Silence is Deadly by Jr. Lloyd Biggle

one of his saplings. This he placed in the dead worker’s hand. Then he motioned to Sajjo, and the two of them calmly strolled away.
    She emulated both his stride and manner instantly, and he observed her self-control with a father’s pride. In spite of the horrifying scene she had witnessed, she walked along with him as though nothing had happened.
    He found another strip sapling and cut and trimmed it. He hid the one from which he had cut the piece he’d left with the dead worker. Then they quietly finished their walk. And, when they reached their caravan, they worked together to erect the awning.
    Darzek never learned how the duke’s officials interpreted the evidence of that tragedy by the forest pool. Most likely—since there was no science of detection on Kamm—they had not known how to begin. They found two dead knights and a dead worker. They certainly knew the habits of knights well enough to reason that the worker had interfered with a hunt. One of the knights had killed the worker; somehow the worker had freakishly managed to kill both knights, and that completed the equation.
    Except for the worker’s wife.
    Late that afternoon they took Darzek to identify the dead worker.
    Then they turned his wife out of her caravan. Darzek, seeing this happen, went out himself and invited her into his own living quarters.
    It is not permitted, an official said stiffly.
    I am a worker without a wife, Darzek said. Am I not permitted to-have one of my own choice?
    Of course. But the wife of a worker who has slain a knight is not permitted to remain. If you choose her as your wife, you must leave with her.
    Darzek thought for a moment. It was time he left the forest anyway, and he was still feeling outraged at what he had witnessed. I could not in good conscience permit a female with a small child to try to return to Northpor alone. I will leave with her.
    The officials shrugged and walked away.
    Darzek told Sajjo to pack their belongings, with enough food for the walk to Northpor. He told the widow they would leave together.
    A short time later two other officials, Darzek’s immediate superiors, called on him. Darzek was a valued employee. They attempted to reason with him. He already had risen high in the duke’s service. He certainly would rise much higher. Why should he sacrifice his career over a secondhand wife of a treasonous worker? They would ask the duke himself to select a wife for Darzek from among his own servants.
    The worker was my friend, Darzek said. He was not treasonous. He worked hard and served the duke well. He and his wife were happy. I will not abandon his wife.
    They shrugged in turn and went away. Darzek looked after them uneasily. He had no idea whether such dedication to principle would be respected or viewed as an act of treason on his part. It seemed wise to leave at once.
    Sajjo had made a neat bundle of their belongings, which consisted only of extra clothing they had bought. She had packed food into a small crock and added another crock of cider. The widow, also, was ready to leave.
    But Sajjo had disappeared.
    It was already dusk, and night descended quickly in the depths of the maz forest. Darzek frantically looked around the village and asked his neighbors; no one had seen her.
    He waited in an agony of indecision: Had she suffered a belated reaction to the horrors of murder? Had she simply run off rather than leave the forest?
    Suddenly he saw her, moving furtively among the trees. She carried a bulky sack flung over her back. Darzek grabbed his own belongings, motioned to the widow to follow, and hurried off. He did not pause to redistribute their possessions until they finally reached the surlane to Northpor.
    Then he took the widow’s child, a bright, gurgling male baby named Badje, and grabbed as much as he could carry with his free hand. Sajjo insisted on keeping her sack, which obviously was heavy. The widow carried her own possessions and the food, and they started off along the