Then it turned out that the approaching human was only potentially telepathic. This was very promising, because such a human would need a horse for mental contacts, just as a horse needed a human for physical chores. Would the human be amenable to such cooperation? It was female, and females tended to like horses for themselves, apart from their power; that was another positive sign.
By the time Colene reached his stall, he had the answer. The sheer chance of the Virtual Mode had brought him the ideal companion. Their two realities might be different in most cultural and practical respects but they aligned in what counted most for this purpose: the affinity of horses and girls. It was a bond that needed no further justification.
Yes, Colene agreed.
Now you must get my things, for I can not do it, and bring them to me, so I can travel with you.
But I am limited to a ten-foot swath, she protested. If I step out of it, I will leave this reality and lose you.
Not once you pass through the anchor, as you did when you entered my stall. Now you are in my reality, until you approach it from the other side.
She found that hard to believe, but it turned out to be true: she could now leave the stall and cross the aisle without losing track of him. She was now in his reality, all the way.
They got it organized: she would hide her bicycle in his stall, then fetch his feed and supplies, then open his gate and they would depart his anchor, as he called it, and resume progress toward her destination. Seqiro had no destination for himself; he merely wished to be free to explore and learn, without suffering undue hardship.
He made a mental picture for her, how she should dress and deport herself so as to pass unnoticed among the local attendants. Any human folk she should ignore, but she would have to respond to any equine queries. She should indicate that she was on private business for her steed, and move on. The uniform was simple: a loincloth, cape, and sandals. There was a supply shed near the stall; she went and changed, under his mental guidance. She removed her own clothing, then put on the loincloth. It circled her waist once, looped into two ends in front, and one end passed down between her legs and up and over in back. It rather resembled the cloth worn by the American Indians, being supremely simple and functional. When she had that properly wrapped, she donned the cloak, which was a circle with a hole in the center; it came down to about her waist. Then sandals, each one fashioned of two slabs of wood linked by cord, for heel and toe, and a loop of cord for the ankle. Again: about as simple and functional as clothing could be. Obviously the human folk of this reality did not rate fancy outfits.
Then she donned the hat. This was what identified her status and affiliation. It was like a beanie with a hanging tassel, and the manner the tassel fell indicated her degree of autonomy. Some humans had more responsibility than others, and could act without constant direction from their horses.
Now she walked to the granary for the feed. She passed other humans, who were similarly garbed. They ignored her. She knew they would not have, had she appeared publicly in her own clothing. Had Seqiro not been guiding her as she first came onto these premises, she would have run afoul of others.
The granary was stocked with bags of grain. Take two, if you can carry them, Seqiro thought. Each represents approximately one day's feed, and I will need eight.
She picked up two, putting their straps over her shoulders.
She walked back with them and set them in Seqiro's stall. She made another trip, bringing two more. She was surprised how easy it was; others seemed not to see her at all. She could take the whole granary, load by load, and no one would care. She tossed her head, feeling carefree for the moment; this was fun in its ways. Her cap almost fell off, and she had to jam it back.
Then someone did notice. It was a young man. He glanced passingly at her, did a doubletake, and approached her. He stared at her hat.
Seqiro—something's wrong, she thought, hoping he was tuning in. She could not broadcast her thoughts; it only seemed like it. He was able to think to her alone, so that others of his kind did not know he was breaking confinement, but he might not do that continuously now that she knew what she was doing.
I am here.
She pictured the situation, hoping she didn't have to put it into words, because that would take too much time.
Give me your eyes.
Eyes? Could he see through her eyes? She relaxed, trying to let her mind go blank. She hoped that was enough.
Her eyes moved on their own. They cast about, then focused on the man. He is looking at your tassel. It must have changed position.
Oops! I did that without thinking.
He is sexually interested. Your tassel must be in the position of urgent invitation.
She had done that when she so blithely tossed her head? Sexual invitation? I didn't know it could say that!
There is no spoken language among humans of this reality. Signs of several types suffice. We allow humans to choose their own times and partners for procreation, provided they are proper workers. You signaled him that you find him desirable and wish to conceive by him.
What disastrous luck! I don't want sex with him! How can I get out of it?
That will be difficult without causing a commotion. Human males are unsubtle creatures.
What else was new! I don't care how! Just do it!
Seqiro considered, while the man attempted to embrace her. Her two bags of grain got accidentally-on-purpose in the way. But that dodge would not last long. He was starting to untie his loincloth. Hurry! she thought.
Smile and make a fist. Move it slowly down, then open your hand.
She did as bid. The man watched intently, then did the same. Then he got out of her way.
She walked on toward the stall. What did I tell him?
That you would meet him here at sundown with your loincloth off.
But I don't want to do that!
We shall be gone by then.
Oh. But I didn't mean to lie to him either! That's not right.
Actually there were qualifications; sometimes a lie was necessary. It depended on the situation.
I will mind-touch another female and suggest to her that one who finds her desirable will be there at that time.
So she would go to meet the man. That might do it. Obviously he had no great prior relationship with Colene! But I thought you couldn't telepath to other humans.
I can do so. But my own servitors have been confined, and it is bad form to mind-touch others. However, a subtle touch on the mind of a female not otherwise occupied should pass unnoticed. It is any effort to gain freedom for myself that the authorities are guarding against.
But I'm helping you do that!
He made a mental suggestion of unconcern. You are not of this reality. They do not know of you.
And that made all the difference for them both! She needed help, he needed help, and they both needed to have nobody else know what they were doing. I guess it's all right. I hope she gives him a good time. I never meant to be a tease.
When he sees her without her loincloth, he will not care about any other matter. This is the nature of humans.
These were primitive humans, she realized, stultified by having no real power over their own affairs, no pun. But perhaps not much different from those of her reality. She knew boys who would grab any girl they could, and girls who would tease unmercifully. She had done her share, when she got that key for Darius. In fact, she had done more than her share of teasing when she had come to sleep with him in her bottomless nightie and told him no sex.
Straighten your tassel.
She paused to do it. She didn't need any more hot encounters!
She finished hauling the grain and got to work on the other things. There were small tools, and bags of water, and a kind of harness so that he could carry the things on either side of his body. She followed his mental guidance and got the harness put on correctly and the things set in it, working with far greater facility than she ever could have by fig
uring everything out for herself. This mental contact was like riding the bicycle: it tripled efficiency in a fun way.
She went for other things, and brought them back and put them in their loops in the harness. The horses were mental creatures here, but obviously they could handle physical work too. It was probably easier than making the relatively puny humans do it. The humans were for minor chores.
She loaded her bicycle on top of his other things, because he thought she would be unable to use it in this vicinity. She was amazed at how much of a load he could bear, but he was unconcerned.
But as she was fetching one of the last items, a block of salt, there was a different mind touch. What are you doing?
That wasn't Seqiro! Which meant it was another horse. Which meant trouble. What was she to do? She shouldn't answer, but if she didn't there might be trouble too.
She kept her mind quiet. As far as she knew, a thought had to be conscious to be read. The ordinary mind was such a jumble of this and that and reactions and temporary concerns that it was hopeless as far as any outside perception went. But when she made something conscious, she formulated it, and that was what Seqiro read. So if she formulated no response, the other horse should find her mind a muddy slate. She hoped.
Identify yourself, the thought came imperiously.
Could she risk a thought directed to Seqiro? She doubted it, because she wasn't sending, he was reading, and the other horse could do the same. Maybe Seqiro was able to read the other thought, so already knew. In that case he probably couldn't send to her, because the other horse would pick it up. The other horses might not even know it was Seqiro she was working for; that was why they had to inquire. So she maintained her mental silence, or at least her mental mud. In fact, she should stop thinking of his name, in case they picked that up. It was best if they thought she was just a simple human intruder stealing things.
Pain lanced through her. It felt like what she thought a heart attack would be, hurting from shoulder to gut. The other horse was whipping her with its mind!
The block of salt fell from her twitching hands. She staggered and almost fell. These horses did have ways to enforce their demands!
Identify!
Instead she focused on her legs, and broke into as much of a run as she could manage. She had to get to Seqiro's stall before that creature knocked her unconscious or worse. The boss-horses must have caught on that something was happening, and were investigating.
Now she heard rapid human footsteps. They were summoning the minions! She had to reach Seqiro before the others intercepted her.
But as she rounded a corner, she saw that she had not made it. Three young men were between her and Seqiro's stall. How was she to get past them, even if the other horse didn't blast her mind?
A notion percolated up through her mud-mind, and she put it into effect before a horse could read it. Humans! They are catching me! she thought loudly. That should satisfy the horse that he didn't need to stun her; the situation was in hand. One threat sidetracked, maybe.
Meanwhile she reversed her course and broke into a run, away from the men. It was also away from Seqiro's stall, but that was part of the point: if they didn't know about Seqiro, this would keep the secret. Maybe she would be able to lead them astray, then duck back to the stall unobserved.
She whipped around the corner she had just rounded from the other direction. There was a supply nook here; she knew because she had recently fetched things from it. She swung herself into it, ducked down, and held her breath.
The men rounded the corner and pounded down the aisle. They ran right by the nook. It had worked! She had given them the slip by acting fast—by stopping here immediately after turning the corner, when they expected her to keep running. They couldn't read minds; they depended on the horses for that, and meanwhile the horses thought the humans had the situation in hand. She was slipping through a crack.
She resumed breathing, cautiously. She listened, and heard only the receding footsteps. Good enough.
She stepped out of the nook, and walked around the corner. The way was clear. She approached Seqiro's stall. She knew that at any moment things would heat up again, so she wasted no time. She reached into the supply shed near his stall and fetched her clothing and pack.
She came to stand before his stall. Was it safe to think a clear thought yet? She doubted it. Better just to get on with the escape without further mind talk.
She reached for the bar which only human hands could remove, not hoofs. It came up, releasing the gate.
The grain and supplies would have to be enough; she couldn't chance going back for the salt. She got her pack on her back, stuffing her original clothing into it; there was no time to change now either. She pointed to the aisle before the stall, indicating her eagerness to go before anyone returned. She hoped Seqiro agreed.
Then she heard something. She looked back.
There were two more men, barring the way. They held pitchforks in a manner that made them look exactly like weapons.
Now we know whom you serve, the hostile thought came. We gave you the chance to show us.
Go, Seqiro! she thought desperately. She realized that their mental silence had been for nothing; the boss-horses had out-tricked them. Before they can attack you!
Seqiro started to move out. The men moved to bar his way, the tines of the pitchforks orienting on his head. They were the servants of horses, but not of Seqiro.
Colene ran out ahead. "Get away! Get away!" she cried, hoping to startle them into retreat just long enough to let Seqiro out of the stall.
Instead one man dropped his fork and grabbed her, while the other continued to hold his tines at Seqiro's eye level. They were under expert control, all right. They had neither startled nor panicked.
She struggled, but all she did was get her cape jammed up against her neck; the man was strong. So she tried another tactic: she twisted some more, deliberately causing her cape to ride up farther, exposing her breasts. "See how nice I am," she said. "Watch me, not the horse."
The man holding her looked down, interested. He evidently did not understand her words, but he could see her body well enough. The other one was looking too now, his fork dropping low. Colene both loved and hated herself for doing this; it was akin to the way she made others laugh while she thought of the blood flowing from her wrists. She delighted in the power of her body to make men stare, while knowing that she was cheapening herself in the process.
Then, suddenly, the second man forgot her and turned back to Seqiro. The other horse had taken control of his mind! The horses got no sexual thrill from seeing her torso. The fork lifted again. But the man holding her did not let go. Instead he started to drag her back, away from the horse.
Go, Seqiro! she thought again. At least he would get free.
Then the man with the fork doubled over, the weapon clattering to the floor. The one holding her dropped similarly. Go, Colene! Seqiro thought back at her.
She realized that Seqiro had used his own power of stunning on the men, now that there was no point in further mind silence. She caught her balance and ran for the stall. She had to go into it, and then out of it on the Virtual Mode. Like passing the other way through a tunnel to another valley.
But before she got there, the other horse stunned her too. It was like a hammer blow to the head; she felt her consciousness fleeting. Just as the other horse had not been able to protect its minions from Seqiro's blows, Seqiro could not protect her from the blow of the other horse.
But it wasn't quite complete. The other horse was farther away, so some force was lost. She fought to hang on to what she could before it overwhelmed her. If she could make it through before losing consciousness—
She found herself falling into the stall. She had made it! But now that she was down, she could not get up. Her body would not respond. She could only lie here, at the anchor but not through it. So close, so far!
Go, Seqiro! she thought again.
Something brush
ed her face. It was the end of his tail. She grabbed onto it and clung with what she hoped was a death grip.
She felt herself being dragged forward, out of the stall. She was unable to fight any more.
SHE found herself face down in the aisle. Rise, Colene, Seqiro's thought came urgently. Get on me.
She lifted her head. Only a few seconds had passed, she thought, but the men were gone. What had happened?
Up! Up!
She responded sluggishly to his thought. She dragged herself to her hands and knees, then caught hold of part of Seqiro's harness and hauled herself up that.
A horse appeared down the aisle. It looked surprised.
Hold on. Seqiro stepped forward, dragging her with him. In a few steps the other horse disappeared.
At last she caught on to what was happening. They were crossing realities! Seqiro had dragged her from the anchor into another reality on the Virtual Mode, leaving the men and horses of his own reality behind. Perhaps that change had eased the pressure on her mind, allowing her to recover a bit. But the adjacent reality was very similar, with more telepathic horses, who would surely interfere if they realized what was happening, so they had stepped into a third one.
Buoyed by that realization, she clung to the harness arid made her legs move. She started to walk beside Seqiro. The motion helped restore circulation and clear her mind.
They turned and walked down the aisle, then turned again at the corner and resumed crossing realities. The stalls began to change appearance. They were on their way!
Colene's head cleared. Apparently the other horse's stun-thought had done no physical damage.
They left the village, or maybe the village just faded away in the new realities. They were now in open countryside, with some trails going who-knew-where. It was nice. She realized that the details of her own anchor reality must have been constantly changing similarly, when she started out. She had been focusing only on the road ahead, and had been embroiled in her own confused thoughts, so had paid almost no attention to her surroundings. Also, it had been morning, in the suburbs, with little traffic, so she had not seen cars popping in an out of existence at first. From the first ten feet, she had been in a far weirder environment than she had realized!
Virtual Mode Page 15
