Beholder's Eye

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Our sudden halt came none too soon as far as I was concerned, standing wide-limbed and shaking as I peered between the legs of the men in front of me. I could make out the rounded shape of a long, low building. It would have been impossible to miss, being painted in cheerful colors and surrounded by a riotously lush garden defying the season. A Commons House: an apt naming since it was one of few places where people of every caste mingled freely, permitted so by the practicalities of roadside hospitality. I was willing to bet it had great parties.

  And it was around this haven of peace and welcome the Protark's troops were deploying themselves. Out of backpacks came the first weapons I had seen on this world, nasty-looking tubes with extensions of sharp jagged metal, doubtless for use after their power to fire was exhausted. Each man received one and then, following a plan that must have been dealt with before my arrival, faded into the surrounding bush with unexpected skill. They looked significantly more formidable now.

  My own guardian had shouldered his weapon, following none other than Ethrem toward the rear of the House. I chose this moment to back slowly into a shadow and crouch; it could be very complicated to be recognized as the table-beggar of Suddmusal's marketplace.

  But follow these two I must. My moment came as the attention of the remaining soldiers was fixed upon the arrival of some travelers approaching the House from the opposite side. Lingering to see who these were was an invitation to be noticed and probably shot. I dashed after Ethrem and my soldier.

  They had crept alongside the shelter of a white, dilapidated fence, following it to the back of the House. Most of the effort to maintain the grounds had been spent on the front and sides; here the garden became more weed than flower. A pair of smaller outbuildings leaned against each other in a kind of drunken resignation.

  But even so, it was a friendly disorder, ready to welcome a traveler seeking privacy and quiet. There were rough-hewn benches under the few trees large enough to cast shade; baskets planted with wildflowers hung in their drought-bare branches. I felt the hair on my neck rise and realized with some surprise that I was angry at the soldiers for threatening this peace.

  I couldn't have asked for better guides, though. Ethrem led the way right up to the large rear door of the main building, easing it open with a careless confidence that spoke of prearrangement and well-oiled hinges. I snuck forward, feeling clumsy despite the careful placement of legs and paws slinking on all fours demanded.

  At the door, I strained all of my senses to detect what lay within.

  Smells of food and of a varied clientele drifted past my twitching nose, but I heard no sound. The hair on the back of my neck rose once more and I took a slow easy step into the shadowed doorway.

  "Watch those teeth!" The cry gave me scarcely enough warning to fold back upon my haunches, twisting about desperately in an effort that slipped my head past the heavy net being dropped from the darkness. I panicked, snarling and rolling, but couldn't free my back legs from the net before a burning adhesive stuck it fast to skin, pulling fur. Fool! I could hear Ersh now. How many explorers have died by underestimating more primitive cultures? Was death ahead for me, too? I felt an overwhelming urge to lose this shape, to cycle into web-form (or better yet into any form with bigger teeth). I panted with the heat energy I released to simply stay as I was.

  Hands dragged me inside then, taking my sudden immobility for surrender. I lay on the coolness of a tile floor, the sum of my struggles having succeeded in little more than to wrap the net around me with painful tightness. I rolled my left eye frantically, seeing what I could.

  I was in a hall, dim and cluttered with furniture, mostly chairs stacked in rickety columns. It was illuminated only by light escaping through a distant archway, this opening into what must be the main room of the Commons House. Through it, I could see the backs of people seated as if around a table. Details were impossible to distinguish. Reluctantly, I rolled my eye back up to my captors.

  The soldier I had accompanied across the bridge held one end of my imprisoning net; Ethrem held the other, though he looked as if he would prefer to drop it and run. The fear in his eyes drew a new and echoing fear from within me. I essayed my best pitiful whine. He must not imagine me other than I appeared.

  My second whine softened the face of the soldier. "Poor beast," he said, a reproachful look at Ethrem. "I thought you said we were being followed by some enemy. These ropes are cruel—."

  "Loosen them, and I swear I'll shoot you where you stand, Crawleh." This was a new tone from Ethrem, a barely curbed violence coating the words with ice. "It's no serlet. I don't know what it is—but the soothsayer warned me of great evil on the road today. And this creature has followed me since morning. What beast would do such a thing?"

  Crawleh looked tempted to reply, then thought better of it. For at that moment, the sounds of hastily shuffled boots came from the interior of the House, as if numerous people had risen as one to their feet. I tried to see past Ethrem's legs and failed. Crawleh could, however, and I heard him suck in his breath. "That I lived to see this day," the Kraosian said softly.

  "They shall not live to see its end," Ethrem said viciously, but so very quietly I believed I was the only one who heard him. He sheathed his weapon, glaring down at me as though he wished he were free to use it. "We must get to our positions. This spawn of darkness will keep."

  "We can't leave the beast here to trip someone," Crawleh said reasonably. "I'll take care of it while you go ahead. This door is my post anyway."

  "I warn you—"

  "Go. Go!" Either Crawler's urging, or the welling of voices from the hall convinced Ethrem. With a last burning look my way, he walked through the door.

  As soon as Ethrem was gone, Crawleh bent down beside me and, using a small can of spray, somehow loosened the tightest bands. I heaved a deep sigh of relief as the one constricting the movement of my head fell free. Crawleh snatched his hands back, perhaps wary of my teeth. I reassured him with a whine and a quick lick of my long tongue, tasting salt and dust as well as Kraosian. "There," he said with a pat, though stopping short of freeing me completely. "I'll see no animal treated cruelly, especially one who has chosen to follow such a miserable master so far from home." Lifting me gently, no minor feat considering my lanky bulk, Crawleh put me against the wall, dropping the can nearby. He left his hands flat against my body for a moment, eyeing me with concern. "You're burning up, poor beast. I'll bring you water when I can."

  Of course I was hot. All that energy wanting to be released had to go somewhere, or this doorway would soon be larger. With this amount of stress, I might have to cycle soon, or I wouldn't be able to safely hold this form.

  Charity complete, Crawleh went beyond my limited line of sight, presumably to guard the outer door. Good enough. With an effort, I wriggled forward ever so slightly, with the utmost care and silence. I drew my front right paw out of the net as far as it would go, unrolling those long, flexible toes so very different from the feet of Kraosian beasts. There—I had it. Quickly, I wrapped my toes around the can and used its spray to free myself from the rest of the net's adhesive.

  Still panting, I rose to all fours and hesitated, considering my options. The hall continued in both directions from the archway, closed doors at regular intervals along the walls. I went to the right, more to avoid passing in front of the archway than because I had a reason. The tiles were cool on my feet and hands, a sensation I concentrated on to avoid the temptation to whine.

  I was confident that the doors along the wall opposite from the main room would lead only to accommodations or storerooms, not to other exits, aware of the irony that my own life might now depend on my less exciting studies of Kraosian architecture. Nearly at the hall's end, a bar of light suggested another entrance into the main room. I went up to it cautiously.

  There was just enough clearance for me to fit my head and shoulders under the black metal swinging doors without need to crouch. There was no one close to this end of the room. In fact
, I had stumbled upon an ideal view of the proceedings within.

  The main hall of the Commons House was a big, cool expanse of carved wood and brickwork, brightened by roof windows of tinted glass. Immense fireplaces made diagonals of each corner, the one next to me full of flowers in this fireless time of year. The floor was crowded with tables of some dark, scarred wood, wheeled for easy movement over the broad yellowed tiles.

  The centermost table was the only one occupied. I identified the elaborately coifed Kraosian seated at its head as the current Protark, Theerlic, Appointed Commander of the military caste. Officers in only slightly less brilliant uniforms flanked him, three to a side. At the other end of the rectangular table, hands on their chairs as though awaiting an invitation to sit, stood the three who were causing Ethrem such nightmares.

  Offworlders in truth. I felt the hair on my back bristle. Not just any offworlders, but a First Contact Team from the predominantly Human Commonwealth, if I took a well-educated guess. These were all humanoid, most likely pure strain Human, a choice of personnel undoubtedly intended to reassure the humanoid Kraosians. There were two females and, yes, the one standing off to the side closest to me was a male. His yellow-and-orange uniform bore a pair of specialty bars across the front, and he held a recording device discreetly in one hand. His tan features were full of barely restrained excitement.

  If the specialist showed excitement, the only emotion I could read in the face and stance of his senior officer was caution. She wore a full dress uniform, dull by Kraosian standards, but still another sign of some good preliminary survey work. "We have complied with your request, Protark Theerlic," she was saying in a polite but firm voice, the accent quite acceptable. "We brought no weapons to this meeting. Our intentions, as stated before to your staff, are peaceful and noninterventionary."

  I glanced about. There were only a few soldiers in sight, these all by the doors and corners of the room; none carried obvious weapons. I knew better. All at once I wished desperately I could detach myself from what was happening here. I even spent a useless moment wishing for the sight of Ersh, regardless of how she would peel strips from my hide for incompetence. I was out of my depth and, what was worse, I knew Ersh would completely agree with that assessment.

  A voice startled me from my anxiety. It was the Protark. "Captain Simpson," he said, with a smoothness to his deep voice. "We, as representatives of our world, appreciate your courtesy and trust in agreeing to this meeting." I thought his tone remarkably collected and calm. Too calm, for a leader of a people supposedly confronted for the first time with the shattering knowledge of other intelligence in their universe. I thought I saw a flicker in the specialist's eyes, a smoothing of expression from simple excitement to the beginnings of suspicion. "It is important that we begin our mutual understanding of each other away from the, to us, overwhelming evidence of your superior technology. Accept our thanks. Please be seated."

  Leaving their ship was a calculated risk, but one which was probably unavoidable, I agreed to myself, readily able to empathize with the Humans. First Contact Teams had to take a position of apparent vulnerability—though I doubted if the Kraosian had the slightest conception of just how immense a civilization the Humans represented.

  Captain Simpson nodded to her female companion, and the two of them were seated. The male remained on his feet, with an apologetic gesture to the device in his hand. "With your permission, sir, I would like to record images of the truly outstanding carvings on your fireplaces," he said with appealing enthusiasm. I might have imagined that flicker of suspicion earlier. The Protark waved magnanimously.

  This was a signal for more than the specialist, who bustled off happily with his device now at eye level. Serving staff moved forward from their wait behind the Protark's table, bringing forth large pitchers of frothy cold beer and plates of bread. There was a general air of relaxation, and conversations started sporadically among the soldiers, although none left their positions. I could no longer hear what was being said by the Protark and the Human officer, although heads nodded as if in agreement.

  More empty assurances, I thought, feeling frustrated and useless trapped in the doorway. I considered my chances of retracing my steps past Crawleh. Somehow, I had to reach the outside of the building, prepare some diversion. The key was to introduce a deviation—something to defuse the Kraosian plot before it could begin. I hadn't exactly studied strategy yet (Skalet wasn't prepared to waste her tactical expertise on someone of my youth), but I'd read what I could find. And I had to try something.

  Footsteps approached from behind me, I froze for an instant, then realized there was no choice but to slip out under the doors into the hall itself. Pressing myself to the wall as much as possible, I held my breath, expecting at any moment to be noticed by the servers as they pushed the doors open in order to wheel through a cart loaded with delicacies. Any other time, I might have drooled. Now, I shook and quivered, so frightened, I unwittingly did the best thing I could have done and remained still.

  When a hue and cry did not immediately ring about my ears, my mind began to function again. A table blocked my view. It could also hide me. I put one paw ahead of another with painful slowness, reaching the supposed shelter of the table only to find I was not the first to do so.

  I was nose-to-nose with the ugliest, most vicious-looking hunting serlet I had yet seen on this world. The monster was grizzled with age, with green, definitely malignant eyes, and horrid black-stained teeth bared in a snarl. Its breath smelled truly remarkable for something still alive. I backed up so quickly that I didn't see the legs behind me until I crashed into them.

  "Saa. Don't be afraid." The words were in comspeak, the interspecies' trade language of the Commonwealth. I looked up a yellow uniform until I met the interested gray-eyed gaze of the Human. His recorder dangled from a strap. He made an effortless switch to quite passable Kraosian: "Easy, pup."

  From this close, I could read the symbols marking the bars across his chest: linguistics and alien culture specialist. Perfect. I put on my best tongue-lolling grin and sat so I could unobtrusively curl my tail over my front paws. He patted my head gently, then said softly in comspeak: "What goes on here? I'd wager you know, don't you." I tensed, then relaxed as I realized the question was for himself, the Human being too distracted by his situation to really have noticed me.

  Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the two soldiers rapidly and purposefully approaching us, one of whom I recognized with a sinking feeling as Ethrem. I swallowed and dove back under the table, using the momentum to carry me in a rush over the rightful landlord of the place. Teeth snapped closed a hot breath away from my neck as I scrambled out the other side.

  Instantly, pandemonium broke loose. I ran, slipping and panting on the polished tiles, fearing I had done more than I bargained for in arousing the old beast. He was bugling his fury in full voice, a fanged demon given respectfully clear passage by the amused soldiers. I kept my tail firmly between my legs and both ears cocked back to my pursuer. I heard laughter and a confusion of commands, although I was too preoccupied to look around. This was hardly the distraction I had in mind, but it would have to do.

  Then a crackle of energy blackened the floor in front of my paws. I slid to a halt, a move that threw the old beast off-balance. As if in slow motion, I watched him skid past me, mouth agape in surprise. In that instant, he unwittingly saved my life; Ethrem's next shot, meant for me, turned him into a charred heap.

  There were shouts: angry ones from the officers, and a pitiful shriek from one of the serving staff—perhaps the owner of the ill-mannered and ill-fated beast. I couldn't take my eyes from Ethrem as he moved to stand before me, an involuntary reaction to the death that had nearly been mine. It was a betrayal of my true nature that narrowed Ethrem's eyes in triumph as he raised his weapon yet again. I tensed, preparing for his shot.

  The weapon was struck aside by a yellow-clad arm. As if released from a spell, I yelped and dove for the nearest t
able. There was a flurry of voices and sound. I crouched in the dark, panting. The odor of cooked serlet was sickeningly strong.

  What was happening? Had they forgotten me? I wanted desperately to somehow ease through the wall of legs surrounding my shelter and run. If there had been a gap large enough, I might have tried. Time seemed tangible, measured by heartbeats and gasping breaths. I fought to think past my fear and somehow calmed myself. What had Ersh said? Beyond courage lay necessity. Necessity meant easing to the table's edge and peering out.

  The Human specialist and Ethrem were standing face-to-face—one calm and the other shaking like a leaf. They appeared to me as mirror images, similarities in form far outweighing any differences between them. Perhaps the Human was more slender, his tanned face flattened and more oval than the Kraosian's. The rainbow hues within Ethrem's eyes were locked upon the startling black, gray, and white of the Human's; this was the most striking difference between them, though Kraosian eyes varied to both these extremes.

  Ethrem's commanding officer, the one he had called his friend, held a hand weapon ready, but pointed deliberately at the floor. There was no mistaking the direction of Ethrem's aim. The Protark and the remaining Humans were standing. No one moved. "Am I worth your fear?" I heard the specialist say very gently.

  Ethrem flinched as though conversation was the last thing he had expected from the alien being. He tightened his grip on his own pistol. I swallowed, aware, as were the others helpless here, that Ethrem was beyond reason. Yet the Human remained still, calm, serene, his voice compelling: "I am as you see me, Kraosian. Nothing more than a man, and nothing less." He didn't quite smile, but the corners of his mouth lifted. "And a rather thirsty man. Join me for a glass of beer?"