Diadem from the Stars

by Clayton, Jo;

  For the next hour she trailed along behind Stavver, the leather of her high-topped moccasins drying until it was stiff and hard as wood. With her bruised ankle sending twinges up her legs and the boots rubbing blisters on her heels and toes, she limped painfully out of the ravine and onto a trail that wound precipitously down the crumbling cliffside.

  Aleytys halted a minute and scanned the valley. It was a wild and abstract landscape—angular swatches of gray and coffee-brown rock, curving organic patches of green, the dark glinting line of the river looping through it all, all crossed and recrossed by vertical columns of white steam pouring up from scattered fumaroles.

  The valley drowsed under a rolling, eddying ceiling of steam. Hesh and Horli together made a vague reddish blur above the eastern edge, most of their light filtered out by the cloud layer. The damp heat from below flowed up and slapped her in the face. She put her hand on Stavver’s shoulder and stood close behind him, looking at the eerie scene. “The Bawe Neswet. The ship is supposed to be somewhere out there. Can you see it?”

  “We’re too fair away.” He cocked his head around and examined her face as she leaned up against him. “Can you keep on for another hour?”

  “If I have to,” she said wearily.

  “We can rest when we get to the river.” He pointed, then patted the saddlebags he carried over his shoulder. “Get some food, rest a bit.”

  Aleytys pushed away from him with a laugh. “I’ve come halfway around a world, but I swear this is the longest part.”

  Stavver nodded as he started cautiously down the narrow path. “You’ve got a longer trip than you know waiting for you, Leyta. When we get to the ship.” He edged around a corner. “Be careful here,” he called back, his voice muffled by the stone. “Goes down fast and the outside is breaking away.”

  “Hai, my friend, I hear you.” She looked dubiously at the precarious track. “Well, baby,” she muttered, shifting the sling to a better balance. “Before we leap, we have to walk.” She started cautiously after Stavver.

  An hour later Aleytys collapsed in a heap on the bank of the river. “Not one more step,” she said firmly. “And I need a bath.”

  Stavver sat down on a large round rock. He wiped a hand across his sweaty face and grinned at her. “You’ll wear your skin off one of these days.”

  Aleytys laughed. After the harrowing in the early morning, this noon under a roof of steam seemed peaceful and a trifle enervating. She leaned back against a tree and watched the leaf shadows chase each other across her body. She sighed and contemplated her feet. The dark stains on the soft leather sent a shiver through her. “Stavver,” she called plaintively.

  He was looking thoughtfully at the eddying water and didn’t seem to hear her.

  “Stavver!”

  “Hmm?” he said absently. “What is it?”

  “Help me take my boots off.”

  He frowned impatiently, then walked over to her. “Here,” he said. “Give me your foot.” He pulled off one boot, forcing a grunt of pain from her. Tossing it aside, he worked the other free and dumped it on the ground. Running a finger over her red raw feet, he said thoughtfully, “Why don’t you stay here while I hunt for the ship?” He massaged her feet until she sighed with pleasure. “Take your bath. Feed the kid. I can move faster alone.”

  He glanced at the river. “You better make it a sponge bath. Tropical rivers have a habit of nasty surprises. You won’t be afraid if I leave you alone?”

  Aleytys’s mouth twisted into a wry grimace. “Afraid? It’s other things should be afraid of me.”

  He laughed. “Point to you. By the way, if I find the ship, I’ll send the call out and see what answer I can get. I might be gone a long time.”

  “I understand.” Using his arm as a prop, she struggled to her feet. “Ahai,” she wailed. “I think I’m ruined.”

  He chuckled. “Take your bath. Think how much better you’ll feel.”

  She stepped away from him, turned suddenly serious. “You be careful, Stavver.”

  He shrugged and plunged into the leafy tunnel where the path continued from the river. Aleytys watched him disappear, then moved back to her howling baby. She unwrapped him and put him to her breast, where he began sucking eagerly. “Hai, my greedy little singer-son.” She rubbed her fingers gently over the back of his small head, then drifted into a dreamy trance while he filled his belly.

  An hour later she was scrubbing her hair with soapweed, whistling cheerfully.

  “Aleytys.”

  Her head snapped up and she dropped the soapweed into the water. Stavver was standing against the tree, his thin mouth stretching into a wide grin.

  “You found it! So soon!” She laughed, then spit as lather slid down her face into her mouth and eyes. “Ahai!” Ducking her head under water, she flailed around, swishing her hair back and forth. Laughing and sputtering, she scrambled with flying arms and legs up onto the bank. Breathing rapidly, she grabbed hold of his arm.

  He laughed himself then, pushing her away. “Aleytys, you’re dripping half the river on me.”

  She bounced on her toes impatiently. “Never mind that. Tell me!”

  “I found the ship,” he said patiently. “And a friend was close enough to answer. She’ll be here in a few hours.”

  “She?” Aleytys grinned at him. “One of your women friends.”

  He chuckled. “She wouldn’t thank you for the name. Maissa walks on her own feet.”

  “Good for her.”

  He reached out and stroked his thumbs down her wet cheeks. “Water sprite,” he said huskily. His hands moved down and cupped briefly over her shoulder, then slid down farther onto her breasts. Aleytys sighed and melted against him for a brief moment, longing … then she pushed away, breathing hard. “I told you, my friend. I don’t want another baby.”

  He scowled angrily, then turned away and disappeared into the jungle.

  Aleytys’s brows arched up in surprise, then she shrugged and walked over to her clothing. She pulled the tunic over her head, picked up the bloody trousers and examined them, distaste strong in her stomach. She looked down at the tunic, whose lower edge hit her halfway down her thighs. “I’m covered,” she muttered. Dropping the trousers into a heap, she pulled the thongs tight at the neck opening of the tunic. Then she picked Sharl up and tucked him back into the babysling. “Hai, baby, not long now.”

  Stavver came back out of the jungle and frowned at her. “Come on. We’ve a way to go and Maissa will be there before we are.”

  Aleytys slid the strap of the babysling over her shoulder and looked around for her moccasins.

  “Move it, will you?”

  “All of a sudden you’re in such a hurry.” She searched among the roots for the elusive footwear. “What did I do with …”

  “Leave all that junk,” he called impatiently. After fidgeting a minute, he disappeared around a bend.

  With a sigh, Aleytys abandoned the search, adjusted the strap of the sling, and trotted after him. The track wound under an arching green roof in a mottled green twilight. She jogged along, thinking acidly, Never again. I’m going to fix it somehow, so I don’t ever have to depend on anyone else again for anything. “For anything,” she repeated aloud.

  As the track moved beyond the trees, Aleytys blinked the half-light out of her eyes and peered across the open space stretching out till it was lost in the mists from the geysers. A wide apron of lava flowed across the valley floor ending at her feet in a paw whose stony nails had dug a semicircle of hot springs. The churning waters in the small round holes bubbled and boiled and spit streams of pressured steam into the air, where the erratic winds tore them into shreds and pasted the shreds against the cloud ceiling. Stavver stood at the edge of the lava, waiting for her.

  Aleytys fidgeted from foot to foot. The ground was uncomfortably hot. Out on the barren blackness a blunt cone like a child’s top thrust its point at the sky while its bulging bottom rested in lava clinging to the supporting fins like harden
ed taffy. She sniffed. “So that’s a starship.”

  Stavver chuckled. “Disappointed?” He pulled a straying tendril of hair until she yelped and tugged it out of his fingers. “That stubby monster—it’s bigger than it looks from here—brought your people here.” He looked with respect at the ship. “Three thousand years and the fuel cells still have power.”

  “Hai?”

  “If you think I’m going to explain matrix engineering and fuel economics to you, woman, forget it.”

  “I wonder if you could.” She eyes him skeptically. “How much do you really know about those things?”

  “Not much,” he conceded. “Come on.”

  Aleytys grinned. Mocking his strut, she started off across the skimpy grass. After a few steps, she yelped and lifted her foot. Hopping unsteadily around in a little circle, she examined the bottom of the injured foot. The sole was tender where the skin rubbed against the ground, but the pain was coming from her big toe where a sliver of black glassy stone stuck into it with dark red blood welling out from around it “Ahai,” she breathed, pain vibrating in the taut word. She jerked the sliver out and grimaced at the blood dripping onto her hands.

  “Where the hell are your boots!” Stavver’s irritated voice startled her so that she dropped her foot and nearly tumbled onto her face.”

  “Af’i!” She steadied herself and glared at him. “You yelled for me to leave all that.”

  He shook his head in disgust. “Give me your foot.” He knelt and examined the wound. The blood was clotting, the cut sucked closed so that it was rapidly disappearing. “You heal fast,” he said, rather startled. “Think you can walk?”

  She freed her foot and balanced on it. “Of course.”

  He stood up and brushed his knees off. “I’ll have to carry you on the lava,” he said grumpily.

  “Why? Hai, it’s just flat rock. I’ve walked barefoot on worse.”

  “I should let you try it.” He crossed the grass in two long swinging strides. “Come here.” She picked her way carefully to him, stopping beside the spill of lava. “Look at this stuff,” he grunted. “Feel it, but be careful.”

  She touched the rock. “It’s rough. So what?”

  “That nice flat rock will wear your feet off up to your knees before you get halfway to the ship. And fry what’s left.”

  “Hai.” She lifted her arms. “So I ride.”

  “Give me the baby first, then I’ll do my best with you.” As he slid the sling over his shoulder, he glanced at the ship. “Thank God it’s no farther.”

  After a hot and sweaty struggle, he dumped her on her feet, then stretched and rubbed his tired, back. “Ever consider losing some weight?” He slipped the sling off his shoulder. “Take this little lump of lead.”

  Aleytys snorted. “You would do it. Prove your manhood or what?”

  “Hah. Look at my boots.” He lifted a foot. The boot sole was thin as parchment.

  An hour later, Aleytys sat in the open lock, her legs dangling over the edge. Sharl sucked vigorously at her breast, putting his whole body into eating, wriggling like a puppy and socking his small fists into her soft flesh. Overhead, the steam blanket eddied and pulsed, bouncing all the heat that rose from the black blanket of lava back down to earth right into her face … or so it seemed to her. Wiping her hand across her face for the hundredth time, she grimaced at the boring scene spread out before her.

  The ever-present wind squealed around the ship and sent a skittering flow of grit rattling across the lava. Sweat oozed from her pores and stood on her skin in round globules that refused to evaporate into the saturated air. Each breath she sucked in was heavy and unsatisfying. She shifted restlessly and looked back over her shoulder at the man stretched uncomfortably on the dust-littered, age-torn matting.

  His eyes were closed, but they twitched nervously under the pale lids. His breathing was slow and steady, peaking every moment or so in a tenor snort. As she watched, he stirred and sat up, blinking sleep-dulled eyes. The dry skin on his hands rasped loudly in the lock as he rubbed his palms across his lined face. “What time is it?”

  Aleytys leaned out and peered up at the sky. The red blur with its pale blue ghost was well into the afternoon slide for the western horizon. “About sa’at haftuman,” she said thoughtfully.

  “That means a lot,” he grunted. “Translate.”

  “About six hours till Horli-set.” She sniffed. “And you were in such a hurry. This Maissa of yours certainly isn’t.”

  Arms unfolding, stiff as a wooden doll, he pushed himself up and moved to stand beside her in the lock. “Have you dreamed any more about the RMoahl?”

  “No. How much longer before her ship comes?” She lifted Sharl to her shoulder and patted him gently to burp him.

  “I don’t know,” he said absently.

  “She won’t get lost?”

  “The beacon is going.” He stretched, pushing against the rim of the lock with his hands and feet. “I’ve told you that a dozen times.”

  “I feel … I don’t know.” She reached out and took hold of his leg, the solid feel of his flesh comforting to her. “Speaking of the RMoahl, there’s some kind of danger—or something—getting close, Stavver.…” She rubbed her hand up and down his calf. “I’m not exactly scared. Just a funny feeling in my middle.”

  “It’s the humidity.”

  “I don’t know.”

  He moved out of the opening and scuffed around the lock for a minute, then he disappeared into the interior of the ship.

  “Phah!” She spit disgustedly. “I’m turning into a walking rock.” She looked down at Sharl. He was curled up in his usual placid sleep, his small face dusty and smudged. She brushed the dust away, pulled her legs up, and leaned back against the edge of the high round opening.

  Overhead, the steam suddenly glowed a brilliant golden yellow. The glow began to coalesce to a hard core of light as she watched. She clutched at the lock edge and yelled, “Stavver!” The lower curve of a radiant golden sphere poked through the steam. “Stavver!”

  “What is it?” His voice echoed metallically.

  “Your friend. At least, I hope so.”

  He stepped back into the lock and leaned out beside her, scanning the steaming sky. He grinned. “The Butterball. Maissa, all right.”

  “Butterball?” she said, eyes wide with surprise. “What an odd name.”

  He climbed out onto the ladder. “She’s an odd one herself. Stay here till I get things set.” He slid down the ladder, holding on to the uprights and letting his feet hang free.

  The yellow glow intensified. As she watched the glowball slide out of the steam, a slender black needle sealed in the middle flickering in and out of visibility, she heard a throbbing whine. Then—pop—without any further sound the splinter was sitting on its tail, surrounded by the wavering translucent curtain of light. It all looked like magic to her.

  “Hai, my Sharl,” she said softly, patting his solid little bottom. “There’s our ride. Ai-Aschla, I just don’t like having to let other people run my life. Sharl, baby, I can’t help it right now, but give me time.…” She smiled affectionately at him, then watched Stavver run across the lava and halt just outside the wavering curtain of light.

  14

  Maissa narrowed her pointed amber eyes. She looked Stavver up and down. “Well,” she said dryly, “you look like hell.”

  With a careless shrug, Stavver took another step toward her.

  “Uh-uh. Stay right where you are, dear old friend. Or I’ll skewer your hope of heaven.” She swung her hand up, pointing a schenli darter at his navel. “Now,” she said briskly. “Tell me why I’m here.”

  Stavver looked thoughtfully at her. She was exquisitely tiny, with coffee-brown skin, and long black hair springing sleekly from an exaggerated widow’s peak. Her arms and legs were well-shaped but so delicate that she looked as if a breath would blow her away. He grinned at her, knowing how fatal an illusion her fragility was. “I crashed,” he said. “With
the RMoahl diadem.” His mouth twisted as he saw avarice part her dark lips and the pink tip of her tongue come flicking through.

  “I heard you were after it.” She took a step forward, then danced back warily, the darter aimed steadily at his stomach. “So the hounds are after you.”

  “Right. I tried to lose them.” He shrugged. “Burned my ship out.”

  “So all you’ve got is the diadem.”

  “Not even that.” A wry grimace twisted his thin face. “Lost it.”

  “Flat broke, then?”

  “I’ll have to owe you this one.”

  She tapped the end of the darter against her mouth, eyeing him thoughtfully. “You’re a bastard, Miks, but you pay your debts. Umm. I’ve got something almost set up. I know you’re a loner, but, dammit, you’re also the best thief around. Favor for favor?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Come on, then.” Maissa moved toward the flickering force-field. “Take my hand.” She frowned when he didn’t move. “What is it?”

  “Look over there.” He turned to the old ship and waved to Aleytys. The tiny figure in the moon of blackness waved back, wriggled around, and started down the rickety ladder. “She comes too.”

  Maissa frowned angrily. “I draw the line at your barbarian girl friends.”

  “Not a girl friend. She got me here when I promised to get her offworld.” He raised a mocking eyebrow. “You did say I pay my debts.”

  “You are a bastard. Since when does a bed promise hold you down, thief?”

  He grinned at her. “Now, Maissa, let old grudges lay. This girl might prove useful.”

  “A barbarian?” She raised on tiptoes and placed her palm on his forehead. “No fever. You sure you feel all right?”

  “This one’s different, love. Got a psi rating you just wouldn’t believe. Xenopath. Empath. Healer. Who knows what else? And, my dear, you could walk her fully clothed along a street and expect four out of five men to react.” He shrugged. “Worse comes to worst, we could get a price for her from I’kuk.”