by Vernor Vinge
The packs in the first tier surged onto the field, maneuvering for the privilege of a close encounter with the zombies. The Innmaster set his guards to regulating the customers’ approach—incidentally collecting still more coinage.
Amdi arranged himself generally behind the two humans while Screwfloss brought Ritl out and settled on Ravna’s right. Ritl blabbered away self-importantly—but she toned it down when the remnant drew her near and began snapping at her.
The first of the “select few” of customers had gotten past the guards. The fivesome approached at an enthusiastic trot, then slowed, even backed up a little. All five of its heads were craned upwards, intimidated by Jefri’s height. The customer right behind squawked at the delay—but it didn’t try to circle around.
Jefri went to one knee and extended a hand, gesturing the pack forward.
Amdi shifted nervously. “This isn’t the Innmaster; you don’t have to take chances.”
“It’s okay, Amdi. This is just like our first expedition to the Long Lakes.” Jef’s body language was relaxed enough, but his voice was tense.
The five spent almost a minute variously inspecting Jef’s clothing, mouthing his fingers with the soft tips of its own muzzles, and chatting with Amdi. “He complimented me on how well I’ve trained you, Jef,” Amdi reported, as he passed the customer on to Ravna.
Some of the strangers were like that first one. Others mugged around for friends who lurked at a distance, as if to say “Look at me, up close to a monster!” Many tried to talk to Jefri and Amdi, echoing the humans’ own words and watching for a response.
As twilight deepened, fire circles were lit at the corners of the arena. The flames climbed bright and high—adequate light even for Tines. And the customers kept coming. A few of them even took time to compliment Screwfloss on his act. Ravna wondered if the Steel inside had ever been the object of honest praise; in any case, the remnant seemed pleased. Ritl didn’t know quite what to make of the chitchat, but she clearly considered herself a co-equal entity in the receiving line.
And there were a few, a very few, who came close to doing what Amdi had been worried about. One pack jostled Jefri. When Amdi complained, the creature seemed to apologize, easing past Amdi to get close to Ravna. The pack was seven, but scrawny and misshapen. Put some checkered makeup on this fellow and it could play a mean version of Screwfloss’ character. It swirled close around her, all yellowish eyes and Tinish bad breath. Amdi was watching it closely and he translated the creature’s gobbling: “He’s saying to everybody that even up close, you are making no mindsound.” When Ravna remained silent, it squealed something that might have meant “alive” (or “not alive”)—and slammed into her knees.
Ravna fell, but before the creature could do anything more, Jef and Amdi jumped in on her left and Screwfloss on her right, all grabbing at the stranger. For a moment, bodies were flying in all directions. Ravna struggled back to her feet. The attacker was scattered, out of easy thinking range of itself. Its members looked around dazedly, then skedaddled to the edge of the arena, ran back together, and disappeared through one of the openings between the stands.
“That’s it!” shouted Jefri. “Time to close down!” He reached out to Ravna and said more softly, “You okay?”
“Yes, I—” She hadn’t been hurt at all, just reminded of the risks.
Amdi was talking over the crowd, at the Innmaster. That worthy was standing near his money collectors. Amdi’s words sent him into a frantic dance. The crowd of packs started protesting, too. Nightmare visions came to Ravna’s mind.
Amdi reported, “The Innmaster is promising us the sun and the moon, if we’ll just stay in place a little longer.”
“We’ve got to stay,” said Ravna.
Amdi raised four of his heads high, and gobbled loudly across all the voices. “I’m repeating what the Innmaster is promising us,” he said. “I’m saying we’d love to cooperate, but we want everyone to make sure that all promises get kept.”
The Innmaster was bobbing heads in agreement. Ravna could see the reason for his enthusiasm: The panniers on his guard packs were swinging heavy with the loot. This was jackpot night for the guy.
Jefri was nodding too, but not with enthusiasm. “Okay, you’re right; we’ve got to see this through.” He returned to the pack he’d been chatting with right before the blowup. Interactions were strained for a few moments, but now in fact everyone was watching for troublemakers. The flow of customers and cash resumed.
Afterwards, Ravna wasn’t clear how late into the night they stayed. The packs just kept coming. She noticed an occasional pack give her an aggressive stare, but none of them misbehaved. As for the rest … she came to see why Johanna and Jefri and the other explorer kids had loved their dangerous jaunts beyond the Domain. Most Tinish strangers, once they got over their initial unease with humans, seemed to revel in their ability to get close, to deal with apparently intelligent singletons. As the evening progressed, and the fires were renewed and renewed, more of the packs were trying to echo talk with her and Jefri. Some packs, who had been through the line and saw that they would not make it back for a second turn, hung around at the edge of the arena, shouting suggestions at the customers who were closer.
Here might be enemies and monsters, but also potential Best Friends for future generations of the Children.
CHAPTER 29
Things were very different after their show at Winch Bottom. They had a real circus wagon now (the one lost to default by its unfortunate original owners). The wagon had a passenger cabin and was so large that it really needed its four-kherhog team. Under the watchful eyes of customers who had stayed overnight, the Innmaster had also given them food supplies and crossbows. Perhaps as important, he’d given them an official-looking letter, advising that as Tycoon’s manager at Winch Bottom, he and Tycoon were pledging safe conduct to these marvelous entertainers. That, combined with the Tycoonist badge that Amdi had found in Chitiratifor’s gear, could count for a lot. Ravna hoped the fellow wouldn’t be in too much trouble when real word from Tycoon finally reached these parts.
When they left Winch Bottom, there were at least a dozen packs who wanted to sign on with the circus, to guard them and guide them in the journey northwards. Chances were good they were all sincere, but Amdi turned them down. The more famous they became, the easier it would be for Tycoon and Vendacious and Nevil to find them. The moment word of the search overtook them, even honest packs might turn them in.
So when they departed Winch Bottom, only a few fans had followed, furtively straggling along some hundred meters behind the circus wagon.
Amdi passed up the first villages to the north, picking his way around them on paths he’d discovered on the maps. As they rolled past each successive village, they lost more of their retinue. These were ordinary packs of the Wild Principates, peasants and small landowners. No matter how intrigued they might be by the two-legs, they did not have the leisure time of fans in a more technological society.
On the third day, Screwfloss scouted all around and reported they had lost the last of their followers. Now it was time to change the course from what Amdi had advertised back at Winch Bottom. “There are plenty of alternative paths on these maps,” said Amdi. “The problem is, whichever we choose, we’re going to run out of food before we get back to the Domain.” They’d have to engage in some skilled woodcraft … or stage more shows.
When this stark choice was presented to Amdi, he’d dithered a moment and then a shy smile spread across him. “I—I guess I could take another turn at being Magnificent.”
Over the next few days they looked at each little village they came across, with Screwfloss scouting for threats and friendliness, balancing the risks with the current state of their supplies. Most places they still avoided, but eventually they performed three times, once indoors at a farmers’ meeting hall and twice in open fields under cloudy skies. The days stayed mild, with cold rains and muddy roads, but altogether more pleasant than wh
at had gone before.
Their shows improved. Ravna’s own act was still a loser, but she had tweaked their lighting system into being a major part of the event. Even Ritl seemed to enjoy performing; she tried to upstage Amdi in more and more hilarious ways. Amdi was now completely fluent in the local dialect. His presentation had become positively polished, except that he seemed genuinely to be angered by the singleton’s antics. The high point of the show was always the petting zoo routine, and they had that worked out so well that it felt almost safe. Already, their fame had gotten ahead of them: when they tried to bypass a town, there were often packs on the side paths, begging them to stop and perform.
“These lands are just too civilized,” Jefri said one evening, after they had set up camp for the night. Moonlight trickled down through the trees, but hopefully they were out of sight of the primitive optics on the orbiter. “Once upon a time, they really were wild, too dangerous for most explorers. Now there’s trade everywhere. The arena at Winch Bottom was huge, and new.”
“And the towns are growing,” said Amdi. “They’re even bigger than what’s on Nevil’s maps.” Those maps might have been honest information for Chitiratifor, but they were already out-of-date.
“Yeah,” said Jefri. “Tycoon’s finished goods are everywhere. I’m getting sick of seeing that Pack of Packs logo. It’ll be a miracle if we get to the Domain before news of us gets back to him.”
Ravna gave a gloomy nod. “And I’ll bet Nevil is waiting ahead, probably with Eyes Above 2.”
Amdi was humming, which was often the sound of good ideas being born: “But Woodcarver will be there, too,” he said. It was almost a question. Both Jef and Amdi were getting more and more afraid for Johanna and Pilgrim. And what about Woodcarver?
Ravna thought back to that strange final conversation she’d had with Woodcarver. “I’ll bet she’s still running the Domain, Amdi. And she’s not fooled by Nevil.”
“Well then. She’ll have loyal troops looking for us all along the frontier. If we can get to her people, we can get you back to Oobii.”
“If you can get me back to Oobii, it’s show over for Nevil.” It’s what Ravna told them every night.
“Hmmm,” emitted Amdi. “So what can we do that will—”
Ritl interrupted Amdi’s thinking with a loud suggestion of her own. When it could, the creature would creep near them, quiet and innocent until she was unseemly close—and then insert herself into the conversation.
This time she got a laugh out of Jefri: “That almost makes sense, Amdi, at least if kherhogs had wings.”
Amdi was not amused. He bounced to his feet. “She’s just a damned troublemaker! Can’t you see that?” The eight flounced off into the moonlight-spattered dark.
“He’s getting even more sensitive about Ritl,” said Ravna. “I wonder whether the Magnificent Amdiranifani is really acquiring a showman’s ego.”
“I heard that!” Amdi shot back at them. “If I can’t think, I might as well do guard duty.”
Remnant Screwfloss had returned from ranging around the camp. He was over by the kherhogs, setting down fodder for them. Now one of his heads turned to follow Amdi’s departure. When he was done with the kherhogs, he settled down beneath the wagon and commented, “Ritl make him a fool.” The remnant was speaking a fair amount of Samnorsk these days, though not with the teasing sarcasm of when he’d been whole.
Ravna looked around the wagon. Normally, Screwfloss staked down the singleton on the other side of the kherhogs. It was more peaceful that way. “Hei, Screwfloss. Didn’t you have Ritl tethered?”
The pack cocked its heads, looked out from under the wagon in the opposite direction. Maybe he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said, “She get loose.”
Jefri gave a little laugh. “Ritl must be learning from your rope tricks, Ravna.”
Ravna smiled back. “She’s just a good wriggler.” Ritl had slipped loose once or twice before; no one but Amdi seemed to get very excited about it. She looked across the dimly glowing embers at Jefri. “Could Ritl be a threat? Remasritlfeer was an enemy—maybe not as bad as Chitiratifor—but still one of Tycoon’s henchpacks. Given the opportunity, won’t she betray us?”
Even in the dimness, she could see the grin on Jefri’s face. “Ah, paranoia speaks.” He scooched around the dying fire in her direction. As usual, they had set their pallets out of arm’s reach. With Amdi’s eight filling the gap between them, there were plenty of warm bodies. Besides, the last few nights had ended in the usual unpleasant arguments. Last night was the first time Ravna ever heard the Blighter fleet called a rescue party. In a way, hearing Jefri say that had been more terrifying than all the rest of this ordeal.
Jefri warmed his hands above the glowing embers. “If and when we run into Tycoon, what Ritl would do is hard to say. Old Screwfloss said Remasritlfeer was one of Tycoon’s top lieutenants. Depending on just who comes after us, it’s quite possible Ritl would betray us—though I’ll bet she’s not smart enough to do much more than shout ‘Hei, Boss, look here!’”
“Okay. I guess it is silly to worry about that here.” She watched Jefri silently for few moments. She’d known him for ten years, had watched the loving child grow up to be their best explorer—and a man who believed the most terrible lies she could imagine.
Jefri looked up at her silence. “What?” he said. There was still a smile on his face, but she could see the wariness in his eyes.
If she said one wrong word, they would slip into another night of argument. But I have to try. “Jefri, we have this terrible disagreement about the Blight and Countermeasure. You know what I think; you know the sacrifices your parents made to escape the Blight. On the other side, there’s—”
“There’s Nevil, right, a certified monster.” Jef’s agreement was angry. “But so what? I remember the High Lab. And Down Here, I saw how Countermeasure murdered Pham. Even you admit that Countermeasure raised the Slowness, and probably destroyed civilization as far as we can see the stars on a clear night. What counts is not who’s nice and who’s not, Ravna; what counts is the truth.”
“I’m not talking about being nice, Jefri! I’m talking about trustable observations. You were just a—”
“Just a young child? That’s what you said last night!”
But that’s what you were! And she would never forget how Jefri and Amdi had tried to comfort her after seeing Pham die. She hesitated, trying to think of something to say, something sensible, something that would make this go right. “Jef, have you ever thought that there might be existing facts, things to be discovered or tested, that might change your opinion?”
“You want me to put my beliefs under review? How very nice. Are you willing to do the same?”
“I—”
“Never mind. At this stage, what undiscovered evidence could there be?” Jefri turned back to the fire. He sat hunched forward, hands extended over the embers. He was silent for a long moment, then: “We’re going to get you past Tycoon and Vendacious, safely back to Oobii. Then you’ll do what you think is right. If you can’t stop Nevil, I will get rid of him myself.” His gaze returned to her face. “But you know what? There will still be a Disaster Study Group. And its new leader won’t be Bili Yngva.”
─────
Ravna drowsed. The moon set and the fire’s embers cooled to darkness. She heard an occasional snarfling snore from the kherhogs, but none of Ritl’s irritating chatter. Eventually, she heard someone entering the campsite; that would be Amdi, come to wake the next sentry. The thought brought her almost fully awake. She usually took the second watch—though she was sure that neither Amdi nor Screwfloss trusted a human sentry. Some of them would be listening all through the night.
Faint and far away, she heard what might have been Ritl, but not quite as querulous as usual. Then the night exploded into hissing and squealing. Some number of creatures chased each other through the surrounding brush, fighting as they ran.
“Amdi!” shouted Jef. There wa
s no answer, but Ravna heard somepack—Screwfloss?—scramble over the startled kherhogs and bound to the top of the circus wagon.
The shrieking continued, the noise coming together on the far side of the wagon.
Ravna kept one of the lamps with her at night. Now she shook it into surveillance mode. The light flickered in pseudo-random hops, scanning into the underbrush in a pattern that should confuse anyone trying to spot the source.
The sounds of the monster cat fight continued, but she saw no sign of attacking packs. If Ritl had betrayed them, it wasn’t to a simple ambush.
“Let me point light.” That was Screwfloss from atop the wagon, where the second lamp was stored. He swept the illumination onto something beyond the wagon. Looking beneath the wagon, Ravna saw Tinish legs scrambling around.
“That’s part of Amdi!” Jefri started around the wagon. He had his crossbow up and cocked.
Two packs of four came racing round the wagon, one on each side. They ran towards each other, jaws snapping. All were dressed in plain workcloaks just like Amdi wore when they were on the road.
“Huh!” Jefri said. “Amdi?”
All eight collapsed in a heap. The lamplight swung in to spotlight the crowd. Indeed, this was exactly Amdi.
“Are you okay, Amdi?” Ravna knelt beside the pack, looking at each of him. There were cuts and scrapes. One of his ears was torn. “Who did this?” And is it still out there? But she could see that up on the wagon, all of Screwfloss was watching Amdi; he wasn’t worried about an attack.
Amdi was hissing and sputtering, but she heard a high, keening whistle behind all his sounds. The pack was in terrible pain. Finally, he slipped into Samnorsk: “No attack. There was no attack. No one’s sneaking up on us, though Screwfloss should take sentry duty.” He emitted two or three chords. Screwfloss sang something back. The remnant dropped off the far side of the wagon and walked into the bushes.
Amdi wriggled miserably in the bright lamp light, exchanging looks with himself, darting glances at Jefri and Ravna. “Turn off the light, okay?”
