by Andre Norton
5
"There was one horse, unshod but ridden. It came here from the plainsand it had been ridden hard, going lame. There was a rest here, maybeshortly after dawn." Travis sorted out what they had learned by acareful examination of the ground.
Nalik'ideyu and Naginlta, Tsoay, watched and listened as if the coyotesas well as the boy could understand every word.
"There is that also--" Tsoay indicated the one trace left by the unknownrider, an impression blurred as if some attempt had been made to concealit.
"Small and light, the rider is both. Also in fear, I think--"
"We follow?" Tsoay asked.
"We follow," Travis assented. He looked to the coyotes, and as he hadlearned to do, thought out his message. This trail was the one to befollowed. When the rider was sighted they were to report back if theApaches had not yet caught up.
There was no visible agreement; the coyotes simply vanished through thewall of grass.
"Then there are others here," Tsoay said as he and Travis began theirreturn to the foothills. "Perhaps there was a second ship--"
"That horse," Travis said, shaking his head. "There was no provision inthe project for the shipping of horses."
"Perhaps they have always been here."
"Not so. To each world its own species of beasts. But we shall know thetruth when we look upon that horse--and its rider."
It was warmer this side of the mountains, and the heat of the plainsbeat at them. Travis thought that the horse might well be seeking waterif allowed his head. Where did he come from? And why had his rider gonein haste and fear?
This was rough, broken country and the tired, limping horse seemed tohave picked the easiest way through it, without any hindrance from theman with him. Travis spotted a soft patch of ground with a deep-setimpression. This time there had been no attempt at erasure; the boottrack was plain. The rider had dismounted and was leading the horse--yethe was moving swiftly.
They followed the tracks around the bend of a shallow cut and foundNalik'ideyu waiting for them. Between her forefeet was a bundle stillcovered with smears of soft earth, and behind her were drag marks from ahole under the overhang of a bush. The coyote had plainly justdisinterred her find. Travis squatted down to examine it, using his eyesbefore his hands.
It was a bag made of hide, probably the hide of one of the split hornsby its color and the scraps of long hair which had been left in asimple decorative fringe along the bottom. The sides had been lacedtogether neatly by someone used to working in leather, the closing flaplashed down tightly with braided thong loops.
As the Apache leaned closer to it he could smell a mixture of odors--thehide itself, horse, wood smoke, and other scents--strange to him. Heundid the fastenings and pulled out the contents.
There was a shirt, with long full sleeves, of a gray wool undyed fromthe sheep. Then a very bulky short jacket which, after fingering itdoubtfully, Travis decided was made of felt. It was elaboratelydecorated with highly colorful embroidery, and there was no mistakingthe design--a heavy antlered Terran deer in mortal combat with whatmight be a puma. It was bordered with a geometric pattern of beautiful,oddly familiar work. Travis smoothed it flat over his knee and tried toremember where he had seen its like before ... a book! An illustrationin a book! But which book, when? Not recently, and it was not a patternknown to his own people.
Twisted into the interior of the jacket was a silklike scarf, clear,light blue--the blue of Terra's cloudless skies on certain days, sodifferent from the yellow shield now hanging above them. A small case ofleather, with silhouetted designs cut from hide and affixed to it,designs as intricate and complex as the embroidery on the jacket--art ofa high standard. In the case a knife and spoon, the bowl and blade ofdull metal, the handles of horn carved with horse heads, the tinywide-open eyes set with glittering stones.
Personal possessions dear to the owner, so that when they must beabandoned for flight they were hidden with some hope of recovery. Travisslowly repacked them, trying to fold the garments into their originalcreases. He was still puzzled by those designs.
"Who?" Tsoay touched the edge of the jacket with one finger, hisadmiration for it plain to read.
"I don't know. But it is of our own world."
"That is a deer, though the horns are wrong," Tsoay agreed. "And thepuma is very well done. The one who made this knows animals well."
Travis pushed the jacket back into the bag and laced it shut. But he didnot return it to the hiding place. Instead, he made it a part of his ownpack. If they did not succeed in running down the fugitive, he wanted anopportunity for closer study, a chance to remember just where he hadseen that picture before.
The narrow valley where they had discovered the bag sloped upward, andthere were signs that their quarry found the ground harder to cover. Thesecond discard lay in open sight--again a leather bag which Nalik'ideyusniffed and then began to lick eagerly, thrusting her nose into itsflaccid interior.
Travis picked it up, finding it damp to the touch. It had an odd smell,like that of sour milk. He ran a finger around inside, brought it outwet; yet this was neither water bag nor canteen. And he was completelymystified when he turned it inside out, for though the inner surface waswet, the bag was empty. He offered it to the coyote, and she took itpromptly.
Holding it firmly to the earth with her forepaws, she licked thesurface, though Travis could see no deposit which might attract her. Itwas clear that the bag had once held some sort of food.
"Here they rested," Tsoay said. "Not too far ahead now--"
But now they were in the kind of country where a man could hide in orderto check on his back trail. Travis studied the terrain and then made hisown plans. They would leave the plainly marked trace of the fugitive,strike out upslope to the east and try to parallel the other's route. Inthat maze of rock outcrops and wood copses there was tricky going.
Nalik'ideyu gave a last lick to the bag as Travis signaled her. Sheregarded him, then turned her head to survey the country before them. Atlast she trotted on, her buff coat melting into the vegetation. WithNaginlta she would scout the quarry and keep watch, leaving the men totake the longer way around.
Travis pulled off his shirt, folding it into a packet and tucking itbeneath the folds of his sash-belt, just as his ancestors had alwaysdone before a fight. Then he cached his pack and Tsoay's. As they beganthe stiff climb they carried only their bows, the quivers slung on theirshoulders, and the long-bladed knives. But they flitted like shadowsand, like the coyotes, their red-brown bodies became indistinguishableagainst the bronze of the land.
They should be, Travis judged, not more than an hour away from sundown.And they had to locate the stranger before the dark closed in. Hisrespect for their quarry had grown. The unknown might have been drivenby fear, but he held to a good pace and headed intelligently for justthe kind of country which would serve him best. If Travis could onlyremember where he had seen the like of that embroidery! It had ameaning which might be important now....
Tsoay slipped behind a wind-gnarled tree and disappeared. Travis stoopedunder a line of bush limbs. Both were working their way south, using thepeak ahead as an agreed landmark, pausing at intervals to examine thelandscape for any hint of a man and horse.
Travis squirmed snake fashion into an opening between two rock pillarsand lay there, the westering sun hot on his bare shoulders and back, hischin propped on his forearm. In the band holding back his hair he hadinserted some concealing tufts of wiry mountain grass, the ends of whichdrooped over his rugged features.
Only seconds earlier he had caught that fragmentary warning from one ofthe coyotes. What they sought was very close, it was right down there.Both animals were in ambush, awaiting orders. And what they found wasfamiliar, another confirmation that the fugitive was Terran, not nativeto Topaz.
With searching eyes, Travis examined the site indicated by the coyotes.His respect for the stranger was raised another notch. In time either heor Tsoay might have sighted that hideaway without the
aid of the animalscouts; on the other hand, they might have failed. For the fugitive hadtruly gone to earth, using some pocket or crevice in the mountain wall.
There was no sign of the horse, but a branch here and there had beenpulled out of place, the scars of their removal readable when one knewwhere to look. Odd, Travis began to puzzle over what he saw. It wasalmost as if whatever pursuit the stranger feared would come not atground level but from above; the precautions the stranger had taken wereto veil his retreat to the reaches of the mountain side.
Had he expected any trailer to make a flanking move from up that slopewhere the Apaches now lay? Travis' teeth nipped the weathered skin ofhis forearm. Could it be that at some time during the day's journeyingthe fugitive had doubled back, having seen his trackers? But there hadbeen no traces of any such scouting, and the coyotes would surely havewarned them. Human eyes and ears could be tricked, but Travis trustedthe senses of Naginlta and Nalik'ideyu far above his own.
No, he did not believe that the rider expected the Apaches. But the mandid expect someone or something which would come upon him from theheights. The heights.... Travis rolled his head slightly to look at theupper reaches of the hills about him--with suspicion.
In their own journey across the mountains and through the pass they hadfound nothing threatening. Dangerous animals might roam there. There hadbeen some paw marks, one such trail the coyotes had warned against. Butthe type of precautions the stranger had taken were against intelligent,thinking beings, not against animals more likely to track by scent thanby sight.
And if the stranger expected an attack from above, then Travis and Tsoaymust be alert. Travis analyzed each feature of the hillside, setting inhis mind a picture of every inch of ground they must cross. Just as hehad wanted daylight as an ally before, so now was he willing to wait forthe shadows of twilight.
He closed his eyes in a final check, able to recall the details of thehiding place, knowing that he could reach it when the conditionsfavored, without mistake. Then he edged back from his vantage point, andraising his fingers to his lips, made a small angry chittering, threetimes repeated. One of the species inhabiting these heights, as they hadnoted earlier, was a creature about as big as the palm of a man's hand,resembling nothing so much as a round ball of ruffled feathers, thoughits covering might actually have been a silky, fluffy fur. Its shortlegs could cover ground at an amazing speed, and it had the boldimpudence of a creature with few natural enemies. This was its usualcry.
Tsoay's hand waved Travis on to where the younger man had taken positionbehind the bleached trunk of a fallen tree.
"He hides," Tsoay whispered.
"Against trouble from above." Travis added his own observation.
"But not us, I think."
So Tsoay had come to that conclusion too? Travis tried to gauge thenearness of twilight. There was a period after the passing of Topaz' sunwhen the dusky light played odd tricks with shadows. That would be thefirst time for their move. He said as much, and Tsoay nodded eagerly.They sat with their backs to a boulder, the tree trunk serving as ascreen, and chewed methodically on ration tablets. There was energy andsustenance in the tasteless squares which would support men, even thoughtheir stomachs continued to demand the satisfaction of fresh meat.
Taking turns, they dozed a little. But the last banners of Topaz' sunwere still in the sky when Travis judged the shadows cover enough. Hehad no way of knowing how the stranger was armed. Though he used a horsefor transportation, he might well carry a rifle and the most modernTerran sidearms.
The Apaches' bows were little use for infighting, but they had theirknives. However, Travis wanted to take the fugitive unharmed if hecould. There was information he must have. So he did not even draw hisknife as he started downhill.
When he reached a pool of violet dusk at the bottom of the small ravineNaginlta's eyes regarded him knowingly. Travis signaled with his handand thought out what would be the coyotes' part in this surprise attack.The prick-eared silhouette vanished. Uphill the chitter of a fluff-fursounded twice--Tsoay was in position.
A howl ... wailing ... sobbing ... was heard, one of the keening songsof the _mba'a_. Travis darted forward. He heard the nicker of afrightened horse, a clicking which could have marked the pawing of hoofon gravel, saw the brush hiding the stranger's hole tremble, a portionof it fall away.
Travis sped on, his moccasins making no sound on the ground. One of thecoyotes gave tongue for the second time, the eerie wailing rising to ayapping which echoed from the rocks about them. Travis poised for adive.
Another section of those artfully heaped branches had given way and ahorse reared, its upflung head plainly marked against the sky. A blurredfigure weaved back and forth before it, trying to control the mount. Thestranger had his hands full, certainly no weapon drawn--this was it!
Travis leaped. His hands found their mark, the shoulders of thestranger. There was a shrill cry from the other as he tried to turn inthe Apache's hold, to face his attacker. But Travis bore them both on,rolling almost under the feet of the horse, sliding downhill, theunknown's writhing body pinned down by the Apache's weight and hisclasp, tight as an iron grip, about the other's chest and upper arms.
He felt his opponent go limp, but was suspicious enough not to releasethat hold, for the heavy breathing of the stranger was not that of anunconscious man. They lay so, the unknown still tight in Travis' holdbut no longer fighting. The Apache could hear Tsoay soothing the horsewith the purring words of a practiced horseman.
Still the stranger did not resume the struggle. They could not lie inthis position all night, Travis thought with a wry twist of amusement.He shifted his hold, and got the lightning-quick response he hadexpected. But it was not quite quick enough, for Travis had the other'shands behind his back, cupping slender, almost delicate wrists together.
"Throw me a cord!" he called to Tsoay.
The younger man ran up with an extra bow cord, and in a moment they hadbonds on the struggling captive. Travis rolled their catch over,reaching down for a fistful of hair to pull the head into a patch ofclearer light.
In his grasp that hair came loose, a braid unwinding. He grunted as helooked down into the stranger's face. Dust marks were streaked now withtear runnels, but the gray eyes which turned fiercely on him said thattheir owner cried more in rage than fear.
His captive might be wearing long trousers tucked into curved, toedboots, and a loose overblouse, but she was certainly not only a woman,but a very young and attractive one. Also, at the present moment, anexceedingly angry one. And behind that anger was fear, the fear of onefighting hopelessly against insurmountable odds. But as she eyed Travisnow her expression changed.
He felt she had expected another captor altogether and was astounded atthe sight of him. Her tongue touched her lips, moistening them, and nowthe fear in her was another kind--the wary fear of one facing a totallynew and perhaps dangerous thing.
"Who are you?" Travis spoke in English, for he had no doubts that shewas Terran.
Now she sucked in her breath with a gasp of pure astonishment.
"Who are _you_?" she parroted his question in a marked accent. Englishwas not her native tongue, he was sure.
Travis reached out, and again his hands closed on her shoulders. Shestarted to twist and then realized he was merely pulling her up to asitting position. Some of the fear had left her eyes, an intent interesttaking its place.
"You are not Sons of the Blue Wolf," she stated in her heavily accentedspeech.
Travis smiled. "I am the Fox, not the Wolf," he returned. "And theCoyote is my brother." He snapped his fingers at the shadows, and thetwo animals came noiselessly into sight. Her gaze widened even more atNaginlta and Nalik'ideyu, and she deduced the bond which must existbetween her captor and the beasts.
"This woman is also of our world." Tsoay spoke in Apache, looking overtheir prisoner with frank interest. "Only she is not of the People."
Sons of the Blue Wolf? Travis thought again of the embroidery designs
onthe jacket. Who had called themselves by that picturesquetitle--where--and when in time?
"What do you fear, Daughter of the Blue Wolf?" he asked.
And with that question he seemed to touch some button activating terror.She flung back her head so that she could see the darkening sky.
"The flyer!" Her voice was muted as if more than a whisper would carryto the stars just coming into brilliance above them. "They will come ...tracking. I did not reach the inner mountains in time."
There was a despairing note in that which cut through to Travis, whofound that he, too, was searching the sky, not knowing what he lookedfor or what kind of menace it promised, only that it was real danger.
