Sawyer’s pacing took him away from the depression in the wood and then back again; each time he went a step farther away from it than before. The spiderman watched him warily. It folded itself and refolded itself and finally folded itself a third way. It made funny little snuffling noises that sounded vaguely unhappy.
At last the spidery creature gave up. It unfolded itself and leapt off the gnarl at a nearby vine. It caught the vine, swung in mid-air for a moment, then swung up into the leafy canopy above, where it disappeared.
“I win,” announced Sawyer. He dropped down into the center of the gnarl and rejoined the others.
“Now what?” asked Lee.
Sawyer scratched his cheek. “We wait and see if the little bastard believed me.”
The Elevated Railroad
For a long while, nothing happened—long enough for Sawyer to begin to wonder if perhaps he had failed to convince the spiderman of his sincerity in the matter.
Then suddenly, everything happened at once. Silvery spider-things began dropping out of the canopy all around them, dropping down on vines, swarming down tree limbs, and just plain falling down out of the branches above. They shrieked and screamed and snorted; they scrambled and scuttled and scrabbled around the humans, the Vampire queen, and the medical cabinet, touching, probing, exploring, pinching, sniffing, and generally making the most hellacious nuisances of themselves.
But even in all the confusion, a pattern of activity began to emerge. Dropping down out of the leaves above came a hand-built platform, a rough basket of interwoven vines and planks—a crude gondola with a wooden floor and netted sides. Despite its crude appearance, it hung from silken strands and Sawyer could see the glint of metal in its fastenings.
The spidermen surrounded them, pushing them, pulling at them with their narrow bony fingers, tugging them toward the basket. At first, Lee reacted with a measure of revulsion, Three-Dollar with curiosity, Zillabar with annoyance, but at Sawyer’s urging, they relaxed and let the silvery spider-things guide them to the rough-looking craft. When they came for Sawyer, he stood by the medical cabinet and refused to move. Instead, he switched on the levitators and began pushing it along toward the hanging basket. Almost immediately, the hairy spiders got the idea and helped him along.
As they lifted it up onto the planks of the platform, they appeared to express surprise at its light weight. They chittered and chattered among themselves, but if they had a language, Sawyer couldn’t tell. He couldn’t recognize any meaning in their sounds. Sawyer climbed up into the hanging gondola with the others and hooked one arm through the woven net enclosing it. “I think you’d all better find something to hang onto. This ride has some rough moments.”
A handful of spider-things climbed onto the net of the gondola with them, another handful climbed up to the top of the rigging and began worrying at the cables. Almost immediately, the gondola jerked and swung—it hesitated, swinging backward and forward for a moment with a sickening motion—and then swung away from the gnarl, across the branch, and out over the edge of nothingness.
Lee-1169 screamed.
The gondola dropped down diagonally into the blackness of the forest for the longest moment, spider-things clambering all over the netting, screeching and moaning as the basket slid and rolled, bucking through the air. They seemed to drop forever.
Lee stopped screaming long enough to catch his breath. He clutched at the netting and held on as tightly as he could; his eyes bespoke his terror. Three-Dollar looked a little pale himself. Only Zillabar seemed able to maintain her poise. Sawyer looked up and saw a near-invisible cable running rapidly through a set of silvery wheels. The gondola raced down along the wire at a terrifying rate. It seemed faster even than the airboat that had brought them racing across the roof of the jungle. Sawyer recognized the illusory quality of the experience, but it did not mitigate the lump climbing up into his throat.
They slid through darkness, through shafts of silvery-blue light, through great empty spaces and narrow corridors of vegetation, over the broad stretching branches of the black trees, between the huge upright curls of the sub-limbs, through the veils of greenery and vines—they slid down the wire so long that Sawyer began to doubt that they would ever find a bottom. He leaned sideways to see if he could see the bottom of the forest, but he saw only branches and limbs, leaves and vines, extending all the way down, disappearing finally into a blue hazy gloom.
And then—at last—the descent began to ebb and they careened along horizontally through a great open vault of emptiness. Blacktrees above, blacktrees below, blacktree limbs all around—and yet they flew through an impossible cavernous green realm. Birds soared beneath them—and above them as well. Sawyer grinned with glee, enjoying the view. Lee abruptly turned to the side and heaved the better part of his recent meal out into the air; it spewed away in an impressive arc. Sawyer suppressed a laugh; he’d done the same thing once. Three-Dollar reached over and gave Lee a sympathetic pat on the knee. Zillabar just snorted.
Now their momentum began swinging them up and up and up. The little car climbed steadily up through another realm of blacktree limbs; their speed began to slowly burn off as they rose up the wire. Ahead, the giant wall of a stupendous blacktree loomed like an impassable barrier. Sawyer eyed it diffidently; he knew they couldn’t hit it, but the sense of impending impact gave this part of the ride an alarming flavor.
The gondola jerked slightly as the motors connected to the pulleys kicked in. They lifted steadily toward the tree, toward an outstretched limb—the gondola rattled as it passed close under the limb and then, just as abruptly, they began dropping away again—this time in a new direction. They dropped only a little ways this time and began rising again almost immediately.
Gradually the ride assumed its own mad rhythm of sudden drops, long free swoops, the momentum of the fall ebbing into gentle rises, then sharper rises and motorized acceleration, followed by the rattling of the pulleys as they rode across the supporting structures. And then, once more, they would drop away into the deep gloom below. The wire zigged and zagged its way through the forest and the riders of the cable-car soon lost all sense of direction. They held on tightly and plunged out of the darkness behind into the darkness ahead. Most of the time, gravity pulled the gondola along the wire, but every time the rate of travel fell below a certain speed, the motors kicked in—especially every time they rose toward another supporting blacktree arm.
They rode along this way for what seemed like an eternity. The forest around them grew darker and closer and ever more menacing. Things howled in the distance, other things hooted in reply, and once—just as they passed beneath a great overhanging limb, something very close by grunted with a distinct sense of annoyance. The spider-things clambered around the gondola, seemingly oblivious to the comfort of the passengers. Several of them hooked their claws into the nets, folded themselves into sacklike things and appeared to fall asleep.
Sawyer envied them. If he remembered correctly, this part of the journey would take the better part of a day. He had no idea how far they had to travel from Dupa’s easternmost wart. He had no idea where they would eventually end up. He wondered if perhaps M’bele had the cables periodically restrung and moved himself about the forest at will.
Eventually, the last light of day drained out of the jungle around them. The reflected glow of giant ringed Burihatin provided no relief. They raced on in utter darkness. Sawyer tried aiming a light ahead, but the narrow beam of the spotlight revealed little of use, only a flickering of leaves; when he set the spread of the beam to a wider dispersion, the light became dissipated and worthless. And so they rocketed on through unseen terrors and possibilities, with nothing but intermittent noises punctuating long empty silences to give them any clue to their surroundings.
Sawyer must have slept. He didn’t remember falling asleep, or even waking up again, but when the light began returning to the Burihatin gloom, it didn’t seem to him as if enough time had passed to make a full night.
He glanced around the gondola. Three-Dollar seemed lost in meditation. Lee slept fitfully. Zillabar—wide awake—studied him with evil cunning.
“You will die soon,” she said softly. “Already, your aura has turned black. Death enshrouds you. It follows in your wake, taking all who travel with you, creeping ever closer with every new life it feeds upon. Soon, it will have taken everyone but you—and then it will take you as well.”
Sawyer nodded in agreement. “Yep,” he said. “I’ve often thought that myself. But it doesn’t worry me. I’ll see your death first. That will give me more than enough satisfaction for one life. I’ll meet death gladly after that.”
“I didn’t think you believed in the Alliance of Life.”
“I don’t believe in anything,” Sawyer replied without feeling. “Neither do you.”
“I believe in the Phaestor,” Zillabar said. “The Phaestor don’t need to hide behind an ideology. Our hunger and our children provide all the ideology we’ll ever need.”
“You prove my point. You believe in nothing. Even more disheartening, you’ve also just explained why the Alliance of Life can never work,” Sawyer admitted. “While the Phaestor still live to feed, partnership among all the sentient races remains impossible.”
“Not true,” said Zillabar. “The Regency represents a working partnership. The Phaestor provide direction; everyone else provides . . . meat.”
“Thank you for clearing that up,” Sawyer said. “The next time I have to wreak violence against a Vampire bitch, I won’t bother to let the issue of my conscience stand in the way.” He scooted himself around so he wouldn’t have to look at her anymore.
It almost worked. He could still feel her eyes upon his back.
“You will die, you know. Badly. You will beg me for mercy. But you won’t get it. Because Vampires have none. Remember that.”
Waiting for M’bele
And then, abruptly, the hellacious ride came to an end.
The gondola slowed as it rose, approaching the high crest of an arching branch—but instead of rattling underneath it and rocketing away in a new direction, the cable car rose up above the branch and jerked uncomfortably to a stop. They swung back and forth for several moments, bouncing in the air like a child’s toy. The spidermen swarmed upward into the leaves and disappeared. After a moment, the gondola jerked and began lowering itself unsteadily down to the surface of the branch.
The travelers found themselves on a large wooden gnarl, almost identical to the one at their departure point. Indeed, Sawyer had no way of knowing that they hadn’t traveled in some great circle only to return to the exact same tree. They pulled the medical casket from the gondola, and their travel packs as well. As soon as they took the last of their belongings from the cable car, it jerked upward into the leaves and vanished. So did the spidermen. No evidence remained of their journey here at all.
They stood alone on the wide gnarl—one tracker, one clone, one TimeBinder, a Vampire Queen, and an unconscious man in a medical chest. Above, a thinning in the forest canopy allowed beams of dappled sunlight to filter down in shades of pale hazy blue. Below, the distant foliage fell away in ranks of dark color. To one side, a great veil of purple vines glowed with speckles of wet reflection; to the other, a blacktree limb as huge as one of Dupa’s warts filled their view.
At least a hundred people had died to bring them here. Sawyer sagged down onto a rounded upswelling of the gnarl. He ached. His stomach hurt. And even though he stood on a solid surface again, his body still insisted that the world around him remained unsteady.
Lee-1169, even more unhappy-looking, glared across at him. “All right?” he demanded. “Now what do we do?”
“Anything you want. Eat. Sleep. Defecate. Urinate. Get on each other’s nerves. Try not to kill each other.” Sawyer added, “Oh, yes—and for enjoyment, we’ll watch Zillabar squirm at the indignity of our treatment.” He grinned. “In other words . . . we wait.”
“I see. And just exactly what do we wait for?”
“To see if M’bele will greet us—or kill us.”
“You mean, you brought us here all this way—and you don’t know what kind of reception we’ll get?”
Sawyer nodded. “M’bele knows how to hold a grudge.”
“What kind of a grudge?” Lee demanded.
“The usual,” Sawyer admitted.
Lee threw up his hands in disgust. “I should have known.” He glared around for someone to commiserate with, found no one, glared at Zillabar, turned at last to Three-Dollar. “You should have known! Why did you expect that these two trackers could do anything for us? They can’t do anything without leaving behind a trail of dead bodies and bad debts.”
“At least that makes them easy to follow,” remarked Three-Dollar blandly.
“All right.” Lee turned back to Sawyer. “Tell me the rest. How much do you owe M’bele?”
Sawyer shrugged eloquently. “Enough. But hardly enough to justify killing a man, let alone two—especially when one of them already lies dying in a medical casket. I figure he can’t afford to let Finn die, or me, or he’ll never stand a chance of getting repaid.”
“And what if you’ve guessed wrongly?”
“Why then, very shortly, none of us will have much to worry about at all, will we?” Sawyer allowed himself a sardonic smile. “In the meantime, sit back, get comfortable, and enjoy the view. The blacktrees of Dupa have a reputation for peace and majesty throughout the cluster. You have a rare opportunity here to see them in their natural unspoiled condition.”
“I’ve seen all the blacktrees I care to see, thank you, unspoiled or otherwise.” Lee made a growling sound and turned away in frustration.
Sawyer shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Three-Dollar’s gaze remained on Sawyer. His eyes had a depth of understanding that Sawyer found difficult to resist. He tried looking away, but every time he looked back, Three-Dollar still studied him.
“What?” Sawyer demanded finally.
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing. You keep looking at me. You have a question, don’t you?”
Three-Dollar conceded with a nod. “Despite the fact that you don’t think M’bele will help us, you still brought us here. Why?”
“Why not?” Sawyer sighed and admitted, “I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I just have to hope that the pheromone for revenge doesn’t overwhelm his lust for remuneration. M’bele has the talent that we need. Do you have a better idea?”
Three-Dollar went blank for just the quickest of instants; then he returned. He shook his head. “I have memories. But only a fool stores his past in the future. In the meantime, this horse has obviously chosen its own path.”
“This horse?” asked Sawyer.
“A creature of ancient mythology,” the TimeBinder explained.
“Ah,” said Sawyer.
Listening to them, Lee-1169 made a sound of derision. “Whatever he says, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else will happen here until it happens.”
Three-Dollar smiled in agreement. “You have the makings of a true master, Lee. You have finally realized that the universe operates at its own speed.”
He just had time to finish the sentence. And then . . . it happened.
And Another Thing
First, the air began to tremble. Very faintly. Then, the sound became louder and more pronounced—not a sound as much as a feeling. A dark low feeling. Then, abruptly, something came rumbling up from below, climbing up the perpendicular limb of the close-by tree.
The thing had a lumpy shape, like a cluster of different-sized bubbles all stuck together, and it had multiple arms and graspers. It walked itself up the surface of the tree, each separate arm reaching, grabbing, hooking, pulling in turn. It looked like a vertical centipede tied in multiple knots and with cancerous protuberances bulging out of its body at odd angles.
A thousand separate eyestalks swiveled around to gaze at the waiting travelers, several thousand others continued to sur
vey the vast forest above, below, and around them. A bevy of spotlights lit up then, fingering the visitors in their bright focus. Sawyer stood up and faced the machinery. He bowed extravagantly and announced, “Sawyer and Finn Markham, at your service. I bring friends—” Here, he paused to point to Lee-1169 and William Three-Dollar. “—and I bring a gift.” And this time, he waved his hand to include Zillabar. The Vampire Queen’s countenance remained unreadable.
The machinery did not react. Not immediately.
Lee looked to Sawyer, a question in his eyes. Sawyer shrugged. Lee looked to Three-Dollar, a different question in his eyes this time. The TimeBinder shrugged as well. Lee did not look to Zillabar.
A moment later, the machinery reacted. Weapon ports began opening, and at least a hundred separate devices turned around to point themselves at Sawyer’s party.
“Uh-oh. . . .” said Lee. “Somebody guessed wrong—”
Sawyer kept his expression blank. He scratched his eyebrow and thought about the possibility of a bath. He sucked his teeth, looked down at his boots, and considered several other things he might say and the wisdom of saying them. He looked again to the cameras. “I think you should open up, M’bele,” he said, disarmingly. “We could talk about two hundred and sixty-two thousand, one hundred and forty-four caseys.”
“Three hundred thousand caseys!” a sonorous voice boomed in reply.
“Not by my accounting!” Sawyer shouted back angrily.
“I have included the interest,” the voice intoned drily.
“Usurer!”
“Thief!” M’bele continued. “By the rights of Dupa, I could shoot you now and have done with the whole nasty matter.”
“You do and you’ll miss one of the best opportunities I’ve ever brought you!”
“The last opportunity you brought me cost me a fortune. I can’t afford too many more of your opportunities, Sawyer. You’ll bankrupt me. Begone!” And then, a moment later, the voice asked in a kinder tone. “I thought you said that Finn came with you.”
A Covenant of Justice Page 12
