by Shannah Jay
A woman brought in a bowl of steaming broth and Herra was so faint with hunger she abandoned the conversation and used her powers to cool it rapidly.
Quedras's sharp eyes missed nothing, but he made no comment, just watched with a grin as the crazy old woman spooned down the broth at top speed, ignoring what she spilled on her chin until she’d finished scraping the bowl. He’d known what it was like to be that hungry. Funny, he thought, eyeing her, she didn't look as old today, except in the eyes, which were shadowed by anxiety.
When she’d put down the bowl, Herra turned to Quedras and smiled apologetically. 'A healing always depletes one's energy. If I’d known how complex this one was going to be, I’d have spent days eating special food to prepare myself.'
The same woman came back with coarse brown bread, cooked meat and some dried fruit. Herra stopped talking and concentrated again on eating. She cleared every scrap from the platter and only when nothing was left did she remember to thank the woman, who was standing watching her with an indulgent smile.
'You should thank Quaxill. He's cook this month.'
For some reason, this brought guffaws from Quedras, but Herra did not pursue the point. Instead she asked, 'What time of day is it?'
'Evening.'
'And Querilla? How is she?'
'Still sleeping, but she looks well. Quall's pleased with her.'
'Good.' Herra stood up and began a series of stretching exercises. 'Now, since I've fulfilled my part of the bargain, I must ask you, Quedras, to keep your word and help rescue my friends.'
'I always keep my word - even when it's stupid to do so. We can leave tonight, if you've recovered.
Otherwise, tomorrow night. Can't travel the sand by day. Too hot. Blisters your eyeballs, if you don't take care. It's all a waste of time, though. Your friends will be dead and it'll only be a question of finding the bodies and giving them a decent burial. But if that means so much to you . . . '
'They're not dead, I assure you.'
'Look, crrazy woman, I know I said I'd never doubt you again, but some things are just not possible and you'd be better facing facts. Without water, no one can survive for even half a day on the sand. If you don't go mad - and most people do! - you get dehydrated verry quickly. Believe me, I know what . . . '
'No, Quedras! You don't know. We of the Kindred have ways of slowing our bodies down. My friends will be - they are - alive! I would know if any of them had died.'
Quedras rolled his eyes and exchanged exasperated glances with the woman who’d brought the food and was lingering nearby, unashamedly listening to the conversation. 'Well, we'll see when we get there,' he said, as Herra still continued to look at him with determination in every line of her body. 'I marked where you came out of the desert, so I know where to start searching. But we're not staying on the sand in the daytime! It may take us a few nights to find them.'
'There'll be no need to search. I'll know where they are.'
* * *
And so it was. With a confidence that made Quedras mutter, 'Crrazy! Trruly crrazy!' under his breath, Herra walked across the moonlit sand. This time there was no Sand Vortex trying to whirl her into oblivion, but she was immediately aware of a sense of oppression, and she noticed that Quedras's people stayed close together and touched each other often.
When Quedras offered her his hand, she didn’t hesitate to take it, and the strong brown fingers were a link with sanity and life, even for her. She didn’t let anyone walk in front of her because she needed a clear field ahead to sense the correct direction. Those of Quequere followed her with resignation on their faces, sure that she would find nothing.
Within two hours, they had arrived at the encampment.
'Tsss! How did you do that?' demanded Quedras as they toiled down the last dune. 'You know almost nothing of the desert, yet you came straight to them!'
'I could sense their life force clearly in such a barren place. I told you - it's one of my Gifts.'
He shook his head. 'You're crrazy. Trruly crrazy! But in very useful ways.' He went inside the shelter and knelt beside the slow-breathing bodies. 'By the great stone of Quequere, they're alive!' he shouted. His companions crowded in to see for themselves.
'Wouldn't've believed it if I hadn't seen it myself!' exclaimed Quinna, a tall woman with heavy muscular limbs who was his second in command. 'Don't think I even believe it now! Hey! This one looks a strong fellow.' She palpated Benjan's arm muscles. 'Is he a good fighter?'
'Very good. But only when he has to defend himself,' said Herra quietly, kneeling by Katia and stroking the dusty tangles of hair back from her brow.
'Well, how do we wake them?' asked Quedras impatiently. 'We need to get back as quickly as we can. We have to get off this demon-cursed sand before the sun rises.'
'Leave it to me!'
Within a short time everyone had been roused, and Cheral was soon well enough to chide Jonner for not moving quickly. He and Narla were surly and unco-operative, however, and Carryn slapped Benjan's hand away when he attempted to help her up. She burst into tears as she tried to walk on the ankle she’d wrenched, but when Benjan picked her up, she strained away from him.
Quedras moved forward and gestured to two of his people. 'Get the ropes out. We've got some first-stagers here.'
They tied ropes to one of Jonner's arms and one of Narla's, and the two of them didn’t protest, only stared stupidly at their rescuers. Without some very ungentle tugs on the rope, Jonner would have curled up on the ground and gone back to sleep.
Quedras looked up at the moons, which were low in the sky. 'Can't wait any longer, crrazy woman. Got to get off the sand before daylight. And I don't even know why we're bothering with these three.' He gestured at Jonner, Narla and Carryn. 'They've got first-stage sand-madness. Don't you know about that?'
'We don't have that illness where I come from. I presume you consider it incurable?'
He gave a snort of bitter laughter. 'Yes. We usually put them out of their misery as soon as we realise what's happened. If we didn't, they'd just lie there and starve to death.' He saw that Herra was about to speak and shook his head. 'No! You don't have to tell me! You can cure sand-madness too!'
'Why protest about bringing them back, then?' She grinned at him.
He rolled his eyes and signalled to his people to start the return journey. Those not leading the two badly affected by sand madness picked up every scrap of equipment and cloth from the camp, nodding to each other in approval at what they seemed to consider valuable acquisitions.
When they got back, Quedras told Quinna to 'See 'em all settled in a corner somewhere. And feed 'em.
They can form a new squad and pay us back later for the equipment.'
Then he and Herra went to see Querilla. They found her sitting up and chatting to Quall, but when Herra questioned her, she confessed that it still hurt her to move and that it felt as if her whole body was badly bruised. 'I'm not staying in bed much longer, though,' she insisted. 'And don't anyone try to make me, if they know what's good for them!'
' You will stay in bed today and tomorrow,' said Herra, putting a light Compulsion into her words, rather than wasting time arguing with her.
'Oh. Well, yeah, I suppose I'd better.'
Quedras stared at Herra in amazement. His Querilla was notorious for her contrary nature and outbursts of temper.
Within five minutes, he and Querilla were arguing furiously enough to be heard all over the camp, but Querilla didn’t try to get out of bed.
Herra smiled and left them to it. She found Quinna standing with Benjan outside a tent, grinning broadly as she listened to the quarrelling.
'Old Querilla must really be getting better!' Quinna exclaimed. 'I never thought I'd be so glad to hear anyone quarrelling!' She slapped Herra affectionately on the shoulders. 'Good trick of yours, that! You must show Quall how to do it. We lose someone from a sand-scorpion bite every year or so, no matter how careful we are. They're cunning little devils, sand-scorpions. Yo
u must always check your bedding before you go to sleep, if you want to wake up again.'
A particularly loud shriek from the cave, followed by Quedras's angry scolding made Quinna chuckle. 'So, how did you cure a sand-scorpion's bite?'
'It's rather complicated,' said Herra. 'It takes many years of training.'
'Well, doesn't everything? But Quall's a body-doctor. He's had years of training and he can't do it. Good job we found you. What better can you do with your final years than pass on your skills to him? Are you really over two hundred years old?'
Herra nodded.
'Well, you certainly don't look it! Now that's something I wouldn't mind learning about. I'm not looking forward to losing my desire for a good-looking man. It's the thing I enjoy most in the world - that and a good fight.'
She patted her swordhilt. 'I'm the best swordswoman in the camp, you know.' She eyed Benjan roguishly as she spoke. 'What are you like with a skewer, fellow?'
'Not bad.'
'We must have a practice bout together sometime once you've earned yourself a new sword and got used to it. You may know some tricks I don't.' Quinna's knowing grin spoke of tricks other than swordplay.
Herra couldn’t help smiling at this blunt approach.
'You'll be well worth keeping in the community, a big strong fellow like you,' Quinna continued. Let's hope your friends have good skills to offer, too. Pity to separate you now, after you made it across the desert together. Good team work, that. And I like the way you've stuck by those poor sods with sand-madness. Only way to do things, I reckon. Stand together, fall together.'
She switched her attention abruptly to the rest of the newcomers, who’d gathered around them. 'Now, I'll need one of you to come over to the stores with me and help me get some proper clothing for you lot?
Can't have women wandering around dressed in blue robes and bright colours. You can be seen from a day's march away. We'll have to trust you to pay us back, but I'm sure you won't let us down, not after what your healer woman did for us. And you did bring some equipment with you, so it won't be a heavy obligation.'
'We can cure them,' said Herra, taking advantage of a brief halt in the flow of words. 'But not tonight.
We're too tired. Benjan, would you mind going with Quinna for some equipment?'
'My pleasure, Elder Sister.'
Quinna stared at him admiringly. ' You really are the best-looking man I've seen in a long time, Benjan, lad. I like that name, Benjan. Makes a nice change from us Qs. Now, I just happen to be heart-free at the moment, if you're looking for a bit of feminine comfort.' She ran an admiring hand over his biceps. 'How do you train?' She flexed her own muscles and smiled encouragingly. 'We must definitely work out together tomorrow. I'm rather a good wrestler, if I do say so myself. I know a few nifty throws I'd be happy to teach you. And then afterwards we can get to know each other better. If the rest of you is as good as what's on show, I bet you'll be good value in bed.'
Cheral's mouth was an O of shock, Davred was chuckling openly and Herra couldn’t help laughing too as a scarlet-faced, highly embarrassed Benjan followed Quinna across the camp. They heard him attempt to protest as she ran her hand admiringly over his buttocks.
She just punched him playfully in the side and said loudly enough for everyone in the camp to hear,
'Now, don't play coy with me, Benjan fellow! You didn't get to your age without a few tumbles with women, I'll bet! And you won't get a better offer here. I can handle a sword better than anyone in the group, even Quedras, though he's pretty good. You'll not get in serious trouble with me there to guard your back.'
'Ah!' said Herra, as they vanished into a large tent. 'It's good to see some normal emotions displayed without fear. That woman is a tonic to me!'
Cheral drew herself up and opened her mouth to offer her opinion, which did not coincide with Herra's.
'Leave it, Cheral!' commanded Herra, catching her eye. 'We could all do with some sanity and relaxation.
I hope Benjan takes her up on her offer.'
* * *
'Davred! Are you there?'
Davred forgot Benjan and pulled out his com-unit. 'Soo! Are you all right? Your voice is very faint.'
'Irregular equipment, Davred. Mak and I have to escape from here. Would we be welcome down on the planet?'
'Yes, of course! But Soo, why - ?'
Herra was suddenly there, kneeling by his side. She stretched out a hand, pale in the tent's shaded light, and touched the com-unit. 'You'll be very welcome, Soo. You're needed here so that the pattern can be completed, you and Mak. But you must understand that it won't be easy. You'll find life on our world difficult after the comforts of the satellite.'
'I know, Herra, but there are some things worse than physical discomfort. Robler is making it impossible for us to stay here.'
'What's he done now?' demanded Davred.
'Decided that no marriages shall be allowed. Decided that he will have me whenever he wants a woman.
' He didn’t! ' Shock made it hard for Davred to speak for a moment.
'I think he's gone mad.'
'Leave him to his madness, then. You'll be more than welcome among us, Soo,' said Herra. 'And always remember, you will win through in the end. You are part of the pattern now, part of the Quest. Never abandon hope.' She sat back on her heels and gestured to Davred to continue.
'Soo, is there anything we can do to help you escape?'
'No. We'll try to join you in the desert, but once we've left the satellite, we'll be somewhat vulnerable.
You know how Robler managed to deflect you from your chosen route, Davred, and you were in a lifeship.
We'll have to use transcaps.'
'That's too dangerous.'
'It's the only way. He keeps too good a watch on the lifeships now. He still has the tractor beams, so I'll have to try to disable those before we leave. But in case anything goes wrong, will you tell me where you're heading? Eventually, I mean? Is there somewhere we can meet you if we don't reach the desert?'
Davred dared not openly put the destination Herra had suggested to him into words, even with Soo.
Instead he said, 'Do you remember where Katia comes from?'
'I remember the name of her claim, but I never knew the name of her town.'
'I dare not speak it, Soo. I know it would be too dangerous to do so. Let me think - yes, I can tell you that her grandfather's name is Kensin. And,' inspiration struck him, 'that the name of the town is very similar to that of your best friend on your university planet, the one with the strange eyes.'
'I know who you mean. Oh! Yes, Mak, I'm coming. Davred, I must go. Look after yourself!'
'And you, both of you, take care! We will meet again, if Herra says so, whatever happens in the meantime.'
There was a faint hiss, then silence.
* * *
Davred couldn’t move for a moment, for he was filled with dread and foreboding.
'You sense it too, don't you?' Herra's hand was warm on his shoulder.
Katia, helping with Carryn, glanced across at him anxiously, but left him to Herra.
'Yes, I sense it,' he said slowly. 'Something will go wrong for them, won't it?'
'For a time. But they'll stand a good chance of surviving.'
'Are you sure of that, Herra?'
'Yes.' She reached up to pat his cheek. 'Davred - you're sensing the pattern of the future more often, aren't you? The changing probabilities, at least.' It was a statement rather than a question.
'Yes. Yes, I think so.' His voice was hesitant, his eyes troubled.
'I remember how it was for me, Davred, when I first started to predict the path ahead.'
'Terrifying?'
'Yes, indeed! Such an awesome responsibility!'
'Herra - how can one know with such certainty something that hasn’t yet happened? It should be impossible. By every type of reasoning I was ever taught, it is impossible!'
'Which is why you had to leave the Confederation
and join us here on Sunrise. Else your Gift would have lain unused - or worse, if used, would have met with such disbelief that it would have withered away.'
'I suppose you're right.'
'I am right. And yet, I'm puzzled too. Your people can recognise individuals whom they call potential Cathartic Agents, can they not? How do they explain that?'
'High intelligence. Exceptional capacity for reasoning. Ability to see an overall pattern in a series of events. Sound judgement. Such a battery of tests I had to go through and I was only six years old when they started, eight when I left home.'
'Poor little boy!' she murmured. She had made sure her own sons and daughters had happy childhoods before she feigned death and left them, to return to the temple.
'I don't think I was ever a "little boy" in that sense. Herra, we of the Confederation call ourselves an advanced civilisation, some say the most advanced ever - though I find that presumptuous - but you of the Sisterhood, on a planet my people label "primitive", can recognise those who carry similar Gifts simply by touching them at a Festival of Choosing - and without spoiling their childhood.'
'But we do have to take them away from their families, as you were taken.'
'Not until they're old enough to cope with it. And they've been prepared for it. The words, the ideas that Those of the Confederation use to explain it all, they don't really cover the Gift of Prophecy, do they, Elder Sister?'
'No. I don't think I can find the words to explain it, either. We of the Kindred talk of "our Brother the God" and that image helps us to come to terms with that otherness we sense. But it's not enough, not nearly enough to explain it all. Perhaps, dear son of my heart, I shall understand better when I take the next step.'
He would never understand the joy with which she faced the prospect of death. 'May that day be far away! I need you, Herra, need you most selfishly to help me understand and develop my own Gifts.'
'Cheral can do that.'
He shook his head. 'No. Cheral can help me with the technicalities of developing my Gifts, but she can't help me to understand or to accept them. And most especially, not to understand the Gift of Prophecy. It's too alien to her nature.'
