Ragem passed me my drink and sat down, stretching out his legs. "I'll be there."
Unfortunately, so would I. I couldn't see any way to avoid going to Rigel II without playing into Kearn's hands and making matters worse. Famous was bad enough. I couldn't afford to become infamous at the same time. Humans took a depressingly narrow view of what they perceived as a threat.
The lounge was no longer a comfortable refuge. I wanted to go home. And explain to Ersh? Maybe wanting to go home wasn't such a great idea.
* * *
13: Planet Night
« ^ »
SNOWFLAKES patted the window, tumbling past and catching the light from my room. I squinted, trying to ignore my own reflection and see something in the blackness beyond the fat white flakes. But Rigel II was keeping its scenery to itself tonight.
I sighed, then absently licked the resulting oval of fog from the window. The snow ignored me, too busy trying to fill in the corners of the windowsill. A futile task, since each little pile always reached a crisis and whirled away in a miniature avalanche. The image roused web-memory—Ansky had spent months under a drift of frozen oxygen on Kaleb IX.
Being buried alive was fine if you enjoyed composing poetry while you waited for a thaw. I shoved the unhelpful memory aside and turned away, pacing erratically around the stools, tables, and bed platform of my Rigellian home—wondering which of the ship's crew I'd displaced from his or her planetside quarters.
It was better than worrying about tomorrow, when I would officially become the honored guest of the Commonwealth and start the round of formal dinners and talks.
Honored guest, ha! My door was locked from the outside. Kearn's message had been quite clear: Stay put.
Ordinarily I was good at that. I was even better at passing through locked doors, as Ragem knew ail too well. "Promise me you'll stay here at least until tomorrow. You have to meet the Deputy Minister," I snarled out loud, not bothering to mimic Ragem's pleading sincerity. "Kearn's made me responsible for you. It'll be my career if you leave, Esen."
"What about my career, Ragem-the-troublemaker?"
My elbow bumped the corner of the creteng tank, a bulky ornamental thing stuck in the middle of the floor. The contact stung and I snapped my teeth. It also set the tank's water and inhabitants rocking. "Sorry," I said, then felt as embarrassed as if Ersh had caught me talking to myself. Pets. I steadied the tank and found a couple of towels to cover the puddle on the floor. The creteng, finned specks of color too small at this age to be worth eating, refused to stop cowering behind their fake water plants.
The door whistled cheerfully. As if it wasn't enough to lock me in, they had to pester me in the middle of the night. It wasn't likely to be a meal, so I ignored it, curling up on the rug beside the bed platform, wrapping my tail over my nose.
A second whistle. I snarled: "All right. Come in."
The door opened to reveal Ragem, dressed in a thick patterned coat with a furred collar. He was carrying a bright red bundle. I glared at him through the wisps of fur on my tail. Snowflakes winked to waterdrops on his hair. His face was rosy-cheeked and split in a wide grin.
"Quit sulking, Es!" Ragem ordered as he marched into the room, his boots tracking snow for the first couple of steps. He bumped the creteng tank and quickly sidestepped the slosh of water that followed. "Time to get out and enjoy life." He shook out his bundle, dropping a pair of boots on the carpet and holding out an enormous red coat.
Trying to keep the tip of my tail from thumping wasn't easy. I sat up and tucked it under my hind paw, swinging my ears back and down in disapproval. I pointed at the belt around my waist. "Kearn does know about this." It wasn't a question.
Ragem's smile was angelic. "I don't think that's a problem. Kearn's busy. Everyone is! Don't you know what day it is?"
In other words, I said to myself, smelling a rather potent whiff on Ragem's breath, there's a party someplace to welcome the Rigus home and my buddy here has become potted enough to reconsider his career plans. I flicked my ears up, decided not to remind him, and took the coat.
Ragem hadn't quite abandoned all sense, I decided moments later as I followed him out of the building. He had made sure no keen-eyed watcher, mechanical or otherwise, would recognize his companion. The boots hid my paws; the coat was hooded and draped almost to the ground. He led the way down the slushy ruts of the main driveway. I licked a snowflake off the smooth skin of my muzzle and peered around with interest.
The driveway linked a series of square, two-story buildings, their upper corners hung with baskets of green-and-red lights. I thought it was rather charming and took time to remember. A few windows, mine included, cast beams of light onto the snow-covered trees bordering the roadway. Otherwise, the place seemed deserted. The only sounds were our breathing, the wet smack of our boots, and the sighing of snow down the fabric of our coats.
I was about to grab Ragem's sleeve and find out where he was taking me when the twin headlights of a groundcar shone on us. It moved slowly through the snow, stopping at Ragem's signal. The markings on the vehicle's side reassured me on one point. I doubted I was being kidnapped in one of Big Al's Rent-for-Less, Winter-Ready Specials.
We climbed in the back seat, shaking clumps of wet slush from our feet as best we could. The floor of the car had once been protected by sheets of plas; these now held brown puddles of melted snow that shivered as we seated ourselves.
The driver turned around to greet us. I was somehow not surprised to see Tomas' cheerful face. "Are you fit to drive?" I asked, twitching my nose at his breath, too.
"Absolutely, my dear Fang Face," Tomas replied, doffing his white-trimmed cap. I showed him a fang or two, but kept it friendly. A large silvery bell sewn on the tip of the cap tinkled as he replaced it on his head. "To the festivities!"
"I thought you said this was the dullest planet—"
Ragem chuckled. "All too true, Esen—"
"But not tonight. It's time to howl, Old Hound!" Tomas sang out happily, sending the groundcar forward with reassuring care for the snow.
Fang Face? Old Hound! The Humans were impossible, rude, and just what I'd needed. I found myself tingling with anticipation and suspense. After tucking the feeling into my private memory, I made one final attempt to salve my conscience. "This isn't a good move for either of you. I was supposed to stay in my room."
Ragem took off his mittens and shook them over Tomas' head, spraying drops of melted snow over all three of us. "Do we look worried? You know you were miserable. Well, Tomas and I were miserable. How could we have fun without you?" Hah, I said to myself.
"Besides, we know what we're doing. Far as I'm concerned, it should be against the law to miss Rigel's only party," Tomas added, leaning rather alarmingly right into the back seat to grin at me. The groundcar didn't swerve, so its servo brain must have had a good nose too.
They wouldn't tell me anything more, delighted to keep me puzzled. We drove along in Big Al's Rental, blinded on all sides by snow, trusting the machine to find the road. Ragem and Tomas spent the time trying to match their voices around a wide assortment of songs, usually tripping each other on the first few lines.
After a while, I decided the pair of Humans weren't so much drunk as they were unwinding like a pair of released springs. I, though far too professional for a similar display, found myself howling along to one of their more consistent musical efforts.
"Close as we'll get now. Better park it here," Ragem announced some time later. I opened the window on my side, licking up the snow that immediately danced in to land on my face, and looked at our surroundings. It was a parking lot—well, maybe it was supposed to be a parking lot. Right now, I was looking at a dense pack of snow-covered mounds each about the same size and shape as our vehicle. An overhead crisscross of lights struck sparks of red and green from the still-falling snow. Following Ragem's advice, Tomas slid to a stop, managing in the process to completely block the exit of at least three other vehicles.
T
he heavy snowflakes seemed to take their time choosing a landing place. I watched them dance and slip, admiring their unpredictability. "Oh, hurry up, Es," Ragem and Tomas said at once, hauling me out of the car.
I twitched a snowflake from one ear, then swiveled both to catch the faintest of sounds. Music. Hardly had I identified it before each of my crazed companions took one of my arms and hustled me in the direction of the sound. "Hurry! It's almost midnight!" Tomas said breathlessly, his feet slipping and sliding until I thought I was the only thing holding him up as we half ran down an empty street.
Small tidy shops and homes lined the street, each appearing dark inside, but outside ablaze with lights—all red or green. I would have appreciated at least a second or two to search web-memory about them—something was teasing me about the colors and snow. The Humans didn't give me time to concentrate. The music grew louder as we ran toward its source, swelling into recognizable voices and instruments.
We literally burst out into a broad square. Hundreds of people stood around its edges, each so well-bundled against the cold that species was impossible to determine. I hoped Kearn would take that into account tomorrow. Then I looked at the source of the music and finally understood.
"It's Christmas."
" 'Course," Tomas said, leading the way through the crowd around the towering tree ahead. The massed choir changed songs and answering hums throbbed from all sides. "And if you'll move those paws of yours a bit quicker, Puppykins, we won't miss New Year's."
Still linked between them, I could only smile toothily in apology as we nudged, bumped, and basically shoved other spectators out of our way. Fortunately, no one took offense, most calling out a "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year," softly enough not to disturb the carol singing.
Ansky was fond of Christmas, I remembered nostalgically, part of her poetic nature. When not busy on Web business, or studying the Articans, Ansky was a sucker for guided tours. Her last planet-hopping trip had boasted ten consecutive Yuletides.
Although when Christmas fell was a planet matter, and many worlds indulged themselves more than once a planet year, Christmas traditions were amazingly consistent. I was personally convinced this had more to do with traveling salesmen than any Human effort to keep the custom intact. Ansky thought this very cynical of me and insisted I'd appreciate such things better when I was older.
Not inclined to quibble, I howled along with a carol Ansky had learned for me and settled down to enjoy myself.
The Rigellians had sacrificed the traditional evergreen tree, propping the corpse up with plas supports. Not bad, I decided, approving the wide range of edible decorations. Snow frosted the tops of hanging cookies and reflected the surrounding lights. The clock at the top of the tree was star-shaped, and, again traditionally, counted down the minutes to the New Year.
Someone squeezed in between Tomas and me—no mean feat since we were already crushed together. The dwarf, no, child, wiggled ahead purposefully. The crowd around us shook like the surface of a jelly as a veritable army of children pushed through at waist height to cluster at the base of the tree. The adults good-naturedly stepped back to give them room.
"Midnight's coming, Es!" Ragem shouted. I pinned back my ear with a wince, able to hear quite well despite the babble of voices from all sides.
I nodded, watching the clock just like everyone else. The last notes of song hung themselves on silence. Snow whirled above our heads, the tree, the waiting children, and snuck down the neck of my coat again. I shivered with excitement. One minute to go. Some worlds claimed they used Terran-standard clocks, but this minute had to be slower than even that myth demanded.
Ten seconds to midnight. A countdown began, shouted from several hundred throats. "… Nine, eight, seven…"
I found myself shouting with all the rest. "Two, one…"
The clock exploded right on midnight, showering our upturned faces with multicolored sparks that melted just overhead with a whiff of cinnamon. The tree split into four, curving apart from its crown, majestically arching its branches and their treasures down to the eager hands of the waiting children.
"Happy New Year!" The adults grabbed, hugged, kissed, and generally acted without restraint or manners. I lost track of Ragem and Tomas. No one seemed to mind that I licked instead of kissing back.
Ansky hadn't shared this, or else I hadn't assimilated her memories properly. I felt an intense belonging, a feeling of welcome almost as strong as that within the Web itself. Maybe stronger than my future welcome, I thought glumly. I couldn't stay glum for long. As the crowd quieted, this time with a delightful sense of exhausted release, someone passed me a huge roll of pastry, steaming hot and fragrant. I bit into it, tasting cloves, raisins, and crunchy bits of sugar. What wonderful people!
"Es?" Ragem tugged at my sleeve. "Come over here. Tomas found some spurl."
I was game, whatever spurl was. Lanivarians, on the ground at least, had very capable digestive systems—something I'd proved scrounging on Kraos. Anything my omnivorous primate hosts could safely consume, I could. In point of fact, I could safely consume anything, having only to shift to web-form to deal with whatever became disagreeable. Even Ersh had never encountered a poison fast-acting enough to seriously harm a particular form before she could cycle from it. Make it sick, definitely. But nothing permanent.
Which was good, because eating was such a pleasure in almost all forms. I hooked the paw free of pastry under Ragem's bulky sleeve and let him find our way through the expanding eddies in the crowd. I finished my treat, licked each slender toe, and speculatively eyed the cookies being carried by children on all sides of us. Probably not a Christmas thing to do, I decided, closing my mouth so I wouldn't drool.
Fortunately, spurl was equally worth drooling over. It was a spiced drink thick as soup, served frothy and hot, and with a sneaky ability to glow along nerve endings by the third cup. The Rigellians, in no hurry to resume their staid reputation, had set up dispensers of the stuff all around the square. The crowd was no smaller, but had become appreciably more mellow. Adults walked around, cup in hand, or sat on benches to watch the children prowl through the remains of the tree. A few groups sang softly to themselves.
Some time ago, unnoticed, the snow had stopped—as if on cue. The sky had cleared to a black arch. It was too bright in the square to make out stars, but without the clouds the air was cooling quickly. Ragem could make rings with his spurl-warmed breath.
Tomas had left us after sharing the first cup or so, spotting some of the Rigus' crew. Ragem, I was pleased to see, preferred to stay with me.
Ragem was just drunk enough to be talkative. He was telling me about Christmas on Botharis, his mother's homeworld. I was just drunk enough to be content to listen and remember. "We give gifts—always to the kids and usually to each other," he said, sounding wistful. "Depending on who's home of course. And we have snow, like this. My favorite part was always the rides we'd take, late at night, under the stars."
He sipped spurl, its steam curling past his wistful eyes. I hazarded a guess. "Horses?"
"Snowspeeders. But when we were young, my brother and I'd pretend we had horses. Kids do that at Christmas. Riding through the snow." Ragem stopped talking for a moment, staring into the steam.
I squinted into my empty cup and thought I'd probably had more than my share. "How long since you've been home?" I asked him.
"Too long."
I felt my ears go down in sympathy. We were both a bit maudlin and sentimental—New Year's does that to beings. Then my ears pricked up as I had a truly fabulous idea. I hadn't seen any horses (or speeders) in the town, but I knew something even better at running through snow. I'd cheer Ragem up by giving him a Christmas present.
Later, I'd remember this moment and realize just how stupid I'd been.
But that was later.
"I want you to wait here, Ragem," I said quickly. "Give me ten minutes. Exactly ten. Then meet me by those trees over there." The trees I pointed to were on the far s
ide of the square.
"What're you up to, Es?" His coat crinkled in the cold as he turned on the bench to look at me suspiciously.
"I've a little Christmas surprise for you," I said, pushing down on his shoulders as I got to my feet. It kept Ragem still and countered an odd tendency for the ground to spin. "Promise to give me a ten-minute start before you come."
"I made you promise to stay," Ragem said with a melancholy sigh, his mind spinning off on an unexpected tangent. "That wasn't fair, was it? Selfish. My asking, I mean, not your staying. Staying would be nice; you're my friend. Shouldn't ask. I'm sorry, Esen, I—"
I cuffed his head gently to shut him up. Too much spurl and too little time to relax, I decided. "I didn't say I was leaving, Ragem." Yet. "I said I have a surprise for you. Now wait here ten minutes, then meet me by the trees. Okay?"
Ragem tried to scowl but failed. "Okay." His wandering gaze fixed on the nearest spurl dispenser.
I found that once I started walking, the ground steadied itself—more or less—although everyone around me had a tendency to weave, making it difficult to move in a straight line through the crowd. The snow was packed, but in the cold it creaked a bit underfoot. I looked cross-eyed at the curls of white frost forming on the tiny hairs of my muzzle—better shave in the morning.
Ah. Finally out from the crowd, out of the lights, and under the stars. I looked for a suitable tree.
Plenty to choose from, I saw with satisfaction. There were two rows, planted in a staggered fashion to mark the edge of town. Their skeletal shadows cut black lines in the glittering fresh snow. Beyond stretched a night-etched rolling plain, likely farm fields in summer, welling up into low hills on the horizon. The spaceport was just past that horizon, but there were no ships moving tonight.
I compared several trees of about the right mass before settling on one I didn't think would be missed in spring—it grew much too close to its neighbors. I took off the jacket and boots Ragem had given me and laid them carefully over a nearby bush. Kearn's telltale belt would just have to drop in the snow. It was hardly my problem if the moisture damaged it.
Beholder's Eye Page 11
