The bluff where Adara dropped Griffin was situated where the stream they had been traveling upon joined another such watercourse and became a true river. During their day’s journey, they had once again lost altitude. At last the air held a kiss of warmth that spoke of true spring. The trees that sheltered Griffin’s waiting place were either leafing out or in flower, depending on their inclinations. Tiny, slim-stemmed flowers showed purple and golden yellow in the thickening grass.
“This is a nice spot,” Griffin said when Adara showed him where he should wait. “Are you certain no one is going to come here—picnickers or something?”
Adara shook her head at him in mild disbelief. “Spring is not a time for such frivolities, Griffin Dane. On a fine day such as this, every villager will be at work, if not turning the earth, then watching over the new lambs or sorting the seed for planting. Even the children who can hardly walk will be kept busy carrying water or shooing off crows.”
“What if someone comes up here—chasing one of those stray lambs, say? What should I tell them?”
Adara rolled her eyes. “They will not for the simple reason that this is not where sheep are pastured but, if they do, surely you can make yourself scarce. There are ample hiding places. Stay alert or sleep as you will. I leave you this canteen of water, some dried fruit, and my blanket against the evening chill. I will be back when I can come unseen.”
With that, Griffin was forced to be content. He watched as Adara and Sand Shadow took Foam Dancer away, marveling afresh at how efficiently the tawny-furred creature paddled. Then he turned his attention to learning what he could about the village of Shepherd’s Call.
Shepherd’s Call was just large enough to be self-sufficient. A cluster of buildings, none taller than three stories, was grouped around a central green. Outward from the green were houses, each with a generous yard. Farther out came larger buildings, probably for the keeping of livestock. Beyond these were pastures and fields.
A stone mill with a large wheel was picturesquely placed near the river. It must be equipped to cut lumber as well as to grind grain, for Griffin could just make out a group of men hauling a huge log around one end. There was also a cluster of docks that extended out into the river near several long warehouse-like buildings.
Griffin examined the village carefully. There did not seem to be any defensive structures, although the closeness of the buildings around the central square probably enabled them to be fortified at need. Nor were there any signs of a castle or similar structure. There were lookout posts, but these were near the river and could serve as lighthouses as much as watch stands.
Searching through his many long talks with Adara, Griffin realized that never once had she mentioned enemies or wars or fighting. If the layout of Shepherd’s Call was to be taken as testimony, the people who resided there lived lives that demanded a great deal of labor, but armed conflict did not seem to be a regular element.
Griffin wondered how his brothers—all of whom had trained in various types of military service, one of whom was also a military historian—would feel about living in such a place. He thought they’d probably be bored out of their minds.
Despite the beauty of the day, Griffin didn’t catch even the faintest glimpse of anyone idling about. There were no milkmaids weaving chains of flowers for attentive shepherd lads nor goose girls singing sweetly beside splashing brooks. He did glimpse flocks, but those seemed to be tended as much by the parti-colored dogs that dashed among their woolly charges as by the children he occasionally glimpsed.
When his initial curiosity wore off, Griffin had to admit he was tired. He found a copse surrounded by young trees and scraggly shrubs that would hide him from immediate view, then made himself a nest in the long grass. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the people he had left behind, people he had once hoped to impress, but now realized he’d be happy if only he could see again.
When Griffin awoke, twilight was shifting into full darkness and Sand Shadow was sitting a short distance away. The puma motioned that Griffin might join her if he wished and he decided to take her up on the invitation. By nature, Griffin was quite capable of solitude. However, the hours he had spent on this wooded knoll had brought home to him just how alone he was.
He had watched Adara bring the canoe into a landing—not one of the ones near the center of town, but farther downstream. Despite this, a fair number of people—an astonishing number of whom seemed to be vigorous and male—had appeared to help her unload. He could imagine the lively questions and conversation. Now he understood why Adara had not thought she could bring him in onboard the canoe. Looking at the compact layout of the village, he wondered if she could sneak him in at all.
“Well, Sand Shadow,” he soliloquized, “is Adara very popular with the young men, then? Does she have many admirers? It’s impossible to believe a woman so lovely would not—no matter that she seems to think of her claws and those very interesting eyes as disfigurements.”
Sand Shadow rumbled something—not a purr, precisely, nor a growl, but definitely a comment.
Belatedly, Griffin realized that his soliloquy might not be such at all. The puma might very well understand every word he spoke. Worse, Sand Shadow might repeat what he had said, or at least the sense of it, to Adara. He found himself blushing.
Yet it was far nicer to think about Adara of the long legs, trim waist, rounded (if not overly large) breasts, and laughing amber eyes (never mind that the pupils were slit like a cat’s), than to think about his mother and his father, about his six brothers (annoying as they could be) and his three sisters, all of whom he might never see again.
So Griffin thought about Adara, and leaned back against a puma possessed of something close to opposable thumbs. Eventually, he drowsed again, memories mixing with dreams in a disconcertingly vivid manner. He awoke to Adara lightly touching the side of his face.
Griffin was acutely aware of the warmth of her palm hovering just over his lips, doubtless to quiet him should he wake startled. Fighting back a momentary impulse to kiss that warmth, he blinked himself fully alert.
“Wake, Griffin Dane,” Adara’s voice came, soft and near his ear. “I’ve brought some good cheese, a bit of bread, and a handful of early strawberries. While you eat, I will explain how I hope to get you into Bruin’s house unseen.”
* * *
After full dark, they crept down from the bluff. Adara kept a hand on Griffin’s arm, guiding him around obstacles. Once they were on the packed dirt road that went between the village and the surrounding fields, she could tell Griffin felt more sure on his feet. Adara was pleased with him. The road was not without ruts, but Griffin clearly trusted that she would set their path between them.
Sand Shadow padded silently in front, her presence assuring both that any wild creatures that prowled the night and the village dogs kept their distance and swallowed their growls. Bruin’s house lay alongside the river on the outskirts of Shepherd’s Call. Flickering lanterns and candlelight from windows showed that not all the villagers had gone to bed with the sun, but many structures were nothing more than dark forms against the star-filled night sky.
They were nearly to Bruin’s house when Sand Shadow flashed a warning image into Adara’s mind. As the puma did so, a resonant male voice spoke out of the darkness.
“Adara? Is that you?”
Adara let go of Griffin’s arm and stepped ahead. To her delight, Griffin froze in place. Perhaps from those few words, he had grasped that this man did not share Adara’s gift for seeing in the dark.
“Terrell,” Adara said, the single word an identification. “Yes, it is me. What are you doing roaming about at this hour?”
“I wanted to speak with you,” Terrell replied, “but there were so many people waiting when you arrived at Bruin’s. I tried to get your attention, but you never seemed to notice. Then when I went back, Bruin said you had gone out. I hoped…”
Adara flashed an image to Sand Shadow, an image of her distr
acting Terrell while Sand Shadow guided Griffin to Bruin. She felt the puma’s acknowledgment, then stepped closer to Terrell.
Her night vision did not show Terrell as he would be in the day, for colors were diminished, but she could see the basic outline: broad shoulders, slim hips, strong legs. The dark brown hair worn cut just above the shoulders fell in artful disarray, as usual. Her memory filled in the bright blue eyes, the high-bridged, narrow nose.
When Terrell had first come to Shepherd’s Call as student to Helena the Equestrian—who had retired there with her second husband, Bert, a man famous for the speed with which he could shear a sheep—the local girls had all but swooned. Terrell could hardly move ten paces from Helena’s stables without encountering some fair maiden making him a welcoming gift of a bunch of wildflowers or a ribbon with which to ornament the headstall of Coal, his favorite steed.
Even after the time for welcoming was long over, Terrell would have been a complete fool to deny he had admirers. Perversely, it was Adara—the woman the local swains had disdained as too strange—upon whom Terrell had fixed his fancy. With Terrell’s interest, the local youths had taken a second look, so that for the first time since Adara had been acknowledged not only adapted but a huntress, she found herself with nearly too many admirers.
“Nearly,” for too many meant that Adara need not make any choice, since no one was seen as favored. In any case, with the possible exception of Terrell himself, there was, in fact, no one she did favor.
Perhaps Terrell sensed this. Before Adara had left on this recent training trip, Terrell had attempted to press his suit. Adara had managed to avoid giving any sort of answer, but she did not think Terrell would always be put off so easily.
“You’re back earlier than expected,” Terrell said, his tone holding both caress and question. “I could hardly believe it when I heard that Foam Dancer had been seen on the river. Did you miss me?”
Adara could sense Sand Shadow beginning to guide Griffin down the side path that would take them to a door on the other side of Bruin’s house, a door that could be opened without exciting anyone’s attention. She knew she must distract Terrell a bit longer, for although he lacked her ability to see in the dark, he was naturally alert.
“I missed everyone,” she said, “as much as a hunter does, of course. We are solitary people, you know, especially cat-kind.”
Terrell snorted. “Even cats have mates, otherwise there would be no more cats. I have heard tell that in warmer climates there are cats larger even than Sand Shadow who live in packs like wolves, hunting together and raising their cubs in company.”
Adara had heard of these as well, for Bruin was a thorough teacher, one who insisted his pupil learn about creatures and ecosystems far beyond what might be expected to be her hunting range. She did not admit her knowledge, though, for to do so would be to seem receptive to Terrell’s argument.
It is my fault, she thought, that I slept with him last midsummer. His attentions were so sweet and he was so persistent … and the night so warm and the moon so bright.
Despite the consequences, Adara could not bring herself to regret her action. She might still choose Terrell as a mate. There were many advantages. Above and beyond his considerable charm, she could not dismiss the fact that Terrell’s profession as a factotum meant he would likely do a great deal of traveling. She would like to see more of the world …
She felt Terrell waiting for her to reply. “I would like to see these wolf-cats someday. Lions … Plains lions. Maned lions. Those are the names for them.”
“I will take you there,” Terrell murmured, nuzzling her throat. “We could travel together, just the two of us. Who would dare bother factotum and huntress together?”
Adara felt the flash of Sand Shadow telling her that Griffin was safely inside Bruin’s house.
None too soon … I’m already all on edge from these nights of sleeping beside Griffin with only good sense as chaperone. This is not the time to invite other complications!
She twisted free of Terrell’s embrace.
“I have my duties,” she said, “and you yours. There is much I need to learn. Surely such discussions can wait.”
“Wait, wait, wait…” Terrell protested. “You are forever saying that! We will be learning all our lives.”
“Hunters cultivate patience,” Adara replied stiffly.
She heard Terrell mutter something less than kind but chose to ignore the words. Sometimes he forgot just how keen her hearing was.
“I’m going inside,” she said. “Sweet dreams.”
“Good night,” came the stiff reply. “Good night.”
* * *
Adara found Griffin and Bruin seated together in the central room of Bruin’s house. Sand Shadow appeared to be absorbed with working free the clasp of one of her earrings, but the glint of amusement Adara felt when she entered the room told her that the puma was perfectly aware of what had passed outside.
The other side of the fire was occupied by the considerable bulk of Honeychild. Bruin’s demiurge was a bear, her brown fur touched with red and gold. Usually, she was a roly-poly creature, so rounded and cuddly-looking that small children ran up to her without fear. Now, however, newly awakened from her winter’s hibernation, she was lean, her fur patchy, her mood short-tempered.
Bruin had apparently decided to soothe that temper by giving the bear a large chunk of the honeycomb Adara had brought down from the mountains. Now the bear was sleepily licking the sticky stuff off her fur. She rumbled a contented greeting to Adara as the huntress padded in.
Bruin had saved a piece of the honeycomb for himself. It sat upon a round bluish-grey pottery dish alongside a chunk of fresh bread. Tea steamed from a chubby pot in the same glaze, and Bruin nodded invitation for Adara to fill the remaining empty mug. As she moved to do so, Griffin started up from where he was sitting in the basket chair that matched Bruin’s favorite.
“Let me, Adara,” he said. Then, “I’ve taken your seat.”
Adara shook her head. “Not at all. I usually sit nearer the floor. Bruin says I’m too young to need a chair.”
Bruin chuckled. “She’s not fibbing, Griffin Dane. I’m old and fat and lazy, my hunting days nearly gone by. Young folk need to cultivate flexible limbs, especially those who choose to hunt with the cats.”
Perhaps by the standards of his youth Bruin was old and fat, but to Adara he was little changed from the man who had taken her on when she was only five and her parents, certain now of her adapted nature, sought a teacher who could help her take advantage of whatever changes occurred.
At least that was what they had said at the time. Adara had never quite gotten over the feeling that her family—especially her mother—were scared of her and wanted to be rid of the wildness she brought into their settled farming croft.
Bruin was not a tall man, but no one would call him small. Really, the best word to describe him was bear-like. He possessed a bear’s broad chest and torso, with arms and legs that were relatively short. Whether to cultivate the resemblance to a bear or because that was how his hair grew naturally, Bruin wore his reddish-brown mass without the more usual ponytail. His beard was of moderate length, but its generally untidy cut only added to the bearishness of his appearance.
As Bruin had aged, both hair and beard had begun to silver, although very strangely, starting at the tips rather than the roots, so that people whispered he actually was a grizzly bear made human. As far as Adara knew, the whispers pleased her mentor rather than otherwise.
She settled onto her cushion and let the warmth of the tea soak into her fingers as the conversation resumed.
“Griffin, your shuttle crashing seems very odd to me,” Bruin said. “Does such commonly happen? It seems that you would hardly trust yourself to the chill void between the stars if your ships were so unreliable.”
Griffin shook his head. “No. It isn’t common. In fact, the models I chose—both of ship and shuttle—were selected because variations have
long been in use, the flaws detected and removed. I fear I may have fallen victim to elements I did not believe would be present in the upper atmosphere.”
The last word was not one Adara knew, but she could figure it out from context. Griffin had told her he intended to scout the planet from the highest reaches before coming down.
“I think,” Bruin said, “that this is a complicated tale. No seegnur has been to Artemis since the death of machines. Yet you speak as if you knew something of what you thought you would find. Can you explain?”
Griffin nodded. “I’d like to, but isn’t it rather late? I slept through the afternoon, but Adara and you…”
“Tell,” Bruin said. “Usually, I am very fond of sleep, but morning will come all too soon and, with morning, a need to explain you. If we are to do that, we must understand more.”
Interlude: TVC1500
Motion. Achieved. Target scent faint. Not by scent alone does one track. Signature present, unique, unmistakable.
Motion with purpose, purpose apt alternative for haste. Awareness of singing in the winds, a song of reinforcement?
Purpose flares. Reinforcement undesired, in violation of the purpose. No alternative to haste. Must hasten. Must hasten.
Haste!
5
The Beginning of the End
“Where should I begin?” Griffin asked. “How much does your lore remember of the last days of the seegnur on Artemis?”
Bruin’s laugh was a great, rumbly thing. “How can we know how much the lore remembers and how much we have surmised? Oh, yes, I realize that saying the lore is anything less than truth would greatly offend the loremasters, but I am an old hunter and I know that tales are like game trails. The older they are the more muddled they become. Begin your tale where you think it begins. Adara and I are of a patient sort. You will not bore us.”
Artemis Awakening Page 6
