by Jo Clayton
The lumbering flit was a beast to fly, with all the responsiveness and airworthiness of a mud turtle, but she wrestled it a bodylength above the fronds and brought it to a precarious hover. Over her shoulder she said, "Where now?"
"You see the compass?"
"Of course. So?"
"It's corrected for these latitudes and true north, so you don't need a deviation chart. Do exactly as one tells you. Put the nose on and proceed along that line until one tells you to turn again." A lot more than I need to know, you makbee minkha. Deviation is your problem, no sweat for me. lust give me the line. Why southwest? Kikun said we should head east. The coast is that way. I don't want to go away from the coast, we need to get to that city, what'd Ginny call it? Ah. Aina'iril. Someone's going to have to do something about this idiot. Someone… I suppose that'll turn out to be me. Ya-yah, that crease burns. Got to get a bandage on it when I have a minute. I'm leaking like a dripping faucet.. blub blub. Gods, who knows what filth is getting into my blood!
Shadith brought the flit around, flew for a few minutes longer on manual, listening to the laboring of the drives. "This thing sounds sicker than before. You think those d'dabs might've hit something?"
The Fanatic settled his gun on the armrest. "It flies, forget the rest." There was a throaty purr in his voice; he wasn't trusting her an antiquated inch, but she thought she could feel him developing a kind of proprietary fondness for her.
"Hmp." She waggled the lever, clicked her tongue as the otto:P refused to engage. She repeated the shift several times, feeling about for the catch. It finally kicked in with a lurch and a shriek that made her wince. "That's the question, friend. How long it's going to keep flying."
"One will deal with that when one can't avoid it any longer."
She shrugged, winced. "You're pulling the strings right now. Tell you this, if I think it's about to blow, I'm not going to ask permission to land, I'm going down. I have no desire to end up splattered across a mountainside."
He clicked his tongue, but said nothing.
She touched the crease, looked at her fingers. Blood. Lots of it. The drip wasn't slowing down any. Looks like I'm still getting the backside of Ginny's Luck
Hand clasped about her arm, she swung the chair around. "Those our pouches back there by your feet?"
"'Why?"
"There's a first aid kit in mine, I'd like to get a bandage on my arm before I bleed to death. Also some antiseptic, that bunch back there didn't impress me as any too clean."
He thought about that a minute. "I see. All right, come back slowly and show one everything you touch."
She grimaced, stood up, swaying a little as reaction hit her. Why, why do I keep running into these damn double-knotters!
He sat brooding as Rohant cleaned the wound for her and sprayed a bandage on it. "Why are you here, the three of you?" he said suddenly.
She looked up. "What?"
"Why did you come here?"
"We didn't. No no, it's the truth. We were thrown here, only thing we want to do is get the hell out. Help us do it and you don't have to worry about us being used."
"Who brought you here?"
"I don't know. How should I know when I don't even know why it happened, all I know is someone snatched me and dumped me here. I never saw him, I don't know who or why." She waggled a hand at Rohant patient and silent beside her, at Kikun cross-legged on the floor. "If you want to know about them, ask them. I never saw them before we woke up in that tree."
Rohant had left off smelling angry, he was amused now, probably by the fluency of her lies. Ahlahlah, the things that come out my mouth. I'm going to have no character left at all when this is over, I won't even know what the truth is. Oh, well, needs must where the Devil drives. Where'd that come from? Something I picked up from Lee? Sounds like the kind of thing phony rustics are wont to spout to each other in bad triddas.
"I see." He says that all the time. I think it means he hasn't a clue what's happening. Talking about clues, what's all this business about one this and one that? I can't figure the rule and there's nothing about it in the imprint. Local variation? Hah! Shadow old girl, you're, cracking up. This is no time for fussing over pronouns.
"When one tells you, change course, put the nose on 52."
"That's almost switching ends, going right back where we come from."
"Not really. We've avoided a place it's dangerous to fly over, a protected area. Kanaweh won't bother with who we are, they don't know us so we'd be ash and bone before they thought to ask questions. Much better to circle round."
"Oh. Northeast it is. I hope you know what you're doing."
"One has survived forty years of this. I know. Turn… now."
The flit whined on through the night, the drives hiccuping and beating, jolting them up and down though the air was smoother as they left the storm behind, the winds fell and the sky cleared.
At the end of the first hour, he called out a new course, sending the flit directly east. At the same time he made her drop it down until it was barely four meters off the ground. The three moons were all set by now and the stars were thin in this region, with few first magnitudes visible, but they gave enough light in the clear sky to make that skimming flight possible without having to turn on the baselights, which she was happy enough to do without, infected by the tense wariness she felt in the man.
Staying this low, with obstacles continually popping up, she had to keep corn herself; she didn't trust the otto:P. It was hard. Her stomach cramped with hunger, she hadn't had anything,to eat for she didn't know how long, her arm was aching like a sore tooth, even her hair felt tired. They'd moved into a heavily developed area so the strain never lessened, she circled past factories with their attendant villages, farms being triple-cropped with barracks full of laborers, villages snuggling against the walls of the Ispisacos (the Bighouses of the Plicik landlords), other villages that were huddles of small houses set up at crossroads and on the banks of the three rivers that the flit crossed and recrossed as it labored eastward, its course like the trail of a snake with indigestion; in addition to the detours forced on her by the topography, the Fanatic was calling out a change of direction every ten minutes or so, working from landmarks and some system he pulled from memory.
Kikun whistled, a short sharp sound.
Startled, Shadith snatched time to look over her shoulder. "What?"
"Get us down fast as you can. Or Boom! we're ash."
"Right." She glanced ahead, frowned at the broad river curving back across their course, the village tucked into the bend. There were lights coming on in the windows of the small houses though the Ispisaco was still dark except for the servant warrens up under the slates. There were tangled brakes down near the water and scattered groves on the banks; a narrow, rutted, dirt road ran along the top of the high solid levee on the left side of the river; it was deserted now, but it looked like it might be heavily traveled during the day. Patches of fog hugged the ground and drifted above the water, complicaring her search for a place to put down where they could stay undercover if they had to. She wiped at the sweat trickling into her eyes. "Ro, you can see better than I, can, pick a spot." The flit lurched, the drivewhine peaked, went silent for a second, then picked up again. "Listen to that! Hurry, man."
"I'm ahead of you, csecse, spotted one already. Turn south, we want to get away from the village, there's a broke down wharf, couple warehouses, some shacks. Right. Straight ahead… go on… on… now! Down."
When the flit was finally grounded, she breathed a quick sigh of relief, collapsed the canopy and lowered the powerfeed to a trickle, not quite daring to shut it off completely because that might be enough to trigger an explosion. She swung round. "Well?"
The Fanatic switched on the flare, twisted its beam to a thread of light that played on Rohant's face. "Hunter, your companion, how accurate are his instincts?"
"Why ask me?"
A dry chuckle. "One has the feeling your answer might be more reliable.
"
"Got a point there, Kikun runs on his own rules. From what my son tells me, if his life's on, the line, he's pretty damn accurate."
"I see. Over the side, Hunter. Take your creatures with you." He smiled, a weary grimace warm with unexpected charm. "If you decide to vanish, there's not all that much one could do to stop you. But then one would have to break the set. One would have to kill one or more of your companions. One would rather not do that."
When Rohant, his hawk and the cats were overside, he turned to Kikun. "Now you."
Kikun set his hand on the rail, gave him a look like a lepidopterist inspecting a substandard moth, swung over, and went to stand beside the Ciocan.
"Singer, collect your belongings and anything else that's loose, whatever you think might be useful, and pass it out to your friends."
When she'd finished that, he sighed. "Now, child. Come here. We'll go overside together."
"No." Shadith scrubbed a hand across her face; she was so tired her brain was on strike but what she had to say didn't need all that much celebration. "Listen, I'm not playing games. This isn't about getting away from you." He looked skeptical; it was logical enough, he had a gun on her, how could he believe anything she said? Never thought I'd miss Ginny the crud. He might not have a clue about people, but he jumps fast and accurate where his skin's involved.
"I like lice, by which I mean your secret police who as per usual are not so secret-I like them about much as you do, I suspect," she said. "I don't want them on my neck when I've got no chance to run. And we will have them on our necks unless we get rid of this flit. It's a beacon saying here we are come get us. Besides, I want it to be somewhere else when it blows."
"I see. What've you got in mind?"
"I take the flit up, set the otto:P, ditch myself in the river, and swim out. You could help by giving me a course so it'll do least damage to your people." She brought her arm round in a sweep to take in Rohant, Kikun, herself. "And one that will maximize our chances of surviving."
He got to his feet. "Back along the river. Set the otto:P at 250. About twenty iskals inland there's a Royal Enclosure, the Iskota Estate; if it gets that far without exploding, it'll be shot down, which means the search should be concentrated there, it's an obvious target for an attack by what they call terrorists. The kanaweh, if you didn't know, those are the Nistam's security police, your lice, they'll be out like ants (one's contribution to the field of insectile simile) swarming round the estate. With a little luck, we'll be beyond the bounds. One must concede it, Singer, this is a good idea." He glanced at the sky. "There's less than an hour till dawn. You'd better get started."
She sweated out the lift, got the otto:P engaged more by will than skill, slapped the go button, and went over the side.
It took her forever to hit the water, when she did she wished she hadn't, it felt like her ankles broke, she went in and down, her arm hurt, she'd forgotten the wound, she couldn't get any pull with that arm, the current seized hold of her, rolled her over and over until she didn't know up from down…
A blinding light…
She struggled, toward it…
Her head broke surface, she gulped in air and water, began fighting toward the light. She knew what it was now. The Fanatic's flare.
"Shadow."
Rohant. His arm came under her. He was on his back, kicking powerfully. She collapsed against him, let him tow her.
The current sucked at them, it wouldn't let go, they were being swept down and down… a shout… Kikun. Something hard and rough slapped against her, started pulling along her body. Rope. She felt Rohant's body convulse and drop away from her. He still gripped her tightly, he was dragging her across the current now, water was in her eyes, her mouth, she didn't know what was happening until he managed to find footing and start walking out, carrying her.
Chapter 10. Myth before breakfast
With chill dawn drafts eddying around her like scalpels probing the places where they'd hurt the most despite the dry clothes and the blanket she'd pulled around her, Shadith sat shuddering with depression and fatigue in the corner of the shack; she hated her feebleness, she felt like some fainting miss falling out at hide 'n seek, but she just couldn't go any more. Much of the time she stared at the dead smelling dirt of the shack floor, dirt she could barely see, and wallowed in uselessness, but when she was at her most morose, she flagellated herself by watching Rohant, Kikun, and the Fanatic (that epithet didn't fit any longer, but she had no other label for him) bustling about, collecting wood for a fire and castoff tree fronds to drape across the rafters and stuff into wall cracks so fliers passing along the river wouldn't spot light leaking through the rotted out places in the roof and walls. The Fanatic had put his gun away somewhere inside his clothes, as if he were embarrassed by it, and was toting fronds into the shack with an amiable determination that amazed her; it would have amused her if she'd had any humor left in her.
They finished with the fronds and went out, pulling the ragged door shut after them, leaving her in there with the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls and a young fire in the far corner that flickered and threatened to go out but never did. She watched the feeble, uncertain flames shiver in the drafts and thought if fires could feel, that one had to feel about like her.
Left behind with her, Sassa perched in the rafters, waiting for Rohant's permission to hunt while the hungry, fractious cats stalked about the shack like shadows snatched from the fire.
Rohant brought in an armload of boards torn off the other shacks, knelt beside the fire, breaking them over his knees and coughing, stopping now and then to wipe his nose; coming into the river after her had finished off his immunities, looked like he was in for a long hard cold. She ground her teeth and wallowed in guilt.
Kikun came in with his arms full of fat tubers. He used a knife, a hefty baynet that he'd acquired from somewhere, not one of hers, to loosen the dirt, then he scraped out a hole with a piece of board until it was big enough to hold the tubers. He covered them over, built a smaller fire on top of them and went trotting out again, resilient as a length of gray-green rubber. Water, weariness, hunger, cold, they rolled off his back and left him untouched. It was more than depressing, it was disgusting.
The Fanatic brought in a dripping can of river water, left it by Rohant, then went to squat in the other corner on Shadith's end of the shack, looking from her to the Dyslaeror with a bemused, faintly amused expression on his square face. His forearms rested on his knees, his hands hung empty before them; he seemed tired but content.
"You asked me why we're here," she said, driven by an impulse born out of a growing distaste for her own mentations. "I think you know more about that than we do."
Rohant sneezed, grumped under his breath as he got to his feet; he called Sassa, held the door open for him, whistled to the cats, and went out with them prowling at his heels.
The Fanatic rose, stretched, then went to the door and stood looking at the sky. "I wonder if it's blown yet."
"The flit? I don't know. You said twenty iskals. You know interlingue. How long's an iskal?"
"Little over a kilometer. Say one and a half."
"Thirty kilometers." She flattened her hand on her leg, scowled at the ringchron. "And more than an hour since I went in the river. Even if it wasn't shot down, it shouldn't 'ye lasted this long."
"Odd we didn't see anything."
"I didn't know, maybe it hit ground first." She yawned, rubbed at her forehead. "Maybe it missed the Estate altogether and it's still going. Whatever, it's not something we have to worry about any more. Talking about worry, why are a clutch of outsiders so important you'd kill them before letting them out of your hands?"
He didn't say anything for several minutes, then he sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. Still saying nothing he turned from the door, moved across to the fires and laid wood on each. Finally he stood with his back to them, his face in shadow, his hands clasped behind him. "You ask a difficult question."
"Seems simple to me."
"That, my dear girl, is because you don't know anything about us. Ignorance is a great simplifier."
"I had a master said that once. I poured peppersauce in his tea." She giggled, sobered. "So?"
Kikun came in with a battered pot he'd collected somewhere, some heavy wire and an armload of smooth stones which he arranged in a cee-shape at the edge of the larger fire; he scraped part of the coals from the fire into the cee and laid the wire across the stones, filled the pot from the can and balanced it on the improvised grid, setting the water to boil. After adding wood and reshaping both fires so they burned more evenly, he moved a short distance away, dropped to the dirt and sat watching the other two, the firelight turning his eyes to orange lava.
Shadith raised the harpcase on end, tipped it over so it was leaning against the wall; she rearranged herself, curling up with her back against the case. Despite the drafts the fires were beginning to warm the shack-and her-and she'd turned the curve on fatigue, passing the point when the need to sleep was overwhelming; if she didn't move much or try to push her thoughts too fast, she was all right for the next hour or so. She yawned, blinked at the door Kikun had left open a crack. The darkness outside had lightened to a steely gray and the sounds of dawn were coming in to her, bird twitters, a honking bray, a motor coughing, its sputter muted by distance. Maybe Rohant would be back soon with meat to add to Kikun's tubers and brew. She'd stopped feeling hungry, but she knew her lassitude came partly from lack of fuel in her system. You should sleep, Shadow. You can eat later. I don't want to sleep, T m too tired to sleep. Tired! Huh! I'm tired of scratching and scrabbling and it making no difference. I plan and do and it turns out a waste of time. Like with the guard and then those bars. Well, you couldn't know that ahead of time. And if things hadn't turned out like they did, what you did would've got you out of a mess. I suppose so. You can't read the future, take a cue from Ginny and trust your luck. All right, all right. So, see what you can squeeze out of our resident local. He can probably tell you something about why Ginny's doing this to you and Rohant and Kikun.
