The Shaman of Karres

by Eric Flint

  “That’s what the nursery is for, see,” said the garrulous Vanessa. “The boss is trying to get a plantation working somewhere else. This is getting too hard. Only the last lot of plants died.”

  It seemed that the answer to whatever had happened to Kaen and Lina would have to come out of the Gaks. Humanoids she couldn’t even talk to! If only the Leewit were here. If only the captain were here…no. He would have been doing his best to destroy the entire smuggler base by now. “All right. I’ve heard enough. I’m cutting you free—well, I’ll leave your hands tied. Your base is back there.”

  “What?” they both exclaimed.

  “I’m letting you go. That’s what I said I’d do.”

  They both looked at her. “But…we’re in the jungle. Outside the perimeter,” said Vanessa.

  “I’m going further into it. So you’re better off here. And I’m not taking you with me,” said Goth.

  Both of them were silenced. Then Vanessa asked, “Could you give us a lift? Please?”

  Despite the situation, Goth burst out laughing. Oddly, that frightened both of them into scrambling out, and running frantically, diving and weaving behind trees.

  It was something of a window into their minds, she realized, starting the ground-truck up again. They’d assumed she was laughing for the reasons they’d laugh—which plainly were pretty awful. And there she’d been about to take them a bit closer to the perimeter. Vanessa had said “please,” and that even worked on the Leewit.

  Goth pushed her way between the huge trees as best as possible—which meant reversing out a few times, something she was not very practiced at. Inevitably on the fifth time, she got the ground-truck stuck. Well, she’d have to walk. The dappled shade was tricky for no-shape, and right now the forest seemed silent and empty. She’d vanish when she needed to, she decided.

  Walking was easier to do than drive, but she had no real idea what direction she was going, or how to find what she was looking for. The only form of life she’d seen was a slim, lithe streak of red fur, on a creature with an oddly beak-like mouth. But she’d find them. She’d done enough tracking and hunting on Karres.

  Unfortunately, they found her first, and, as Goth didn’t see them, she had no chance to hide.

  All she knew about it was a sudden agonizing pain in the back of her neck. She grabbed at the spot trying to turn to see what had hit her.

  It was a feathered dart, about as long as her hand. As the world blurred and she fell, she saw one of the humanoids peering around the huge bole of a tree, a long pipe in his mouth.

  * * *

  That was the last she remembered, until the world swam into focus again. Looking at her was someone she recognized. Someone, if somewhat older, she remembered clearly from Nikkeldepain.

  Lina did not look pleased to see her. In fact she looked very grim. Her first words were not pleasant either. “Young woman, you’re dying. Now: You can make that quick and painless, or slow and painful.”

  Goth tried to sit—and found that she was tied up. Her mouth tasted dreadful, and she felt absolutely wretched. She swallowed. “Lina? I came to find you.”

  “So they still know my name. You’re young to be involved in their vile business. Now, I need to know certain details…”

  “Don’t you recognize me? I’m Goth…Vala.”

  Pausert’s mother looked at her. And looked again. And then shook her head, and rubbed her eyes as if to clear them. “You can’t be! I mean you do look like her…but she’d be ten years older than you look.”

  Goth managed to laugh weakly. “Nikkeldepain. The Threbus Institute. The makemake stings.”

  The woman shook her head incredulously. “But…what are you doing here? I mean…you were such a nice girl. Pausert was heartbroken when you left.”

  Goth thought that was good to hear, even if she felt like she wanted to throw up. “I’m going to marry him as soon as I’m old enough. Which I already am now.”

  “But…my dear, what are you doing here? With Pnaden’s thugs…”

  “Looking for you, obviously. I came the same way you did,” explained Goth.

  Goth was not prepared for her future mother-in-law to burst into tears. “Dear Patham. I’ve killed you.”

  Goth had had enough of being tied up, so ’ported a bit of the cord away and sat up. The world swayed quite a lot, with the effort. “I’m still alive,” she said, crossly.

  Pausert’s mother swallowed, and she struggled to get control of her voice. “For now, yes. But it’s a slow poison, irreversible. It’ll kill you in the next three days. I’m so sorry, Vala.” A slow tear ran down her face. “My poor girl. My poor son. And I can’t even tell him. There is nothing we can do. I’ll have them take you to the octagon.”

  “I’m not planning on doing nothing,” said Goth. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any blankets or thick jackets? You need to wrap me up.”

  “It’s the effect of the poison on the darts. It’s really very warm.”

  “I’m not cold, Lina. I need them for padding. I’m going to have to leave you. And I don’t think I can take you with me.”

  “You can’t leave. The only ship…”

  “Well,” said Goth “They can’t leave either. I took a few parts out of their ship. I have my own method of traveling. It’s hard. I would try and take you, but I feel so rotten that I don’t think I can. Stay safe. I’ll be back.”

  “But Vala,” protested Pausert’s mother. “I’m sorry, but you’ll lapse into unconsciousness in about three hours. You can’t fly a ship. We’re too far from an Empire hospital, even if they could do something, for you to get there. Each time you wake after that will be shorter. The best I can do is to take you to the octagon…”

  “The best you can do is get me some blankets or coats. Now. Trust me.”

  The woman looked doubtful. “I…”

  Goth was feeling really wretched again. “Look. Everything you heard about your Uncle Threbus is true. He’s my father, and I can do even stranger things. Now please, get me some padding, quickly. Or I will go without it, and that can get me hurt.”

  “Threbus!” She exclaimed, shaking her head, disbelievingly. But she got up and left the little leaf-thatched room, and soon returned with two of the little hominids helping her to carry a large bundle of soft bright-colored fluffy fabric, the color of the creature she’d seen in the forest. “Is this any good?” asked Pausert’s mother.

  “Wonderful.” Goth struggled to her feet. “Can you and the little aliens wrap me in it? I’ll give Pausert your love. I’ll try and come back soon. I have the coordinates.”

  “But…you’re dying. And they’re not aliens. They’re the Gyak. But we’ll wrap you up if it will make you happier. I wish…” She shook her head and stopped. Then said something in the hominid language. They started rolling her up in the fluffy fabric.

  “Then I’m going to die after I get back to the captain,” said Goth. She was feeling awful, but the Toll pattern in her mind would help with the Egger Route. And…well, if she was dying, there were ways of shutting down her body and mind, a defense Karres witches used as a last resort. Rescue would have to come to her then, but it would slow everything in her body down. Right down, to the point where she’d seem dead. She’d be as close to being in stasis as could be, without a stasis chamber.

  It might still not be enough, she knew, as she slipped into the betweenness that was the Egger Route, and swam toward the Venture. Karres people did not die easily, but they did die.

  CHAPTER 14

  The Venture had made an uneventful if crowded journey to Marbelly, and discharged their grateful passengers. They set out again on the long leg to Na’kalauf.

  On the evening watch of the third day, the captain and Leewit both became aware of the distant drumming vibration of the Egger Route. The captain wasn’t sure if people who were not Karres witches even felt it. But both of them hastily grabbed things to cushion the incoming person.

  The captain desperately hoped i
t would be Goth. Nothing, he realized, could make him happier.

  But when it was, and he saw her face, the happiness was erased by fear. She looked as if she were dead. She lay there, flaccid, eyes open but glazed as they tore the fabric around her away. The captain felt frantically for a heartbeat, but just felt the faint vibration of the Egger Route. The Leewit, however, was already busy at what she did best. With great effort, Pausert pulled his hand from Goth and put it on the Leewit’s shoulder, willing himself to lend her his klatha strength. To the last drop, if need be. He deliberately didn’t say or do anything to distract her, until she stood up.

  “Is she dead?” he asked, full of despair and rage at himself for letting her go without him.

  “Huh? No,” said the Leewit. “Just let’s take her to a bunk. This is going to take a while.”

  Pausert felt his knees almost buckle. He thought if he was going to fall over with relief, it might as well be next to Goth. He knelt down next to her. She was no less pale and her eyes were still open and unseeing. “But I couldn’t feel her heart.”

  “It’s beating. Just fast and shallowly. Pick her up, Captain, or do I need Ta’zara to help you?”

  Pausert picked her up as if she were a fragile piece of precious ten-thousand-year-old porcelain. She’d grown a lot from the scrap just entering her teens, which she had been when she came aboard the Venture the first time, although she was still slender. But right now he could have carried her if she were made of lead.

  “What is wrong?” he asked as he carried her to her cabin. No one, not even as crowded as they were, had been allowed in there.

  “Poison. It’s pretty nasty,” said the Leewit.

  “Can you heal her?” he asked desperately.

  “I hope so,” growled the Leewit. “But the sooner I get working the better.”

  Pausert got Goth onto her bunk at a run. “What can I do?” he asked, full of a terrible helplessness. Right then he’d have given up all his klatha skills, his ship—anything, just to make her well.

  “Going to need to cut this cocoon off her. Scissors. And we need to get fluids into her. Tell Ta’zara I need him—I’ll tell him what to prepare. And then you’ll have to lend me your strength again.”

  Pausert rushed out to find Ta’zara and scissors. He nearly knocked over Vezzarn. “Take over the helm,” he said briskly. “Where’s Ta’zara?”

  “In the mess…” The spaceman never got a chance to finish, before the captain ran off. Ta’zara was in the mess, with Me’a and both of her Na’kalauf bodyguards. “The Leewit wants you. Goth’s cabin!” he said, and turned and ran back, beating Ta’zara by seconds.

  They cut the beautiful fabric away from Goth, not caring how magnificent it was. Ta’zara was sent running to the robobutler, and the captain stood and lent his strength. He was rewarded by a blink and the faintest movement of Goth’s mouth, as the Leewit worked her klatha skill.

  And then she stopped. To Captain Pausert, Goth looked no better. Yes, he could see a faint rise and fall of her chest and her staring eyes had drooped closed. But she was still ghost-pale and very still. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Why did you stop?”

  The Leewit sighed, and said, “Because I’ve clumping well done what I can for now.” She sounded much older than her years. That wasn’t the Toll pattern talking, just a really tired Leewit. Pausert was feeling exhausted himself, just letting her draw on his strength.

  “But…”

  “I can’t just fix it,” said the Leewit. “There are millions of cells involved.”

  “But…is she…?” He knew he was pleading for reassurance, scared she could not give it.

  “I’ve destroyed the poison. Stabilized her as best as I can. Got her liver producing…what is the word? Enzymes. I’ve done as much as I can. Now…it’s just time. And hoping it’s enough.”

  Pausert squeezed her small shoulder. “You’ve done more than you should. I can feel it, little one. Eat. Rest. I’ll sit with her.”

  “I want her well as badly as you do, Captain.” There was a catch in the Leewit’s voice.

  “I know. Eat and rest now.”

  “You need to eat and rest too. I leaned on you a lot there. Drew from you.”

  Pausert shook his head. “You send someone with food. I’ll call you if there is any change.”

  The Leewit shook her head. “Going to have to get some more fluid into her. In through the veins, if need be. I’ve never done that before. Got to learn.”

  “I have, mistress,” said Ta’zara. “We are trained in battlefield medicine. I have brought the drinks you ordered. Also the ship’s medical kit. It has intravenous drip kits.” He looked at Goth. “Finding a vein will be hard.”

  The Leewit nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I need to drink some high-energy fluid myself. Then I will direct you.” That was the Toll pattern speaking, through the Leewit. “I can feel the needle from the inside of her. I’ll drink the drink you brought me for Goth.”

  A few minutes later the Leewit sat with her hand on Goth’s arm—with a temporary tourniquet made with some of the fabric, and gave Ta’zara instructions. Pausert noticed she had gritted teeth through a lot of it. But they got a drop of dark red blood out of the needle and were able to take off the tourniquet and to hook up the drip bag.

  “Phew. That was the clumping horriblest,” said the Leewit, rubbing her own arm. “I had to open up and feel that needle. Now I am going to get a big stack of pancakes and Wintenberry jelly. I’ll send some up for you, Captain. I hope we don’t need the Sheewash Drive, because I don’t think I could push a noodle, never mind the Venture.”

  “I hate to ask, Leewit. But…should I try the Egger Route to Karres with Goth?”

  The Leewit shook her head. “Kill her for sure. That’s why she’s in such bad shape. Mind you, it was going to kill her anyway. The ionization burn was pretty minor, even if it says someone tried to shoot her. But that was not all by a long way. She had to take the Egger Route. That was a nasty poison that she got into her. Came in through that little wound on her neck. That’s going to scar badly. It has killed quite a lot of the tissue.”

  “Someone is going to be very sorry for this,” said Pausert, between gritted teeth.

  “If they did this to Goth, they probably already are,” said the Leewit. “Or you and me can take it in turns. Being a healer is teaching me some really nasty whistles. Bust them up inside.”

  That was an aspect of the Leewit’s klatha healing skills that the captain had never thought about. Anyone who could stop you dying could probably make you wish you were dead.

  Pausert sat in the cabin with Goth through the entire night-watch. His only comfort was that she was warm, had a pulse and was breathing. Ta’zara brought food. The Leewit came and put her hands on Goth—and curled up on the chair and catnapped. The little rochat slipped out of her collar and glided onto the bed, before Pausert could stop it. It sniffed curiously at Goth—well, not so much at her as at the remains of the fabric she’d been wrapped in. It ignored Pausert trying to quietly chase it away, and snuggled in next to Goth. Pausert couldn’t see what harm it was doing, so he left it be. The Leewit didn’t sleep for long, but woke and checked Goth again. She looked unusually grim and worried.

  “What is going on?” he asked. “Is it getting worse?”

  “Not really. It’s…she’s not really winning…or really losing. The fluids have helped. She seems to have a secondary infection of some sort too.”

  “Can you deal with it?”

  The Leewit shook her head. “I was going to, and I can. But that’d be cleared through her liver. That’s got enough to cope with right now. And it is giving her a fever, which means the poison isn’t working as well as it could. I should have thought of that.”

  “Your rochat has taken a liking to her,” said Pausert, pointing to the creature’s nose, just visible next to Goth.

  “Little pest,” said the Leewit. “Runs off and leaves me for somewhere warmer. They’re like that,
Captain. She’s feverish, so she’s hotter’n me.”

  “So what do we do now?” asked Pausert, feeling terribly helpless.

  “More IV fluids, more watching and waiting. If she loses any more ground I’m going to have to dismind her and put her in deep-tran. You remember. Like Olimy when he had the encounter with Moander.”

  Too well did Pausert remember. The Karres agent had survived, but it had needed all the skills of a team of Karres healers to see that it happened—and Pausert knew that it had been touch and go.

  Waiting and watching was hard. But by the time the second IV drip was nearly done, Pausert had some relief at least, seeing Goth move. She was trying to burrow deeper under the covers. He felt her forehead and it was hot—so he woke the Leewit. “Sorry,” he said, as she yawned. “But she’s feeling really feverish to me. It is temperature-controlled in here, and she’s acting really cold.”

  “Cold,” said Goth, in a tiny weak voice, so quiet it could barely be heard.

  “We’ll get you something warm,” said Pausert. “Just lie still.”

  “Captain?” she said, blinking. “Can’t see properly.”

  Pausert squeezed her hot little hand. “It’s me. You’re safe back on the Venture.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, keeping his voice calm, somehow.

  He was rewarded by a faint squeeze from her hand. She was shivering. “Right,” said the Leewit. “Time to do some more.”

  “Leewit?”

  “Yeah. It’s me, big sister. Now shut up and let me work. My turn to say that to you now.” The Leewit’s voice cracked slightly, but her hands were steady.

  The next few days would forever feature in Pausert’s memory as a long, grim, terrifying blur. Fortunately, they were in an area of space that made little demand on his ship-handling. But it was three days later that the Leewit, having been called by the captain because Goth was sweating buckets, put her hands on Goth and started to cry, tears streaming down her face. Pausert went through a moment of utter horror…and then realized the littlest witch of Karres was smiling. “We’ve clumping done it, Captain. She’s turned the corner.”