Shepherd

by Piers Anthony

  A math major! At her age? He had assumed that education was primitive, on a primitive planet. That was not necessarily the case. But she could be bluffing him with set childish riddles she thought had no answers. “No need, Elen. I feel exactly as you do about this mission. I have better things to do than herd sheep or take care of an ignorant child.” He was needling her, but she had started it. “So let's just try to get along when we can't ignore each other.”

  She gazed at him with disconcerting appraisal. “I called you names. You refuted me. Now I'll refute you, and we can call it even without apologies.”

  Was she ready to become halfway sociable? That would help. “Agreed.”

  “You call me child. Look at me.” She opened her cloak and revealed her body beneath it. He gazed at her, amazed. She was a fully mature human female, small but obviously of age. In fact she was just about the most shapely woman he had seen, with well formed breasts and an hourglass torso. “I am twenty years old, or nineteen in Earth years. I am no child.”

  “I stand refuted,” he said. “I was guilty of judging by superficial appearance, just as you were. I do apologize.”

  “We agreed no apologies!” she said, closing the cloak.

  “None required. I do this without coercion, being governed by my standard rather than yours. You have no need to reciprocate.”

  For the first time, she smiled. Her face was lovely too. “I think I like your standard. I will apologize by kissing you once.”

  “No need,” Shep repeated, embarrassed. He was still getting used to the idea of her being woman rather than child.

  “My standard rather than yours,” she said. “Get down here.”

  Bemused, he leaned down toward her. She caught his head in her hands, oriented it just so, and kissed him. The impact was immediate and powerful; he felt as if he were floating despite his hunched position. She was no amateur kisser.

  A moment or an eon later he found himself standing facing the sheep, Elen beside him. They must have completed the return trip during his daze. “Perhaps you should introduce me to the other members of the flock, Shep,” Elen suggested.

  Oh. “Six ewes. One vulture. One python.” They walked to the tree to meet the vulture, and found the python curled around the base of it. Neither evinced any concern for their proximity. “I suspect that none of them will harm any other member of the party. All were recruited the way you and I were.”

  “Of course. It is the way of the flock.” She lifted her hand for the vulture to inspect, then lowered it for the python to sniff, thus silently introducing herself to each. “I did not want to be a part of it, but now I am resigned.” She glanced sidelong at him. “Maybe even accepting.”

  “What now?” he asked. “Assuming the party is complete.”

  “It is. They don't all resume grazing until things are in order.” She looked around. “I think we'll have the night here, and start traveling in the morning. But that is for you to say.”

  “Me? I have no idea.”

  “You're the shepherd, the one male in a female flock. They will mind you, to a degree.”

  “You know the gender of the vulture and python?”

  “Didn't you see me meet them?”

  Evidently there was more going on than he had picked up on. What was the significance of being male in such company?

  “It's a cultural thing,” she explained. “Every person, every creature has its position, but the leader must be male. I do not object to that.”

  “Even though I don't know where to go?”

  “I know where. That is my position: guide.”

  “Ah. And Python is for protection that we might need even if the sheep don't. And Vulture is for observation, in case there is something ahead we need to know about, like an erupting volcano.”

  “Yes. The sheep make sure to cover the needs. Now they are filling up for what may be a grueling excursion.”

  “So better start tomorrow morning.” Shep looked around. “Where do human folk sleep?”

  “On the ground beside the flock. There'll be a sleeping bag in your pack. I have one too.”

  “But what of predators in the night?”

  “There will be no predators. Python will be on guard. And of course the sheep. Have you seen them in defensive action?”

  “Oh. Yes, of course. They have bone knives. Next question: what of human type food?”

  “Packs,” she repeated. She took hers off, opened it, and brought out a sandwich.

  Shep checked his own, and found a similar sandwich. The parents had known exactly what to pack. They dug out the sleeping bags, which were amazingly compact balls that opened out and puffed up into full size, set them on the ground, sat on them, and at their sandwiches.

  “Suddenly I am very glad to have you here, Elen,” Shep said.

  “Because I showed you my body?”

  He had to laugh, embarrassed. “That too, maybe. Or that potent kiss. But if you know the ways of the planet, and the ways of the flock, that will really compensate for my ignorance.”

  “Yes, that is part of my role as guide. Now I understand that aspect.”

  “Then maybe you can clarify something else for me. I understand why you didn't want to be co-opted into this sheep mission. But I had the impression that you also had a personal animus toward me, for no apparent cause, that now is gone. In fact you have become more than friendly. Is there a reason?”

  “Yes. It is that traditionally when a man and a woman are selected for sheep duty, their lives are changed. Often they marry. I did not want to have my aspirations thwarted in this manner. I long to visit Earth and obtain an education in higher math. I thought this was being dashed.”

  Shep was for the moment speechless. He had had no thought of marrying an elf, or any colonist, quite apart from the impracticability of it when any physical visit here was essentially impossible. The spaceship voyage to Colony Jones was twenty years one way. “Oh, Elen, I'm sorry! I didn't know.”

  She put her hand on his. “I know you didn't. You thought I was nine years old.”

  “I did,” he admitted.

  “And I thought you were a horny village lout.”

  “We were similarly guilty,” he agreed. “But at least now we know better.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “When the sheep choose, much follows. We may indeed marry.”

  “Elen, there's no way! I don't mean to insult you, as I'm sure you are well worth any man's interest, but you have to know that that kind of relationship is out of the question.”

  “Is it?”

  “Is this rhetorical? I now know you are not stupid or ignorant. What am I missing?”

  She shrugged. “Let it be.”

  Nonplussed, he dropped the subject. But it bothered him. Why would she ask such a question, if she lacked an answer? He and she lived on different worlds, literally; this encounter in a different body was the only way they could interact. He could not overstay his semester; the mind transfer was not permanent, and would slowly dissolve.

  Unless she was thinking short-range. A six months marriage, more mental than physical? That was impractical.

  They went to separate bushes for natural functions; Shep was glad to confirm that Earth privacy custom prevailed in this respect. Then they settled down for the night in their sleeping bags. There was really nothing to do here and now but sleep.

  Shep saw a motion. Python was slithering toward them. That made him nervous. Would the truce of the sheep hold?

  Elen reached out and took his hand. “Trust the sheep,” she murmured.

  That actually reassured him. She trusted the sheep, and he was coming to trust her.

  Python paused to inspect them, then actually slithered across their linked hands and moved on. It was almost like a benediction of their union.

  There it was again. There was something he was not getting. Was Elen angling for an affair? Why would she bother? Sure he would like to have sex with her; any man w
ould. But she could hardly desire sex with the body of a “lout,” or with the physically anonymous man who inhabited this body. She had spoken of marriage, not sex. And that was impossible.

  He expected Elen to let go of his hand after the serpent passed, but she didn't. She was not being seductive or possessive, merely reassuring. But could that be the whole of it? What was on her mind?

  Troubled, he slept, still holding her tiny hand.

  He dreamed. It was odd, a wild fantasy that nevertheless seemed quite authentic in the dream state. It was that he saw a ThreeVee news report of a small volcanic eruption in the Everglades of Florida, America, Earth. He believed it, until he woke up.

  He was lying in his sleeping bag, in darkness, still hording Elen's precious hand. His dream was of course utter nonsense.

  There was a stirring. Shep realized with a start that it was the sheep. They had come to sleep in a circle around the two humans. Now they were moving on. Had there been a reason for this?

  Elen squeezed his hand. “I dreamed,” she said, surprised.

  “So did I. It was weird.”

  “Mine too.” She paused. “May I come over?”

  She had to ask? She was already within hand-holding range. “Uh, sure.”

  She hunched her bag across until she was was lying against him. He was highly conscious of her hip and shoulder touching his through the material. “I'll tell you mine if you'll tell me yours.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, glad to have this interaction. “I dreamed of—do you know what the everglades are?”

  “No.”

  “They are actually a river on Earth, about six inches deep and a hundred miles wide. It resembles a giant swamp, with alligators and kingfishers, and more recently, invading pythons taking over, eating everything else. It is not an earthquake or volcanic region. But my dream has a volcano erupting in the middle, near the great shallow Lake Okeechobee. That's highly unlikely. I don't know what could have put such a notion into my head. Yet I believed it as I saw it. There was even a date, about half a year from now.”

  “My dream was similarly far-fetched,” she said. “It was that deep water cave explorers on Planet Earth discovered an air-breathing mollusk, a squish, I think; is that the term?”

  “A squid. Ten long tentacular arms, a deep ocean dweller.”

  “A squid,” she agreed, getting it straight. “This one illuminated the darkness of the cave and breathed air, at least in part. Is there such a squid on Earth?”

  “I'm pretty sure there isn't. They aren't built to go on land, having no bony skeleton. No reason to breathe air. So such a discovery would indeed be remarkable.”

  “And I knew the date: half a year hence.”

  Shep considered that. “I think we are in an unusual situation, lying here beside the sheep, guarded by a python. So we experienced unusual dreams.”

  “That must be it. I will return to my place so you can sleep in peace.”

  “Must you?” He had spoken before he thought.

  “Are you thinking of my body?”

  He felt himself flushing. “I apologize.”

  “Don't do that! I shouldn't have shown you.”

  “Probably you shouldn't have, yes. Such a sight turns a man on. He's hard-wired.”

  “I did not mean to tease you. I was annoyed because you thought me a child.”

  “I was badly mistaken.”

  “I'll sleep here,” she decided. She still held his hand.

  Shep did not protest, though her near presence tormented him. It was possible that was her intention. He was determined not to let his distress show, though probably she knew. If they were in a kind of competition, she was ahead.

  What did she really want?

  “Tomorrow you must tell me of Earth,” she said.

  “I will.” But that was surely not it.

  Soon he could tell by her even breathing that she was asleep again, still holding his hand. Finally he slept too.

  Chapter 3:

  Hike

  The sheep were stirring, about ready to go. “There were prowlers in the night,” Elen said as she sat up. Her dark hair was unbound and mussed, flowing around her bare body like a turbulent stream. “See, there are the scuffings, beyond where the sheep lay. A wolf pack, I think.”

  “They were protecting us!” Shep said. “Because Python couldn't have stopped more than one or two at a time.”

  “Yes. But the wolves knew better than to attack even sleeping sheep, or to try to get past them. So they moved on.”

  “And when the danger was past, the sheep moved on too,” Shep said. “Now it makes sense.”

  “The sheep always make sense. We just don't always understand it at the time.”

  “Which accounts for everything except our odd dreams.”

  She smiled. “The sheep were close. Maybe they influenced our dreams.”

  “For what possible purpose?”

  Elen shrugged. “Perhaps some day we will know.”

  Shep and Elen quickly ate, packed their sleeping bags, and joined the sheep. Python and Vulture left the tree and came too, side by side, the one slithering, the other hopping. They both evidently trusted the truce.

  “The directives are yours to give,” Elen said. “But I will show the way.”

  Okay. “Python, go head and check for dangers,” Shep said. To his surprise the big snake slithered rapidly forward. “Vulture, fly up and survey the landscape for problems.” The big bird flew.

  Shep looked at Elen. “Do they actually understand me?”

  “They do,” she said. “They are moderately telepathic, at least in the presence of the sheep. They respond to your mental command, rather than your words.”

  That might explain a lot. “Elf, show the way.” Elen walked smartly forward.

  “Sheep, follow the Elf.” But the sheep remained standing.

  “Play a note,” Elen called. “They expect that signal.”

  A note?

  “On the Mirliton,” Elen called.

  Shep knew what a mirliton was. He had an amateur interest in music. It was an instrument like a kazoo, sounded by the human voice. He had none with him.

  “Your staff,” she called.

  Surprised, he looked at the staff. It was a huge pipe! Somehow in the distraction of events he had never really examined it. He lifted one end to his mouth and blew. There was only the sound of air. Then he voiced it. It sounded vaguely like a horn.

  The sheep began walking. Shep paced them, bemused. A makeshift mirliton!

  So far so good. But he was a rank amateur at this, and remained nervous. What else did he have to learn about this business?

  Vulture flew back down. She was a fairly ungainly flyer; she could do it, but it expended much effort. She settled onto the back of a sheep, and the sheep carried her without protest.

  Python returned. Things were evidently satisfactory ahead, but the path led to the Elf village, which was surely not good for an unattended serpent. So Python slithered in the center of the flock. Shep considered, then joined her there. Elen continued ahead, leading them through the village.

  The elves ignored them all. They knew what this was, and let the flock pass unchallenged, especially since one of their own was leading it.

  Beyond the village they were quickly in wild country. Elen directed the sheep, knowing the lay of this land, and they followed a reasonably clear contour. Shep admired the colorful trees and shrubs, similar to Earth's but different. Maybe some of them had been imported from Earth, and were now turning feral.

  “There's a river ahead,” Elen said. “I'm directing us to a section where it is only waist deep on you, but the current there is strong. The sheep can handle it, and Python, and Vulture can simply fly across. But you may have a problem.”

  “If you can ford it, so can I.”

  “We will need to strip, to preserve our clothing.”

  That made him pause. Going naked with her? That would surely give his body wicked and embarrassing idea
s. “Maybe I can cross a different section, alone.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “This is the one crossable section. Even then we shall have to go in between the sheep, because of the crocs.”

  Oh. “Well, what must be, must be. You don't have to look.”

  “Of course I'll look,” she said. “You looked at my body.”

  “You're teasing me!”

  “Maybe.”

  Actually she was teasing him just by being near him. She probably relished the chance to embarrass him. He should never have called her a child.

  All too soon they came to the river. It was exactly as she had described it. He saw the green nostrils of the lurking crocs. The water might be swift here, a virtual cataract, but it was clear that the scaly predators had no trouble handling it. This could be their main feeding ground.

  “Organize the crossing,” Elen said.

  “Isn't that a formality? You and the sheep both know better than I do how to proceed.”

  “You're the shepherd.”

  Why had the sheep selected a man who did not know the planetary landscape or its creatures? Was it that his ignorance allowed them to govern the journey, whereas a native man would have had ideas of his own?

  Well, on with it. “Elen and I will strip to ford the river,” he announced. “You sheep will surround us, to fend off the crocs.”

  Then he stripped, cramming his clothing in the top of his knapsack. Elen did likewise, by removing her cloak. She just as winsome as ever, with her hair caressing her shapely body down to her pert bottom. It masked her attributes only partially, flashing teasing glimpses as she walked. She had to know the effect.

  He walked quickly to the water. Elen fell in beside him, and so did Python, evidently preferring not to risk multiple attackers. The sheep formed a box around them, three on a side.

  Shep's bare feet touched the water. Ouch! It was icy cold. But that had one beneficial effect: it abated any idea his body might have had of expressing any sexual interest in anyone. Relieved, he marched on in, letting his legs go numb as they descended into the swiftly moving water. Then he held his breath as his mid section was submerged. Talk about freezing one's balls off!