The Children of the Sky zot-3

by Vernor Steffen Vinge

  Screwfloss shouted something at her, and abruptly Ravna was brought back to the present. The kherhogs were making frightened noises and pulling the wagon to the side, into the undergrowth. Screwfloss had abandoned the animals and circled behind the wagon. Whatever he was saying had brought Jefri and Amdi running forward.

  Ravna struggled with the reins. The roadside brush hid a gully and deep mud. She rose from the bench, bracing her legs and pulling as hard as she could at the reins. “Need some help here!” Then she heard the sound. It came out of the fog ahead, the buzz of steam induction engines. Scrupilo’s airship! The aircraft was still hidden in the mists, but it was getting closer.

  Amdi and Jefri ran past the wagon. “We should get off the road, Ravna,” Jef called to her, but softly. Ritl piped up with complaints. Amdi hissed a “be quiet!” at the singleton, and for a wonder, it fell silent.

  So now it was Ravna on the reins, and Screwfloss and Jefri and Amdi up ahead guiding the kherhogs into the brush. Fortunately, this was the general direction the animals wanted to go. They just needed help negotiating the roadside gully.

  Meantime, the sound of Scrupilo’s steam engines had grown louder. Was this salvation, or Nevil’s gang? She put the question on hold as the wagon tilted sideways. She didn’t quite lose the reins, but now she was aware how easily she might be dumped and crushed.

  Then the front wheels were climbing over the far edge of the gully, and she was back in her seat. Leafy branches swept the top of the wagon. Without thinking, she reached up to rescue Ritl from her perch at the top. They huddled together beneath the scraping branches.

  “Sorry,” came Jef’s voice. “I didn’t realize the fit was so tight.”

  “We’re fine.” Ravna pushed at the heavy, wet foliage. They were well protected against eyeball detection from above. She started down the ladder-stairs from the driver’s seat. Behind her, Ritl was complaining. The singleton’s voice was still soft, but growing toward loudness. “Okay, you can come, too.” Ravna unlatched the leash from the wagon. Ritl immediately scrambled across her shoulders and leaped to the ground.

  A moment later, Ravna was standing ankle-deep in the mud. She backed away from the wagon, staring upwards. The buzz of the airship’s steam engines was still growing, but with the fog and forest cover she couldn’t see anything.

  “Amdi!” Jefri’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper. “Spread out and get a look-listen.”

  But Amdi stayed heads together, hissing softly at Ritl. “I can’t move with that animal so close,” the pack said. “She’d come between me.”

  Okay … Ravna went back along the way the wagon had come. If the airship had real surveillance gear, then hiding the wagon was a waste of time. If not, well, she might be able to learn more about them without revealing herself. She moved along the gully, staying under the thickest of the brush, but looking for a view of the sky.

  Something scuttled through the brush around her: three, no, all four of Screwfloss. One of him nipped at her pants leg, drawing her down to an opening the pack had found. She went to her hands and knees and followed him up to the edge of the road. Yeah. Ahead was the perfect spy hole.

  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, the sound of steam induction engines flying just a few meters overhead, moving south but no faster than a human could run. She reached the break in the bushes and cautiously looked out, just in time to see … the form of the Eyes Above 2 disappearing into the murk, spinning out a helix of foggy spume behind it. Powers take it! A second earlier and she might have seen recognizable faces! Around her, Screwfloss poked a couple heads into the opening. She held her breath for a long moment, listening for any sign that the airship might be turning back; their wagon’s maneuvers would have left signs that might be visible from above.

  For better or worse, the engine sounds became steadily fainter, vanishing into the south. They stayed low in the dripping foliage for some minutes, but finally even Screwfloss seemed to give up on the possibility of a return. They stumped back to the wagon, where everyone was full of questions.

  “We were too far away to see or hear anything,” said Amdi. “Did you?”

  “You didn’t hail them,” said Jefri. “Was it Nevil’s people?”

  “I couldn’t see. Sorry. Maybe I was too cautious.” Maybe I should have just run out into the road. Very few Deniers could be bothered with primitive gadgetry; surely, Scrupilo would have had a crew aboard.

  Amdi and Screwfloss were gobbling back and forth. Ritl stood unseemly close to the eightsome, injecting noise into the conversation. Abruptly, Amdi turned on the interloper, screeching and snapping at it. “Tie it up! I don’t have to be nice to it anymore!”

  The singleton danced back out of everyone’s reach, making sounds that seemed mocking even to Ravna. Catch me if you can!

  Jefri leaned down and snatched the singleton’s leash where it lay near his feet. He gave it a wiggle, catching Ritl’s attention. The animal shot him a wide-eyed glare, then raced around Amdi, trying to trap the pack’s legs in the leash. This not being a circus act, Jefri and Amdi managed to outwit the creature, and in a few moments it was bundled—clawing and biting and squawking—up the ladder-stairs to its tie-down point atop the wagon.

  “Okay then,” said Amdi, ignoring the continuing complaints. “Screwfloss was listening to the flier while Ravna was watching it. He says there were Tines aboard.”

  Jefri was partway down the ladder. He stopped, considering. “He heard mindsounds?”

  “No, it was too far away and humid for that. But he heard Interpack speech.”

  “I didn’t hear any voices,” said Ravna. “But that’s not surprising. Did he recognize anyone? What were they saying?”

  Screwfloss had been following, heads cocking back and forth. Now he answered in Samnorsk: “No sense. No words. But the sound is like two-legs can’t make.”

  Ravna squatted down by the remnant. “Did you hear any humans?”

  Screwfloss thought a moment. “No.” He gobbled some elaboration.

  “He says that if there were any humans aboard, they didn’t say anything during the time he had good hearing, and that was at least two minutes.”

  Ravna stifled an unhappy laugh. “I should have waved them down.”

  “They’ll be back, Rav.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe they’ll just keep searching south. Either way … I don’t see how it changes things now.

  • • •

  Twice that morning, Amdi and Screwfloss claimed they heard the sound of the airship. Both packs spread out from the sides of the road, trying to get a baseline on the sound. All they could be sure of was that the aircraft was far to the south.

  Meantime, they had their final show to prep for. As the fog gave way to a misty rain, Jefri and Ravna climbed into the wagon and worked on the costumes and props. Screwfloss drove the kherhogs, and he and Amdi alternated riding on the top of the wagon—except that when Amdi was up there, Ritl was exiled to walk on a leash behind the carriage.

  Mostly Amdi seemed to be worrying about what they’d do after this show, how to get out of town and thence to the border with the Domain.

  Ravna smiled as she polished the lamp emitters. “Hei Amdi, if this were a tenday ago, your stage fright is all we’d be hearing about.”

  Amdi’s little boy voice drifted through the open window of the cab: “Oh, I still have stage fright, but now it’s a solvable problem, like math of tractable complexity.” He was silent for a second or two. “Ritl is a different sort of problem. If I can just keep away from her, I think I can stay together. And as long as I can stay together, I can manage easy problems like stage fright.” He was silent for a longer time, and then, “I want to thank you for giving me courage, Ravna. I was ready to give up back at Winch Top.”

  What did I say at Winch Top? Oh yeah. “I, I just told you the truth, Amdi. Steel created you for his purposes. At Winch Bottom you discovered you were something more.”

  “No, I don’t mean what you said. It’s wha
t you did, what you do. You’re just a single person and you’ve been so terribly banged around. Back at Winch Top you could barely stand, but you just kept going.… I’m going to see this through, too.”

  Jefri had look up sharply at Amdi’s words. Was he irritated? Surprised? “Just be careful, Amdi.”

  • • •

  As they neared their destination, they realized that a discreet reconnoiter was not possible. Even far south of the town, the farm lanes were crowded with wagons and packs.

  “They say they’re here to see the two-legs perform,” Amdi reported after chatting up the strangers.

  Jefri looked out from the curtains they had drawn across the cab’s windows. “This welcome is bigger than anything we’ve run into before. Somebody’s organized it.”

  Ravna pushed curtain aide and leaned out. The wagon ahead of them was painted in lively colors. Beneath a rain tarp, she could see canvas bales imprinted with the ubiquitous twelve-pack logo. A little sign advertised the contents as “fine cloaks.” Two of the driver were looking back in her direction. The fellow gave out a little whoop and waved at her. She waved back. “Maybe we’re just famous. What do you think, Amdi?”

  The eightsome’s voice sounded from beneath the window. “They say the local prince sent messengers out early this morning, proclaiming a special festival day, complete with ‘real mythical two-legs.’ They think it has something do with the big creature in the sky—they’ve heard the airship. Look, I should go on ahead and talk to somebody who can make us a deal.”

  Ravna and Jefri exchanged glances. Usually, they would stop just outside of town, and wait for some local landowner to make them a deal; often that could take a day. Amdi’s plan would save time, but it would leave them with the dubious diplomatic skills of Remnant Screwfloss. Just now, that worthy was atop the wagon and apparently following the conversation: “Amdi go ahead.”

  Jefri looked out at the traffic jam around them. “Okay, Amdi. But keep it simple.”

  “I will. One show, stipulated payment. And then we’re gone in the early morning.”

  “Be careful,” said Ravna. Maybe she had encouraged him too much.

  “Hei, I’ll be fine without Ritl!” Amdi was already running on ahead of their wagon, and shouting something to one of the few official-looking packs in sight.

  • • •

  This might be a frontier village, but it was not small. Amdi eventually returned with directions, guiding them to a pavilion by the town square. “The local boss calls this place ‘The Northernmost End of Civilization.’” Amdi laughed. “Woodcarver would not be amused!”

  Ravna walked around their wagon, taking in the view of downtown. Woodcarver had her sculpture, but this was the first place on Tines World where Ravna had seen heroic statuary. Each work depicted a single pack in some grandiose pose, climbing tall on itself to wave around swords and shields. According to Amdi, they all represented the local boss, “Prince Purity.” The pack was no Innmaster; Purity ruled from a huge castle of whitewashed stone. The structure sat on a rise north of town. It was impressive, until you noticed that most of the whitewash covered naked bedrock with a relatively small building at the top. Amdi shrugged. “Except for the wealth that Tycoon’s trade has brought, I figure this guy is phony. Most of the construction I see is new. I’ll bet that ten years ago, Northernmost was a tiny village.”

  Jefri was looking around, nodding. “And we know that fifty years ago, this was uninhabited badlands.”

  “Purity claims to be a continuous hereditary ruler, back to times of legend.”

  “Hmm,” said Jefri. “We’ve seen that sort of lie in some downcoast kingdoms. Woodcarver wannabes.”

  Nevertheless, modern-day Northernmost was a bustling place. Across the square, carpenters were putting up wooden stands for tonight’s show—but every other wide-open place was occupied by street vendors. The guy with the “fine cloaks” was selling to packs who were already climbing onto the finished benches. Lots of heads were looking at the shadowed pavilion where the humans were standing.

  The parts of Amdi that were in the open gave this audience a grand wave, but his voice stayed local: “This looks like a small version of the South End marketplace, doesn’t it?” He came all back into the pavilion and began putting on Chitiratifor’s glitzy uniform. “Nevertheless, this is the first place we’ve visited where the people actually seem to be intimidated by who’s in charge.” Despite his somewhat ominous words, Amdi sounded chipper. Maybe that was because Screwfloss had tethered Ritl by the kherhogs, well beyond the range of mindsound.

  “Do you think he might renege on paying us?” said Ravna.

  “Ah,” Amdi said as he fiddled with his last cloak. He hadn’t yet donned the fake tines; that would be the final touch, just before showtime. “He’s more villainous than anyone we’ve run into since we escaped Chitiratifor. On the other hand, I showed him our safe passage from Tycoon. And you know how the airship was flying around here last night? Well, I told him we had Woodcarver’s protection, too.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “He tried to laugh it off, but I could tell he was taken aback.” Amdi looked up at Ravna and Jefri. He seemed to notice their anxious looks for the first time. “If he knew Tycoon was after us, we’d be locked up already. I figure if we can keep him wondering, we’ll be okay.”

  • • •

  The show was their best yet. Part of it was the enthusiastic audience. The rumors of the wondrous two-leg circus had had longer to ferment here than anywhere else. And part of it—the strangely pleasurable part—was that all the performers, in some sense even Ritl, had truly gotten their act together.

  Ritl started things off, chased by a comically inept Screwfloss. Every time Screwfloss’ leash-carrying member got close, Ritl would skitter away, sometimes to stand mockingly near one of Screwfloss’ others, sometimes to run along the stands and carry on nonsense conversations with the nearest of the audience. The second time around, Ritl found the member-wide servant steps that led to the ruler’s personal seats. Ritl danced along the ledge of the royal box, orating.

  Jefri leaned close to Ravna. They were still both hidden from the crowd. “Those are statesmanlike noises,” he said, grinning. “Ritl is coming on like a visiting monarch. I think she’s promising the sun and the moon if the prince will meet her … requests? demands?”

  Ravna wasn’t quite so amused. “I just hope she doesn’t get us executed.”

  “Well, there is that.”

  The crowd was hooting laughter. Maybe nervous laughter. The prince’s private box was draped in deep acoustic quilting that might double as a form of armor. Guard and servant packs stood all around the box, but the interior was as dark as a cave. Pure this prince might be, but he did not project amiable lightness. Ritl didn’t seem to notice, and her boldness was rewarded. Ravna saw three bejeweled heads move into the fading daylight. There were other heads too, but still in the shadows. The prince boomed a response to Ritl, who preened and blathered some reply. Now the crowd’s laughter seemed more natural; Prince Purity too was playing to the audience. Ravna recognized the rippling of his heads as a mocking bow. Everyone but Ritl could see Screwfloss’ leash-carrier sneaking up the steps behind her.

  The crowd hooted even louder when Screwfloss pounced and then dragged the arrogant singleton back down the steps. Screwfloss shambled once more around the square, bowing this way and that. Ritl was dragged part of the way, complaining loudly. Ravna made a note to check the beast for cuts and bruises. This was conventional local humor, but Ravna Bergsndot wouldn’t use such excuses.

  Then Screwfloss was running back toward the circus pavilion, Ritl racing ahead of him. As she passed into the shadows, the singleton let out an impudent squeak and dived toward Amdi. The eightsome shrank away, and she honked singleton laughter.

  “Damned animal!” Amdi said sotto voce. He slid the last of the wooden tines onto his paws, and pranced into the open. The sky was heavily overcast, so there was
no risk in using the lamps: the spotlight tracked the Magnificent’s progress toward center stage. The light sparkled and coalesced, synthesized from emitters that Jefri and Amdi had mounted along the top edges of the pavilion. For pre-tech creatures such as this audience, the dissociation of lightsource from light was magical. Amdi was always careful to claim that without special knowledge, the gadgets were useless. That was close to the truth, though the control interface was pretty intuitive. So far no one besides Screwfloss-as-Idiot had tried to steal the lights, and Screwfloss’ attempt was a gag routine in which he made off with pseudo-sources that turned out to be kherhog patties.

  The high point of the show was still the performance of the “clever singletons.” That was Jefri and his juggling, then Ravna and her rope tricks, and finally some bogus spelling tests intended to impress those who insisted that intelligence meant more than juggling and knot tying. As usual, Jefri got the most attention, though Ravna’s act now included a simple lasso trick. She walked around the square, followed by the spotlights and a sound show from Amdi. She got near enough to the front row packs that they could hear the silence of her mind, and see the awesome flexibility of her hands. As always, there was the goggling surprise of such first encounters, the combination of amazement and uneasiness and interest.

  Then Ravna came to Prince Purity’s box. The guards below it were a sharp-eyed bunch. When they looked up at her teetering height, jaws twitched crossbows. No lasso flicking at these fellows. Ravna stepped back and played to the prince in his box. The three crowned heads came forward, and after a moment, another appeared with a puppy on its shoulders. The pack was saying something, complimenting her? Maybe not. One of him was looking back, into the darkness of the box. It was almost as if there was some other pack in there. Who could be so close?