Rummaging in one of the chests set near one wall, he found some bandaging cloth wrapped with the Sime sterility symbol. There was even a tube of healing ointment. Certain that he was stealing somebody’s property. Valleroy cleaned and bandaged the wounds. His head was swimming with fatigue now that the cabin was warm, but he couldn’t allow himself to rest.
Systematically, he explored the contents of the chests until he came to a basket of grain. Buckwheat, it looked like. And salt, too. He measured some water into the kettle over the fire and poured in some of the grain. Then he turned and staggered back out into the chill night. He had to get their packs.
The thought of food waiting for him would lure him back. But if he ate first, he’d fall asleep in his tracks. It wasn’t so bad this time, with only his own weight to drag, but it was bad enough.
The waning moon lit the way clearly, but the temperature continued to fall. On the way back, he wrapped himself in his blanket, using Klyd’s for the apples and their rudimentary camping equipment. He fell several times, and yards from the cabin he fell one final time. Only the aroma of the cooked buckwheat brought him to his feet again. He made it to the safety of the warm haven too tired to worry about the Sime who probably owned the place and would return momentarily.
He never remembered eating that pot of cereal or bedding down next to the injured channel. But he must have done both, for when he woke late the next morning the pot was empty and he wasn’t very hungry. He lay for long minutes trying to dive back into dreamless sleep. But thought of Klyd brought him fully awake.
Examining the bandages, he found the wounds almost half healed. But the channel still seemed unconscious. His skin was icy cold despite the warm bedding.
Clutching his blanket about him, Valleroy built up the fire with the driest, hottest burning wood he could find. If the smoke attracted the Runzi, then so be it, he thought. Klyd had to have warmth. But on the other hand, he thought, if they were going to be discovered, they’d have been discovered already.
He made himself another pot of buckwheat and ate hungrily, still trying to figure out what sort of place this was. The only light was from the fire and a few chinks in the stonework. But by that, he found the candles and lit them.
Only then did he see the writing inscribed on a recessed section of wall framed by an arch. He took the candle to it to see better.
It took no linguistic talent to recognize the symbol at the top of the plaque...this was a Shrine of the Starred-Cross! Below that symbol were instructions indicating the safest path to the Gen Territory border. Then came a series of requests for users of the way station. Leave dry wood on the hearth, and water in the crocks. Write on the plaque the date of usage and whether Simes might have spotted that usage.
Toward the bottom came the admonition to trust in the starred-cross. One such talisman hung from a nail beneath the plaque. It was the same as the one he now wore—the one that had seen his mother safely out of Sime Territory. This was a way station of the children’s underground.
Fishing his talisman out of his shirt, Valleroy kissed it joyfully. How lucky they had been to find this place!
CHAPTER TEN
MESSENGER
Klyd moaned, tossing feverishly, as if trying to twist away from some unnamable horror. Not knowing what to do, Valleroy kneeled beside the pallet and tried to keep the Sime from hurting himself with the violence of his thrashing. As the minutes wore on, Klyd became more and more delirious, alternately screaming for Denrau and begging urgently for help.
In an anguish of indecision, berating himself for his own ignorance, Valleroy fought his unconscious friend until he had to retreat to avoid the wildly searching laterals, which now were coated with the ronaplin secretion, a sure sign that the channel was in need.
Helpless, Valleroy stood aside watching his patient wrestling with unseen demons. He’d carried this man across a mountainside, and to do it, he’d promised himself he’d save him or die trying. Now it appeared as if the channel would kill himself in delirium.
Right now, Klyd was in need, and Valleroy was high-field. Such a combination would end in transfer, and Valleroy knew it. He thought he might nerve himself to try it if Klyd were conscious and somewhat able to control himself. But only a highly skilled Companion would dare do anything with a channel in this condition. Yet he had to do something.
Suddenly, Klyd let out a wide-eyed scream of undiluted terror. He clutched at the straw pallet as if he were falling off the world. Valleroy threw himself on top of the thrashing Sime. He grabbed Klyd’s arms above the tentacle sheath openings. He could feel the swollen ronaplin glands under the lateral sheaths. His grip was surely causing incredible pain. But perhaps pain would bring Klyd to his senses. He hung on as the thin body was wracked with spasm after spasm. With the Sime strength driving muscle against muscle, surely the very bones of Klyd’s body would crack under the strain.
Valleroy sobbed, “Klyd, wake up. It’s me, Hugh, not Denrau! Wake up so we can go to Denrau. He’s home, in Zeor...waiting for you. Klyd wake up! Oh, for God’s sake, wake up!”
Valleroy never knew how long the ordeal went on. Slowly, the channel’s screams subsided. His thrashing quieted until only an occasional moan of pain filled the cabin. Valleroy released his grip and sprang back out of reach, praying fervently that he hadn’t hurt Klyd.
Instantly, Klyd’s eyes opened, focused and sane. He froze, motionless. Then he let out a ragged sigh and melted into the straw bedding, limp with an unutterable fatigue. “You idiot Gen! Don’t you know better than to move an unconscious Sime!”
It was like a slap in the face to Valleroy. “Why you ungrateful...” He choked on raw indignation, all thought of the channel’s welfare banished by a growing rage.
Klyd flinched under the savage wave of emotion as if physically assaulted. “Naztehr....”
“Don’t ‘naztehr’ me, you fugitive from a freak show! If you can’t....”
“Quiet!” Klyd said it softly, but that single word carried all the weight of unquestioned authority that had rested upon the Farris family for generations. “That’s better. I apologize. No matter how intelligent a person may be, he could never deduce the effect of moving an unconscious Sime. Now you’ve seen it, you’ll never make that mistake again.”
Somewhat mollified, Valleroy calmed down enough to see Klyd’s point of view. It had been a pretty gruesome experience. If it was caused merely by his being moved Klyd had every right.... “I’m sorry, Sectuib, if I did wrong. But the next time you tackle a wildcat, kindly instruct me in the rudiments of Sime first aid before allowing yourself to become injured. I thought I was saving your life by getting you inside here where it is warm. Concussion and subfreezing weather don’t make for blooming health among Gens.”
Valleroy had tried to speak politely but it came out sounding belligerently sarcastic. Klyd, however, seemed to take it as it was meant. “I’d rather freeze to death than undergo psycho-spatial disorientation. I’m going to have nightmares for months!”
“Psycho-...what?”
“We have a sense that is lacking in the Gen. It is not usually obtrusive, but when disrupted....” He shuddered. “We always know exactly where we are. It seems to be connected with some fundamental uniqueness of every point in the universe. Right now, I’m aware of my position on the Earth. I’m aware of the spinning of the planet on its axis. I’m aware of the motion around the Sun. I can even sense, vaguely, the motion of the Sun around the galaxy. I suppose there must be some subliminal awareness of the motion of the galaxy through space. But when unconscious, I’m not aware of my motion relative to the Earth’s surface. When awareness returns, the conscious mind is convinced that the old position was the correct one, while the unconscious mind senses the new position. The confusion is...horrible!”
“I’m sorry. I guess a Companion would know all about that.”
Klyd assented with a weary blink. “And there are ways to make the awakening easier, if necessary.” He massaged his forea
rms. “Remind me to teach you that trick after you qualify.”
Valleroy frowned. “You’re in need.”
“Not quite. But....”
“But what?”
He fingered the deep gashes on his upper arms and thighs. “Healing these has cost enough selyn to keep me functioning for two days. And disorientation is...also expensive.”
“You mean you are dangerously low-field, yet not in need? Isn’t that paradoxical?”
“Channels are different, Hugh. The need cycle appears to have little connection with the available selyn reserves for a channel. It’s almost as if need were a vestigial holdover from the pure Sime mutation. I could be high-field and go berserk with need. Or I could be close to death by attrition and not experience half the agony of the ordinary Sime in disjunction. Right now, I must acquire selyn to sustain my metabolic functions. I don’t absolutely require transfer. I can accomplish through a fundamental internal shunt....”
“My Simelan isn’t up to understanding that. Can you tell me in English?”
“No. English doesn’t have the vocabulary to discuss Sime experiences. But what I must know is the same in both languages. Will you help me?”
Valleroy couldn’t answer. Last night, he’d been willing to give his life for this man. Not two minutes after awakening, safe and warm, the patient had turned on him. Oh, he’d apologized and explained. But Valleroy wasn’t able to go from worried concern to resentment, to realization that his efforts to help had done more harm than good, and then back to willing helper...all in a matter of minutes. His emotions churned uncontrollably.
“Hugh, I do understand what you did for me last night. Are you going to let that go to waste? If so, you’d better get out of here right now and bar the door from the outside. I haven’t got much time, and I can’t be responsible for my actions toward the end.”
“Oh, hell, I’ll do whatever I can. I’ve never run out on a team partner yet. Stacy would fire me. Besides, we haven’t found Aisha yet. I require you to help with that.”
“Come here, then, and sit down.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s only a bit more demanding than the simple entran out-function that you mastered at Imil.”
“All right. But you’ll have to teach me.”
“Come.”
Apprehensively, Valleroy moved closer.
“Sit here.” The channel indicated the side of the straw pallet. Valleroy took a deep breath of resignation and assumed the position.
Klyd propped himself up against the wall, obviously drawing upon ironclad self-control to deliver a memorized classroom lecture in a dryly impersonal tone. But his voice shook occasionally.
“The channel is a secondary mutation that differs radically from the basic Sime mutation. One important difference is the dual selyn-storage system. The ordinary Sime can only draw, store, and utilize selyn to sustain his own body functions. The channel too, has this basic selyn transport system. But in addition, the channel has a separate system that is used to gather selyn from Gen donors and to dispense it to Simes.
“This secondary system has a much larger storage capacity. It is a Householding custom that all channels carry about three-quarters capacity. I have about half that right now. It would be sufficient, but it’s inaccessible to my personal use. If I die, it all goes to waste.”
“The fundamental internal shunt is the process of transferring selyn from the secondary system to the primary system. To do that, the deproda must be balanced exactly.”
“Now wait a minute. I’m lost. What exactly is...dep-...whatever you said?”
“Deproda. You can think of it in terms of an electrical analogy. It’s not exact, but it will do. By increasing the resistance across certain circuit elements, current can be shunted into other elements. You don’t have to understand it to do it, any more than you have to understand quantum theory to flip a light switch.”
Valleroy, like most Gens, knew nothing at all about electricity. Fingering the starred-cross, he said, “All right. What’s resistance and where do I get it?”
“You are a resistance. Your entire nerve system is usually one colossal resistance. That’s why a swift transfer damages your cells.”
Valleroy thought that over. “By putting...me...across...you can shift selyn from inaccessible storage to useful storage?”
“Exactly.”
“All right. Now what?”
Rolling his head toward Valleroy, the channel opened his eyes. “The first requirement is an absolute emotional steadiness. The slightest flicker of apprehension could trigger reflexes I couldn’t possibly control.”
Valleroy’s hand went again to the starred-cross. “Absolute emotional steadiness is humanly impossible. There has to be a margin—”
“Hugh!” The channel’s hand darted out and snatched the medallion out of Valleroy’s fingers. “Where did you get this?”
Valleroy gasped, pulling back instinctively.
The surge of adrenaline that flashed through the Gen’s body hit the oversensitized empathic nerve in the Sime and sent a convulsive shudder through his body.
“HUGH, DON’T MOVE!”
Valleroy froze in position, watching with growing horror as sweat beaded on Klyd’s forehead and rolled off his chin. Handling tentacles extended to reinforce his grip Klyd hung onto the talisman. Muscular spasms washed over the channel, forcing harsh little groans out of him. It lasted for several minutes, long enough for Valleroy to become more concerned for Klyd than for the secret of the starred-cross.
At length, the Sime fell back, panting. Valleroy wiped Klyd’s face with a corner of the blanket. “I did something wrong again.”
“When I said steadiness, I meant steadiness.”
“I wasn’t afraid, only startled. My mother told me never to show this to a Sime. I guess she didn’t mean channels, though.”
“Your mother? Your mother was born in-Territory?”
Valleroy took a deep breath. “She escaped.”
“Do you believe in the power of the starred-cross?”
“Well, I....”
“It’s important, Hugh. It could make all the difference. Give me truth. The truth of the soul.”
“I don’t know. I think I do. Now more than ever. If faith in a talisman removes fear, then faith protects.”
“So it is. Do you know where she got the medallion?”
“She never said, but I suppose in a way station just like this one.”
For the first time, Klyd took an interest in his surroundings. “This...is...oh, no! Hugh, if you know any prayers, say them passionately!”
“It’s warm here. There’s food. It’s dry. I checked the chimney and it vents through a dispersal system that’s not likely to be spotted—”
“But the Runzi keep watch on these places. Most of them are probably off beating the bushes for us, but they might check here again any moment.”
“Is there anyone near?”
“Not very. NOW CALM DOWN!” You’re hurting me. I’m not able to retain control against you.”
“Yes, Sectuib.”
“That’s better. I’ll qualify you yet.”
Not too happy with that prospect, Valleroy said, “Yes, Sectuib. But if it requires my absolute emotional control you may die trying.”
“Lesson number one,” said Klyd doggedly, “is that in any transfer situation, the Gen always has the upper hand. There are moments when the Sime is totally helpless. By the application of a rudimentary knowledge, the Gen can cause pain or fatal injury.”
“Doesn’t sound like the sort of thing most Simes would want any Gen to know. I know some Gens who would gladly use it to wipe out all Simes.”
“Which is why the Tecton and the Companions are so hated. The Companion is actually the complete master of any Sime. It is the Companion’s knowledge that gives him the necessary degree of emotional control. One doesn’t fear what one can destroy. I fear your fear—and the only way for me to control your fear
is to surrender the situation to you...completely.”
“If we ever get back to Zeor, remind me to have your translate that.”
“The translation is very simple. Give me your hand.”
Valleroy extended his left hand. Klyd placed the Gen fingers around his wrist. Then he moved the sensitive, artist’s fingers upward, applying pressure gently to the lateral sheaths. “You’ll feel the ronaplin gland here. Just above it and right beneath the lateral sheath, there is a point where the major transport nerve is exposed...huuu!” Klyd’s indrawn breath marked the spot as Valleroy’s fingers tightened gently.
“At that point, Hugh, and on the corresponding points along the other laterals, a slight pressure can kill. The normal transfer grip exposes these nodes to the Gen. It can’t be avoided. But usually the Gen’s instinct causes him to pull back and away, trying to escape the inescapable. Pressure on any one of those nodes can immobilize or kill any Sime when his laterals are extended. Pressure on the sheathed lateral can fatally cripple. It doesn’t take great strength. The laterals are very delicate.”
“I must have hurt you badly trying to restrain you.”
“It’s still painful, but I can manage the shunt. It won’t take very long.”
“All right. Let’s try it before I lose my nerve.”
Shifting his grip so that Valleroy’s right hand joined the channel’s right arm, Klyd took the Gen’s left hand in his left. Closing his eyes for a moment of concentration, he whispered, “You hold my life in your hands. Literally. One slip and Zeor loses a Sectuib before the heir is even born. I don’t mind admitting that idea frightens me. I don’t quite trust you.”
“I don’t quite blame you.”
“I wouldn’t normally ask this of a Companion who hasn’t qualified. But there isn’t anyone else to ask. Can you do it?”
House of Zeor Page 18
