Sheri Tepper - Grass

by Grass(Lit)

"I wish we had weapons," Father James said.

  "So do I," she admitted. "But we don't."

  He shook his head, only slightly. "Let us hope we find only one of the beasts opposing us."

  Rigo boiled the morning away, waiting while Sebastian reassembled the aircar, a longer process than had been anticipated. The new parts, though appropriately numbered, were not a precise fit. Sebastian took them to his own shop in the village, as he put it, "to shave them down a bit."

  By midafternoon the first car had been put together and tested. Driven by Sebastian, with Persun Pollut along for whatever assistance he might offer, Rigo set out for Klive. The trip took slightly more than an hour, across the southern tip of the swamp forest with the clutter of Commons off to their left. They landed in the gravel court beyond the first surface and crossed that surface on their way to the terrace of Klive.

  "Your Excellency," a little voice cried from behind the balustrade. "Your Excellency!"

  Rigo turned, surprised to see one of the bon Damfels daughters beckoning to him. He moved toward her, impatiently, wanting to go on into Klive to see whether Marjorie was there.

  "They've gone," the girl said. "Roderigo Yrarier, your wife and son and the Green Brothers, they've gone."

  "Gone where?" he blurted. "Where?"

  She shook her head, tears suddenly starting down her cheeks. "You mustn't go up there. Father, the Obermun, is in a rage. He will kill you. He has half killed Emmy already. Your wife came to ask where your daughter had been lost. Sylvan told her. He found out from Shevlok, and he told your wife. Sylvan went with them. Father had been screaming since then. Emmy tried to calm him and he beat her-"

  A bellow from the house above them sent the girl fleeing along the side of the house. Rigo stopped, put one foot on the step before him, and felt himself pulled firmly away. Sebastian had one arm and Persun the other, and they seemed determined to drag him away from Klive, by brute force if necessary.

  "Don't go up there, sir. He will not listen to reason. Listen to him. He sounds like a bull!"

  "Listen to Pollut, sir. He will not give you any help, not now. You must wait. Wait until he is calmer. Wait until you can speak with someone else."

  "At the Hunt," Sebastian suggested. "Tomorrow. At the bon Laupmon Hunt." They dragged Rigo away, he resisting them but not protesting, as though some part of him realized the sense of what they said even though his body was unwilling to agree.

  The horses followed the trail in single file, their riders at first alert for any sound, then gradually, as mile succeeded mile, growing slack and distracted. Mainoa and Lourai were preoccupied with pain, aching joints and throbbing buttocks. Marjorie was thinking of Rigo, and Sylvan of Marjorie. Father James was praying that he had not done the wrong thing, and Tony was thinking of a girl he had not seen for a very long time. The slap of the grass blades on their bodies had become hypnotic. Even Marjorie, usually alert to the nuances of horse behavior, did not notice that the horses were acting very much as Don Quixote had acted when she had ridden him away from the Hippae cavern. Ears alertly forward, they moved as though they were headed home. As though someone spoke to them. The riders did not comment upon this. With the sun on their backs, they rode, unspeaking, the only noise the sound of the horses' hooves.

  The world spun the sun to the center of the sky and then downward once more. The light was on their faces. They had stopped once or twice to drink and relieve themselves, but the trail winding enigmatically ahead of them had enticed them to keep the stops brief. The first howl came from behind them, far off to the right.

  Marjorie stiffened. She had heard the sound before, and it meant terror.

  "Hippae," said Sylvan in a hopeless voice. "Do they know we are here?"

  "Not yet," said Brother Mainoa.

  "How do you know?" Marjorie demanded.

  "You came to me for help, Lady Westriding, and I'm giving you help. How or why isn't something we can talk of yet. I tell you truthfully that the Hippae do not yet know we are here. They will know, shortly, but not yet. I would suggest we move more rapidly."

  Tony sat up, kneeing El Dia Octavo into a canter. He rattled away down the narrow trail, the others following. Brothers Mainoa and Lourai were hanging onto their saddles, grunting with effort. "Push down with your feet," Marjorie cried. "Sit straight. It's no more difficult than a rocking chair."

  Brother Mainoa pushed down with his feet and continued to hang on. After a time the rocking motion became predictable and his body adapted to it. Rillibee/Lourai was quicker. He found the motion exhilarating. Grass heads slapped him in the face and he grinned widely, seeds in his teeth.

  More howls from behind them, to both right and left.

  "Do you know where we're going?" Marjorie demanded over her shoulder.

  "Swamp forest," Mainoa said, grunting, "just ahead."

  He had no sooner said it than they came through the last of the tall grasses to see the forest at a considerable distance ahead and below them, stretching to the limits of sight in either direction. The trail they had been following ran toward the forest like an arrow flight, one aimed at a rocky knob which raised itself above the level of the distant trees. The bowl of grasses before them came only slightly above the horses' bellies.

  "Can the horses run faster?" Mainoa called plaintively. "If they can, we should."

  Don Quixote and El Dia Octavo had made the same decision or had been informed of it-at the same moment. They waited for no signal from their riders but sped down the slope, tails streaming behind them, ears flattened. The mares plunged after them, Irish Lass thundering away at the rear. For Mainoa it was as though he rode a nightmare. Though he knew he would fall, he did not. Though he knew he could not stay on, he did. The horse beneath him seemed determined to keep him in the saddle, and through all his panic he perceived that fact even as he heard the howls rising from the height they had just left. He could not risk looking back to see how close the Hippae were.

  Sylvan could. Over the drumming of the hooves he heard the wild screaming from the ridge. He spun half around on the broad back, holding tight to one of the vast panniers Irish Lass carried. A dozen enormous beasts pranced upon the height. Around their feet a great pack of hounds leapt and yammered. As though in response to some signal that Sylvan had not seen, the whole Hunt of them plunged down the slope after the fleeing horses. Not silently, as when they hunted foxen, but clamoring as with one shrill ear-shattering voice.

  He turned. The other horses were ahead of him, far ahead of him. This great beast was not as fleet as the others. He lay forward on her neck and whispered to her. "Do the best you can, my lady. I think otherwise, both you and I will be meat for them." He turned to watch the pursuit. One huge violet-mottled Hippae led the charge, mouth wide, nostrils flared. It seemed to stumble in the grass, then again. It fell, eyes rolled back. A ripple in the grass fled to one side.

  Behind the fallen monster the others slowed, prancing uncertainly. "Go," called Sylvan to his mount. "Go, lady. As best you can."

  Irish Lass heard him and went. The distance between her and the other horses had grown. She did her best to decrease it, but it became wider yet.

  Again the Hippae howled pursuit. Again the foremost among them tripped and fell. Again a ripple in the grass fled away, out of their path.

  El Dia Octavo had reached the forest. Don Quixote was just behind him Millefiori was next Then Blue Star and Her Majesty. The riders had dismounted and were waiting for Sylvan.

  Beside Sylvan a hound ran even with Irish Lass, its head darting through the grasses, teeth bared to strike at the running legs of the horse. Beyond the hound the grass quivered and something made of shining barbs snatched the hound away. Sylvan had not seen what it was, but he heard the hound screaming. Seemingly, so did the rest of the pack. The sound of their howling fell farther behind him. The great horse grunted beneath him. Her hide was wet and sleek. Foam flew from her mouth. "Good Lass," he whispered. "Good Lass."

  And then, at last, he
was there among the others. He turned once more to see the grass behind him alive with ripples. Something was moving there. Something the Hippae-hound pack was aware of, for it stood away, circling, screaming defiance but coming no nearer.

  Irish Lass stood with her head dragging.

  "Ah, Lass, Lass," Marjorie was saying. "Poor girl. You're not built for it, are you Lass, but so brave! Such a wonderful girl." She led the mare in a tight circle as she talked. Gradually, Lass's head came up.

  "Where now?" asked Tony. "We don't dare ride in there." He gestured toward the trees, where water glimmered among the dark foliage.

  "Yes," said Brother Mainoa. "In there. Following me."

  "Have you been in there before?"

  "No."

  "Well, then..."

  "I haven't been out in the grasses on a horse before either. But we are here. The immediate threat is past. We were guided. Protected."

  "By?"

  "I won't tell you until your knowing can't endanger us. Those things"-he thrust a hand in the direction of the Hippae-"can read your thoughts. We have to get into the forest. The barrier between us and them is more pretense than real. If we stay here too long, the Hippae may realize that."

  Tony looked at his mother, as though for permission. Father James was already mounting once more. With a sigh, Brother Mainoa heaved himself up, struggling to get his leg across the horse. Brother Lourai helped him. Sylvan was still atop Irish Lass.

  "Go," Marjorie said.

  Blue Star moved into the shallow water, picking her way among towering trunks and through thickets of reedlike growths. The others followed. The mare took a winding path, turning abruptly to take new directions. "Follow her closely," Brother Mainoa called hoarsely. "She is avoiding dangerous places" So they went, a slow, splashing game of follow the leader, with Blue Star following who-knew-what.

  When they had come into the swamp far enough that they could no longer see the prairies, Blue Star stopped her twisting path and led them straight along a shallow channel between two impenetrable walls of trees. This watery aisle seemed to go on for miles. At last a gap appeared in the endless line, and the mare struggled up a shallow bank and onto solid ground. "An island?" Marjorie asked.

  "Safety," Brother Mainoa said, sighing and half sliding, half falling off his horse and lying where he fell. "How? Safety?"

  "The Hippae will not come in here. Nor the hounds." He spoke from the ground, staring up through the trees to far-off glimmers of sunlight, like spangles. Like gems. His eyes would not stay open. "One did," she contradicted. "We saw the trail."

  "Only as far as the swamp," he acknowledged. "And then, I think, perhaps it went along the side...." His mouth fell open and a little sound came out. A snore.

  "He's old." Rillibee said to them defiantly, as though they had accused the old man of some impropriety. "He falls asleep like that a lot."

  Sylvan had dismounted. "What do I do for her?" He asked Marjorie as he stroked the mare.

  "Rub her down with something," Marjorie said. "A clump of grass, a fistful of leaves, anything. If we're going to stay here awhile, take the saddle off."

  "We can't go on until he wakes up," said Tony, indicating the supine form of Brother Mainoa.

  "We can't go on until the horses rest a little anyhow," Marjorie sighed. "They had quite a workout. About a day and a half a night of steady walking plus a mad run. Don't let her have much water," she cautioned Sylvan. "Walk her until she's cool, then let her have water."

  "Otherwise what?" Sylvan asked. "Would it kill her?"

  "It could make her sick," Tony answered him, looking up as Mainoa had done before he fell asleep. Sun spangles, very high. Something else up there, too. Something high that blocked the sun. Tony pointed. "What's up there?"

  Sylvan turned to look. "Where?"

  "Right up in the top of this tree, running over to that other one..."

  "This island is quite sizable," said Father James, rejoining the group from among the trees "There's a grassy clearing through these trees. Enough pasture there for the horses to have a good feed."

  Rillibee/Lourai pulled the saddles from Blue Star and Her Majesty and stacked them against the root buttresses of a tree. "The sun is low. It'll be dark before long. Too dark to ride."

  "How long will Brother Mainoa sleep?"

  Lourai shrugged. "As long as he needs to. He's been up since the middle of the night, on a horse most of that time. I told you, he's an old man."

  Marjorie nodded. "All right, then. If he rests, we will all rest. Tony?"

  The boy pointed upward. "We were just trying to figure out-"

  "Figure out whether there's any firewood, while it's still light. Sylvan, please help him. We need enough wood to last all night. Father, if you'll find the clearest water possible and fill this bucket-"

  "What about me?" Brother Lourai asked.

  "You and I will be chief cooks," she said, burrowing in the capacious baskets Irish Lass had carried. "When we have eaten we will talk about what we do next."

  Tony and Sylvan wandered toward the nearest thicket, Tony taking out his laser knife. When he used it to cut an armload of dried brush, Sylvan exclaimed, "What's that?"

  Tony gave it to him, explaining.

  "Is this something new?" Sylvan asked.

  "Of course not. They've been around forever."

  "I've never seen one before," Sylvan marveled. "I wonder why."

  "Probably because they wouldn't let you," Tony said. "It would make a handy weapon."

  "It would, wouldn't it?" Sylvan said, turning the device over and over in his hand. He sighed, gave it back to Tony, and turned his attention to carrying wood. Still, he thought of the knife with wonder. Why hadn't he known about such things?

  Brother Mainoa awoke about the time the food was ready, quite willing to interrupt his rest to join them for supper When they had eaten, when the utensils were cleaned and put back in the panniers, they sat around the fire, waiting.

  Marjorie said, "Well, Brother Mainoa. So, we are here."

  He nodded.

  "Are we any closer to Stella than when we set out?"

  "The trail led along the swamp-forest," he said. "Outside it, unfortunately. We could not have stayed there."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Perhaps If the Hippae have gone. Tonight we would be unable to see anything."

  She sighed.

  Tony said, "Mother, it's just as well. The horses couldn't have gone much farther."

  Marjorie was still looking at Brother Mainoa "You know something," she said. "You obviously know much more than you have told us."

  He shrugged. "What I know, or think I know, is not something I can share with you, yet. Perhaps tomorrow."

  "Will you decide?" she asked with a percipient glare.

  "No," he admitted. "No, the decision won't be mine."

  "What does it-they-want? To look us over?"

  He nodded.

  Tony asked, "What are the two of you talking about?"

  "Yes, Marjorie. What are you-?" Sylvan asked.

  Father James gave Marjorie a percipient glance and said, "Let it alone, Sylvan. Tony. For now. Perhaps Brother Mainoa has already presumed upon his acquaintance with... well, the powers that be."

  Mainoa smiled. "A way of saying it, Father. If you can bear it, Lady Westriding, I would suggest that we rest. Sleep, if possible. We are quite safe here."

  Safety was not what Marjorie wanted, if she had been in danger of her life, at least she would have felt she was doing something. To sleep in safety meant that she was slacking while Stella was in danger, but there was no argument she could make. It was already too dark to find a trail. She rose from her place beside the fire and made her way among the trees to the grassy area where the horses grazed. There she sought the comfort from them which she did not receive from those in her company. It was only when she leaned against Quixote's side that she realized how desperately tired she was.

  Behind her the others made their beds ne
ar the fire. Tony put his mother's bed to one side, screened from the others by low brush, where she would have some privacy. When she returned, he pointed it out to her, and she went to it, grateful for his help. Silence came then, broken by Mainoa's low, purring snores, the cries of peepers distant upon the prairie, and the cries of other less familiar things in the swamp around them.

  Marjorie had thought she would lie sleepless. Instead, sleep came upon her like a black tide, inexorably. She went down into it, dreamless and quiet. Time passed, with her unconscious of it. The hand that was laid upon her arm did not wake her until it shook her slightly.

  "Ma'am." said Rillibee Chime. "I'm hearing something.