by Jo Clayton
“It certainly is. Chorek with cutters, that’s not a happy thought. Have you talked to Ut’s Parent yet?”
Utelel shook xe’s head, the orange and yellow flowers dancing with the movement. “We just heard and we come here first.”
“Well then, you’d best scoot along and take the message like Sabhal wanted you to. Tell them that you told me and that I’m passing the word on.”
Glois wrinkled his nose and looked at Utelel, but before he could say anything, Duncan Shears walked in.
He raised his brows when he saw them, but didn’t comment. “Here, catch.” He tossed Marrin a flake in a portable reader. “List of parts the Goлs swore he’d send us. His signa included. Haven’t had a smell of ‘em. I want you to get hold of the Molyb Oschos, see what’s holding things up. Use the authorization on that to build a fire under him if he’s dragging his feet.”
“Right. By the way, I’ve just learned that the Chave have an agent over here passing out cutters to the chorek. Think I should get hold of Security there and let them know?”
Shears scowled. “How sure are you?”
“Pretty damn.”
“I’ll give a call to the Scholar, let her know. If she decides better not, she can get through to you on the jit’s com. Button up before you leave, but don’t worry about the alarms. I’ll set web once you’re out.” He glanced at the two young Bйluchar, sighed, and went out.
“Gonna take the, jit? Take us with you, Marrin, hunh? Give us a ride, huh huh?”
“No way, my young friends.” He powered down the port, tapped on the datalock and got to his feet. “Besides, you have something you’ve got to do, remember?”
“Ahhh, we can do that anytime. Ut’s Parent don’t want to see us now, xe said xe don’t want to see us, said it loud.”
“Well, you’ve just got to change xe’s mind. Look, Glois, I’m a target, like all the rest of us from University. Any shooting, it’s going to come at me. You want me to have to live with knowing I’ve got one of the people I’m supposed to be studying killed?” He lifted the jit’s keypack from the hook by the door, shooed the still protesting pair outside, pulled the door shut behind him. “And I’m really serious, Ut, Glo. It’s important that your officials know what the swampie told you. It could save lives. That’s on your shoulders. Now you go and do right by your folks.”
He watched the youngsters drag off along the shadow-dappled walkway, then went to the main workroom and stuck his head inside. “Dunc, how about letting me trade for a heavy-duty stun? Don’t want to sound too nervous, but cutters floating around makes me sit up a bit.”
“Done. Let me get to the cache…” He palmed the lock box open, turned back the lid. “Hm. Another thing… come over here, I’m going to load you down with a few telltales. Won’t do much, but maybe could give you some warning.”
“Did you get to Aslan?”
“She’s in the middle of an interview, but I set the flasher going so she’ll be coming through any minute now.”
Marrin swung into the jit, set the telltales on the shelf in front of the stick, then took a good look round to make sure Glois and Utelel weren’t anywhere near. He sighed. He liked that pair, they reminded him of himself and a cousin of his. Wonder how close we came to getting ourselves killed? he thought with a pleasing sense of nostalgia only possible because he had no intention of going near his homeworld again. And how many times. He started the jit, backed it from under the tree, and started around the outside of the Dumel. Now that he was out of the workroom, he could hear the voices, the snatches of music, could see the pennants being raised and now and then catch the wisps of aroma from the food and the mulled cider being heated in a vast pot outside the Meeting House.
As he turned into the road, he started the telltale and immediately punched the volume lower when the beeper went into hysterics as a laughing dancing chattering band of Keteng came round a grove of oilnut trees. They heard the beeping and milled about the jit for a while, clapping their hands and shouting Summer blessings at him. As they broke off and headed for the Dumel again, two meloach with bright blue flowers on their heads and shoulders grinned at him and tossed a handful each of sugared nuts into the jit.
Smiling and crunching on a nut he picked off the seat beside him, Marrin sent the jit humming along the road, his worries forgotten for the moment. He liked this world. No doubt it had its dark side, but he’d come up in a world that was mostly dark side with only small flashes of light and he felt very protective of places like this. Aslan wanted to preserve the brightness so later generations could retrieve it; he was more like Shadith, he wanted to stop the plundering now. He thought about Shadith and the things he’d heard about her, rumors and jealous bitching both. Thought about the restrictions of the Scholar’s life which were starting to bear down on him.
He wanted enough Voting Stock to have University as homebase even if he didn’t go for Scholar at the end of his training-which meant he had to restrain his actions and keep inside the rules for another decade or so while he played politics with his sponsors so he could get onto the projects that brought him the stock. Which also meant he’d better not revert to early training and go play commando raid with the Chave Enclave as target.
The handcom’s bell jolted him back to the present. He tapped it on. “Ola here.”
“Marrin, Duncan just told me about your young friends. We’ll decide what to do about that tonight, till then silence is best.”
“Right, Scholar. Will do. Out.”
His thoughts kicked along to the intermittent beeps from the telltale as the jit hummed past fields with large beasts in them and the occasional Keteng or Fior herder drowsing in the sunlight. The road itself was empty now, the Bйluchar coming to the celebration in Alsekum were mostly already there.
Half an hour from the village, the open fields grew smaller and smaller; there were groves of nut and fruit trees, also occasional woodlots filled with shadow and cut-glades where thickets of young trees were bright green patches between the darker trunks of the mature stock. Excellent ambush spots, his mind informed him and he started tensing again, though the telltale had gone quiet once there were no more herds to trigger it.
The woods grew denser as he neared the bridge over the Debuliah River, an arm of the Sea Marish reaching along its north bank. The road turned into a causeway above stagnant, weed-filled water, and the trees closed in around the road. Over the hum of the jit’s lifters he could hear angi-song and the occasional splash from a crogall or some other water monster too cold to register on the telltale. By the time he reached the approach to the bridge, he was so tense a sudden burp on the telltale sent him reaching for the stunner. A glance at the telltale gave him distance and direction. He stopped the jit, swept the beam at full stun through a 180 arc, dropped the stunner on the seat beside him, and jammed the accelerod as far to the right as it would go.
When he saw the glimmer of the Enclave forcefield, he slowed, tugged a k-rag from the doorpocket, and wiped at the sweat on his face. He loathed cutters and he’d had enough of assassins a long time ago. Muttering anathemas under his breath, he headed the jit toward the Enclave gate, wondering if he’d just put a stray caцpa to sleep or pinned a swampie or did anything more than dunk a few fliers in some murky water. At least it wouldn’t be anyone heading to the ‘Clave to trade. The paved ground was empty and there were no barges tied up at the landing today. Rest Day. Summer Day. Just as well.
3
Eolt Melech made a song of her name and woke her from the sudden heavy sleep that had descended on her after she tried feeding soup to her patient9, spilling more on the canvas than she got down them. Danor’s breathing was harsh and labored, but Maorgan was lying on his side, curled like a child, sleeping sweetly. She made a face at him, then crawled out of the tent.
The day had turned lovely, the sky was clear of all but a few wisps of cloud, the wind had died down to a whisper, and the caцpas were busily browsing on the tender new growth on the brus
h growing between the trees. She got her to feet, wiped her hands on her shirt, and moved to the middle of the glade.
Melech was drifting above the glade, holding xeself in place with a single anchor tentacle. Xe looked plumper and more contained after a morning of sun-grazing, delicately lovely again, the ragged edges smoothed flat. Xe unrolled xe’s speaking tentacle but didn’t try to touch her with it, waiting for her permission first.
She understood why. It was easier to convey xe’s thoughts through that link and besides, xe didn’t want to wake Maorgan. Tetchy as a mother with a sick child, she thought. Just as well, listening to that chord speech hurts my head. She reached out, let her hand brush against the tentacle as a way of granting the permission.
And gasped.
What poured through the Eolt’s flesh and into her was indescribable-more intense than the deepest physical joy she’d ever known, even when she was a Weaver on Shayalin.
She snatched her hand away at the same time xe recoiled from her, then stood looking up at xe, her fingers moving over and over the hawk etched into her cheek. “Shall we try that again?” she said finally and put out her hand again.
The shock wasn’t so great this time, though it was still there; it was like grabbing hold of a live wire and feeling electricity flowing into her.
They both carefully ignored this.
Eolt Melech mused for a moment, then spoke quickly, xe’s words coming at her like yesterday’s raindrops, hard and fast.*I have quartered the Forest ahead and I have seen no more chorek sign, although with the thickness of canopy so various it is hard to be sure. The Mer-Eolt Lebesair has gone ahead to watch the road for us…*
Even through the quick pelt of the words she felt a sense of things-not-said in that last bit, underlined by a powerful irritation that xe could not quite hide.
*Xe will sing to me of any dangers xe finds and I will pass these to my sioll. Maorgan is well?*
*He’s still asleep, though it’s been rather a long sleep, there is no fever, his pulse is strong.*
*I thought it must be so, but it is good to hear your confirmation. The other?*
*is not well at all. Could you do for him…?*
*No. It is not possible. The touch would kill, not heal. If you can manage to preserve him alive and get him another half a day’s ride along the road, about ten sikkoms that is, you will come to Dumel Minach. It is a miner’s settlement and there will be healers there who can deal with puncture wounds and broken bones. And the Inn at Minach is forted against forest choreks, so you will be safe there. Will you look at Maorgan again and bring me sight of how he is?*
*I’ll do that.*
She watched xe drift upward to hover near the high clouds, then the fatigue that her broken sleep had not cleaned from her system flooded over her again. She returned to the tent, fell on the blankets, and was deep asleep almost before she’d stretched out her legs.
She woke again, an hour later, to see Maorgan bending over the older Ard. And there was more wood stacked inside the doorflap of the tent. He’d been out and busy while she slept. She rubbed at her eyes, once again amazed at how quickly he’d recovered, definitely more in that sioll bond than was apparent on the surface. No wonder Danor had been so filled with rage since his sioll was burned for the pleasure of a pair of Chave techs. He must have felt the burning as intensely as his sioll did till the Eolt was dead.
Maorgan turned when he heard her moving. “He’s really bad. Have you talked to your people?”
“Com’s dead. Sokli fell on it when he was killed. You look better.”
“I feel better. I see the caцpas came back.”
“Last night. I suppose because they’re tame creatures and don’t like the wild. Besides they wanted corncake and that doesn’t grow on trees.” She pushed herself up, grimaced at the throb in her head. “I hate interrupted sleep, I always feel like I’m three thoughts behind and a hundred pounds heavier. Would you bring Danor outside? And a blanket to put between him and the ground. I’m going to try something.”
She opened her medkit, set a scalpel in the sterilizer, scowled at the antiseptic spray, then at the red and yellow matter pressing against the scab on Danor’s shoulder. It was the bullet that was causing the trouble and probably a fragment of shirt it took in with it. She rested her fingers as lightly as she could on the hot dry skin and let her mindtouch drop through the flesh. Yes. There. Dark heavy mass. Have to get that out. Can I shift it… unh… slippery… yes, I can, yes.
She looked up, met Maorgan’s worried gaze. “I have to do something,” she said. “I think I can get the bullet out and the wound cleaned, but I can’t be sure. See if you can fix up a litter we can put him on and carry him to someone who knows what they’re doing.”
He nodded, got to his feet. “And I’ll see about getting the packs ready.”
She checked Danor. His fever was up another notch and he was moving his head and muttering things she couldn’t catch, his hands were scrabbling weakly at the blanket. She wanted to put him out for the cleaning of the wound, but she didn’t dare, she was worried enough about reaction to the spray. She set the antisep bulb on the folded-out worktray of the kit, then took the scalpel and opened the wound, jerking back as blood and pus spurted out.
She set the scalpel back in the sterilizer, sprayed a pad with antisep, and began wiping and pressing, wiping and pressing, getting as much of the yellow matter out as she could, trying to ignore the groans and screams from the man she was working on. When there was just blood and clear liquid coming out, she knelt with her hands resting lightly on his chest, the red raw hole between them.
She could move small objects, she’d done it before. She’d even drawn a bullet before, it just took concentration and time.
Bullet. Yes. Shred of something foreign in there, too.
Grasp both. Yes. Gotcha! Ease them up. Easy… easy. damn!
Danor was coming further awake, starting to writhe around on the blanket. One arm came around, slammed into her, nearly knocked her out of her trance and off her knees. Then he was quiet again, she didn’t know why, she could feel life beating in him still, didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered now was getting that bullet and that shred of cloth out of the wound. She’d lost hold for a moment, but retrieved it now. Easy… easy… come along…, up… where’s the path… ah! around there, when he moved, he shifted things… just to make this harder… up another inch… “Ah!”
The battered cone of lead popped out of Danor with a comical little spt!, rolling down his ribs into the grass. The thread of cloth swam beside the wound in a pool of blood.
She wiped the back of a bloody hand across her eyes and saw Maorgan when she opened them. He’d used his body to pin the old man down, keep him from moving.
“Finished?” When she nodded, he rose. “Oddest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “You’re a talented lady, Shadowsong.”
With a little bark of laughter, she shook her head. “No more than you, Harpmaster. Now if you’ll go back to your packing, I’ll finish this up. By the way, thanks.”
He grinned and walked away.
She wiped the shred of cloth away, cleaned the wound again, sprayed antisep on a new pad, and taped it in place. “Now if you’ll just stay alive till we get you to Minach.”
4
Marrin Ola stopped in the doorway to the workroom when he saw Aslan sipping tea and listening to
Duncan Shears. “Get the cone up, I’ve got something to show you.”
A moment later he was back. He stepped through the haze of the privacy cone, took a cutter from inside his shirt and put it on the table. “Not a rumor. Not any more.”
Aslan looked at the mucky weapon. “Looks like it took a bath in mud.” She sniffed. “Very stale mud where something died a while ago.”
“It did.” He wiped his hand on his shirt, pulled up a chair, and gave them a sketch of what happened at the bridge. “… and I managed to pry about half what you want out of Oschos, the stuff is locked in t
he jit, I’ll bring it in later. It took a while, though, so I was irritated and in a hurry and I’d almost forgotten about the wobble at the bridge,, so I hadn’t turned on the telltale. So when Glois and his pal rode out at me, I nearly had a heart attack. The young idiots. I’d told them to keep away, but they saddled up and rode after, I think they thought they were going to protect me, I don’t know WHAT they were thinking. Anyway, Glois was excited about something but he wouldn’t say what. He got me on his caцpa and climbed up behind Ut and they took me to this mucky islet with a huge oilnut tree growing at one end. The cutter was there, one end of it sunk in the mud, the other end caught on a root. And the chorek who had it, he was facedown in the water, about as dead as you get. Drowned. I’d hit him with the stunner and down he went. There were pieces out of him, a crogall or something like that had started eating him. Kids thought all that was terribly interesting. Reminds me of me when I was a kid, but my stomach’s gotten weaker since those days.” He glanced at the cutter lying dark and lethal on the table, leaned back, and crossed his legs.
Aslan swore.
Duncan Shears rubbed at his chin. “You can interview from the Enclave.”
“We’ve been over that and over it, Duncan. It won’t work.” Fingers tapping at the worktable, she stared at the wall, her eyes narrowed, the corners of her wide mouth tucked in. “Shadith should be getting to Chuta Meredel soon. End of the week she said. When she calls in tonight, I want her to try getting permission for the three of us to fly in. From what I’ve heard, I doubt any Chav spy will be getting close to that place. Center of learning, repository of history, center of government such as it is. I’ve been salivating at the thought of getting there, but I didn’t see how… even Shadith had to ride there… no flikits allowed… and the Metau and Teseach went rabid when I barely mentioned the place… without an invitation I’d given up hope… funny, this business might even be what makes it possible.” She blinked. “Well, enough of that. Marrin, what about the com and the satellites, are they anywhere near getting them back on line?”
