"Says he wasn't sure at first. Just sort of noticed there seemed to be a couple more around than he'd seen before. But then he was camped right over at the edge of desert. He'd ridden out after some fool yearling frawn an' didn't find it. Next day he rode out after the frawn again and there it was. A man doesn't miss seeing a skeleton right under his horse's hooves. An' Dumaroy says that he had a good look at everything. The frawn was lying right across his tracks from the day before."
"Did he backtrack it?"
"He says so. Says there were signs it had run for miles right out into the edge of the Big Blue and then circled for home range again. The thing that is bothering him is that he couldn't see tracks of anything else. It must have been chased; no frawn is stupid enough to head out into waterless country just for the heck of it. But he couldn't find tracks and that upset him more than anything. You know Dumaroy."
Hosteen smiled a little. He did. He also knew the man was right. The Big Blue was the name the settlers had given to an area in which little grew, since there was no open water. It was a great area of desert bounded at the back by jagged foothills rising into mountains, equally arid. Over much of the desert and over the mountains in particular the winds and updrafts were so fierce that no air transport could survive. The few that tried over the years had all crashed.
"Yes. Dumaroy tracks well enough, but the Norbies track better. He doesn't want to call on them for help?"
Logan's answering grin was broad. "Nope, he doesn't. So he's asking for you and Surra. A comcall came in just before I left the house asking if you'd take her over there an' see what you can find."
He saw the look of surprise and sobered. "I know. If Dumaroy asks for your help then he's a lot more worried than he lets on. Will you go?"
"Yes. If Dumaroy's animals are dying, how long before whatever is causing it spreads?" Logan nodded slowly. "So, call Dumaroy. Tell him I'll be there tomorrow."
"What about the Ark. I thought they were landing a shuttle tomorrow. You wanted to talk to them about the team. They want to see you, too. They might take offense if you aren't there to meet them."
"If something new is killing frawns, that's more important. Tell them I'm sorry but I've had to ride out. I'll be back as soon as I can." He looked at Logan. "Just keep them away from Hing and her family. I don't want them doing anything until I'm there. From what the Fremlyn people say this Brion Carraldo thinks anything he wants to do is his right because he's a scientist."
Logan snorted. "They won't get near Hing. Even if they do get a look at them I'd stun the man before he laid a finger on them. Go and see about Dumaroy's trouble. I'll tell Dad where you've gone."
With that Hosteen was content. Brad Quade, his step-father, would smooth over any ruffled scientific feathers. He had to have mates for the team, yes. But frawn ranching was what kept the planet of Arzor solvent. Frawn hides were not only beautiful, they were solidly durable. Frawn fabric was lovely, hard-wearing, water-repellent, and lightweight. Moreover, the Norbies relied on the frawn as Hosteen's own people had once relied on the buffalo. The Native Protection Agency at Spaceport would have something to say if the frawn herds were in danger, quite apart from what ranchers like Dumaroy would say and do.
He decided not to waste time. If he called in a copter he could be at Dumaroy's ranch house in hours. Surra was used to copter travel and he'd take Baku as well. He used the com to call in. Then he prepared. Brad arrived shortly before the copter touched down.
"I must go, Asizi." Storm used the Navaho word meaning respected chief. His stepfather had only become really known to Hosteen in the past couple of years, but by now a strong bond of affection had grown between them. Family was paramount to the Navaho and Storm had been raised in that tradition.
"Logan told me," Brad Quade returned thoughtfully. "Ride wary. If there is something out there that can kill a frawn and strip it to bones in a night, I'd rather you didn't run into it. Logan says there are no tracks?"
"None Dumaroy or his men could find. That isn't all. Frawns are fighters. One wouldn't just roll over. Either what killed it was so terrifying the frawn ran until it dropped, or it did fight. So where were the bodies? If whatever attacked it was big, it would have left tracks. If the attackers were small, then the frawn should have killed some."
Quade's face twisted into worried lines. "It doesn't sound good, son. Watch out for Dumaroy. You know him. Ten to one he's already started to wonder if this really isn't some new Norbie trick. It's only a step from that to him making trouble with the natives."
"Not this time, I don't think. Logan says he's honestly worried and even Dumaroy can see the Norbies could be worse off than ranchers if the frawns were destroyed."
From outside came the sound of the copter landing. Hosteen was ready. Brad watched in silence as the man he thought of as his son boarded with two of his Beast team. Baku didn't like copters, she preferred to use her own wings. The eagle ruffled a little in mild protest as Storm carried her aboard. Surra flowed silently up the lowered steps to place herself in a comfortable position on the floor between the seats. She knew when hunting was afoot and was only eager to get on with it. In contact with both, Storm was aware of their emotions. Unconsciously he reached out with his mind to calm the eagle, to assure the big cat that they would hunt soon. He hardly felt the sudden lift as they ascended. He was too busy wondering: What was it that came out of the Big Blue and killed?
The copter landed at their destination; Hosteen swept his team out and kept his face impassive as Dumaroy ran up.
"Two more fresh skeletons. I've got one of the men out riding to check. Take your pick of horses and let's go."
Suddenly Storm was as eager as the big rancher to leave. He swung his arm up, issuing a mental command. The eagle soared upward to circle the ranch buildings.
"Show me the horses. Do you have travel rations ready?"
"Yeah. I need to supply a couple of the line camps on the way, so I've loaded a cart. The cat can ride when she needs to." He shrugged. "It's a fair way. We'll be riding most of the day to the first camp. After that we can night over and be there by midday."
"What about your man?"
"Mirt Lasco's kid, Jarry. He said he'd stay at the Big Blue camp. That's about an hour's ride from where he found the frawn skeletons."
Storm glanced up sharply. "That's a risk."
"What?" Dumaroy snorted. "Nah. No man's ever been hurt or nothing. An' the Norbies'd be kicking up a fuss if any of them'd been killed. I reckon it's safe enough. Anyway, you can't tell young Lasco nothing. I said he should come in to the trail camp an' he reckoned he'd just have to ride all the way back again."
"His choice," Storm said shortly. He was worried but there was nothing he could do about it now. "Where are the horses."
He was led to a small corral where several ponies waited. Even with the urgency Storm halted a few seconds to look them over. They must be some of the mounts Put Larkin had sold after culling. They were good, but not as good as that herd of Put was going to be in several more generations. This bunch hadn't the Astran duocorn blood Larkin was adding these days. Nice animals, though. He selected a gray with a black mane and tail, a little larger than the others. Dumaroy handed over a bridle, then a saddle with filled saddlebags attached.
"Canteen?"
The rancher nodded. "Here. Two, an' water purification tablets just in case. Never go far without them." Storm had the horse ready in minutes and waited. Dumaroy swung up and led off. Behind him rolled the ranch cart drawn by a small but strong mare. Surra had leapt up to lie comfortably atop the load. Storm followed.
They rode in silence most of the day and it was close to dusk before the trail camp came in sight. It was a sturdy log building, plain and square, half tucked into the rise of a small hill. Inside there was a fresher, a com caller, and a stable connected deeper into the hillside. With the earth above, the stable would stay cool through even the hotter days. They ran their mounts into the waiting stalls, provided food and wate
r, then returned to the main cabin to stow most of the supplies from the cart.
Baku came to Storm's mental call. She sideslipped in to land on his shoulder, accepting the offered chunk of raw meat. He allowed her to move to the branch he'd placed across a cabin corner. She'd be fine. Surra was settled on a bunk and Storm brought her water. She drank eagerly, then ate before falling asleep, sprawled along the soft bedding. Dumaroy looked as if he'd have said something, glanced at Storm, and kept it unsaid.
They were moving again at first light. This time at Storm's insistence they moved more slowly. Surra ranged out at first ahead, then on either side of them. A thread of interest from her caught Storm's attention. He sent Baku in that direction. The picture he received had him pulling up the gray pony hastily.
"Dumaroy! I thought you said there's been no frawn skeletons found this far into the good lands?"
"That's right. Why?"
Without answer Storm sent his pony trotting in the direction Surra had gone. They rounded a clump of brush and boulders to find her circling a skeleton. Baku floated lazily above. Dumaroy cursed savagely.
"Another one gone. This is costing me."
Storm turned to look at him. "There's more." He nudged the pony along a frawn track and into a small gully. At the end of it lay a jumble of new-stripped bones. At least six frawns, maybe seven. Surra had trotted ahead and reached over to sniff the skeletons. She wrinkled her face in an expression of disgust and spat. Above Baku ranged out further. Surra sat waiting as Storm dropped lightly from the gray and checked the bones.
"Fresh." He drifted around, widening his path in a spiral. He paused and looked again. "Rig, see what you make of this."
The big man plodded over to search the ground where Storm pointed. He blinked. "Dunno. It sorta looks as if it rained here, doesn't it." He considered the tiny, almost invisible marks. "I can only see them when I look from the right angle. You reckon whatever made them may have had something to do with the frawns dying?"
"I don't know, but it's worth remembering."
Dumaroy nodded. "Yeah. An' there's something else. Guess I should have made that kid come in to the trail camp no matter what he said. These here frawns are well outside of the Big Blue. Fact is, they're closer in than where the kid woulda camped."
Storm gave the signal for Baku to scout. Surra obeyed as well, all business now that she knew there was danger. Storm pushed his mount into a canter. "We're either in time or too late. Nothing we can do but ride."
Chapter Two
Tani was angry. It was an insult to the Ark and to her uncle, she thought. That Beast Master had said he'd meet the shuttle when it arrived. Instead here was some man telling them Storm had decided to go off into the desert. He'd given them a long tale about the local animals dying and this Hosteen having taken two of his team to look for the cause. It was rude, that was what it was. She was surprised Uncle Brion didn't say something about it. Instead he was chatting about conditions here just as if it were nothing.
She slipped away, back to the shuttle. Mandy would like to be outside. Tani hauled out the perch the paraowl used and set it solidly into the earth beside the ramp. With that ready she marched inside to return, carrying the big bird. Mandy hopped up happily onto her perch, checked that the food and water containers were full, and stared about. The Arzoran man with Uncle Brion came over to admire her.
"She's beautiful. An Ishan paraowl, isn't she?"
Tani softened toward him. Mandy was beautiful. "Yes, they were considering using them as special messengers for the Beast Masters."
He nodded. "I thought she must be augmented. Paraowls aren't usually happy out in the daylight."
Tani was happy to show off her friend. "Mandy enjoys the daylight. And she can carry really long verbal messages without making mistakes. That's why the first settlers on Ishan called them paraowls. It's short for parrot owls, because they are such good mimics and because they only flew at night. The slang name for them was 'ghosts.' " She grinned up at him. "That's because they were completely white and flew without making a sound."
He smiled back. "But your Mandy isn't white."
"No." Tani stroked the paraowl who gave her small purring cry. The feathers were white, overlaid by a stippling of fawn shading into quite a dark brown. "Mandy's camouflaged. If she sits on almost anything without moving you can't see her. A few of them were born like that. On Ishan the other wild ones usually killed them because they were different. They showed up too much against the snow. We incorporated the gene for it, so now they're all like this. Mandy still flies without any noise, though. Give her chest a scratch, she loves that."
Brad Quade cautiously offered his hand to the bird. That was one of the most powerful beaks he'd ever seen. Mandy nibbled his fingers gently as he petted her. He could see that the feather pattern was such that looking directly at it left his eyes feeling blurred. He sighed. "She is lovely. I hope you have plenty of material. It would be a shame for her kind to die out."
Tani laughed. "We have tons. Well, a lot. And they aren't going to die out. There's a big demand for them." Brad raised his eyebrows in query. "A year before the Xiks destroyed Ishan a shipload of scientists from there went to look over Dulshan. That's the desert planet a few parsecs from Ishan. They came back to say it was uninhabited, people could live there, and there were quite a few things that could make it commercial."
She giggled a little. "Ishan had three shiploads of settlers on the way almost before the scientists had finished giving their report. Another three went out the week before the Xiks hit Ishan. Since then Dulshan has started ranches and they're using the paraowls as comcallers where they don't have the money. Or where a ranch hand is on the move reporting in each evening."
Her eyes laughed up at Brad. "It's like your horses here. Self-replicating, cheap fuel, and don't require off-world parts to fix when they break down."
From the corner of her eye she noticed Uncle Brion nodding. Many of the paraowls had been bred and sold from the Ark's laboratories. The darker variety was now predominant. Dulshan, or the second Ishan, had a climate similar to Arzor. Dulshan ranched sern, large dimwitted birds like Terran ostriches, which were native to the planet. To guard them they used coyotes, again bred from Beast Master experiments. That reminded her. She concentrated a moment and saw sharp-eared heads appear at the top of the ramp. Brad Quade saw them almost as quickly.
"Coyote?"
Tani called them silently. They trotted down to stand beside her as she introduced them. "This is Minou and Ferarre." There was pride in her voice, as was right, Quade reflected. They were handsome animals. Both had fur brindled in a light and dark gray. They'd vanish like the paraowl the minute they stayed still. The gaze of two sets of golden eyes rose to meet his, the light of more intelligence than even the coyote's age-old wisdom shining up at him. He could see why they'd be a real advantage on Dulshan. He admired them openly and with honesty, watching Tani's face glow with pleasure.
She'd been clearly hostile when Storm wasn't here to meet her uncle. Perhaps she'd felt the man had been insulted. But it was more than that. There'd been a tiny note of contempt any time she mentioned Brad's stepson. He studied her unobtrusively. Good bones. She wasn't pretty but in later life she'd be elegant. Her thick black hair was tied back in a long tail that fell across one shoulder. He couldn't make up his mind what color her eyes were. Sometimes they looked green, other times a cooler gray. She'd be about eighteen or nineteen, seven or eight years younger than the twenty-six-year-old Hosteen. The relatives were Irish but Tani looked different.
From comments her uncle had made, he and his wife had mostly raised the girl. That was a worry. Children took their opinions from their family. If the Ark's leading scientists were antagonistic to Beast Masters, then Storm's hope of mates for his animals might be in vain. That Fremlyn affair hadn't sounded good. He chatted on until he believed he'd smoothed over any anger at his son's absence. Storm should be back tomorrow. Surely this business at Dumaroy's coul
dn't be too serious. He bit back a sigh. In his experience things were often even worse than you'd expected. Anyhow, one should plan for that. He hoped Storm was doing so.
Storm hoped his planning for dangers would be sufficient, too. Baku was soaring, shifting out in a search spiral further and further. Storm stayed in contact. Surra, too, was moving, slipping quietly along a trail she was following, her face wrinkled in disgust at the—to her—rank stench of it. Dumaroy sat his mount restlessly as he watched. The rancher wanted to be up and doing something, and he was worried about young Lasco. Dumaroy's trouble was that he tended not to think before acting. Storm saw that the man's fidgets were getting worse. If they didn't move soon Dumaroy would start off half-cocked and without him.
"Whatever's doing this to the frawns may not leave many footprints, but it leaves a trail Surra can track."
Dumaroy lowered his head like an angry frawn bull. "It's takin' too much time. I reckon we should check out the kid before we run too far down any trails."
To his surprise Storm agreed. "I think so. Which is the quickest way there?"
"Down that canyon and across the mesa at the far end of it. The temporary camp should be a few miles beyond if that dumb kid's stayed where he said he would." The voice was almost casual but Storm wasn't fooled. Dumaroy was genuinely worried.
Without speaking, he sent his horse down the sloping canyon side. The rancher followed, pushing his mount to move into the lead. Gradually their speed increased until both were riding at a slow canter. The harness mare shifted to the same pace to stay with them, the cart bouncing over the ground. Surra squalled her indignation, jumping down to run on her own four feet, after one rough jolt.
Once her breed had been a smaller big-pawed big-eared cat that ranged desert wastes. Scientists had taken them and produced something that was still sand yellow, with the fox-like ears and muzzle. But now the breed was three times as large, with broad feet that kept them from sinking in soft ground. They retained the keen hearing that made them so effective as hunters, and in the Beast teams it had become an asset in war. One trait had remained completely untouched. They still did not like sustained effort. Surra would come on after them at her own pace. He reached out to reassure her, soothing her anger.
Beast Master's Ark Page 2
