by H M Major
"We do not reproach you," the voices said, replying to his thought. "You are what you are, and that is not as others are."
"Am I really so different from everyone else?"
"You are, are, are, are, are," the voices echoed. Here was confirmation of his worst fears. He suspected he possessed certain tendencies, criminal traits. Until now he believed his worry had painted them larger than they were.
"Why? What is wrong with me?"
"All but one of your forebears are among us," they told him. "But that one is very strong in you. Your strangeness springs from that source." Deep/high, soft/loud, distant/near, a thousand thousand separate murmurs.
Blood congealed around Cord's heart. To think of someone so terrible that his spirit was not even accepted among the ancestors whom all-all!-were said to join at death.
Cord's muscles felt stiff, and his eyes ached. The urge to face those who addressed him was overwhelming, but there was no one there, only the breeze.
"What shall I do?" he asked. Why did he bother? What could they tell him, except to kill himself or live apart in the desert until he died?
"You have no future on Mehira" was the sibilant reply.
He almost laughed. That was one way of stating it. The next words were unexpected.
"You must leave this world, Cord."
"What?"
"Leave Mehira. You have become a source of infection. For Mehira's good and your own survival, you must go."
His first reaction was gladness: to see alien worlds and meet others, like Julia, who would not be offended by his background, seemed an undeserved reward. His second thought Was of the obstacles.
"To leave, I need the Terrans' help. And you know that I… killed some of them."
"So you informed us. Do you think they will not give you transportation off Mehira because of it?"
"The idea occurred to me," Cord said wryly.
"If they were Mehirans, it might be so, though even among our kind many things can be forgiven if it is to someone's advantage. Offer them what they want."
"And what should I do when I am away from Mehira?" he asked.
The multitude laughed softly.
"No doubt a young man of curiosity and enterprise will find something to occupy him…"
Cord smiled, forgetting the past few days in the warming kindness of their amusement.
"There is one thing more," they whispered, and this time their tones were cold as the wind from a northern sea. "There is another source of contagion on Mehira, and that is the one who "killed your father and mother. Remove it."
"Yes." He had intended all along to find his parents' killer. To have his ancestors' sanction lightened his heart. It had been uncomfortable to conceal from them a crime he planned to commit. He was only surprised to find the spirits advocating revenge.
Once more, they read his thoughts.
"We are not concerned with revenge. Our interest is Mehira's good. The murderer is a source of danger."
"As I am?"
"There is a difference. You would do harm inadvertently. But there is a hunger for emotion and experience which amounts to lust. It must be removed."
"Who is the killer?" The ancestors often spoke in riddles, Cord knew; that was well known from the old stories.
"We cannot tell you. We can sense the murderer's presence-but not his identity-as we can sense your genetic inheritance. Once you have found the murderer and eliminated the threat, you will take passage offworld."
The voices were silent, so that Cord thought they had finished. Before he could thank them, they spoke again.
"Be warned: among the humans, maintain your emotional shielding as much as possible, or you will be destroyed by their emotions and by the things you must do. We can aid you no further."
"I understand," he said. "I'll do what you say."
"Good fortune attend your faring, then, Cord. Our goodwill is with you."
A surge of emotion rolled over him-joy, comfort, affection, pride, every positive feeling magnified. It lasted for the space of a heartbeat. The ancestors had embraced him, in their own way.
"Thank you," Cord called into the wind, but the murmuring had faded away.
***
The climb down seemed to pass very swiftly. This time Cord's mind was full of plans and possibilities. Once he got back inside the spaceport…
Bird stood waiting as he scrambled down the last rocky shoulder onto the desert floor. He seemed to see everything with preternatural clarity. He noted that Bird's face was smudged and anxious but that she had rebraided her hair and rolled it up into a knot for convenience. It would be cooler thus.
"Did you-?"
Cord knew what she meant. Had he heard the spirits?
"They spoke to me." The words sounded prosaic as a description of what he had experienced. Did the ancestors speak to one in a hundred thousand? To no more than that, he was sure.
Bird waited in silence, her eyes wide. One might never meet anyone who had heard the ancestral spirits.
"Let's sit in the shade, Bird, and I'll tell you about it."
Under the ridge's shadow, it was pleasantly dim. After enjoying the coolness for a moment, he began, "I know what I have to do. They told me to leave Mehira."
Bird drew a harsh breath. "How?"
"The Terrans will take me, the spirits say."
"Is there nothing else you can do? Living among them will be a cruel punishment."
"Yet if I stay here I may not be permitted to live at all." He had not thought of exile from Mehira as a sentence for crime, yet most would regard it as a terrible fate.
"Cord," Bird asked, "did the ancestors say how the aliens would take you away-or why? What if they take you away only to punish you?"
"It's all right, Bird. The spirits said the Terrans would give me passage in return for my parents' devices. And that's not all. One of them killed my parents, and I am to discover the murder…"
He left the statement unfinished. Better not to speak of what would happen next. But Bird had already been touched by his cold thought of revenge before he could throw up a barrier.
"The spirits ordered you to do this?" Doubt was strong in her voice. "It's sacrilegious."
"Bird, I swear to you, I'm not making this up. They told me the murderer was a source of contagion and must be removed."
Bird crossed her arms on her chest and regarded him seriously.
"One of my father's friends has a theory about the spirits. He claims their advice is directed toward the survival of the race, that it isn't kindness or family feeling that leads them to give assistance. He has documented many manifestations, including times they've spoken to someone who didn't ask for help. He says that one way or another, they get rid of anyone who poses a danger to Mehira. But if it's true, your experience makes sense."
"But why haven't I heard of this?" Cord demanded, then answered himself. "Of course, I'm no scholar."
"The Council has not approved its publication yet."
"Ah."
They sat for a time without speaking. Cord saw with surprise that the sun had not yet begun to slide down the sky. He felt he had already lived a long day, but there were plans to be made.
"We'll have to avoid being caught by our own people," Cord said, mostly to himself. "It may be hard getting inside the spaceport again, if the Council is still blockading it."
"Cord, I am not going with you." She spoke with the finality of death.
"They won't touch you again, Bird. That will be part of my bargain with them. Hamilton K wants what I have. He'll agree."
Bird's tail twitched, throwing a miniature shower of sand.
"Perhaps you can guarantee it, but I am not thinking of my safety. What concerns me now is decency. You intend to go back among the aliens and kill another of them. I want no part of it, whether the ancestors approve or not."
He started to protest, and stopped. She was gazing down at the sand, tight-lipped, her ears lying close to her head. Cord reached out to
stroke the nearest one.
"I'm sorry, Bird." For what, he did not know. But what she said was true. No normal Mehiran would do what he planned.
"I know. So am I. If you were someone else-but you aren't. You're intelligent and fun and kind… and you're a wild animal. You can't help it, and I can't overlook it anymore-or pretend that you're civilized. The ancestors are right to have you leave Mehira. But I'm not going with you."
"Did I ask you to come?"
"No. You assumed I would, though. Didn't you?"
In his turn, Cord lowered his eyes.
"Never mind. Please understand, Cord. You've gotten worse lately. You aren't touching my mind even now, and you've got your own barriers up, as usual. You are willingly becoming deaf and blind. It's like finding the cub of a dangerous beast, taking it home and making a pet of it, then discovering when it's grown that it's still a predator."
Cord winced. He was a "predator." He liked hunting people. When he was engaged in a chase, he found it utterly engrossing. Now he had killed, and it was really no more difficult than the pursuit. He was no longer fit to live in Mehiran society.
"I know," he replied. "It was foolish of me to think of your coming: you wouldn't be happy among the humans. I'm not sure you could even survive the continual onslaught of their emotions."
"And will you find it easy to endure?" she asked.
"I may not like it, but I can bear it. My training helps." So often he had shut himself off from others, because so often they were hostile to him because of his trade.
Bird put her arms around him. "I wish I could help."
"You can't," he replied. "No one can. It's all right, Bird. I think I'll be happier away from Mehira. At least I won't be unhappier, except for missing you. But what can I do to make things right for you?"
"Drop me off near a town on your way back to the spaceport. You won't want to start until dusk, will you? If you could approach unseen it would be best."
Cord, remembering the Council's guard on the alien enclave, agreed.
"Now that's settled, we have the afternoon left," Bird pointed out. "Love me, Cord."
It would be for the last time, he knew, as he began to peel off her clothing.
She was as hot for him as though she had taken an aphrodisiac, and she wound her lithe legs around him to lock him to her. Cord opened his shields to feel her. Her need was compelling. It affected him, triggering an even deeper urge. He wanted to plow her again and again. His organ felt enormous. She was near ecstasy as he penetrated her, so it was easy to maintain a rhythmic pounding while Bird wriggled, nipped him tenderly, and moaned. He rode her until her passion exploded into orgasm and she lay limp beneath him.
"Anyone would think you never expected to have sex again," he murmured to her, after he had withdrawn. "Whereas there will be dozens and dozens of men in the future who'll worm their way into your… affections."
She smiled in drowsy satiation. "You didn't come, Cord. I wish you had."
"The afternoon is young. By this evening, you'll be too sore to do anything but go to bed, alone. I swear."
In spite of her contentment, her nipples hardened as soon as he touched them, and her pelvis angled up to meet him.
CHAPTER 14
The sun was setting when the aircar lifted with Cord in the pilot's seat. In the distance he could see lights coming on in the towns that edged the waste. Cord kept the aircar over the desert, with the nearest towns off to their left. He began to bear north. Soon the port would be in sight.
"That cluster of lights over there must be Delell," Bird said. "You'd better land here and let me out."
Since takeoff they had kept their speech to the simple exchange of information. There was nothing more to say, unless they spent their last time together in argument.
Cord brought the aircar down on the sand without difficulty. Fortunately it was a fine model, with a full complement of equipment to make it operate safely even with an inattentive pilot. He turned to speak to Bird.
"Goodbye, Cord." She had already opened the door to leave.
He put his hand on her arm to stop her.
"Wait! Bird, what are you going to do? What have you got to go back to?"
She did not look at him. Her eyes were on the town lights ahead.
"I'm going to campaign against easing trade restrictions with the humans. They're too loose already. Eventually, I'll be a Speaker. Maybe I can keep the Council from making more mistakes. Oh, I have work to do. Good luck, Cord. I did love you."
She slipped out, letting the door slip shut behind her. Her pale gown whipped around her legs in the night wind.
Cord watched her walking away, very straight, very purposeful, a woman who knew where she was going.
A woman walking away…
He recalled a story about his great-great-grandfather, who had gone north into the lava-rock wastes to track a bandit. He had failed to catch the robber but he found a woman there, walking all alone. No one ever knew where she came from or why, but she married Cord's ancestor when no one else would, because of his trade. The history of his family, Cord thought, was bracketed by women walking in solitude.
His eyes could no longer make out Bird's form in the darkness. He touched the instruments and felt the aircar swing around in response. Bound northeast, he left the desert behind. His course would take him to the city, not to the spaceport.
He had let Bird suppose that he intended to go directly to the humans. It would have caused her anxiety to know that he was making a little detour first. He could not leave Mehira without gathering the rest of his parents' instruments. He had a premonition that he would need all the leverage he could get.
Cord veered the craft toward the city's northern precinct. Finola lived in an outlying suburb in a small, luxurious house. If it were not for her, and the fact that she lived on the outskirts, he would hesitate to go back. As it was, the foray was dangerous but worth the risk.
He landed on a public airstrip a short walk from her home. There were many advantages to living in a prosperous section. Cord left the vehicle unconcernedly; it would not occur to law-abiding Mehirans that the aircar parked here with half a dozen others might be stolen. In fact, it was possible that no one had yet realized it had been taken from the port's lot.
He found his way to Finola's door without difficulty, having visited her many times with his family. Pausing in the small front garden, Cord hoped she was not entertaining any of her love-friends tonight. Still, it was a risk he had to take, he thought, looking up at the tall, narrow house. He struck the entrance gong and waited.
At last the door opened, and Cord saw Finola's inquiring expression change to gladness. But she did not exclaim at seeing him. Instead she glanced around furtively and pulled him inside.
"One cannot be too careful," she explained. "Now, Cord! Tell me everything. I thought you were… gone, like Fyrrell and Neteel. Where have you been?"
"From the way you greeted me, I think you know," he responded with a wry smile.
She answered in guarded tones, "I know the Council is eager to interview you. Your 'assistance' is 'requested,' according to the bulletins. I am loyal to the Council-naturally! -but when it advertises for a citizen to give it assistance, it is seldom to the citizen's advantage."
At least there was no city-wide hunt in progress for him. When Cord did not speak immediately, Finola asked, "What happened? Maybe I can help."
"To be honest, I hoped you could. There was no one else I could go to."
Her smile made her shrewd, sensible face almost pretty. Cord realized what his father had seen in her: the humor, courage, and loyalty.
"Thank you! I'm glad you felt you could come to me. Now if we can pass the evasions and get down to whatever is bothering you, perhaps I can think of something. And while you're making up a good story to tell me, I'll get you something to eat."
"No, don't bother, Finola. I'm not evading your questions, and I don't want to put you to more trouble."
"Don't be silly. Be comfortable. I'll be right back."
He was hungry, he decided, as well as tired. Settling onto a cushioned platform, he was quite content to wait.
Finola soon returned, bearing a tray with bottles, beakers, and plates of delicacies. She poured them heartening drafts of blue-root wine diluted with fruit juice, and gestured to Cord to help himself to preserved fish, fruit, and other dishes he did not recognize.
He nibbled a bit of dried melon which had been stuffed with a sweet, spicy paste. "It feels like a year since it happened. The aliens put us all out of the spaceport, except for Bird. It was when I was going back to learn who killed Fyrrell and Neteel that I discovered she was a prisoner." He did not want to tell Finola more.
"So you rescued her," Finola interpolated.
"Yes." Cord sought for a way to gloss over his murder of several Terrans. He wondered how much his father had talked about his work to his mistress. If he had spoken of it freely, Finola might not be horrified, not the way Bird was.
"The humans were not willing to surrender your friend easily, I suppose," Finola said dryly. "So there was trouble. I begin to see why the Council wishes to talk to you."
Cord relaxed. Finola might not commit the indelicacy of referring to violence, but she evidently understood what had occurred.
"You did get her out?" she inquired.
"Oh, yes. We spent last night and most of today in the Yellow Desert. Now Bird is on her way home. It wasn't wise to come back together."
Finola's sapphire-colored eyes seemed to fathom the trouble between Bird and himself, without a word being said. Without even a sharing of emotions, for Cord was too weary of others' condemnation and shock to open himself to anyone.
"I don't think you should answer the Council's summons," she said.
"Nothing was farther from my mind."
"What will you do, then?"
Cord drained his beaker. "I am going back to the spaceport. I am going to execute the murderer. And then I will leave Mehira."
Having expected her to be amazed and to try to dissuade him, Cord was taken aback when Finola remarked, "It appears there is no alternative. Do you need transportation to the spaceport?"
