by Gayle Greeno
Rigid with anger, color rushing to her stinging cheek, Evelien spun on her heel to leave, the placid stumbling out of her way. “Don’t worry, Mother, you may not have to.”
Mahafny abruptly sank to the ground, silvered head cushioned on folded wrists. Warily, Doyce crept toward her, testing the amount of play left in her leash. Good, the placid controlling the other end had shifted, moved back from the fire and ceded her a few precious lengths. She reached feather-light, afraid to startle, and laid her hand on Mahafny’s shoulder. She could just reach.
Quivers as regular as waves riding in to shore rolled through the eumedico’s body. When she cringed from the contact and raised her head, no tears marred her cheeks, but her face looked as if it were made of eggshell porcelain, crazed with fine lines, ready to shatter at the faintest touch. Doyce held on hard, willing her touch to quell the shivers that traveled up her own arms like a lightning conductor, absorbing them into herself to dissipate them.
Without conscious thought, Doyce felt herself carried back in time to her last night with the eumedicos, the night she knew she would leave because she had learned the secret, learned it and refused to perpetuate it as a eumedico: eumedicos could not mindspeak their patients, but must always adhere to the mystery. Now the mystery stared her in the face. How she had cried, frantic at the loss through that long bitter night, only Mahafny by her side, holding her, patiently trying to ease the tight-wound mind and body in any way she could, the kisses, the stroking, the furtive loving, knowing it gone forever after that night. And now, in this dark, chill forest, people existed who could do what the eumedicos had claimed, but at what crushing cost to the world?
Mahafny’s words, fluttery as a night moth, brushed her ear. “Beware, be very careful. She’s beyond both of us now, and your Vesey is far beyond her in his powers. I love her still, but Doyce, do whatever you have to do, whatever you must do to stop her. And to stop him.”
“I will, I will,” she promised, as if the litany of words had power to comfort and make it come true.
“So this is what the search for knowledge brings,” Mahafny whispered to herself, and the elegant stalk of her neck bent lower, the tears streaming free at last.
Doyce continued to sit, outstretched hand on Mahafny’s shoulder until her arms ached and grew numb while her mind spun round with thoughts. At last, she pulled her bound hands to her chest, curled up and tried to sleep. What wry comfort to know that any more dreams she might have were courtesy of Vesey and not her own strained imagination.
PART SIX
Nakum trotted to Addawanna’s side, matched his pace to hers, puffing as he strove to keep up. Thumb hooked under the strap, he heaved the sling over his head as his grandmother bent her neck to receive it. With a clucking sound she settled the sling sack against her waist and kept running, Nakum valiantly trailing in her wake. “How feel?” she hissed over her shoulder.
“No make any sounds, inside head or out,” he answered, breathing a little easier now that the burden had been shifted over. “Awake, eyes so big, but no speak.”
“Not khatt, how you be feelin’?”
Lacking breath for more words, he grasped hard at his pouch, the newness of it, the honor of it enough to overwhelm him, making him want to dance, to sing. Earth-born, earth-taster, earth-strength! And as he clutched the sacred pouch, his strength flowed back, not as much as he needed but some, enough to keep him going. “Better,” he allowed. “Harmony take time, time to flow and grow.”
“True. Few be honored so young. Still need grown yourself, no jest strengt from Earth.” She tried to keep her face impassive, not let it beam with the pride she felt, but she knew he could sense it, basked in it as much as he did the honor of the pouch-gifting. “You go, join od‘ers behind for bit, slow-slow guard behind. No shame bein’ young, learnin’ gift. ’Sides, I want mindtalk with dis khatt, see she speak me.”
“I go. Come back la’der, take purr-fur again.” Nakum turned and began a slow jog to the rear of the line, rather than waiting until they caught up with him. Long boyish legs jumped and lashed the air once in joy, then settled into a steady, ground-devouring pace.
Addawanna’s braids swung as she shook her head, watching him run, then she turned her attention to the sling sack. Making a tickling, scratching sound along the bottom, she traced up to the mouth of the sack. A white paw flashed out and tapped her. “You, Pern-khatt, we carry you dis far and you no talk us?”
Pointed ears, one with a gold hoop, the other with a garnet rose stud in the tip, and a pink nose poked out of the sack, sniffed the air in all directions. “You wish me to touch your mind? You won’t sting me?”
The Erakwan woman looked puzzled, gave a nasal sound of disgust. “Why Addawanna hurt? Bring dis far, no leave you wid man who snatches thoughts. Dat be easier dan dis.”
Khar twisted around, tried to look up at the woman’s face. The constant bouncing and jouncing hurt her head, made her back and hips ache. She despised her weakness. “But before, didn’t you see the sparks, see my fur stand on end? When that happens I can’t read you, not when you defend yourself like that.”
Loping at a ground-eating pace, Addawanna thought, clasped at her pouch for concentration.
“Raow! Ooww: Stop!” The ghatta’s eyebrow and muzzle whiskers, the edges of her ears, glowed and pulsated with a sparkle of blue light, crackling and jumping. The light began to radiate down her spine, zigzagging, illuminating the inside of the sack.
Thunderstruck, the Erakwan stopped short, dropping her pouch as she pulled open the sack with both hands, stuck her head inside. “How do dat?” Her face looked suspicious. “No do again! Light gib us away!” She tapped a reproving finger on the ghatta’s nose and jumped at the surge that leaped to meet her. Then she began to laugh with no sound. “I know,” she said, triumphant at her discovery. “You be caught in earth power, earth flow! You like lone, tall tree in meadow when lightning look for place to strike-zap!”
“Well, whatever it is, it hurts!”
“Ya! Good fer you, make khatt strong, no tired, like Erakwan.” The thought seemed to amuse Addawanna as she began to run again, but then her expression sobered. “What we do, what you goan do stop all dis? We no help jest ’cause we like.”
“I don’t know yet. I have to think.” The ghatta struggled in the sack, twisted to a more comfortable—or at least a less uncomfortable position. Carried along like a helpless ghatten! But she didn’t care, would accept any indignity, as long as she remained near to her beloved, and she knew that Doyce rode just ahead, trapped by the dream-man, the dream-man that she had cuffed from Doyce’s dreams because he had no place in some of them, had usurped a place beyond the one he deserved. She rested her chin on the edge of the sack opening, felt the steady jounce as they covered the ground, and began to worry the problem.
She had known with a visceral instinct the moment Vesey had appeared on the scene, known the truth before Doyce had. And had known without knowing how or why that she must escape, must sever herself from Doyce for both their safety. Their survival for the time being lay in separation. Crawling on her belly, stumbling, limping, one hind foot curled and bent so that she walked on the top of her foot, not her paw pad, she had slipped between Erakwa legs while everyone stood frozen, distracted by the coming of the dream-man. Without warning, arms had scooped her up, and she had begun clawing, writhing to escape until she had recognized the scent of Nakum, a fear-scent as desperate as her own.
He dodged, hid, ran, clutching her to his chest, the new, beaded pouch hanging from his neck crushing into her side. “Not find, not find!” His breath came in spurts, heart pounding as he kept chanting under his breath, “Not find, not here! Not here, not find!” She felt marginally safe, the crooning setting up a fragile protective film around them, shadowing them to near-invisibility, though she could feel the impulses snapping, crackling, radiating out from the pouch he wore and knew she dared not try to ’speak him, no matter how friendly he felt. They had hidden in a
dense windblow until Addawanna had found them. Now they ran with the group that escorted the dream-man and Doyce and the others, cautious word going up and down the lines to be ready, be alert, that perhaps now they could break Vesey’s hold on them.
Thinking came hard, trying to overcome the rhythmic swaying of the cocooning pouch, the desire to close her eyes and sleep. But she had pieced it all together at last, shamed by her gullibility, her innocence in assuming that she could sense, could know the truth. Her Bondmate had not lied to herself, but had been lied to by Vesey’s crafty recentering of each dream around himself. Oh, he had been circumspect after that one dream where he did not belong, took only true dreams and tainted and twisted them, loosening doubts and fears. But she had found his bolt hole now and would watch and wait. One thing more she must do, must attempt, before she rejoined Doyce for better or for worse, for life or for death. Whether it would work or not, she had no idea, but she would try. “I will contact the Elders!” she mindspoke the words to Addawanna.
The Erakwan woman chuckled. “Ah, good, you done t‘inking? Be long time but Addawanna know you t’ink of somet‘ing. Be sure, but not so sure when! Who be Ed’ers?”
“Ancient ones, both living and dead, the wisest of the wise. Ancestors of ancestors, who forget nothing of our memories, our history, that which makes us ghatti.” She hooked her claws into the sack opening, pulled herself out further. “We have to stop, please. I can’t do it if we keep bouncing.”
“Mm, mm, umph,” Addawanna sounded reluctant. “No good stop, best move like breeze, always stirring, never seen.”
“Please,” the ghatta begged, pressed her forehead against Addawanna’s arm in a friendship touch.
Decreasing her pace, Addawanna moved out of the line of her brethren who ran with her, waving them on. They ran without looking back. Addawanna swung the sling sack to the ground and Khar crawled out, wobbly and dizzy with the sudden solidity beneath her feet. The ghatta gave a long, shuddering sigh.
Addawanna stroked her head, down the striped sides. “Be hard reach des Ed‘ers?” She cocked her head for an answer, keeping her hands well away from her pouch. “Dey a’ways lis‘en for you? What if od’er one hear you cry for help? What den?”
“They always listen, but they don’t always answer.” Khar acknowledged, licked down her flank rather than look the Erakwan woman in the eye. She gave a minute twitch and shrug, resettled the fur along her spine, spiked out of place by the friction from the sack. “As to what happens if the dream-man hears me ...” she left the thought unfinished.
“Den Addawanna gib him somet‘ing else to notice, if he notice at all.” She sat cross-legged, her back to Khar, and continued talking over her shoulder. “Dis pouch, it strong, not strong as he bein’ strong, but can distract, hide a bit. I sit here like so, hold pouch tight, like shield, you t’ink hard to Ed‘ers. Bed’er all round, you t’ink fast, Pern-khatt!”
The name touched the ghatta, made her realize her responsibility not only to Doyce and to the ghatti, but to this woman as well, a woman from a race mindblank to the ghatti until now, but now offering a heartfelt alliance that endangered her as much as them. “Ready!” she sang out and sensed a sheeting of pale blue light rising up, shielding her as Addawanna clutched the pouch with both hands, concentrating on drawing the earth-flow up and out through her until Khar feared she glowed like a beacon. No time to worry about that, not now.
She let her mind soar up, up, struggling until she felt her mindthought catch the updraft of power as a hawk turns effortless circles in a rising thermal current of air. Yes! Into the power, climbing the first spiral. “I will sing for you, Elders,” she chanted. “Sing the mindsong loud and dear without missing a note, make the mindpattern complete and whole—with or without your aid! I come here not to beg, not to ask your aid unless you freely choose to give it, and then I will accept it as my due—for I am ghatti and now I see the Truth!
“Yes, I allowed it to hide from me before, thought that the Truth only resided within when it lurked without, menacing. Truth is all around us and within us; I was blind before, but I am not now! I do not know if I contain the wisdom to destroy the dream-man, the one who would destroy minds, would destroy Truth, but I will try! I will sing for you of Truth and of the love I bear for my Bond, so listen, oh Elders, listen!” And the ghatta sang the pattern brave and true, as she spiraled upward and upward, not drawing breath until she finished.
“When Truth is ...found... found...found...” came the echoes back at her. No mockery in the echoes, just whispers, whispers of the past. No answers, no promise of aid.
The ghatta Khar’pem sat up straight, ears twitching, twisting to catch any possible word. Then she gave a grim little ghatti smile. “Very well, then. I have sought and I have found only myself to depend on. It may not suffice, but I will not know until I try. And you cannot stop me from trying.” With slow unconcern, she spun herself back down the spirals, took pleasure in each sweeping glide of Truth revealed, hugged it to her tight, returned to the present, saw the blue glistening around Addawanna falter and fade.
“I have communed with the Elders, Addawanna, and I thank you for your help.” The prickling didn’t seem as fierce to her this time, perhaps she was becoming accustomed to it.
The Erakwan woman slumped, let the pouch drop into her lap while she wiped sweat from her face. “Dey answer? Dey help?” she asked, the metallic glow of her coppery skin dulled and lifeless.
The ghatta considered her response. “Yes, they answered.” And so they had, telling her that only she could save Doyce. “You are tired.” Her heart ached for the strength the Erakwan woman had so willingly given to protect her. How could they continue on now? And the selfishness of the thought shamed her, but Doyce was her overriding concern.
Addawanna rose on unsteady feet, shook the sling sack on the ground to reveal the opening. “No be too bad. Strengt’ come back fast. Use pouch for ou‘ward power to guard, no strengt’ for me. Use pouch way sup’ozed be, Addawanna fine.” She managed a faint, tired smile. “Jes’ no talk Pern-khatt while hold pouch now—den you know prickle like neb’er know afore!” She shook the opening of the sack. “In, in, quick now!” Khar dove into the sack and turned herself around, popped her head back out the opening.
Pounding along on moccasined feet, Nakum caught up with them. “Smell power in air,” he chided. “Hope od’ers,” he gestured toward the trail, “not sense. I carry purr-fur for while, let you rest. You take Nakum place behind, I run ahead.” And with a heave and a jounce he swung the sling sack into place and was off, running, overtaking others of the rearguard in his path. The ghatta began to consider her strategy.
The tugging at waist and wrists awoke her, insistent as a fisherman reeling in his line. She fought to throw the hook, ready to dive into the safety of sleep, into rushing waters of escape, but was inexorably reeled to the surface again.
“Good morning,” her placid made the words a beamish singsong. “Get up now. We’re going home.”
Grabbing the end of her tether, Doyce hauled herself to her feet. “We’re not going anywhere until I’ve relieved myself. Nature does call.”
“Oh.” He stood, mouth half-open in thought, head lolling on the thick neck. “But we have to go. Now! Come on!” He tugged her along toward the horses, not looking to see if she followed.
Doyce skipped ahead a few steps to gain some slack, got a handhold, then stopped short, heels dug into the ground. The rope snapped taut, and her captor halted in dismay and gave a hesitant tug, for all the world like a child discovering his pull toy snagged in the rug. Soon a harder tug would follow, and she braced herself. “No! That isn’t nice. He won’t like it, he’ll be mad, and then I’ll be in trouble! It hurts, hurts!” His voice wailed upward with the last few words.
“Towbin,” she called, “come do something about this!” She strained to maintain her balance in the tug of war, felt a foot slip treacherously. As soon as the placid realized that all he had to do was exert hi
s full weight she’d be finished. Harrap and Jenret watched, still linked to their log while one of their captors worked a small pry bar to lever out the spike holding their chain in place. Jenret’s attentive face and quirked eyebrows told her how much he was relishing the scene she’d created.
Towbin strode over, the eternal burden of second-in-command written on his face, duty sparring with common sense. Vesey waited at the far end of the clearing, mounted and ready to ride, Cloud frolicking around his horse’s hooves.
“What is it? We’ve a long way to go before we reach the Hospice, and the weather doesn’t look promising.” He paused and jerked his head in Vesey’s direction, whispered, “And he’s more than ready to leave. Don’t thwart him or we’ll all pay for it.”
Pity, anger, exasperation left her waspish. “Well, we can all be on our way ‘home’ as your friend so nicely puts it, if you’d be kind enough to provide us females some scant privacy and a chance to relieve ourselves. I assume even the wondrous Evelien needs to do that on occasion?”
Towbin smiled in sudden comprehension. “Not used to having women with us. And the Honorable Evelien returned to the Hospice last night. Sorry, but make it quick.”
First Mahafny, drawn and silent, then Doyce, did so, and Doyce thought of the same scene the previous morning when they’d been held by the Erakwa. Captivity, regardless of the captors, promised a level of indignities she hadn’t even begun to imagine. It made her wonder if the Erakwa still served as lookouts, out-runners for this last leg of their journey? Somehow she didn’t think their service willing, not from their reaction to her group and their fear of Vesey. But then, Vesey had power—literally—to command, and the Erakwa had been forced to learn that lesson somewhere along the way.
