "Beproud, for you are the Keeper's son, and when I am gone, you will bethe Keeper after me. But in your pride, be humble, for what you willkeep is the Crown."

  The thought of the Crown, never entirely absent from his mind, wakenedthe anxiety that always slept lightly if at all. He had been away allday, and there were so many things that could happen. The path seemedlonger, after that; the landmarks farther apart. Finally, he came outon the edge of the steep bank, and looked down across the brook to thefamiliar low windowless walls and sharp-ridged roof of Keeper's House;and when he came, at last, to the door, and pulled the latchstring, heheard the dogs inside--the soft, coughing bark of Brave, and theanxious little whimper of Bold--and he knew that there was nothingwrong in Keeper's House.

  The room inside was lighted by a fist-sized chunk of lumicon, hung ina net bag of thongs from the rafter over the table. It was old--castoff by some rich Southron as past its best brilliance, it had been oldwhen he had bought it from Yorn Nazvik the Trader, and that had beenyears ago. Now its light was as dim and yellow as firelight. He'd haveto replace it soon, but this trip he had needed new cartridges for thebig rifle. A man could live in darkness more easily than he could livewithout cartridges.

  The big black dogs were rising from their bed of deerskins on thestone slab that covered the crypt in the far corner. They did not cometo meet him, but stayed in their place of trust, greeting him withanxious, eager little sounds.

  "Good boys," he said. "Good dog, Brave; good dog, Bold. Old Keeper'shome again. Hungry?"

  They recognized that word, and whined. He hung up the ice-staff on thepegs by the door, then squatted and got his arms out of thepack-straps.

  "Just a little now; wait a little," he told the dogs. "Keeper'll getsomething for you."

  He unhooked the net bag that held the lumicon and went to the ladder,climbing to the loft between the stone ceiling and the steep snow-shedroof; he cut down two big chunks of smoked wild-ox beef--the dogsliked that better than smoked venison--and climbed down.

  He tossed one chunk up against the ceiling, at the same time shouting:"Bold! Catch!" Bold leaped forward, sinking his teeth into the meat asit was still falling, shaking and mauling it. Brave, still on thecrypt-slab, was quivering with hunger and eagerness, but he remainedin place until the second chunk was tossed and he was ordered to takeit. Then he, too, leaped and caught it, savaging it in mimicry of akill. For a while, he stood watching them growl and snarl and teartheir meat, great beasts whose shoulders came above his own waist.While they lived to guard it, the Crown was safe. Then he crossed tothe hearth, scraped away the covering ashes, piled on kindling andlogs and fanned the fire alight. He lifted the pack to the table andunlaced the deerskin cover.

  Cartridges in plastic boxes of twenty, long and thick; shot for theduck-gun, and powder and lead and cartridge-primers; fills for thefire-lighter; salt; needles; a new file. And the deerskin bag oftrade-tokens. He emptied them on the table and counted them--tokens,and half-tokens and five-tokens, and even one ten-token. There werealways less in the bag, after each trip to the village. The Southronspaid less and less, each year, for furs and skins, and asked more andmore for what they had to sell.

  He put away the things he had brought from the village, and wasconsidering whether to open the crypt now and replace the bag oftokens, when the dogs stiffened, looking at the door. They got totheir feet, neck-hairs bristling, as the knocking began.

  He tossed the token-bag onto the mantel and went to the door, the dogsfollowing and standing ready as he opened it.

  The snow had started, and now the ground was white except under theevergreens. Three men stood outside the door, and over their shouldershe could see an airboat grounded in the clearing in front of thehouse.

  "You are honored, Raud Keeper," one of them began. "Here are strangerswho have come to talk to you. Strangers from the Stars!"

  He recognized the speaker, in sealskin boots and deerskin trousers andhooded overshirt like his own--Vahr Farg's son, one of the villagepeople. His father was dead, and his woman was the daughter of GorthSledmaker, and he was a house-dweller with his woman's father. Aworthless youth, lazy and stupid and said to be a coward. Still,guests were guests, even when brought by the likes of Vahr Farg's son.He looked again at the airboat, and remembered seeing it, that day,made fast to the top-deck of Yorn Nazvik's trading-ship, the Issa.

  "Enter and be welcome; the house is yours, and all in it that is mineto give." He turned to the dogs. "Brave, Bold; go watch."

  Obediently, they trotted over to the crypt and lay down. He stoodaside; Vahr entered, standing aside also, as though he were the host,inviting his companions in. They wore heavy garments of woven clothand boots of tanned leather with hard heels and stiff soles, and asthey came in, each unbuckled and laid aside a belt with a holsterednegatron pistol. One was stocky and broad-shouldered, with red hair;the other was slender, dark haired and dark eyed, with a
face assmooth as a woman's. Everybody in the village had wondered about them.They were not of Yorn Nazvik's crew, but passengers on the _Issa_.

  "These are Empire people, from the Far Stars," Vahr informed him,naming their names. Long names, which meant nothing; certainly theywere not names the Southrons from the Warm Seas bore. "And this isRaud the Keeper, with whom your honors wish to speak."

  "Keeper's House is honored. I'm sorry that I have not food prepared;if you can excuse me while I make some ready...."

  "You think these noblemen from the Stars would eat your swill?" Vahrhooted. "Crazy old fool, these are--"

  The slim man pivoted on his heel; his open hand caught Vahr just belowthe ear and knocked him sprawling. It must have been some kind oftrick-blow. That or else the slim stranger was stronger than helooked.

  "Hold your miserable tongue!" he