Julyan would have been ashamed for his employer were he not more ashamed for himself. If the Old One was playing the boy toy, then Julyan must play the sort of man who would keep such a creature about him. His brown hair had been bleached almost white, so that he looked like an older man struggling to appear younger. With a surprisingly deft hand, the Old One had stained the incipient lines around Julyan’s eyes and mouth so they appeared to be deeper. He had replaced the close-fitting hunting leathers Julyan preferred with baggy tunics and trousers that effectively hid Julyan’s well-muscled body.
“I suppose,” Julyan said, looking in horror at his reflection, “you want me to slouch.”
“No need,” the Old One said. “That would be helpful, of course but, if you forget, any who see you will assume you are acting the part of the strutting cock.”
The reason for this particular set of disguises went beyond concealing the pair from those who might wish to bring them in for questioning. The Old One had added a third member to their group, a boy of about eleven. Although Seamus was actually not a bad-looking boy, with curling brown hair, full lips, and eyes of such a dark blue they almost looked black, his complete lack of affect made him seem plain, even washed out. Seamus was very thin, with long fingers and toes. Although he was shooting up toward adult height, he carried himself so limply that he seemed smaller.
If the Old One posed as Julyan’s (or Ryan, as he was now called) current favorite, Seamus was a catamite in training. But the Old One was not dragging Seamus along for any reason so simple. Indeed, he claimed to have gone beyond sexual desire of any sort and, in all the time they had been associated, Julyan had seen nothing to give lie to that claim. Even the most sensual of the women the Old One kept captive had been viewed clinically, her blood line and the adaptations hidden within the only items of interest.
Seamus had been one of the near successes of the Old One’s breeding program, possessing a form of telepathy. However, Seamus could not communicate with just anyone. Instead, he single-mindedly fixed his attention on one person only. The first of these had initially been one of the children’s caretakers, a man who had come into the Old One’s circle from a community that had shunned the adapted. This man’s gifts were minor enough—an uncontrolled telekinesis that manifested in poltergeist activity when he was under stress. Noisy and wild though they were, small children did not unbalance this man in the least, so the Old One had used him as a nursery minder while seeking the right mate with which to crossbreed him.
However, when the Old One realized the nature of Seamus’s adaptation, even proven telekinesis was not enough to keep the unfortunate man alive. He had been killed so the bond would be broken. Then the Old One let Seamus see no one but him until the boy bonded with him. Success—but only after a fashion—for, whether he had been born that way or whether the shock of his first bond-mate’s death had damaged his mind, Seamus never progressed mentally beyond about five years old.
Sometimes, Julyan thought the Old One was actually pleased about this, for a five-year-old was much easier to control, although harder to train. Training was necessary, for their telepathic ability depended completely on Seamus. The Old One claimed no adaptations for himself—other than his unique immortality. Over time, Seamus was taught to respond to certain signals. Only in response to them would he dare touch the Old One’s mind. Harsh punishments for early errors now made it impossible for Seamus to probe the Old One’s mind beyond accepting messages and sending replies.
When the facility under Mender’s Isle had been raided, Seamus had been living with an old man a few hours’ brisk walk from Spirit Bay. The Old One had been experimenting with having the boy check in with him at set times, testing the distance over which they could communicate clearly. At this point, the link was solid to a few miles, as far as many hunters could maintain with their demiurges.
If Julyan found the Old One’s current persona revolting, Seamus made his skin crawl. When the Old One was near, the boy kept his round, blue-eyed gaze fastened on him with what most probably thought was adoration, but which Julyan knew was raw terror. If the Old One didn’t need him, Seamus lapsed into docile passivity.
And I’m supposed to sexually desire either of them? Julyan thought in disgust. I can’t imagine it. Maybe any who see our little “family” will think those two are the couple and I am their guardian.
When he dared, he dropped hints that this was so, but Julyan wondered if his denials did him more harm than good.
Once they left their hideaway near Spirit Bay, they made a leisurely journey to Crystalaire. Although the town was full—summer being the peak fishing season—a house on the outskirts of town proved to have a nice cottage on the grounds that they could use. Julyan suspected that the Old One owned the entire estate, but he had learned not to ask questions.
“Next we will make a few enquiries, listen for rumors,” the Old One said. “Two handsome men and an interesting-looking woman will not have passed without notice.”
“And if they weren’t seen?”
“Then we will know they went directly to Maiden’s Tear,” the Old One replied calmly. “You will have ample opportunity to discard the role of Ryan and go forth in secret as Julyan Hunter. For now we stalk our prey, but not interfere. It seems only right to give them an opportunity to replace my Sanctum with a new stronghold of the seegnur’s lore.”
* * *
“What was Maiden’s Tear called before?” Griffin asked as they led their mounts up a particularly steep bit of trail—it had ceased to be anything that could be called a “road” days before.
“Before what?” Terrell asked.
“Before the slaughter of the seegnur,” Griffin said. “Didn’t the name come from that, from some murdered maiden or something? Maybe that bride whose marriage was never to be?”
Terrell shook his head. “As far as I know, the area was called Maiden’s Tear before then. The story I heard was that the name had to do with sisters who were separated … I don’t remember why. I’m not certain the legend ever said. Anyhow, when the pair was separated, one twin wept so copiously that a lake was formed.”
“Pretty tale,” Adara commented. “Though from the maps Bruin showed me during my training, I’d guess that the fact that the lake is teardrop-shaped probably had something to do with the name as well.”
She didn’t add that for several nights now her dreams had been filled with the sound of weeping. Doubtless her mind was still adjusting to the information her mother had given her. It was frightening to realize how close to becoming one of those pitiful women they each had been. Adara wondered if Jor had indeed drowned at sea or if he had been among the adapted men whom the Old One had given a “refuge” that was little more than a prison. If so and if he had survived all those years, he had likely drowned.
The memory of the bodies they had pulled from beneath Mender’s Isle still haunted Adara. She’d never know how many of those men had been willing collaborators and how many dupes—for the Old One had recruited from among the adapted who had found themselves unwelcome in general society. Since the Old One had kept the women and children isolated from the majority of the men, the Swimmers, who, along with their mother, Winnie, had stayed behind to help explore the submerged facility, had not known much about the men whose bodies they helped drag to the outer world.
So many died, yet the worst of them got away, Adara thought. Julyan and the Old One escaped. I wouldn’t be surprised if the others who escaped were the ones willing to climb to safety on the bodies of their drowning comrades.
They took the last part of the climb to Maiden’s Tear in easy stages, for Griffin felt the air too thin in his lungs. Griffin pushed himself hard, never insisting on riding when Molly needed a break, instead walking alongside her, so by the end of each day’s travel, he looked drawn.
“I’ll adjust,” he said, “faster than you might think. I knew I was coming to a planet where many of the settlements were near or within mountain ranges. Among the preparations I dos
ed myself with was one to trigger my body to produce extra oxygen if the conditions warranted it.”
Griffin spoke of such “doses” routinely, Adara mused, but the capacities of the adapted still surprised him, whether adapted humans like herself or adapted animals like Sand Shadow.
Of course, Adara thought, sharing the image with Sand Shadow, my eyes and claws are more showy than Griffin’s tiny lung bugs.
In return, Sand Shadow sent an image of her own fingered paws. The puma had recently made a breakthrough in knot tying and was quite pleased about it. One of her goals was to learn how to set snares and make fish traps, for the large game her kind usually hunted was not always available in the places her bond with Adara took her.
When the companions reached Maiden’s Tear, they set up camp in a cluster of evergreens, even though the alpine meadow near the lake provided inviting camp spots.
“We’d be more visible,” Terrell said. “The prohibition regarding Maiden’s Tear is still in effect, but we don’t know how strictly it is enforced. We’re reaching the time of year when shepherds will be taking their flocks higher for the best grazing. Best if a shepherd going after a strayed lamb doesn’t glimpse a cluster of tents. Humans will be much harder to spot, especially if we practice some elementary concealment.”
“And the horses and Sam?” Griffin asked. “They’re pretty big.”
Adara replied, “Sand Shadow scouted out some sheltered vales with excellent grazing and water. One of the good things about this area being restricted is that the grass is thick, belly deep even on Midnight and Sam in some places.”
* * *
The first night in their new camp, Adara took herself up into a long-needled pine to sleep, this despite the fact that evergreens were far from her favorite sleeping trees, since the bark was prickly and tended to shed. In warmer weather, sticky sap could soil her clothing. Still, sleeping in an evergreen was better than watching the men looking sidewise at each other as bedrolls were spread.
Adara liked both Terrell and Griffin, but evenings were when the awkward question of who slept near/with whom became a forever undiscussed but omnipresent issue. Along the trail, the question had diminished, but now that they were “in residence,” Adara noticed each man looking to see where she would bed down, hoping for an excuse to pick a spot nearby.
Making matters worse was that spring was giving way to summer. Traditionally, midsummer and midwinter were times when usual restrictions on sexual dalliance among adults were suspended. Most who had married did not abuse their vows (although couples who were feeling dull had been known to exploit the occasion), but these festivals were very good times for young, unattached people to experiment without incurring a commitment thereafter.
Although that “no commitment” is not always remembered afterwards, Adara thought, settling herself comfortably into place. Terrell has clearly never forgotten our tryst. How I wish he had! Though I blush to think of it, maybe Julyan felt the same about me. We also first made love in midsummer, though Julyan was certainly more than happy to continue after, whereas I have not teased Terrell.
She let her mind wander, shutting out Sand Shadow’s lewd commentary from where the puma hunted not too far away. Eventually, Adara drifted off. When she did, she dreamed again of tears.
She awoke to find a pale yellow fairy circle surrounding the base of the tree in which she had fallen asleep. Silver grey shelf fungi with pale lavender undersides made a spiral staircase around the trunk of the tree, ending level with where her head rested against the trunk. Adara turned her head and saw, picked out by starlight, a delicate female face sculpted from minute, lacy threads. Unsettled, Adara was trying to still her suddenly wildly beating heart when the planet’s voice spoke within her mind.
“Adara? Huntress? This place. You are in. One place. This one place. It makes me … I cannot see, taste, hear, touch, smell…”
The words were less words than a sense of agitation, disorientation, near panic. Adara had felt many emotions from the entity she thought of as Artemis. Curiosity, certainly, puzzlement, often, but panic? What could frighten a world?
“Do you know where I am?”
“You are where if you were not there I would not know it was there. Where I must make mycelium feetholds to stand, else, like water on rocks on shore, I flow around, pass over, perhaps … If you were not there, would I know it is there?”
“What is there?”
“The where you are. The where where killer of many, drinker of blood, is also. Until you went there, I did not know it was there.”
“Wait … How much of the world can you ‘see’?”
How Artemis perceived the world that was herself was something Adara had wondered about for a long time, but she hadn’t been able to figure out a constructive way to ask. Intuition rather than logic had led the huntress to the realization that the thoughts flowing into her dreams were those of the planet upon which she lived, a planetary intelligence that had been put out of commission, along with the rest of Artemis’s peculiar technology, by an attack that heralded the destruction of a great interstellar empire.
But although Adara acknowledged that Artemis existed, she didn’t understand exactly what was entailed in being a planet with a sense of personal identity—with a soul.
A fresh wave of panic was the only reply to Adara’s question. Burying the thought as deeply as she could, lest she frighten Artemis further, Adara considered. How can a planet without a heart or lungs or glands feel afraid? How can it feel fear without a heart to pump wildly, breath to come short, adrenaline to course like fire through the brain? Is fear separate from the sensations of feeling afraid?
The answer came instantly, whether from her own soul or a flicker from Artemis, Adara didn’t know. Artemis has been dead and come to life. How could she not feel afraid that something will make her unalive again? Of course it is possible to feel fear without sensation—and who is to say Artemis does not experience sensations of her own?
Much as she would stalk wary game, the huntress tried to lead Artemis away from her fear. Adara might not have much in the way of what Griffin thought of as education, but she had patience in abundance. “Let’s think back to before you were afraid. Yes?”
Adara sculpted a picture in her mind, retracing steps along a trail, walking to where all was still and tranquil. As she shaped the image, Adara felt a thrumming purr join her words and knew that Sand Shadow had joined them and was helping enforce the image with her own calming presence. Adara’s relationship with Artemis was not a partnership but a tripartite bond. The planet had touched their minds when woman and puma had been practicing to strengthen the nonverbal communication that was crucial to the demiurge relationship. Artemis had slipped into the link, spoken to them both, then bound them together, a three who remained three, but could share as if one.
Once they had walked the path toward tranquility, Adara tried again. “To understand what is different about this place where I am, I need to understand what is the usual for you.”
Sand Shadow sent a visual image, her own idea of contrast: two snakes, very similar at first glance, yet the one deadly poisonous, the other good, if a bit tough, eating. In response to these clarifications, Artemis sent an image of her own, so vast and vivid that Adara found herself gripping the tree limb lest she fall.
What Artemis shaped for them resembled a spider’s web, thin lines joined at points of overlap, sticking one to the other. Initially, the joins were far apart, the junctions separated by such great distances that they were out of sight of each other. Then, more lines filled in, more joins were established. The spider’s web became less tenuous, the original lines stronger, the junctions more frequent, new lines filling the space between. There was still a great deal of emptiness, but the sense of connection was there. Through each wider line, each new bit of mesh, information crashed and trembled, overwhelming the huntress with sheer quantity until Artemis took mercy and damped that particular element.
Then
, suddenly, in the midst of this vast web, a hole appeared. Or rather, two tiny dots of awareness entered the hole, making awareness of the hole manifest to the web. No longer could the web be sure that it was strong and solid. The belief that the web was all-present vied against the undeniable realization of the hole’s existence. Finally, dusty spores erupted forth, swirled through the hole, took tenuous anchor. Sprouted near the dots.
Adara understood. Artemis had been rebuilding her connections throughout the planet that was herself. From the start, Artemis had defined herself as a neural network. The rebuilding of that network was far from complete, but she had believed the process to be methodical and thorough. Only when Adara and Sand Shadow had entered a place in which Artemis had failed to establish connections had Artemis realized such places existed. Somehow, using her link to Adara and Sand Shadow, Artemis had pushed through and made contact.
“No wonder you’re afraid,” Adara said imagining herself caressing, patting, hugging, offering physical comfort. “You’ve just discovered a great big numb spot in your body—and you don’t know what other ‘numb’ areas there might be. Or how large this one might be.”
She rose from her perch, dusted tree bark off her back, then swung lightly to the ground. “That last, at least, we can resolve. Can you continue to ‘see’ me if I move from this place?”
“I will flash/scream/alert/storm if I feel you grow thin.”
Adara nodded. “Good. Sand Shadow and I will walk. You will tell us how strongly you feel us. In this way, we can learn the boundaries of this numb spot, this hole within your web.”
The process was slow, although it sped up once Artemis understood what was wanted from her. After that Adara and Sand Shadow split up. The mental link supplied by Artemis expanded their usual communication range so that, by dawn, Adara had constructed a tidy little map of the surrounding area with special attention to those parts Artemis could not “see” without considerable effort.
The smell of applewood smoked bacon sizzling over the fire drew Adara back to camp. Sand Shadow, yawning hugely enough to show off every one of her teeth, from fangs to molars, joined them soon after.
Artemis Invaded Page 5
