Maeve

by Clayton, Jo;

  The silence drifted along, filled with the music of the water and the rootless directionless night sounds coming from the darkness under the trees.

  Gwynnor sat up, catching the flute as it rolled off his chest. “I have to thank you, Aleytys.”

  “Why?” She yawned and hugged her knees, her head turned toward him.

  “I’ve been sitting here for hours. Thinking. Playing this.” He touched the flute. “Really playing. I think … I think I’ll go back to the maes and hunt another teacher. The pain here,” he touched his chest, “it’s not completely gone. But I can live with the memories now.” He lifted the flute to his lips and began playing.

  Aleytys lay back on the grass and let the melody play over her, blending with the night sounds to evoke a mood of magic, gentle happiness.

  Chapter X

  Gwynnor came hesitantly into the council house. Qilasc looked up, frowning. “The council is meeting, tkelix.”

  “A skimmer from the city. Flying over. I thought fire sister ought to know.”

  Aleytys jumped up. “I’d better go look. You don’t need me anymore.” She wrinkled her nose at the dazed, slack-mouthed guards. “You know what to ask them.”

  Qilasc nodded. “You think this is reaction to what we did at the machine?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You might add that to your list of questions.”

  Outside, Aleytys glanced thoughtfully at the canopy of leaves. “How’d you spot the skimmer?”

  “The stream.” With Aleytys following close behind, he trotted down the path. At the edge of the clearing he stopped and pointed at a tree. “I was up there. Looking at the sun.”

  Aleytys glanced up. “I suppose I have to climb it.” She rubbed her hands down her sides then reached for the lowest limb.

  As they reached the twin forks at the top of the tree where the leaves were thin enough to make large portions of the sky visible, a skimmer passed overhead. Off toward the eastern horizon, another moved slowly over the tree tops. A third circled to the south.

  “What do you think?” Gwynnor frowned anxiously at the skimmers. “They aren’t attacking, just flying around.”

  “I can see that,” Aleytys said absently. She closed her eyes. “Shadith,” she whispered.

  The elfin face with its aureole of coppery curls materialized against the deep black of her mind. “Problems, Lee?”

  “What are they doing?” Aleytys opened her eyes and focused them on the approaching skimmer. “Do you think they’re dangerous? Should I try bringing them down?”

  Shadith frowned. “It looks like a mapping pattern. What do you say, old growler?”

  Swardheld’s face developed from the darkness. “About what?”

  “Them.”

  It was as if he tilted his head, leaned against a wall, and watched the circling skimmers. “Search pattern, looks to me. I’d say they’ve got personnel locators onboard. Next time we hit the harvester, they hit the villages.”

  Gwynnor watched, feeling a thrill of fear. She sat loosely erect in the fork of the tree, head following the movements of the skimmers, eyes blank, lips moving in a silent parody of speech. He could almost see a halo of spirits circling her bright head, glittering sparks like jewels in an invisible crown.

  “Should I do something?” Aleytys whispered.

  Shadith compressed her lips. “I don’t like this,” she muttered. “If they’re plotting the location of cludair villages … might be a good idea to stop this now.”

  “Bring the ships down?” Aleytys asked sharply.

  “No. That’s not what I mean. Maybe you shouldn’t wreck the machine again.”

  “I can’t stop now.”

  “Don’t fool with the skimmers, freyka.” Swardheld’s deep rumble interrupted the exchange.

  “Huh?”

  “Bad idea. Provoking.”

  “And busting their harvester isn’t?” Shadith snorted.

  “I think Lee’s got one more go at the machine,” Swardheld said. “We’ll see what Qilasc got from the guards to find out for sure.”

  “Even so, what does Lee do about the mapping out there?”

  “Nothing.” He grinned at the disgust on Shadith’s face. “Warn the council and let them handle it. The threat isn’t bad enough to bring hell down on their heads before they’re ready.”

  Aleytys nodded. “I agree. So I bust the machine again and look for some kind of opening.”

  “You’ll have to make your own breaks, Lee.” Swardheld frowned. “You might think about taking the fight to the city. I don’t see them giving up. Too much power.”

  Aleytys sighed. “Damn. How do I get myself into these things …”

  She opened her eyes. Smiling at the question in Gwynnor’s face, she shook her head and dropped down the tree until she stood with her back against the trunk watching the water flow past her feet.

  Gwynnor dropped beside her. “Well?”

  “I think they’re using personnel locators and mapping the locations of the cludair settlements.”

  His face flushed, then paled. Involuntarily, his hands reached up and closed hard around the flute. “Not again.”

  She caught a hand, lifted it to hold it briefly next to her face. “No. No death coming from the sky. I’ll crash every damn one of them before I let that happen.” A sudden fierceness sharpened her voice, then the fierceness died to weariness. “But the cludair can be warned to get out of their villages.” She paused and stared thoughtfully at the scattered bits of blue visible overhead. “This is a mapping pass, not a raid. Time to watch out is when I crack up the tree-eater.” She moved restlessly. “I’m going to shred that machine this time.”

  Gwynnor looked down at his hands. He uncramped his fingers and flexed them slowly.

  Aleytys settled on a tree root and he made himself comfortable beside her. “Funny.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

  “Six weeks ago I was miserable.”

  “Do you want to stay here? Tipylexne can get me to the river.”

  “No. I’ll miss Ghastay and the others, but …” He put his hand on her knee and smiled up into her face. “Thanks to you I’m going home.”

  “Then you won’t be going back to Dylaw.”

  “I was getting fed up with him before you came.” He laughed. “I’ve found out again that I’m a song-maker. That time with Dylaw, a detour and not very profitable however you measure it.”

  “You’ve changed.”

  “I suppose so.” He yawned. “You’re not going to let the Company men hurt the cludair?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “I remember telling you they smelled bad.” He chuckled, then yawned again. “I remember your singeing me when I threw the bug away. I suppose you were trying to tell me all life has value, even a starman’s.” He grinned at her.

  “Now that’s a leap.”

  He lifted the flute and blew a rapid, happy dancing little tune that made her laugh in spite of the problems hanging over her head.

  When he finished she shook her head. “Gwynnor, I wish it was really like that. I’m glad you’ve … you’ve found a new center for your life. But there’s something … I don’t know … there’s a kind of coldness I feel. It’s connected with the Company …” Once again she shook her head and fell silent.

  The water susurrused past, a brushing murmur with a melodic descant where rocks created miniature whorls and waterfalls. A red-crested insect-eater skimmed along the surface of the water, picking gnats from the wavery air. Gwynnor put the flute to his lips and let a dreamy, drifting melody float and mingle with the gentle rustle of the leaves and the sound of the water.

  Aleytys stirred restlessly, the music suddenly an irritation. “You said your master was killed. Recently?”

  “Not quite a year.”

  Aleytys paused while she struggled to organize her thoughts. “A raid, you said. For maranhedd. Did the Company always do that?”

  Gwynnor frowned.
“No.” His fingers tightened on the flute and stared blankly at her. “I never thought of that. No. When they first came here, about a hundred years ago, they set up a system of tribute. So much maranhedd delivered at such and such a time. They even paid for it. They only started raiding about a year ago. My master was killed in one of the first raids.”

  “You’re sure they were Company men?”

  “They were in Company skimmers and they had the look. You know, like those guards.”

  “So something happened to make the Company change policy. I wonder what it was.” She tapped her fingers on her knees, then shrugged. “I wonder if I’ll ever know.” She leaned back against the tree. “So you’re coming with me.”

  “All the way to Caer Seramdun. It’s on my way. Going home,” he smiled up at the sky, “where I can see the whole face of the sun.”

  “I wish that was a mountain river,” Aleytys said suddenly.

  “Huh?”

  “Damn. I can’t get a focus. Gwynnor!”

  The sharpness in her voice startled him. “What?”

  “There’s something wrong in that city,” she jumped to her feet and began pacing back and forth over the short, tough grass, “and I’m up to my ears in the mess. Damn. Damn. Damn. Why can’t I simply march straight across a contented world, take ship, and leave it behind untouched and untouching?”

  He laughed. “There isn’t any such place. Besides, you can’t help it. Look what you did to me.”

  She dropped onto her knees beside him. “I know. When I’m in trouble I … well, I commandeer help. You remember back at the ship?”

  He nodded, eyes squinting thoughtfully at her. “I volunteered to guide you.”

  “Volunteered!” She moved her shoulders restlessly, then ran her hands through her hair. “I’m a leech.”

  “It worked out fine. I was a miserable little rat, but look at me now.”

  “Ah!” She jumped up. “I’ve got to get back to the council. Coming?”

  He fingered the flute, then shook his head. “No. I’ll stay here a while.”

  Chapter XI

  Aleytys tugged at a lock of hair hanging forward over her shoulder. “Tipylexne. Gwynnor. Ghastay. Damn. There are too many variables.”

  Tipylexne touched her shoulder. “The council decided, fire sister. We’re ready for whatever’s going to happen.”

  “You hope so.” She sighed. “I wish you all would go back to the village.”

  Tipylexne shook his head. The others echoed his silent refusal.

  “All right. It’s your life. Gwynnor!” She sprang from him and caught hold of the branch. Grunting with effort, she pulled herself up to the broad limb, tongue caught between teeth, then ran out along the limb and settled carefully behind a forking secondary branch. Her weight pulled the limb down slightly, opening a hole in the foliage she could see through.

  Beside the harvester a man straightened, wiping his hands on a soft red cloth while he pursed his mouth at the complex array of components. Stuffing the rag in a back pocket, he snapped the cover into place. Stepping back once more he glared at the forest then vanished inside the machine.

  The harvester sputtered briefly, then began a whining roar.

  Aleytys frowned. There was a peculiar uncertain flutter that rippled up her spine and flashed across her breast. Then she shrugged and whistled.

  As the first notes of the flute sounded below her, she reached out to touch the power lines within the machine. This time, the shielding was fierce. It took her several minutes to wriggle a probe past the force screen, but once her fingers reached inside, opening the short was a second’s work. She grinned and began drilling a second hole in the shielding.

  There was a loud whump! and several spurts of blue smoke blew from one side of the machine. The harvester sprayed out fragments of metal. Aleytys smiled and began poking at the screen for a third hit.

  The last thing she heard was a loud explosion from the cutting arms of the machine.

  Chapter XII

  “Aleytys!” The amber eyes shone furiously. “Wake up!” The contralto voice nudged at her, broke through the daze blocking coherent thought. “You were stunned,” Harskari went on more calmly. “They didn’t bother trying to locate you, just swung a heavy-duty stunner over the face of the cut. Like squirting water from a hose.” She closed her eyes and firmed her mouth into a thin line, disciplining herself back into her usual calm. More quietly, she said, “Then they carried you and the others here.”

  “The others …” The thought drifted in her mind but her mouth made no sound. She could feel nothing, see nothing but Harskari’s tiger eyes. After a moment’s slow reflection she began to panic.

  “Quiet, Aleytys. Don’t be stupid. Your body is still stunned. You have another several minutes before the effect begins to wear off.” She was silent for a moment. “Look along yourself, Aleytys,” she said after her first words had had time to sink in. “Your body was damaged when you fell.”

  “Fell … I fell?”

  “You were in a tree, remember? When the stunner hit, you fell. You hit the ground hard, Aleytys.”

  Aleytys groped for memory but dropped the search when she found nothing but fog. She scanned along her body. Damaged. My insides are a mess. Lung punctured. Broken arm. Broken shoulder. Cracked pelvis. Right leg fractured in two spots. I wonder they thought it worthwhile moving me. Reality bloomed slowly in her. “Moving me? Where am I?”

  “Inside the machine. Although the stunner shocked you into overload so that you can’t feel pain, Aleytys, your life force is draining away. Unless you want to join us prematurely you’d better get busy healing yourself.”

  “Hmmm.” Aleytys drowsed through the evaluation of her injuries. “My leg and arm, I can’t do anything about those until they’re set.”

  “Yes, Aleytys.”

  “I can stop the bleeding …” She reached lazily for the black water and let it play over her ruptured organs, over cracked ribs, over the cracked pelvis. Arm and leg … sealed the cuts but not the breaks. She let the roar diminish to a trickle and drifted sluggishly on the shrinking film.

  “Aleytys!”

  She sighed mentally and let the comforting water sublimate. “What is it?”

  “I think you’d be interested in the engineer’s conversation.”

  “Engineer …” She turned her other sight on the life source at the other end of the room.

  The man was long and narrow, dressed with a mannered elegance that emphasized his really beautiful hands and his hollow-cheeked scholar’s face. His eyes were very dark, slanting upward over high cheekbones. His hair was straight and black, worn long, clipped at the nape of his neck into an elaborate bronze clasp. His skin was a pale ocher with olive-green shadows.

  With an effort Aleytys pulled her mind from his appearance and struggled to hear what he was saying. After the usual stabbing pain, the translator functioned efficiently.

  “Yes, yes. The stunner worked. We managed to collect four individuals. A very interesting assortment.”

  “Yes?”

  “One of them is a cerdd. The computer identified him as a member of a dissident group that tries to stir up trouble in the city and on the plain.”

  “And?”

  “He has a flute looped around his neck. Computer says that hideous noise accompanying each of the attacks was flute music.”

  “Interesting. Then you presume a connection between the forest savages and the dissidents.”

  “It would seem so. Two of the others were savages from the forest, a full grown male and a cub. The cub has a crudely made instrument imitating the flute. I suppose it’s some kind of fetish.”

  “You said four.”

  “The last is the most curious. A redheaded woman. Not a native. The computer has no I.D. on her but she looks a little like a McNeis. Scota Company has been trying to tie into this sector for years. The McNeis himself has hair I’d call a close match to hers. If the McNeis has a new development in technolog
y that lets them punch through a defense screen …” He shrugged.

  “Unsupported speculation.” The dry repressive voice cut through the engineer’s too rapid flow of speech. He wiped beading moisture from his face and waited.

  “Get your captives patched up if necessary. I will dispatch a technician with a psychprobe. Do you have the native settlements plotted?”

  “Yes, Illustrious.”

  “Level them. You shouldn’t need help for that. Do you?”

  “No, Illustrious.” The engineer scowled at the console, his fingers curling into claws.

  “Good. Pick up what you can about the dissidents from the cerdd. If the redheaded woman’s a spy, she’ll be filled to her eyebrows with anababble. If she’s not, she’s even less of a problem.”

  “Yes, Illustrious.”

  “Get what you can from the woman.”

  “Yes, Illustrious.”

  Without further words the speaker’s voice was replaced by a carrier hum. The engineer swung around in the swivel chair, cursing softly, long fingers shaking. He stepped across the room with short, nervous steps and thrust a toe into Tipylexne’s side, noting his flaccid lack of response. “Hah.” He took a step to the side and stood looking down at Aleytys. With his foot he pushed her broken leg aside, staring thoughtfully at the bloody mess with its jagged end of protruding bone. Then he left the room.

  While she waited to see what would happen, Aleytys explored the bodies of her friends and found them hurt-free. Prodding her reluctant brain into lumbering activity she finally decided that this was logical since they were on the ground when the stunner hit. She still felt no connection with her body; her mind was a free-floating point with eyeless vision.

  The engineer walked in again with another man. He touched Tipylexne with his foot. “This one first Check him out.”

  The doctor dropped to his knees beside the cludair and ran a gently buzzing machine over his body, moving it in wide sweeping arcs. He grunted and moved to stoop over Gwynnor, then Ghastay. “Nothing wrong with them.”

  “Good. What about the woman?”

  The doctor moved to hover over Aleytys. As he moved the buzzing instrument over her body, he frowned. “Funny,” he muttered.