by Jo Clayton
The doctor was an old Denchok near xe’s transformation, the lichen-web so thick it was almost continuous. Xe bent over Danor, peeling the bandage away, interested in the tape because it was something that both lines of Bйluchar had simply not thought of; for one thing, neither Meloach flowermoss nor Denchok lichen was compatible with adhesive tape. Xe pointed to the redness and swelling where the tape had been. “While I can see that this was an emergency and you used what you had, Shadowsong, this adhesive substance has provoked an allergic reaction which makes complications.” His voice was a pleasant rumble. “You say the bullet is out?”
“Yes.”
“Cho oy, it was done very cleanly with little damage to the flesh. I commend you. Is the water boiling yet?”
Shadith stepped to the narrow window, where the doctor had set up his brazier, looked into the pot. “Just starting.”
“Good. Would you bring it here, please.”
Xe dropped a gauze packet of minced herbs into the water and set it aside. “So you’re finding our world an interesting place?” Xe fished in xe’s bag and brought out a small ceramic jar, began unscrewing the lid.
She chuckled. “In every sense of the word.”
Xe began spreading cream from the jar across xe’s hands, working it into xe’s greenish-gray skin. “Political?”
“Don’t think so. Maorgan says the politicals always yell at you when they shoot. These didn’t.”
“Take the sieve and strain that decoction in the mug. Then you can see how much you can get down him. That’s a mix of roec and cliso, a feverbane, plus it’ll mute the pain and put him to sleep. About half for now. Save the rest for later. I’ve heard about the mesuch down by shore. Didn’t seem too bad, sort of like the traders who drop by now and then. Caused some stir, though, they did. Say they have fur all over them. Must get hot now that Summer’s here. You now, you’re more like the traders I’ve met. Got drunk once with one of them, man called Arel. Said it was anniversary of something. That’s good. His throat’s working, so he’s swallowing. Talked a lot about a girl… or a woman… he was real confused about that… with a flier etched on her face. Like that thing you’ve got. Said more than he meant to, the old gray empties had him by the scrot if you get what I’m at. I think that’s enough for now. If you’ll get one of those wipe rags and keep the field clear, I’ll deal with that wound.”
Shadith set the cup aside, wiped Danor’s mouth with one of the rags, and gave him a brush from the mindtouch again to help him settle. He looked so frail and ancient a loud sneeze would break him apart. “He gets around. Arel, I mean.”
The doctor opened the wound, then stood back while she wiped away the matter that oozed forth. “You be harping with the Ard tonight?”
“We sing for our supper, or so I understand.” She looked up, smiled at the sudden widening of xe’s eyes. “No no, that’s only a saying, Tokta Burek. Yes, we’ll be playing once we’ve had something to eat and wash up. If you have a favorite tune, let Maorgan know.”
“That I will. That’s enough of that.” He took a sterile cloth and began applying cream from another small jar.
Maorgan began a lively tune with laughter chuckling through the notes. After a moment Shadith caught the rhythm and began weaving her own themes round it, smiling as she did so at the glee on Burek’s face.
“Little Achcha Meloach,” Maorgan sang, his rich baritone filling the room, Shadith chanting unwords in harmony with him.
“Little Achcha Meloach
sitting in a tree
yelling down at Fior boy
can’t catch me
cha oo cha me oh barn ba oh
Little Arja Fioree
running through the wood
chasing yellow angles
catch them if she could
ja ooo fee ree fee ree ra oh
Little Cheon Fior boy
paddling in the flood
throws a fish at Achcha
be-bumping in the mud.
Ghee oh fee oh ba bum bum ba oh.”
Round and round through the antics of the three they went, Achcha, Cheon, and Arja Fioree. The audience-merchants and their clerks, the miners down too late to _ make the town, along with more anonymous travelers heading across the Medon Pass to Chuta Meredel and the workers in the blai-they smiled at first, then snapped their fingers to the beat and began singing along.
“What was that song?” she asked as they climbed wearily to their rooms, released finally by the lateness of the hour.
“Children’s rhyme. Silly thing; but it’s got a good tune and everyone knows it. I used to play it a lot at dances.” He looked wistful for a moment, then sighed. “Even without the mesuch, the world’s turning sour. I wouldn’t have thought it before, but this could be a good thing in its way. Lance the poisons and let them out like you did with Danor’s wound.”
2
Marrin Ola woke with the irritated feeling that the day was starting wrong and was going to get worse as it went along. Three times last night the alarm went off, but by the time he and the others got to the setoff point, there was nothing to be seen. If they’d needed more warning about what was going to happen, they’d gotten it. He was angry with both the Yaraka and the Chave but not much surprised. Assassinations of every sort were the prime means of politics on Picabral, with blackmail, abduction, bribery, and threat following close behind. He lay with his fingers laced beneath his head, staring at the ceiling, smiling a little. His growing-up time had given him a fine training for the subtler games on University. These he actually enjoyed. Most of the time. He was good at playing them, too. But he counted on these projects that took him offworld and into quieter, often kinder societies to renew his enthusiasm for staying alive. The Chav spy and what he’d introduced were corrupting and destroying that, forcing him back into a situation where he had to play those games again. Marrin took those actions very personally.
He rolled off the bed and went through his exercises until sweat was dripping off him, then he showered with the pulsing spray head he’d brought with him, a bit of lore he’d picked up from more experienced Aides on earlier field projects. By the time he was dressed, he was still angry, but a lot readier to face what had to be done.
Aslan looked down at Duncan Shears. “Just get things buttoned up. If the Goлs can figure a way to catch the spy, we might be able to come back.”
Duncan chuckled. “That’s the… what… fifth time, Scholar. You worry too much.”
“I know, I know, worse than a nervous horse.” She settled into the jit’s passenger seat. “Right. Let’s go, Marrin. And if you see that pair of young trouble-onthe-hoof, pull up and let me take my turn at them.” She sighed. “All we need is a dead child.”
Marrin drove slowly on the dusty circle road that curled round the outside of the dumel. “Maybe they listened this time. Or maybe their parents dusted salt on their little tails and made sure they were in school. Look, Scholar, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have involved them.”
“You couldn’t know the Chave would be so brazen about targeting us.”
“I should have. It’s an obvious ploy once they managed to take out the com.”
Aslan snorted. “You and my mother. You’d get along well, I think.”
“Um. That’s as it may be. Listen, Scholar, I’ve been thinking. Shadith has been off air for three, four nights now. She wouldn’t know about the spy because we didn’t the last time she called. From the description the youngsters picked up, he’s got a miniskip, wouldn’t take him long to cross the plain and start working mountain choreks. Because we haven’t heard of any doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Could be she’s either dead or hostage by now.”
“We went over that last night. And over it. There’s no way of knowing. Those handcoms aren’t supposed to go down, but when you don’t have a store handy to replace parts, anything can happen. I know I should have tried to pry another one out of the Goлs, but he turned frugal on me. ‘I have to account to headquarters,�
� he said. ‘We agreed to finance you,’ he said, ‘but not put you up in luxury.’ Luxury!” She sighed. “They do it all the time, Marrin, you might as well get used to it. There’s some little niggle they get caught up on. So?”
“Turned frugal? Or thought he’d got all he needed from you. I’d wager my University Stock that’s what it is. Once you got the Bйluchar calmed down and the language transfer, he thinks he doesn’t need us any more. We’re just a nuisance and an expense.” He took a deep breath, clamped down on his anger. “Well, I expect you know that.”
Aslan chuckled. “Well, I expect I do.”
He glanced at the workers in the fields. In one, a man was plowing a team of two red and white spotted blada; the next field over two Meloach were guiding water from a flume into furrows between rows of diokan. Beyond them was pasture where a herd of caцpas grazed. “I hate this, you know. I know what it’s worth, this kind of peace. Picabral…” He shook his head.
“Marrin, do I need to remind you?”
“No. Lost causes only give me heartburn.” He managed a weak grin. “Listen, I’ve been thinking.” He took the jit up onto the causeway, cut speed to a crawl. “Scholar, the Chav Ykkuval has till the next
Yarak supply ship arrives to gut the Enclave. Chances are he’s finished being subtle about it. If you can call bribery and sabotage subtle. I don’t think our Goлs is up to his weight and I certainly don’t think we want to be inside that fence when the Ykkuval decides it’s time to move. As long as there’s no one to contradict him, he can claim it’s locals’ work, armed by smugglers with him sitting across sea innocent as a haloed saint. I think we should use Shadith as an excuse and head for the mountains. If you can squeeze a flikit out of the Goлs, that’d be best, but passage on one of the sailbarges might do. As long as it’s understood we go armed and we’ll shoot back if attacked.” He glanced in the mirror, swore and stopped the jit.
Standing on the seat, he faced back along the road. Cupping his hands round his mouth, he yelled. “You two get back in ‘school. You know what I told you.”
Aslan twisted around. The road was empty back to the place where it curved around a small wood lot and up onto the causeway. After a minute, though, a pair of caцpa heads poked round the trees and slowly, reluctantly, two riders edged into view.
Marrin dropped into his seat, brought the jit whipping around, and sent it roaring at them.
They shied, glanced back as if they were thinking of taking off, then sat their saddles, faces pinched with chagrin, thin shoulders slumped, waiting for the jit to reach them.
He stopped under the noses of the nervous ponies, got to his feet, and stood leaning on the top of the windshield while they quieted the little beasts. “Cha oy, just what did you think you were at, kekerie?”
Glois and. Utelel exchanged glances, then Glois took the lead. “Ute’s Parent had these caцpas he wanted exercised, so we did.”
“Uh-huh. And you’re not going to tell me this is another holiday?”
“Um. Ute and me, we got all our lessons done, we din’t see reason to scrunch round in some hot room list’ning to teacher bababaing on about stuff we already know.”
“Uh-huh. Let me tell you something, young keklins. This isn’t a game. It never was. And I never should have opened my mouth to babies too young to know what it means to keep a promise.”
“We didn’t promise you nothing!” The last word ended in an indignant squeak.
“Equivocation and silence, young keklins. You know what I mean.” He spoke slowly, watching them wince as if the words were switches hitting, them. “How do you think I’d feel, if my doing got you killed? You want to load that on my head? How do you think your parents would feel if you got killed doing something like this? Glois, you told me you don’t have any brothers or sisters and your father’s gone? Who’s going to take care of your mother? Utelel, you’re going to be Eolt someday, do you want to miss that for a silly game that isn’t a game at all?” He stared somberly at them, shook his head. “You did a good thing, warning us about the spy. You saved my life, maybe all our lives. Now go home and stay away from the Marish.”
He watched them ride slowly away, then collapsed into his seat, pulling a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiping the sudden sweat off his face. “They’re good kids. Bright and full of the devil in all the right ways. Gods, I hate this!” He cracked his palm down on his thigh. “I HATE THIS.”
Aslan put her hand on his arm. “I know. It’s why we do what we do. Save a little so when the bad times are past people can reclaim what they had.”
He pulled his arm away, started the jit turning. “That doesn’t help right now, Scholar.”
He tensed as he took the ramp back onto the causeway, slapped in the accelerod until the jit was roaring along at its top speed. “Don’t hesitate, Scholar. If the telltale whispers, sweep that stunner through a one eighty, then drop.”
They were almost to the bridge when the first buzz sounded.
He slowed the jit to a crawl when they reached the far side of the river and mopped at his head again. “I’m going after him,” he said. “That spy. I’m going to kill that bastard.” He glanced at the single barge tied up at the landing and took the roundabout instead of the direct route to the Gate since the trade ground was busy today.
“Marrin…”
“Don’t tell me to leave it to the Goлs. He may be slick as a greased sikker when it comes to trade, but he hasn’t got a clue how to fight this kind of war.”
“I’m not trying to tell you anything, Marrin. Only think about what you’re risking.”
“I get kicked off University?”
“No. That’s not the problem. You could get killed.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“You so sure of yourself?”
“No, but the dead don’t give a hot jak about anything.”
“It’ll be harder for you to find projects.”
“You saying you won’t recommend me?”
“Tsah! Marrin, you want to get killed?”
“I’m not suicidal, if that’s what you’re thinking. You didn’t answer me.”
“Yes. I’ll recommend you. But you know how rumors bloom round those halls. You’ll be giving away a big edge if you get a reputation for jumping in the sun.”
“If that’s all that’s bothering you…” He stopped the jit outside the gate to the Enclave, hit the horn. “Ahhh! Sometimes… You remind me far too much of a man called Quale. Nice guy, but he drives me crazy sometimes.”
Carefully not smiling, Marrin watched Aslan smiling and subtly flattering the Goлs before she got to the hard bargaining. The Yarak was enjoying it, too, quite aware of what was happening. It confirmed that part of his opinion about the Goлs, a really good trader and exec. But he had the weakness that went with the gift, a conviction that people were always persuadable and that, ultimately, reason won over passion. An illusion, that. Sometimes a fatal one.
“… nearly finished what we can do in the Dumel. I’d like to shut down the station in Alsekum and head out along the Menguid on one of the sailbarges. More than just for study, I must confess. For the past several nights the harper Shadith has not been in communication with us. University will be most unhappy if something serious has happened to her. While she is quite competent at taking care of herself, I am determined to discover what happened.” She drew in a long breath. “All the more since something very troubling has happened.”
Marrin looked down at his hands, concentrated on keeping them relaxed as Aslan sketched out the events of the past several days.
“… from the gossip of the swampies. Not just gossip now. In my eyes, the reports are amply confirmed by the cutter my Aide discovered beside the chorek’s body. And by the crease you’ll find cut into the body of the jit, if you go down and examine it. A souvenir of today’s attack.”
“If you’ll wait here a moment…” The Goлs rose with the elastic grace of the Yaraka, leaving the room with as much hast
e as he thought comported with his dignity.
Aslan leaned back in her pulochair, closed her eyes. Marrin looked round the luxurious office. Only the
Goлs’ second best office at that. Running the show on gall and charm, a double-hinged tongue his best weapon. Seven techs, a handful of aides, a few guards and god only knows how many laborers. Less than a dozen probably. Contract labor. Won’t arm them, so they’re no use. Spies? Who knows. Yaraka and Chandavasi don’t usually go head on head like this. They stay in their own realms. Bad time to be low on the learning curve.
Aslan and Marrin stood as the Goлs came striding in. “As always in an entry situation,” he said with a graceful wave of his hand that meant they should sit down and be comfortable-which they carefully refrained from doing until he was seated. “We are short of hands to do the work. However, I have managed to detach a few guards from other duties. They will take a few locals with them and check the fringes of the Marish to dislodge any ambushes and carry in any of the um choreks you might have caught with the stunners. As to your intention of traveling in-country, I don’t see how I can permit that. Not until we know more about how deeply the spy has penetrated into local society. You did say that the young musician you brought along is not associated officially with University?”
“Shadith is rather more than a simple musician, Goлs Koraka hoeh Dexios. She has a number of interesting friends whom you might not care to annoy. You will have heard of the Hunters of Wolff, more specifically a Hunter by name Aleytys; they are closer than sisters. You will also have heard of the Dyslaera of Voallts Korlach on Spotchals. She was adopted into the Voallts clan as daughter of Miralys. There are others I could name. Life could be very unpleasant if these folks somehow got the notion you interfered with our efforts to locate her.”
