The Children of the Sky zot-3

by Vernor Steffen Vinge

  The lights on their wagon showed trees thick on both sides of the path, the remaining twilight a dim patch of gray overhead. The sound of the waterfall was clear and loud ahead. They were truly committed. Forcibly retrieving Ritl and starting over was not an option.

  Amdi must have concluded the same. The six resumed their walk, while the two on the wagon cautiously eased the kherhogs into the descent. Ravna caught her first glimpse of what Amdi called the “winch station.” It looked like a small ferry mooring—except that it hung from the side of a cliff. Next to it was what seemed to be a large waterwheel, an arc of shadow biting into the river. Their own path led down to a building close by the waterwheel.

  “See the arrow slits?” said Jefri, but he wasn’t talking about the view below. He pointed to the side of the road just ahead, to pitch-dark slots cut in a timber barricade. “We didn’t see that this afternoon.”

  The wagon’s lights would be blinding to anyone that close. “Amdi,” said Ravna, “dim the lights.” Sometimes, intimidating the other side just got you killed.

  “Okay.” One of him on the wagon glanced back at her. Amdi’s sound effects ceased, leaving just Ritl’s flourishes banging away up ahead. The lights stayed bright.

  “Well?” said Ravna.

  “Urk. I’m thinking what to do!” Then he was speaking Tinish, fast and unintelligible.

  Maybe there was a sound behind her; maybe it was Amdi’s sudden weirdness. Ravna looked behind her. She was not alone. The closest pack held a crossbow with an enormous quarrel—the point of which was less than ten centimeters from her nose.

  Chapter 27

  Humans and kherhogs were forced down the hill, into a large shed that was smelly and filled with hay. A few tendays ago, Ravna Bergsndot would have thought this was serious mistreatment. But indoors, with the kherhogs, it was warm enough. And the hay had no fermenter stench.

  “Maybe we still have a chance with the godling scam,” said Jefri. He was tied to a pillar at the far side of the barn from Ravna.

  “Yes, and we rate heavy weapons.” Two packs, each with a huge crossbow.

  “Yeah, what foolish—”

  The pack nearest to him hissed loudly and crashed its weapon against the side of Jefri’s head. He went down without a sound.

  “Jefri!” Ravna pulled against her tether. The pack guarding her pushed its weapon into her midsection, knocking her back. She lay quiet for a moment, then rolled slightly forward and looked across the floor. A small mantle lamp hung from a rafter above Jefri. It must have been very dim to Tinish eyes, but for her it was more than adequate. She saw Jefri’s hand move in an “I’m okay” gesture. She signalled “okay” back. The guards didn’t react. Jefri’s hand moved slowly into other gestures.

  It was the sign language the Children had invented in their first few years on Tines World. By nature, Tines had an enormous advantage when it came to covert communication. The Children used their signing as a counter strategy. Some of their Tinish friends had learned to understand the signing, but in semidarkness, the packs couldn’t even see it. Ravna remembered the kids chortling over their secret “message channel.” It had been endearing and silly … and Ravna had never bothered to learn much of it.

  After a moment, Jefri seemed to realize she couldn’t understand. He gave her another “okay” sign and settled back. She watched him for a long while. There were different degrees of “okay.”

  • • •

  Remnant Screwfloss showed up an hour later, herded in by another guard. Screwfloss didn’t rate a permanent guard, but he was a prisoner. He paced around at the limits of his tethers, more talkative than she had seen him since his partial death. He seemed to be arguing with the guards. They didn’t beat him up, though after a bit of chitchat, one guard flicked a long whip at him. The remnant retreated, looking more surly than intimidated. He settled down in apparent silence, peering around at Jefri and Ravna. Jef had rolled onto his side to look back, but didn’t try to communicate.

  Ravna drifted uncomfortably in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of the kherhogs shuffling around their big manger. She had dreams, and thought she heard Tinish music. What had become of poor Amdi?

  The new day was leaking gray light under the eaves when someone pounded on the barn door. Two members from one guard slid the door open. Ravna squinted into the brightness, which in fact was no more than drizzly morning twilight. Something—Ritl—came bounding in, loud and argumentative. Behind the singleton came Amdi, and a sociable distance behind him there was another pack. Amdi looked in all directions. “Jefri? Ravna?”

  “Over here.” Jefri’s voice was a groan.

  “And here,” said Ravna.

  “You’re hurt!” Amdi surrounded Jefri, patting him, touching his face.

  “Hei, not there! It’s just a bruise, Amdi.”

  “Okay. But they were supposed to treat you well.” Two of him looked back at the stranger, hissing at him in Tinish. Ravna had never seen Amdi complain to another so firmly.

  Maybe … “So what about the god scam?” she asked.

  “I—I blew it. The locals are nervous about humans, but many of them don’t believe you can think at all. Even so, I might have had a chance except that this stupid, blabbering singleton kept—”

  Ritl was circling Amdi, crowding into his personal space and chording all the while. Amdiranifani turned all his heads on Ritl and blasted her with a focused hiss of annoyance. The singleton gave a whistle of pain and retreated to a far corner of the barn.

  “Sorry, sorry. I don’t mean to hurt anyone, not even that silly idiot, but she came close to getting us all killed—” He said something Tinish to the guards and the third pack, and they all honked raucous laughter. Evidently, he was carrying on two very different conversations.

  Jefri came to his knees. His eyes were on the nearest guard and its crossbow-cum-club. “So what is the deal, Amdi? It looks like you have something going with these guys.”

  “I do, I do. At least it’s better than nothing. Look, I’ll explain on the way down okay? The Winchmaster wants us on our way while the storm runoff is still manageable. If we hustle, there’s time for you to get some hot food first. I negotiated—”

  Now Ravna could smell it. One of the guard packs was rolling in two steaming wheelbarrows of … slop? No, not quite. The wheelbarrows themselves looked like they had hauled their share of slop, but just now they contained piles of boiled yams. There were also tankards of broth, the sort of thing that the Tines themselves liked to use to garnish cooked meat. It was mouthwatering if you were hungry enough, and even under normal conditions it would have been tolerable, a rare example of Tinish cuisine that worked for humans.

  There were no utensils, not even Tinish jaw-knives. The filthy barrows were simply shoved close to their faces. It was more the treatment of farm animals than gods. They were given a few moments to feed and then the guards marched them outside, still keeping the two humans well apart.

  Their wagon was up ahead, parked next to the odd-looking wooden structure that was the winch station.

  “Potty stop once we reach the valley floor,” said Amdi. “I’ll see you all in a minute.” He started off ahead of them.

  “What did you have to trade them, Amdi?” shouted Jefri. “Do we still have any lamps?”

  “And the maps?”

  “Yup. And the wagon and the two best kherhogs.”

  “Wow,” said Jefri.

  “So what did we give up?” said Ravna. The other wagons and kherhogs?

  Amdi had crossed the yard to talk to a couple of packs standing near the winch station. Behind Ravna, Screwfloss was driving two of the kherhogs out of the barn. The remnant seemed to have a better idea of what was going on than did Ravna or Jefri. As the beasts plodded past, Screwfloss stayed mainly on the downhill side of the path, keeping the beasts away from the tasty grasses that edged the stream-grown-to-flooded-river. Ritl brought up the rear, nipping at the kherhogs and emitting skirling chords that might have been
commands directed at Screwfloss.

  The morning was both chilly and humid, with little droplets of water forming on every exposed edge. They were in a rain cloud just before it burst. Ravna squished through the mud, struggling to keep her balance.

  The river showed little crescents of white water as it raced past the winch station, almost swamping the big waterwheel. Beyond that, the flow met an unnaturally near horizon. The sound of falling water was a roar. The winch station looked quite different today. For one thing, last night, the place where their wagon was parked had been off the edge of the cliff. Now that space was occupied by a gated platform, almost like a gazebo. The top of the structure was hidden by a squat wooden tower.

  Jefri reached the platform first. His guard pushed him to the far end and tied him to the railing there. Screwfloss drove the two kherhogs aboard and tied them down. Then it was Ravna’s turn.

  The kherhogs shifted uneasily about on the platform—which moved perceptibly in response. A local pack came aboard; it checked Screwfloss’ knotwork and then shouted to the packs who remained on solid ground. It retreated, heads together, as Amdi came aboard.

  Most of Amdi strutted around the kherhogs to be with Jefri. The rest stood at the railing near Ravna. His splendid outfits were mostly in good repair, and his posture was pompously self-important. But at the same time he was hooting cheerfully with the Winchmaster, his human little-boy voice was tentative and fearful. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Every story I’ve told these guys has got us into worse trouble.”

  From other side of the kherhogs, she heard Jefri laugh. “It sounds like you’re their great chum, Amdi.”

  “Oh, I guess I am, but I just know they’ll see through me. I can’t keep this act going much longer.”

  “So what is the act, Amdi? If we aren’t gods then what—”

  Whoa! At that instant, the platform was cut loose from its moorings. It swung through at least five degrees. Timbers creaked loudly as the kherhogs staggered against their ties, lowing their startlement.

  Even their crew pack looked a little nervous at that. Somebody shouted an apology from the tower above them.

  Amdi shouted something back. Ravna recognized the chord as good-natured forgiveness. Then in human talk he said, “The Winchmaster says he’s sorry. The waterwheel is overpowered by the river surge. The clutch system is very tricky … I got a tour. The gears are all wood. I could make it a lot safer with a few days’ work, but—”

  The platform lurched downwards in jolts of a centimeter or two. Ravna could imagine what Amdi was talking about. In her early days on Tines World, she’d seen similar devices in Scrupilo’s factories. The use of wooden gears didn’t bother her as much as the manual control. Even after ten years, she still got the shakes when she realized there were no software controls monitoring and protecting against the whims of gears, fools, and nature.

  The jolts became smaller and swifter, and soon their descent was almost stately. The air was full of spume and waterfall noise, but they seemed to be descending a protected notch in the cliff face. Just beyond her arm’s reach stood naked rock. Here and there, straggly trees and vines scrabbled for purchase.

  Fifteen seconds passed, smooth as silk. “This looks like a couple of meters per second,” said Jefri.

  The platform emerged from the cloud layer. Suddenly she could hear the sounds of faraway birds, and to her left—Powers! They must be a thousand meters up. The cliff wall marched off toward a misty horizon. She turned away from the view. Funny, vertigo had never been a problem for her in the Beyond.

  Their crew pack looked calm enough. He clambered around the railings, all without using any safety lines. On top of the wagon, Remnant Screwfloss seemed positively relaxed, enjoying the view.

  “Well, I guess this must be safer than it looks,” said Ravna. “This local guy doesn’t seem worried. How many years has this been operating?” She turned back to look at the view.

  “Um, they started last summer,” said Amdi. “It’s a leasehold that Tycoon bought, trying to encourage traffic among the wilderness valley chains.”

  Since last summer? Tycoon? What a variety of scary news to cram into just a few syllables. Ravna stared at the rock wall … and realized that she was looking at the splintered pieces of a platform not too different from what was transporting them today. Okay.

  Amdi saw the same thing and his voice took on a forced chipperness. “But really, today should be an easy ride. The Winchmaster told me this carriage is a madhouse when it’s doing pure third-class passengers and no freight. Before they had all the risks figured out, they squeezed ten packs into this space. There was a choir and a panic and the platform crashed into the rock … um, like you see us passing now.”

  They were all silent for a moment. Ravna noticed that Ritl was perched on the railing halfway between two clumps of Amdi. The singleton would stare into the abyss, then quickly look up to check on Amdi’s position, then stare back into the abyss. Its claws were extended deep into the wood, and it seemed to be muttering to itself.

  “Okay, Amdi,” said Jefri. “Consider us all comforted. Now, while we have a few minutes of peace and quiet—what story are you peddling to the locals?”

  Amdiranifani’s human voice made a whimpering sound. “I did the best I could, Jefri.”

  Ravna remembered how hard it had been for Amdi to undertake even the smallest part of this. “You got us this far, Amdi. Whatever you’re pretending to be—” she waved to indicate his costume and grandiose manner “—it looks marvelous.”

  “Yes, but what is the scam?” There was laughter hiding behind Jefri’s annoyed tone.

  “Okay. Things will be busy once we hit—I mean, touch—the ground, so now is probably the best time to tell you. The ‘humans-as-gods’ story was in trouble from the start. They ambushed us too easily for us to have super-Tinish powers. Things got worse when I claimed you two were only weak because you were apart. That almost got you killed.”

  Ravna nodded. “And it’s why we’re kept apart.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Jefri said, “Never mind. We all thought it was a good idea.”

  “Yeah, well, the current plan is something I had to make up on the spot.” He turned all his heads to glare at Ritl. “Even before the ambush, the singleton was messing us up. She screwed us into this.”

  “I don’t think she’s smart enough to scheme, Amdi.”

  “She’s a trouble-making animal. Didn’t you understand what she was saying last night?”

  “When she was marching on ahead of us? I got some of it. It sounded like royal flourishes, something Remasritlfeer must have picked up around East Home. Coming from just one member it sounded a bit silly.”

  “Yes! She never makes sense and she always gets in the way—like right now she’s squatting in the middle of me, making it hard to think.” Amdi darted a member angrily at the singleton. It hunkered down on the railing and hissed back. “Last night her background chatter just made me look like a fool. More of a fool.”

  “We’re still here, alive and breathing, Amdi. And we held on to all our important things. You must have done something right.”

  “We lost the other wagons. But yes, I got us through the night. I’m not sure I can get us through this day. We are in such deep trouble. These packs are all employed by Tycoon, at least indirectly. The inn at the bottom of this winch drop is owned by Tycoon. That pack is spreading his influence all through the Wild Principates, not conquering anybody, just making money.”

  Jefri was silent, so Ravna said the obvious: “But Tycoon is hunting us.”

  “Yup. The temporary good news is that Tycoon’s schemes are so spread out that he can’t keep track of them. Heh,” Amdi emitted a Flenserish chuckle. “The Winchmaster knows humans are important, but he doesn’t know we’re fugitives. Same for the Innmaster below. For the moment, they think that helping us will get them Tycoon’s good will and make them some money in the process.”

  The platform shudd
ered, its smooth descent shifting back to jerk-at-a-time mode.

  Amdi said something to the crew pack, and at the same time stuck a head over the railing. “Looks like we’re less than a hundred meters up. Our pilot says we’ll be slowing soon.” He fell back from the railing and hissed at Ritl. “I can’t stand it. This monster is feeding me pictures!” Some of him staggered around for a moment, then settled securely on the decking. “… Okay, where was I?”

  “Explaining how you persuaded these folks to cooperate.”

  “Yes. Once I realized they were Tycoonists and that they were ignorant of us, I thought maybe we could pretend to be almost what we are. I showed them Chitiratifor’s badge of introduction.” Amdi stuck a snout into one of his pockets and pulled out the edge of the jeweled badge. “I told them we were on a special mission from the North, how you were an embassy from the humans, and to be protected.”

  “That’s good, Amdi!”

  Amdi brightened at the praise. “It might have worked, too. I doubt if there are any of our stolen radios in these parts. It might be tendays before Tycoon hears about us.” He slumped a little lower. “The problem was that everybody was laughing too hard to take my story seriously.” He glared at Ritl. “The animal just kept blabbering around, making everything I said into a stupid joke. The Winchmaster finally congratulated me on my act!”

  “Huh?” came Jefri’s voice. “He thinks you’re acting about what?”

  Their platform jerked to a full stop. The crew pack—their pilot?—scrambled up a ladder to the roof. She could hear him spread out across the lightweight planking. His shouts were very loud, and seemed to be directed upwards. Faint shouting came back in response. Ravna leaned out, looked up. Their cable disappeared into drizzle and cloud deck. It occurred to her that shouting back and forth was the only feedback system available. This made flying in Scrupilo’s first Eyes Above seem like a happy holiday.