Shadow World

by A. C. Crispin

  "It doesn't really. I just wanted to know whether she'd be in danger from the Wospind, too."

  "We are all off-worlders. We are all in danger from them."

  "Yeah. Well, I know you don't think much of human honor, but we do have our own kind. So I'd like to propose an honor- bond between us-- you and me."

  The Simiu drew himself up. "What do you mean?"

  "If anything happens to me, I'd like you to look out for Cara. If anything happens to you, I swear to you that I'll do my best to care for and protect RThessra."

  The Simiu looked at him oddly, and did not reply.

  "Is it a deal?" Mark asked.

  Slowly, the alien nodded. "We have an honor-bond, human, though before this journey, I would have said such a thing was impossible."

  "Thanks, Honored Hrrakk'." Mark walked away.

  Cara awoke before dawn when Mark nudged her. Groaning, she

  straightened up stiffly. "How's Eerin?"

  "You said to wake you if there was any change. Go take a look."

  "Incredible!" Cara said a moment later as she squatted next 240

  to the tongue-made breathing tube. Breath was coming and going rapidly now. The lacmore was beginning to ooze, dripping off the surface of the cocoon.

  "Hrrakk' said Eerin should emerge just after morning light," said Mark.

  "Did you sleep at all?"

  "No, I promised Eerin I'd keep vigil. But I feel okay. I rested, lying down, a lot."

  "You should have awakened me," she chided. "I'd have sat up and watched."

  "You looked beat. Besides, I had Hrrakk' to talk to," he said dryly.

  Cara looked at him. "You're kidding, right?"

  "No, actually I'm not. We had a long talk. He's worked out a pretty good plan--better than anything I came up with." Briefly, he related the details.

  "That seems workable," she admitted after he finished. Cara glanced over at the Apis. "That's awful about her sister." Rising, she crossed the small clearing to join the insectoid alien. R'Thessra's dark, faceted eyes fixed on her, and she allowed her antennae to droop.

  I think she knows Hrrakk' told us, Cara thought. It seemed to her that the Apis' gesture with her antennae was an acknowledgment of a grief that had been private until now.

  The journalist bent slightly and, very gently, touched one of the alien's forelimbs. "I'm sorry about your hive-sister," she said in Mizari. "I grieve for your loss."

  In return, R'Thessra touched the human's cheek. Cara smiled at her. "Come over to the cocoon. Something is happening."

  For the next hour the four waited impatiently. The breathing tube wheezed with ever-quickening rhythm, and the lacmore began to slide off in great, messy globules. It stank, but not as badly as it had when fresh. Or my nose is getting deadened, Cara thought wryly.

  "You know," Mark said in English as he sat, arms wrapped around his knees, gazing intently at Eerin's cocoon. The Apis and the Simiu waited nearby. "I feel as though I'm losing a friend ... someone I've known for a long time."

  "Well, you are, in a way. Eerin explained how strong the mating drive is after the Change," Cara agreed with him. "It

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  won't be the same between you two. But you can still be friends ... you'll just have to be friends in a different way."

  Mark's hazel eyes warmed. "You're right. It will just take a little while to make the adjustment. I have to give it time."

  He turned to regard the journalist just as earnestly as he had Eerin's shrouded form. "You know, Cara, you have a gift for understanding all kinds of people. You ought to think about becoming an interrelator. The CLS

  needs people like you."

  His words sparked something that had been growing inside her ever since she'd first journeyed to StarBridge and seen her first alien. "You know, nothing would please me more," Cara told him. "I've discovered that alien cultures interest me more than anything on Earth. But ..." She frowned. "I'm too old to start at StarBridge. And what about my journalism?"

  "You're not too old. Look how much Mizari you've learned in just a short time. You could use your journalism talents, too; interrelators often integrate the skills of several fields. The minute you get home I want you to send a message back to Rob. And when I get back to the Academy, I'll talk to him."

  Cara took a deep breath. "My mother would have a fit. After this, she's going to want me to stay firmly planted on Earth." We have to believe that we're going to get home, she thought. We have to believe it, so we can keep going.

  "Is your camera on?" Mark asked suddenly.

  Instantly Cara transferred her whole attention back to the cocoon. The tip of Eerin's bony shoulder was suddenly protruding through the lacmore.

  "It's been on," she answered. "I wanted to get the breathing and the dripping.

  I can compress the data later. Look, I can see the whole outline clearly now."

  "I just thought of something," Mark said. "Eerin will need clothes for the first time. All the han or been wear them."

  Cara fetched the long-tailed shirt that had been her headgear in the desert, and they laid it out, ready.

  Now the lacmore was running off in little streams. Eerin's shoulder, then the round head, then the angular hipbone appeared.

  "I feel strange knowing this before Eerin does, but hin's a han." Mark's voice was hushed. "A female."

  "How can you tell?"

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  "Look at the skin."

  Cara studied the emerging figure. The patches of skin that showed were smooth and tender-looking as a baby's. "That's right, the females are hairless."

  In a few more minutes almost all of the Elpind was visible. Cara threw her shirt over the curled body, studying Eerin's face. It looked unchanged to her, except for the texture of the skin and the fact that the top of the head was bald now instead of downy. The skin's a paler orange, she decided.

  The Elpind's tongue suddenly snapped back into Eerin's mouth, and a few moments later, the huge, golden eyes opened.

  "Welcome back, Eerin," Mark said gently. "El won."

  "Mark ..." Eerin's voice was unchanged, though weak. Han's eyes were cloudy with fatigue, but an affectionate light warmed them.

  Eerin looked back at Mark and Cara. "Eerin is han," the Elpind announced.

  Sudden excitement strengthened the thin voice.

  Cara felt tears in her eyes and knew she had a silly grin. "You sure are."

  "This is so ... interesting ..." Eerin said. The golden eyes brightened. "Han feels so different. As if han has always been female. Han feels ... complete."

  "You're very fortunate, Eerin," Cara gave Mark a sideways glance. "You definitely got the luck of the draw."

  He sighed exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes.

  After another hour Eerin was able to sit up and eat, then, strengthened, han announced that she was ready to go. Soon Eerin was astride the Simiu.

  "No talking on the trail today," Mark warned as they started out. "Listen for anyone approaching."

  He kept a rag that he'd soaked in sestel broth ready to give Terris to suck on if they had to hide suddenly. Despite his lack of sleep, Mark was alert as they walked, tight as a drawn bowstring.

  As he walked, he tried to think of contingency plans to complement Hrrakk's, in case the Wospind reappeared. But each time he visualized falling into Wopind hands, his mind went blank. All he could remember was the mad gleam in Orim's

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  eyes. It's terrifying, trying to deal with fanatics, he thought grimly. If all Wospind are like Orim, they'll kill us on sight anyway, so what's the use of contingency plans?

  In the late afternoon the group skirted another of the mountain cluster's seemingly endless humps and began a downhill slope through the woods.

  Through the wide-spaced trees, Mark could see a stream and a small emerald jewel of a tiny valley. He consulted the map.

  "One more climb," he whispered. "The straightest way is across this little valley, and up that ridge over there." He pointed
it out. "Midway down the other side is the nahah. We can make it by dark." He was too weary and tense to be excited.

  "We made it," breathed Cara. She sat down and removed her socks, changed them. Mark took the opportunity to feed Terris.

  "Not yet, we haven't," he cautioned, still speaking softly. "Since we haven't seen any Wospind, I'm concerned that maybe they're at the nahah, waiting for us." He glanced around uneasily. "In that valley, we'll be in plain sight. I hate to lose the tree cover."

  "Maybe we should skirt the valley, staying in the trees," Cara suggested.

  "But if we're going to do that, I'll volunteer to get some water at that stream.

  We're almost out."

  "I don't know"--Mark frowned--"skirting the valley will take a lot of extra time.

  It looks so peaceful ..." He glanced over at the Simiu uncertainly.

  "If anyone comes, we will see them from a distance," Hrrakk' pointed out.

  "Okay," Mark said finally with a sigh. "The valley it is. Everybody ready?

  Let's go."

  Cara groaned. "Those famous words again. I'll be so glad when I don't have to hear them anymore."

  Cautiously they ventured out through the shorter, bushier underbrush that bordered the little valley. The silence was reassuring. Cara glanced longingly at the little stream. "You sure I can't go get some fresh water?"

  "We can make it on what we have," Mark said firmly.

  That's where the Wospind took them.

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  Chapter 18 CHAPTER 18

  Death Dance

  With scarcely a sound, their attackers emerged from their hiding places amid the thick underbrush on the verge of the forest. Between one moment and the next, the travelers found themselves surrounded by more than a score of Wospind. Red tunics of the heen and han made bright splashes of color against the varied greens of the vegetation as they stepped into view. All of them carried weapons--the saw-toothed spears, the long, swordlike knives, or slings filled with heavy rocks.

  The moment he saw them, Mark stopped dead--they all did-- instinctively crouching into fighting stance, hands and feet ready. But when he saw how they were outnumbered, he straightened slowly back up, bracing himself for the quick spear or sword thrust that would end his life. Terris! he thought, hastily pulling aside his outer shirt, so their attackers could clearly see the child clinging to his sweater. He knew that even Wospind wouldn't

  intentionally harm a baby of their own species.

  The small army of Wospind rippled, and the one they had seen before, the dun-colored neuter, stepped forward. In hin's hand, hin carried the repulsor gun. Its muzzle was pointed straight at Mark.

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  The human struggled to speak, but no words emerged. All his hard-won knowledge of Elspindlor seemed to have deserted him as the leader

  approached, hin's pale green eyes fastened coldly on Terris. "It is not enough that off-worlders corrupt our people with forbidden ideas," the Wopind burst out angrily. "It is not enough that, because of them, hin's sibling, Orim, is dead. Now they also steal our children!"

  "Wait a minute, I didn't--" Mark began, but the hin, though giving a start of surprise at hearing the human speak hin's own language, ignored him, beckoning to one of the others. A red- clad male stepped out of the group, pointing his spear at Mark's throat in an unmistakable warning to be silent.

  The Wopind leader grabbed Terris, who squalled, terrified, and clung to Mark with all hinsi's strength as the hin tugged one-handed. The sweater stretched, pulling the student forward, but the baby would not let go.

  Mark reached up with the intention of soothing hinsi, intending to detach Terris himself, but the menacing guard evidently misinterpreted his movement. Bounding forward, the guard jabbed at Mark's throat with the spear, and the human, feeling the sharp point graze the skin, leaped back reflexively.

  Pandemonium ensued.

  The heen rushed again at Mark, this time intent on spearing him, but recoiled suddenly as R'Thessra flew between them, wings beating furiously in the Wopind's face. Screaming with mingled fear and rage, the guard thrust at her, but missed.

  Several other Wospind charged in to help Mark's attacker and the next moment the air seemed filled with flashing spears and swords!

  A hard-flung stone whizzed by Mark's head, barely missing him, just as he heard the thwup of the repulsor weapon. Another stone hurtled at him, straight for his face.

  Mark ducked, stumbled, then found himself falling. He rolled to protect Terris, hearing, as he did so, Hrrakk's snarl of rage. Suddenly the Simiu roared in pain and fury. Mark came up on his hands and knees, then immediately froze as a hand grasped his hair; something cold and sharp touched the back of his neck.

  The human could move only his eyes, and he struggled to focus on the melee before him. Abruptly the blur of

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  movement halted, then resolved into concrete images that burned into his brain.

  The Wopind leader, repulsor gun in hand, stood looking down at two bodies lying on the ground before hin. One was a female in her red tunic, the side of her head sunken in and bleeding sluggishly, and the other was ... the other was RThessra.

  Oh, God, no!

  The Apis lay on her back, wings crushed beneath her carapace, forelimbs jerking uncontrollably. Mark could see no wounds. The Wopind leader must have shot her, and the charge in the repulsor weapon had flung her down so hard that her wings had broken--and something inside her, too, evidently, for even as the horrified student realized what had happened, the little alien jerked once more, then was still.

  Cara was crouched beside her, vainly trying to offer help or comfort. "Oh, no!" she gasped, and began to sob.

  Between the journalist and the Wospind stood Hrrakk', his enormous canines bared in a full Simiu challenge, his left hand up and ready for battle.

  His right arm hung limp and helpless, the result of the jagged spear protruding from his muscled shoulder.

  Hrrakk' glanced sideways, and the human saw pain flood his violet eyes as the Simiu realized RThessra was dead. The big alien did not budge, however, but snarled his chal enge again. "Touch her and die!" he growled in Mizari.

  He's defending Cara. Is it just because of his honor-bond with me? Mark's intuition told him that it was more than that.

  In the sudden silence of the tableau, Terris' crying was the only sound.

  Mark cautiously turned his head to see who was holding the weapon against the back of his neck. It was one of the hin. Mark said in Elspindlor, "I am going to stand up now. I will not fight or resist," then slowly, deliberately, rose to his feet. The point of the Wopind's sword now rested against the small of his back.

  It's a standoff, Mark realized. They don't really want to kill us, or they'd already have done it. What the hell am I going to do now?

  Quite suddenly, he knew. "Wopind leader!" he called out.

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  The other regarded him coldly.

  "You said that I stole your hinsi, but you are mistaken," Mark cried. "This child was given to me by one of your people who was dying, with the plea that I would care for and nurture hinsi, and carry hinsi to safety, where hinsi could be cared for by other Elspind. I see that I have succeeded in doing that."

  Gently, regretfully, Mark soothed Terris for the last time, then carefully detached the baby from his sweater. Hinsi lay cuddled in his palms, blinking up at him trustingly with those enormous eyes. Mark's throat tightened as he took a step toward the Wopind leader.

  The sword did not bite into his back, so he took another, then another.

  Slowly, one step at a time, he crossed the ground that separated him from the hin. When he reached the Wopind, he halted, feeling tears break free and run down his face.

  "Good-bye, Terris," he whispered, and held out the baby.

  The Wopind leader stared at him, then inspected Terris closely. "You came from the off-world ship that hin's sibling Orim brought down out of the sky?"

 
hin asked, as if doubting it suddenly.

  "I did," Mark said.

  The Wopind leader glanced back down at the baby, lying quietly,

  contentedly, across Mark's palms. "You have cared for hinsi since the ship came down?"

  "I have," Mark said. "Hinsi's name is Terris."

  "Hinsi appears ... healthy."

  "I did my best to care for hinsi as well as any adoptive father could," Mark said.

  Slowly the Wopind reached out and scooped the baby out of Mark's hands.

  Terris immediately began to wail, stretching hinsi's twiglike little arms out toward the human.

  Mark's attention was arrested by a labored moan and gurgle from the direction of his feet. He looked down at the injured Wopind. "Hrrakk'," he said in Mizari, "did you hit her?"

  "No," answered the Simiu, pain evident in his voice-- whether pain from his wound, or for his dead friend, Mark did not know. "One of the stones from her own people's slings struck her."

  I have to establish common ground, Mark thought. It was 248

  only when I was able to convince Orim that I totally understood and respected hin's goals that I got anywhere negotiating with hin. Can I do the same thing now? An idea was forming in his mind. "Your friend here is dying," he said to the leader. "Someone must dance the Mortenwol for han."

  The Wopind leader looked down at the gasping female. "What do you know of our ways, off-worlder? What do you know of the Mortenwol?"

  "I know that this one has the right to have someone dance the Mortenwol for han--and that none of your people have moved to do so," Mark said, holding the leader's eyes with his own, putting into his gaze all the conviction and intensity he could muster. "Therefore I will do it!" he cried, raising his voice so all could hear. "I will dance the Mortenwol for han, and then you will see what I know of your ways!"

  The entire group of Wospind--Mark saw that now there were at least fifty or sixty--stood watching him, silent with astonishment.

  The student hesitated. I'll bet there are some kind of ritual words I should say! he thought frantically. But I wasn't there when Eerin danced for the hijacker.

  Before his pause became awkward, though, Eerin was suddenly there, staggering a little with weakness, Mark's knapsack in her hands. When she reached his side, she swayed and had to grasp his arm for support, but then she drew herself up, and together, they faced the Wopind leader.