The Children of the Sky zot-3

by Vernor Steffen Vinge

  But now they were almost even with the gables of a half-timbered structure, the ground just a few meters below. She saw packs there, peeking out from beneath heavy awnings.

  Their pilot spoke an imperative chord.

  Amdi translated: “Stay back from the railing!”

  The platform edged downward, five centimeters to a jerk. The kherhogs were getting wild-eyed, but Screwfloss’ intimidating hisses kept them knees-down on the platform. There was a prolonged crunching sound from beneath the platform. They fell another couple centimeters, and then Jefri’s side tilted down a couple of centimeters more. Chorded yodeling sounded from beyond the railing, something Ravna recognized as “Well done, well done!” Their pilot came hustling down the ladder, looking all casual and professional. Ravna noticed, however, that he flinched as much as anyone at the extended crashing noise on the roof he’d just left. Falling cable slack? In any case, the crashing stopped; the Winchmaster, somewhere up beyond the clouds, must realize that the job was done.

  As the pilot lifted the railing gate, Screwfloss was all over the kherhogs. Out in the rain, a pack was adjusting a ramp next to the tilted edge of the platform. Yeah, just another routine sky-ferry touchdown. It seemed very appropriate that Ritl chose that moment to clamber atop the wagon and start shouting orders at everyone.

  Amdi gathered himself together, adjusting his cloaks and leggings. The human little boy voice gave an occasional whimper, but in a few seconds he looked as imposing as he had when first she saw him this morning. As the winch-pilot came back and undid the ties on the livestock—kherhog and human—Amdi strolled over to the gate and waved a gracious snout or two at the packs who were coming out from the inn. “I’ll go ahead. If you come down right after me … well, I’ve got my speech planned, the story I finally had to settle on: See, the Innmaster thinks we’re a travelling entertainment troupe. ‘The Magnificent Amdiranifani, Master of Fragments and Zombies from Lands of Mystery.’ And”—wail—“our first big show is tonight!”

  Chapter 28

  Jefri and Ravna were housed in a stable again. Otherwise, things were much improved. Amdi had persuaded these people that the humans could not form godlike packs. True, they were amazing creatures, naturally clever singletons. Jefri and Ravna recognized the word for “walking corpses” when they were paraded from the winch carriage. The notion predated the arrival of humans: imagine thought without sound. Apparently, this added enormously to the interest in Amdi’s upcoming show.

  The inn’s stable was high-ceilinged, dark, and only moderately smelly. Like the rest of the inn, it stood well away from the deadly jumble of boulders at the base of the cliff.

  “After last night, I don’t even mind these,” Jefri said, shaking the kherhog fetters that bound his wrists. Since Amdi and the innsfolk had left, Jef had scouted out the loft and the various wagons parked on the main floor. “And for the moment, I think we’re as safe as we’ve been since before Chitiratifor.”

  “Yes.” Ravna munched on the last of the yams—served on wooden platters, the kind the local Tines themselves ate from. “It helps to have a friendly guard.”

  “Guard” was how Amdi had identified Screwfloss to their new hosts. The term was at least an overstatement. Remnant Screwfloss was content to sit by the main door and watch the outside through various knotholes. He hadn’t been at all bothered by Jefri’s explorations. And yet, when the locals were around, he was surprisingly guardlike, flicking a whip threateningly at Jefri and Ravna.

  Jefri walked back from the kherhog stalls and squatted down just a meter from the remnant pack. “You’re more together, aren’t you?”

  The pack’s whip didn’t twitch. After a moment, his heads bobbed and he gobbled a few chords.

  “Wow. That sounds as though he understood your Samnorsk!”

  “Yes. He didn’t say much more than ‘I’m okay,’ but it matched my question.” Jefri reached out to pat the nearest shoulder. “That happens sometimes, you know. A member with a critical talent gets killed, and the other parts slowly learn to fill in the function. He may never be really smart, but…”

  Ravna eyed the pack’s smudged disguise. “But we know he was a mix of very clever parts.”

  “Um. Yes.”

  • • •

  Throughout the afternoon, they heard wagons and packs outside. Through the knotholes, they could see two packs just beyond the walls. Were those to keep the curious out, or the zombies in? In any case, Jefri and Ravna had time to clean up and speculate on what kind of show a two-legs circus act could put on. Ritl came down from the loft and blabbered and blabbered, despite obvious threats from Screwfloss. Most of her complaints seemed to be about being locked up here, but when the real guards opened the door in mid-afternoon to bring in water, Ravna noticed that the singleton stayed clear of the doorway. Maybe she was saving her serious troublemaking for Amdi—or maybe she had a certain animal caution: In some Tinish cultures, loose singletons were fair game for murder, rape, or impressment into transient slave packs.

  About an hour after the water delivery, Screwfloss abruptly came to his feet. Ritl gave a startled yelp and made a quick retreat toward the loft, but Screwfloss’ attention was on the knot holes in the stable wall. He gestured Jefri and Ravna to back away.

  Now Ravna could hear the gobbling of multiple packs approaching. Riding above that noise was a little boy’s voice: “Hei Jefri. Hei Ravna. Look harmless!”

  Then the stable door was slid to the side. Besides the two fellows who had been there all day, there were three other packs, one of them Amdi. They strolled in, each clumped together—the normal comportment of strangers. One of the visitors was a swaggering sixsome, with members as big as Amdi’s.

  Amdi waved for Screwfloss to back off and give the visitors space. He was talking to the strangers, saying something grandiloquent. At the same time, he said in Samnorsk: “The six-pack is the Innmaster. He wanted to see you before the show. He’s fascinated by the whole concept of two-legs, but I think he’s a little frightened of you, too. If we can convince him you’re no danger, things could go a lot smoother.”

  Jefri said, “You could order me forward, Amdi. Then let this guy get close.”

  “Okay. But you gotta look meek.”

  There was gobbling back and forth between Amdi and the other packs. Everybody was speaking more slowly than packs usually did. Ha. Ravna suddenly realized that Amdi had his own language issues with these fellows. The result was a substantial simplification in everybody’s speech. The words weren’t stacked quite as deep and there was some repetition. Amdi was assuring them there was no need to restrain the humans. Abruptly, he waved at Jefri. Jef came out of the shadows to stand just centimeters from the nearest of Amdi. Then he dropped to his knees. Now his face was just about at eye level with the largest pack members. “That meek enough?”

  Amdi cocked a head in the direction the Innmaster. “I don’t see how we could do better.” He said something encouraging to the Innmaster—and then all of him stepped back and waved encouragingly for the sixsome to approach.

  Ravna realized that she was holding her breath. She rarely saw any Tines who were unfamiliar with humans, and when she did, they were in no position to do harm. Here, now, Jefri was meeting a dangerous stranger.

  The Innmaster had lost his swagger. His eyes had widened and some of him fidgeted with the jaw hatchets in his panniers. The prospect of getting closer to Jefri was clearly unnerving. But after a moment, the pack seemed to remember he had witnesses. He stood a little taller and—thank the Powers—stopped fiddling with the hatchets. He boomed something confident at the other packs and sidled around Jefri. Now he was making the sort of placating sounds that packs (some packs—not Screwfloss) made when they were trying to gentle a kherhog.

  Jefri sat back on his heels and made no effort to track the members who were circling him.

  The nearest of the Innmaster was well inside Jefri’s reach—and suddenly the critter seemed to realize as much. It stopped, licked
its lips. Then it jabbed out a nose, tapping Jefri on the shoulder. Jefri just smiled back, not showing any teeth. The sixsome hesitated a moment more, then closed in all around, slapping Jefri on the back, almost as hard as one would pat a kherhog. At the same time, most of him turned to face the doorway and made loud conversation with the other packs.

  Amdi provided some translation: “‘See,’ he’s saying, ‘it’s every bit as docile as I knew it would be.’”

  The critter was grinning from one end to the other. If these people had had cameras, he surely would have been demanding the others take video of his triumph.

  “Now he wants me to prove that you’re clever like a pack.” Amdi gabbled something at the Innmaster. “I told him that would have to wait for our big show tonight.”

  The sixsome huffed impatiently. Two of him were pulling Jefri’s shirt out of his pants, examining the fabric. For a moment, Ravna thought the fellow was going to argue. But then the Magnificent Amdiranifani moved a little closer and delivered some kind of bombast. If Ravna hadn’t known him for ten years, she would have been intimidated. Certainly, the Innmaster was impressed. He gave Jefri a couple more patronizing thumps, at the same time surreptitiously trying to tear off some of his shirt—but then he stepped back.

  Innmaster and maestro chatted amiably for a few moments. It wasn’t quite casual, since the Innmaster was still mostly watching Jefri, and two heads were aimed at Ravna; she’d finally been noticed lurking in the shadows. But he was no longer insistent. In fact, he looked downright thoughtful. He asked if Amdiranifani needed anything more. Amdi’s reply was something about privacy and … huh, toys?

  In the brightness beyond the doorway, a crowd of locals had gathered, standing so close to one another that there was some actual pushing and shoving. They were so close and dense that Ravna could feel the buzzing. The Innmaster stepped out of the stable and jabbered rapidly at the crowd. Ravna heard the “big show tonight” chord several times.

  As the crowd dispersed, the Innmaster’s assistant returned with a wheelbarrow piled high with colored balls and cloaks. He brought two more loads of mysterious gear. Then he and Amdi cooperated in sliding the door shut.

  And they were alone, their guards presumably keeping the curious away from the stable. The secret preparations of the Magnificent Amdiranifani could begin.

  Amdi unlocked the fetters that bound Jefri and Ravna. He and Jefri lit a couple mantle lamps and hung them above the wheelbarrows. Ravna was already digging through the “toys.” There were colored balls, four whips, cloaks, and wooden tines. All that was just in the first wheelbarrow. She looked up from the junk, at Amdi. “Jefri and I have been trying to imagine what this big show is going to be.”

  The Magnificent Amdiranifani drooped. “Yes. Me too!”

  • • •

  As usual, Amdi was very short on confidence. However, he did have the beginnings of a plan. There was a purpose for the gear the Innmaster had left them. “It’s from the last circus that came through here,” said Amdi.

  Jefri picked up one of the colored balls, tossed it at a nearby pillar. The rebound was lively; this must be Tropical latex. Such items should not be cheap in the local economy.

  “Why would a circus just leave these things?” asked Ravna.

  “Well, um, they went bankrupt. That’s what the Innmaster told me. He foreclosed on them.” Amdi looked nervously at Ravna and Jefri. “Maybe this gear couldn’t help a troupe of performing packs, but anything you do will be new and magical. I thought we could be something like those circuses that come through the Domain. I-I would introduce you and you’d come out and juggle, maybe tie knots…” His voice dribbled off into anxious silence.

  Jefri gave the ball another bounce, then glanced at Amdi. “Your idea is lightyears ahead of anything I’ve come up with … but no matter what we do, do you think the Innmaster will let us leave afterwards?”

  “I—maybe. I can see how much he’d like to steal you and Ravna. If he guessed Tycoon is looking for you, he’d grab you in an instant. But I think I’ve convinced him that we have Tycoon’s protection. If we do well, I really think he’ll make good on his promises. He’ll give us the circus wagon, these supplies, and half the admission fees.”

  Ravna had a different problem: “Is this show going to be out of doors, Amdi?”

  “Yes, there’s an arena behind the inn. You couldn’t see it from your side of the winch platform. Why—”

  “I know this place isn’t on Chitiratifor’s maps, but since Nevil has moved the orbiter eastwards—”

  “Oh yeah!” said Amdi. “I thought about that. The new position still doesn’t have a line of sight on us. I mean, unless he’s moved it again.”

  Ravna pondered the foolishness of this chitchat. They didn’t really have a choice. Aloud, she said, “So let’s give this Innmaster a show. It sounds easier than playing with arrow trees and crusherbushes.”

  That brought a weak smile to Jefri’s face. She could almost see him summon the appearance of confidence. “For sure. And when I was twelve years old, I was a really good juggler.”

  Ravna smiled back. She remembered. For several tendays, little Jefri had been a frustrated and frustrating nuisance, bouncing beanbags and sticks in all directions. It had even strained his relationship with Amdi, since the pack of puppies had learned to juggle with ease.

  “Okay,” she said. “We’ve cleaned up our outfits. Your costume is still in good shape, Amdi. You just have to come on strong. You’re the Magnificent. What else can you introduce besides the juggling?”

  “Knot tying? Can you do that, Ravna?” Amdi was pulling cordage from one of the wheelbarrows.

  “Sure.” Better than a Tinish singleton, anyway. “And what about the comic relief?” That was a big part of circus performances in Woodcarver’s Domain.

  A glint came into Amdi’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that.” Three of him were fiddling with a leash, making idle loops of it. “There’s a certain singleton that has been has been making me look the fool. Maybe now I can turn that around—”

  As they’d been talking, Ritl had circled in on Amdi and was blabbering more and more loudly. She was now well within Amdi’s personal space. Five of him turned abruptly on Ritl, throwing the leash in a coordinated attack so that the singleton’s neck, forelegs and hindlegs were simultaneously caught in three separate loops. Ritl exploded in shrieking fury as Amdi flipped the creature onto her side. From the loft, Screwfloss hooted laughter.

  Amdi stepped back, keeping tension on the various loops of leash. “Where was I?” he said. “Oh, yes. Ritl still needs her costume.” Two of him walked to the far wheelbarrow and took out a conical leather collar. He passed it from member to member, and those standing by Ritl’s head fastened the cone around the critter’s neck.

  Ritl twisted about, jaws snapping on empty air. Her hissing spiked painfully loud. The conical collar stuck forward all around her head, drastically reducing her field of view. Her screeching quieted as she seemed to realize her total helplessness.

  Amdi noticed the look on Ravna’s face. “I haven’t hurt her, honestly. This is a standard costume for clown singletons. Isn’t that right, Jefri?”

  “Um, true.” But Jefri had a surprised expression on his face too. Amdiranifani was so rarely aggressive. More than most packs, the eightsome had sympathy for the oppressed.

  “Right! Now it’s time to put on the clown paint.” He passed a couple of dye sticks to Ravna. “I’ll tell you what to draw. Just don’t touch her eyes or tympani and she’ll be fine.”

  Ravna looked uncertainly at the two sticks. The handles were especially broadened for easy jaw handling. Amdi had plenty of free members to do the job himself.

  “Go ahead, Ravna. The mindsound is awful, even from a singleton. I don’t want any more of me to stand near Ritl.”

  “Okay.” Ravna knelt beside the animal, drew her hand in a gentle petting stroke along its back, much as the Children did with their Best Friends. Ritl shriek
ed and tried to scratch at her, but gradually settled back.

  “Now start with big pink circles around the shoulder and haunch tympana…”

  It took about fifteen minutes, and Jefri helping with the other colors, but in the end Ritl was dolled up more than any member Ravna had ever seen, including Godsgift.

  When they were done, Amdi refastened the leash to a clasp that hung from Ritl’s collar. Then he let it go loose. Ritl was quiet for a second, then raced across the stable to where the brightest bit of sky light shone on the straw. The singleton spun around and around, futilely trying to get a look at what they had done to its body. Finally, the poor thing got tangled up in the leash again and tipped over.

  “See?” said Amdi, though not quite with perfect enthusiasm. “The audience will think it’s hilarious.” He pointed a snout upwards. “Screwfloss thinks it’s hilarious.”

  In fact, Screwfloss’ heads were rippling up and down in amusement. That cut short when Amdi sang out a sequence of chords that meant something like “now it’s your turn,” and gestured at the remnant to come down to ground level.

  All heads but one jerked back, out of sight. Ravna heard sullen gobbling. Amdi replied with something cheerful. Three of him gathered up the dye sticks, the others looking up and gesturing to Screwfloss.

  One by one, the remnant came down the ladder, the limper last of all. The four grouped at the bottom, glowering at Amdi.

  Ravna and Jefri exchanged glances, and Jefri said, “Be careful, Amdi. Remember who that is.”

  “I … I remember. I’m not going to force anything on him.” Amdi started toward the far end of the stable, where the harness gear was hung. It was cozy, but with enough room for two packs to have a private chat. After a moment, Screwfloss followed suspiciously. The two disappeared behind the harness racks. There was the sound of quiet discussion. “I can’t tell what they’re saying,” said Jefri. Half a minute passed and still no battle sounds. The loudest sounds in the stable were the kherhogs fidgeting in their stalls and Ritl hissing to herself.