by Andre Norton
When the port was opened at last, the commander and his soldier-ones were the first to exit. Alien air flowed in after them, and Marguay lifted his head high to sniff a heady mixture of odors—unfamiliar, but enticing—mingled together.
Time passed, but the remainder of the People were forced to wait and wait. At last came the word that they might go, but they were warned to stay together, with the rod-bearers keeping guard abut them.
This place had no—no roof, was Marguay’s first discovery as the kits stepped down a tilted walkway to the green flooring ahead. And that material was not flooring, either, but a substance that was soft underfoot. Then something moved, and a nearby he-Little grabbed at it. A moment later he raised a hand that clutched a small creature, near as green as their footing, which kicked until the kit crunched it.
Tall green-and-brown plant-things stirred when the breeze blew against them. The stalish atmosphere of the ship was gone now, and the People, ever sensitive of nose, reveled in the myriad fresh scents.
Five suns later, the ship’s passengers and crew had established an outdoor living area. Scouts had discovered water that ran freely in streams. It had also been learned that the small beings in the grass (that, Marguay learned, was the name of the floor-growth) could be safely eaten. Two of those who explored—though all the People were under strict orders not to venture far from the camp, no matter what intriguing phenomenon beckoned for their attention—sighted much larger animals. And there were, indeed, living things—birds—that traveled through the sky itself!
Commander Quickpaw might have designated his Big Ones to reconnoiter this new world, but once again it was Marguay and Tippi who made the great discovery.
The youngsters had undertaken to follow for a little way the stream, in which yet another kind of living being moved swiftly about. A day earlier, the he-kit had managed to get one out with his hand and had taken it back to his mam, who pronounced it excellent eating—better, even, than those tiny furred beasts that ran squeaking through the grass. Two of the other mams had then asked him to catch more of the water-wrigglers if he could.
Marguay had already flipped one of the creatures out of the stream. Now his companion, belly-down, was attempting to equal his skill, when a high-grown bush on the opposite side of the water began to shake. The kits glanced at each other, startled. Could this be one of the bigger animals the scouts had reported?
A moment later a—beast?—fell, rather than worked itself, out of the shrub. It scrambled on two hind legs down to the stream, then thrust its head in, gulping and choking. Though it bore patches of unkempt reddish hair on its body in places, far larger areas of bare skin were visible; and its head was not shaped as were the heads of the People.
Marguay and Tippi edged back from the water. Though they were not yet frightened enough to run, they had no idea how fast this creature could follow. The young he-kit longed for one of the weapon-rods.
Suddenly his companion caught at his arm with one hand, and with the other pointed excitedly at the drinker. Marguay saw what had caught her eye. Around the thing’s thick throat ran a bright red band, and from this collar stretched a heavy leash that trailed back into the bush from which it had emerged.
The young explorer had no more than sighted that controlling device before the shrub once more rustled, then swayed. The leading-line snapped up and tightened, jerking the creature back out of the water. The patch-haired brute was held captive so, pulling at the prisoning collar and clasping both hands around the leash, but it was not left long to its struggles.
For around the shrub stalked a Big One—a very Big One, taller by far than the largest full-growth the kits knew. His fur was a tawny color with black spots in bold contrast. He, too, wore something about his throat, but his neckpiece was no slave-collar. It was a broad band of metal nearly the hue of the pelt on which it rested, and it sparkled in many places with bits of bright color. Encircling his forearms were a pair of similar glowing-and-glinting bands; and in one of his ears gleamed—a gold ring!
Marguay’s mouth, already opened in astonishment, drew in a pleasing spicy odor from the stranger, borne across the water upon the wind. But the newcomer had halted abruptly to stare back, and he was now looking at them so intently that the small he-kit felt as though he had been lifted up by one of those clawed hands and was being turned round and round for inspection.
The two-leg beast that the stranger held in check raised its head. Matted and tangled hair covered most of its shoulders and blunt face, but there was still something about it—
“Smoothskin!” Tippi shouted.
The brute was not really one of the ancient aiders-of-the People; yet it was similar enough that Marguay could see how his companion might make such a mistake.
In response to the she-kit’s outcry, the one who held that half-beast in check called back to them. Nothing about his voice or stance seemed threatening as he did so, and slowly the two Little explorers advanced once more to the water’s edge. They had not understood what he had said, and he was very tall indeed, yet all their senses told them he was kin.
Pulling his unwilling captive with him, the alien Big One entered the stream to splash across. Both kits waited courageously. Their noses wrinkled at the smell of the brute-thing he led; still, his own scent, beneath its exotic spicy tang, was as familiar as their own.
Again he spoke. Marguay shook his head but answered in his own language: “Come—see our commander, the Big Ones—come.”
The stranger obeyed, giving frequent jerks to his charge’s leading-line as he moved; and in this manner the pair of junior adventurers brought him to the encampment. Several of the guards fell in around their prize and his “pet,” but those soldier-kin offered no raising of rods.
Thus Antimah of the Tribe of Rammesese, in the service of the Great Goddess Bast Herself, came to sit at a council meeting with the People from afar. Some of the attendants drew sketches with sticks in the dirt; others returned to the ship and brought out maps of the star-ways, pictures of their vessel’s interior, drawings of the Smoothskins.
Marguay, however, slipped away from the crowd that stood watching the momentous meeting in wonder. Once more in the ship, he ran unhesitatingly to the compartment he had discovered, and there he caught up that statue-representative of his kind who wore golden adornment much like that of this splendid newcomer. When he had hurried back, he held high the figure and dared to interrupt the commander himself.
“Look!”
All heads swung toward him, and look they did. For answer, the stranger moved first. Coming to Marguay, he lifted his hand, palm out; and, fixing his eyes on the statue, he bowed his head.
Then he turned. Tossing to one of the guard-kin the leash of the Smoothskin-That-Was-Not, the living model of the figurine opened his arms wide in a gesture that could only mean full welcome.
Above them shone Sol, and underfoot was the soil of Terra. The far-farers as yet had that to learn; but for them, the end of their flight was also the beginning in a world that the Smoothskins, in their time of power, had near destroyed. For the People, sent forth without their consent, had touched the outermost reaches of the heavens, and now their years’-lost home had received them once again.
The Familiar
Familiars (2002) DAW
The west wall was breached two hours after dawn, for the invaders had their own magic, of a sort—a powder that could crumble stone, no matter how thick or well-laid. I knew, then, that my chances for continued existence were limited to almost none.
My greatest shortcoming—as my elders and betters had so often pointed out—was indolence. Years of lazy drifting, of quieting my conscience with the reassurance, “She is too young; there is time,” lay behind me. As a result, my familiar had never had her innate talents honed as they should have been. True, I had tried to begin this wit-sharpening last year, but the minds of the people of this world became less easy to work with as they grew older. And now—?
Now I must mak
e do. Thinking it was fortunate that I knew much more about this merchant-house than the humans living here even suspected, I gathered my true strength and let go a summons.
The girl was in the lower hallway, sensibly resisting the screaming of a maid who was urging her to flee the house, to run to the castle gates. Evidently the servant did not know that those portals had been closed and barred at dawn, preventing either entry or exit, or perhaps terror had carried her beyond sense.
My familiar had thrown back the lid of the massive chest that stood in that corridor. Now she knelt and reached in, stripping away the layers of cloth stored there until she came to the cloak that had been folded over me. A moment later she brought me forth. I could feel her surprise at those actions, which I had directed: why should she place herself in peril to retrieve what she saw as a toy? Then, as I had done many times since she was small, I exerted the invisible bond we shared, and she hugged me tightly against her breast.
“Fossi, Fossi, what can we do?”
I noted with satisfaction that “we” in her speech; our link—a connection I had been strengthening through dream-touch for some nights—was tight. Now I exuded warmth, security, projecting those emotions as strongly as possible. Again I gave orders, and once more she accepted them without question.
The master of the house had been lending aid to the defense of the walls, and when I sent a seek-probe to find him, he was gone. The fear-maddened maid who had been caterwauling below had taken her own advice and fled into the streets. Only my familiar was left in this place.
Young and beautiful by the reckoning of her kind, the girl would be welcome prey for any invader who sighted her. We would have to work fast. Still holding me tightly, she stooped and caught up the cloak she had uncovered earlier; then she moved quickly down the stairs and into the kitchen. There she set me carefully on the edge of the large central table and spread out the garment beside me. As she did so, she staggered slightly, lifting her hand to her forehead. I felt a sag in our bond and straightaway tightened it.
Bread of yesterday’s baking, a round of cheese, and a jar of dried fruit were heaped atop the cloak, which was gathered to form a provision bag. Lastly, two sharp knives were thrust into her belt, and she had garnered all she could here.
“Now what, Fossi?” My familiar was looking intently at me, and our link was now firm enough that I dared to reveal a little of my true nature. When I had first located the girl, she had been so young she believed my stuffed-toy disguise, and that was the beginning of the bond for both of us. However, as she had grown older, her perception of the form I wore in her world as that of a mere plaything had grown more strong. Could I, in time to save us both, convince her of what I truly was?
The clamor in the streets without, which could be heard even through these thick and long-laid walls, had been as a rising wave to sweep us onward. Now, above its muted roar there sounded the shriek of a woman, laden with such horror and pain that my familiar’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes went wide. Into her mind flashed the thought of what she might do with one of those knives to prevent such agony being wrung from herself, and she shuddered so we were both shaken. Quickly, I moved to take full command, intensifying my mind-send to break her trance. At last she moved, taking up the bundle of food in one hand and me in the other.
We hurried through to the head of the cellar stairs. A lantern hung on a hook there, witch-fire blazing at its core. Such magic would supply light for as long as we had need of it, and that might well be long indeed. I tensed; it was time now for the next step. Squirming in the girl’s hold, I freed one of my toy-body’s arms and pointed at the lantern.
My companion paused, indecisive again. She was noticing too much of the here and now. I added to the link. So goaded, she placed me on the cold stone of the first step, then tied her bag by the ends and slipped its circle over her shoulder.
“Fossi?” She spoke my name on a questioning note, peering down as though seeing me for the first time. Then, as though coming to a decision, she took me up again and reached for the lantern. Thus we went down into the dark chill depths beneath the house.
It was not yet time for me to take the final step to cement our bonding, to let my familiar see all I could be and do on this plane of existence. I held firmly in place that last thin veil between us as she made the descent step by step.
The cellar was made up of storage rooms, filled with barrels and chests. From one wall had been hewn an alcove, and in this niche wines were laid down. A mighty woodpile was carefully stacked in yet another area, awaiting a cold season this place might never see. My companion was familiar with this part of the house, but a few minutes’ walk at the near-run we were keeping brought us to the end of the ways known to her.
Once more she addressed me, her voice that of the lonely child she had been when I had first moved myself into her life. Then she held up the lantern to the stone wall that ended our journey and murmured in a dull singsong, “No door—no more—”
Swiftly, simply, I fed my companion the knowledge to solve this problem. As though controlled by the strings of a dance-doll, her right arm lifted until it pointed to the blank barrier before us. With her forefinger, she next outlined a space up, across, and down the stone, that finger seeming to jet fire as a blue line followed its path. Finally, coming close enough to touch the surface, she set hand against the section of wall defined by the lines—and pushed.
If the girl had expected movement, none came. I gave an inward sigh—it was plain that she still had far to go. But the wall before us was hardly a slate for lessons now.
Again I loosed power. At this, my friend pulled me roughly away from her and held me up so that our gazes met.
“What—!” No bewilderment clouded her green eyes now—instead, fear fought rising anger. Frustrated, she swung my toy-form forward so that its floppy forelegs struck the stone where her palm had rested a moment ago.
I pushed those stuffed paws as hard as I could against the barrier, regretting bitterly all the wasted hours when we might have perfected what we carried. Such a gift had to be nurtured by both its possessors or it would bear no fruit for either.
Our first answer was not motion but sound: a bell-like chime I knew of old. The stone blocks within the square she had traced suddenly shone blue. When that color had whirled away as a mist, they were gone, and what lay behind them was opened.
A narrow passage, broken by no door, ran for a short distance. At its end lay a room not unlike those that made up the house above. A table stood in the center with a chair at each end, while to one side was placed a chest like a housewife’s hutch with crowded open shelves above, cabinet doors below.
Dropping her bundle onto the table (and thereby raising a cloud of dust), my companion sank into a chair, but not before she had set me directly before her, keeping me upright with both hands. She began to stare.
She was waking, this girl I had chosen—and been chosen by—in her earliest youth, and her newfound sight was piercing the cloak of illusion in which I had been so long enwrapped. The hour had come when I must take the last step. Carefully, I loosed my hold on the appearance of a body filled with straw and covered by short reddish fur through which patches of skin showed where time (and love) had worn it away.
My companion let go her grasp, for I stood erect without support. Now I settled myself on the table, forepaws crossed, sneezing as I disturbed more dust, and waited.
A question came almost at once. “What is your name?”
Speaking aloud, I answered slowly, as if my friend were still the child of years agone.
“By your calling, I am ‘Fossi.’ And you?”
To exchange names is to set seal upon bonding. The girl held me with her eyes for a moment longer; then she seemed to arrive at a decision.
“I,” she spoke briskly, chin high, “am Jeseca, daughter to Welfrid of Crask, merchant. And fear must have driven my wits from me utterly, for I believe an old toy can speak and its paws push aside a st
one wall. Fossi, who—and what—are you?”
“What I have always been,” I replied. “Your kind is not born with the Sight to see me in my true form, yet such power is now within your grasp. Your mother was Roseline; she was born of this house, but she had not the Talent strongly enough to warrant training. Before her was Aloris, who truly bore the Gift; and before your mother’s mother were Catheral, and Vinala, and Darlynn—” I recited the women of my service-roll. To my delight, I saw my newest pupil nod twice at two of those so named.
Then, though the girl’s hands no longer touched me, I felt them tremble where they rested on the table. “Those women—” her voice faltered, but she forced herself to continue, “—it is rumored that they were Wyse.”
“And what does Wyse mean to you, Jeseca?”
“Having strange powers,” she whispered. Fear was rising in her again, like the dark vapor lifting from a marsh. I wished I might gently coax her free of its clutching tendrils, but there was no time.
Turning, I gestured with a flick of paw at the cupboard; then, to test her a fraction more, I mind-sent a picture of what I would have her do. Slowly she stood, glancing from me to the hutch and back again before she went to obey.
The upper shelves were filled with small pots and sealed jars. Much of what was stored there had doubtless had its virtue leached away by time, but we had no need of salves or simples. At my direction, Jeseca opened the doors below, and from that area she brought forth a flat disk of dark glass which she placed on the table between us.
I glanced down to see myself reflected in its surface. My disguise of the hugged-to-shabbiness plaything was gone; my red-brown fur, living now, was not even dusty. The form I had been given upon first emerging into this world was mine once more: rounded head, large eyes as green as my companion’s could be, long hard-muscled body, and two pairs of limbs on which I could either walk erect or take to all fours when the need arose. Yes, it was good to be back, but I needed no mirror to tell me so; and in any event the polished round on the table had not been intended as a tool for physical vanity. I spun the object about and pushed it before Jeseca.
