Running from the Deity

by Alan Dean Foster

  Noble Kechralnan twisted her body to the right, her attire ballooning stylishly around her as she gazed moodily down at the turgid green water. “It all sounded like so much talk. Bereft of ideas and philosophy, not to mention intelligence, the Highborn Pyrrpallinda resorts to unimaginative innuendo in a transparent attempt to frighten us into making concessions at the next round of trade and territory talks.” She wheezed contemptuously. “How typical.”

  Across from the youngest member of the Kewwyd, Noble Essmyn Hurrahyrad rested his narrow backbone against the railing that fronted the prow of the shuddering boat. “Yes,” he murmured, “except we now know from the latest reports supplied by our agents in that benighted and misruled land that it is not innuendo. The rumors are true. Incredible as it seems, an alien from the sky, from another world, has made its home in Wullsakaa.”

  “We do not know that is true.” Though she often disagreed with them, like each of her colleagues Noble Peryoladam had been equally unsettled to learn that the ridiculous rumors that had ridden rampant throughout the territory for some time now were in fact grounded in reality. “We know only that the alien has set down among the Wullsakaa and is living among them.” The skin flaps on her exposed face and arms flexed meaningfully. “That is very different from making its home there.”

  “We positively must determine the truth or falsity of that. Even more than the reality of its existence, the degree and depth of its involvement with the Highborn and his ilk must be ascertained with accuracy.” Hurrahyrad was deeply troubled. “Where this astounding creature is concerned we must also try to separate fact from lie.” He eyed his colleagues. “For example, it is said that it can leap all but the tallest fences and outrun even a mounted soldier.”

  Peryoladam was not too deep in thought to respond. “It seems incredible. If this being’s existence had not been confirmed by multiple, trusted sources, I would dismiss it as an invention of the Highborn conceived solely to worry us. Yet the same reports that speak of this creature’s physical abilities also say that it is no taller than the average Dwarra.”

  “No taller, but much broader.” As she addressed the urgent matter under discussion, Kechralnan made time to drink in the beauty of the river. “I confess I am curious to see it for myself.”

  Hurrahyrad wheezed dissent. “If the Wullsakaans have managed to bind the visitor to them as tightly as some would like us to believe, you might not find such a meeting felicitous.”

  “Phuzad,” she snapped. “It is in the Wullsakaans’ interest to have everyone believe the stories they spread. I am not intimidated by any alien, no matter how strong or agile it may be. I venture to say it is not fast enough to outrun a barbolt fired by a skilled sharpshooter.” Her mouth contracted in a rictus of a smile. “Although if the accounts are true, it would be able to use its abilities and its devices to quickly heal anything short of a mortal wound.”

  Hurrahyrad was displeased by his colleague’s cavalier attitude. “You are not pondering deeply enough, Noble Kechralnan. Think: if this being possesses devices that can heal the sick more rapidly than can our best physicians, and a vehicle capable of carrying it between the worlds around stars, might it follow that it also has at its disposal the means of protecting itself? Even from sharpshooting barbolters?”

  She refused to concede. “The reports say that despite wild stories propagated by the Wullsakaan government, the alien’s sole claim to defense has thus far taken only the form of cautionary words and a small flying thing that never strays far from its side. If the creature has other means of protecting itself, it has not chosen to demonstrate them.”

  Though apparently engrossed in watching syl-lynn spin their multiple legs across the surface of the river, relying on surface tension to keep them from sinking, Peryoladam had missed nothing of the conversation between her two colleagues.

  “Maybe it doesn’t need to,” she suggested softly. “Such continued reticence implies appalling stupidity—or supreme confidence.” She turned away from the semi-transparent ballet playing out atop the water. “I leave it to each of you to decide which is the more likely.”

  The elder’s analysis did not sit well with her companions. It raised all manner of unpleasant possibilities. Still, unpleasant or not, the escalating crisis had to be dealt with.

  “We know nothing of the alien’s craft,” a grim Hurrahyrad pointed out. “Rumor says that it is bigger than the fortress at Metrel. That is hard to believe—especially since no one except some rustic provincial has claimed to have actually set eyes upon it. If it mounts weapons—something like an oversized barbolt, for example—their number and nature remain unknown.” He eyed each of his colleagues in turn. “I think that to be safe we should proceed on the understanding that the creature can possibly call on something for defense that is more effective than an equally alien flying pet. That does not mean it is all-powerful. Invincible beings, gods from the sky, do not carry with them elaborate devices for repairing injuries. Therefore I think it is reasonable to assume that it can be killed.”

  “Before we enter into talk of killing,” Kechralnan mused aloud, “we must resolve the problem you posed earlier, Noble Hurrahyrad. Has the alien bound itself to the needs and aims of Wullsakaa? Personally, I don’t understand why it would. Why should a visitor from another world, a representative of another species, wish to involve itself one way or the other in the problems and disagreements of people who are not of its own kind?”

  Peryoladam gestured with all four hands, the gripping flanges opening and closing in unison. “My feeling also. Invulnerable or not, superintelligent or not, why should it care about the needs of Wullsakaa? Or for that matter those of Jebilisk, or Pakktrine Unified?”

  “I don’t know,” Hurrahyrad admitted as he moved toward the broad prow of his territory’s flagship. Emerging from two pipes in the stern, the smoke from the fires that drove the ship’s multiplicity of small paddle wheels was kept clear of the Kewwyd’s conversation. “But I do know that we ignore the possibility at our peril. Our country folk, those who chose us to be their Kewwyd, will not soon forgive us if we act ineffectively, or too late.” He eyed Peryoladam intently.

  “Can we take the chance that this alien intends us no harm, and cannot be swayed to their will by the clever Wullsakaans? Dare we risk ignoring the increasing volume of stories emanating from that benighted place and the increasingly belligerent declarations of the Wullsakaans, on the assumption that whatever they intend, this alien and its manifestly superior technology will not be employed on their behalf?” When neither of his colleagues responded, he continued.

  “We cannot sit idly by. We must take steps. It is the proactive who survive catastrophes. The best way to prevent a disaster is to anticipate it and stop it before it can eventuate.”

  A reflective Kechralnan glanced at her senior. Peryoladam’s round eyes said all that the younger representative needed to know. She turned back to the third member of the Kewwyd. “What would you suggest, Noble Hurrahyrad?”

  Though he inhaled deeply, his sallow, bony chest expanded only slightly. “We cannot take chances. If we wait for the Highborn to further cement his relationship with this creature, there is no telling what might happen. There is no knowing what it is capable of doing. Thus far, it has restricted its activities to healing the sick. We cannot imagine what it might do if swayed by the lies of the Highborn and his court. By moving now, swiftly and decisively, we may hope to prevent such things from ever taking place.”

  Kechralnan was not convinced. “By taking action, we might also spur this alien to react accordingly.”

  Her colleague did not back down. “Would you prefer to wait until the pestilential Highborn Pyrrpallinda has convinced it to act on Wullsakaa’s behalf? In moving now we may not only prevent that, but catch this being off its guard.” His voice lowered, and all four forearms were gesturing meaningfully. “By all accounts, it is carrying out its healing activities away from the vessel that brought it here. If we move quickly, s
tealthily, we have the chance to cut it off from its ship. No matter how strong it may be physically, no matter how advanced its technology, it will then be isolated from any support, reliant entirely on what few devices it carries on its person.” He straightened to his full height and extended every skin flap to the maximum, acquiring a look that was almost feathery.

  “At the same time, we will deal once and for all with the Wullsakaans, and teach them a lesson they will not soon forget.”

  Peryoladam was gesturing with both Sensitives. “All admirable goals, Noble Hurrahyrad. The alien is, of course, an unknown quantity. Wullsakaa and the strengths and weaknesses of its perverted leadership are more familiar to us. The question is: can it be done?”

  “By its very nature, the operation against the alien demands a small force, comprised of the best Pakktrine’s military can provide. A parallel assault on Wullsakaa will be expensive and dangerous, but familiar. I believe we have no choice but to try.” Advancing, he extended his Sensitives.

  The Kewwyd was emotionally locked together when a small boat, with its ranks of oars designed to be worked by four hands instead of two, requested and received permission to draw up alongside. The triumvirate disentangled their Sensitives to greet the singular visitor. His arrival turned out to be as welcome as it was unexpected.

  “I, Tywiln of the Red Sands, extend greetings to my brothers and sisters of Pakktrine Unified from the Aceribb of Jebilisk.” The conical, traditional attire the visitor wore was embroidered with thread and beads of brilliant hue whose sheen matched the slickness of the envoy’s voice.

  While the ferocious but well-behaved fighters who had accompanied Tywiln assumed tense squats and settled themselves restively onto the deck of the boat, equally well-armed sailors stood watch nearby. The necessary additional formalities were exchanged, whereupon Noble Peryoladam inquired as to their visitor’s purpose.

  The representative of the Aceribb then proceeded to very conveniently alleviate one of the Kewwyd’s greatest qualms regarding Noble Hurrahyrad’s proposal.

  “We of Jebilisk find ourselves facing an unprecedented problem. Most uncharacteristically, the Aceribb and his council are uncertain how best to deal with it. We know that our government and that of Pakktrine Unified have had their differences in the past, but the situation that brings me here and to this meeting is of such momentousness that it brushes aside all other concerns. Old enmities must be forgotten in order that new troubles be effectively dealt with.” Letting the upper opening of his garment slip lower around his slim shoulders, Tywiln of the Red Sands lowered his voice conspiratorially.

  “Believe it or not, we have confirmed stories that an alien god presently walks and works among the Wullsakaans! We are fearful of what this implies for the relationship between our sometimes hostile peoples, and wonder at what steps can be taken to ensure that the present political, military, and social balance is not upset. The Aceribb realizes this is an outlandish assertion to make, and so I have been instructed to bring with me and to present openly to you as much proof as we have been able to obtain.”

  The three members of the Kewwyd of Pakktrine Unified looked at one another and said nothing. Betraying no reaction, Kechralnan leaned slightly toward the envoy and fluttered her Sensitives.

  “Perhaps we do not regard your claim as quite so outlandish as you may think. Tell us more of your reason for coming here, Tywiln of the Red Sands. Tell us what you know of this extraordinary phenomenon, and don’t spare the details.”

  CHAPTER

  10

  “I think we should tell him.”

  Storra looked over at her mate from where she was supervising the preparation of the evening meal. Two younger females and one male bustled about, hurrying to comply with her commands. For their efforts they received no recompense: only a vague promise by their new masters to try to intercede with the Visitant on their behalf. They would be gone, dispersed among the milling crowds now camped all around the homestead, before Flinx arrived to eat. It would not do, Storra knew, for their guest to see her servants hard at work. His interminable curiosity where matters Dwarra were concerned might inspire him to ask awkward questions of the unpaid help.

  So the three hopefuls, each of whom had an ailing relative waiting out in the expanding camp, worked faster. Despite never having aspired to anything so semi-grand, Storra found that she had adapted to power quite easily.

  Effortlessly, she entwined Sensitives with her husband. Right away she recognized that he was upset. Coupled with what he had just suggested, it was clear that his resolve was weakening. He was a good mate, was Ebbanai, but too principled for his own good. Not to mention hers.

  “Dear mate-mine, what troubles you to feel so strongly?” One set of flanges served to grip his left shoulder reassuringly while the other three continued to gesture emphatically at the workers.

  Round eyes of pale violet stared back into hers. “Everything.” The net-caster gestured at their surroundings. “How we are exploiting his caring nature. How we are making obscene amounts of money from what he believes to be deeds of pure charity. How the whispers about his true nature are spreading, and being spread, by those who seek to raise him up and portray him as more than what he actually is.”

  She indicated her understanding, but pulled back from contact with his Sensitives. “First, mine-mate, we are not exploiting his caring nature. No one is forcing him to heal the sick. That more and more seek him out is not our doing. We do not advertise. Should he wish to stop what he is doing, no one could complain. Debate gently, perhaps, but not complain. He would not continue with his efforts if he was not deriving some kind of pleasure from the results. That is not exploitation.

  “Second,” she added briskly as he showed signs of wanting to be elsewhere, “I see no reason why the terms for ‘obscene’ and ‘money’ need appear in the same comment. We feed him, we shelter him and his sloe-eyed pet, and it is not wrong that we should be reimbursed for our efforts.”

  Ebbanai turned his gaze away from hers and lowered his voice. “We have already been reimbursed to a degree that you could buy a small castle, and I my own ship and crew.”

  “Just so,” she agreed, gesturing boldly with all four forearms, her skin flaps quivering. “As for myself, I happen not to think that a bad thing. Lastly, as for those who persist in trying to elevate Flinx into some private pantheon of their own, who are we to challenge their individual beliefs? What right have we?” She indicated their surroundings. “We still live in the same homestead as your ancestors. Yes, we have profited from our fortunate meeting with the alien Flinx. But only monetarily. Others who suffer from truly serious sicknesses have gained far more from their encounters with him than we have. Those are encounters that we have encouraged, and facilitated.” She straightened as much as her physique would permit. “Myself, I am proud of what we have done; yes, proud!”

  His partner had such a way with words, Ebbanai thought to himself. More than once, he had thought she’d mated below herself. She could have been a village organizer, or maybe even a tertiary counselor to the Highborn’s court. Still, his feelings toward her were so often mixed.

  As they were toward the alien, who arrived unexpectedly in the cooking area. The three servants eyed him with a mixture of awe and terror.

  Flinx sensed those feelings immediately, of course. They only confirmed what he had recently learned. Expression grim, he indicated the trio as he spoke to his host. The flying creature riding in its familiar position on his shoulder appeared unusually agitated.

  “Ebbanai, Storra—we need to have a talk.”

  “Of course.” Moving to one side, Ebbanai indicated the storage locker that had been modified with the addition of a wooden back to serve as a “seating” platform for the unnaturally flexible alien. As Flinx moved to take a seat, Storra swiftly and quietly dismissed the three kitchen helpers.

  “Is there a problem, friend Flinx?” Storra took up a stance directly in front of their guest, not coincident
ally blocking his view of the retreating servants.

  It didn’t matter. As it developed, Ebbanai did not have to agonize over whether or not to inform the alien of the procedures that had little by little been put in place behind his back. He already knew of them.

  “Ebbanai,” Flinx began sternly, “what’s this I’m hearing about you charging the sick and the ill admission just to get onto your land, and a further fee to see me?”

  Ebbanai swallowed hard, a visual expression of how he was feeling made all the more visible by the nature and design of his thin, stiff neck. “Friend Flinx, many of those who come seeking your help have spent all they possess in order to make the journey. They need feeding, and shelter.” A pair of hands gestured in Storra’s direction. “You know that my mate and I are poor people. Some way of paying for these needs had to be found.”

  Flinx was not so easily satisfied—or deceived. “I’m told that your income considerably exceeds what you’re putting out on behalf of those who come to see me.” As he leaned toward his host, there was a glint in the inflexible alien eyes Ebbanai had never seen there before. On Flinx’s shoulder, Pip’s head was swaying hypnotically from side to side. Ebbanai decided he liked the look in the flying snake’s eyes even less than that in those of her master.

  “You and Storra are making a profit off what I’m doing here. I’m engaged in what I’m doing to help the sick—not to make money off them.”

  Storra stepped forward hurriedly. “Surely, friend Flinx, you wouldn’t forswear a little money to those who took you in and have devoted all their time ever since to helping you with your good works? Is there no wealth where you come from, in this Commonwealth of yours?”