Lamarchos Page 16

  “I remember now. We camped there. Are you going to stop?”

  “We’ve got a little light still. No use wasting it.”

  As the caravan passed through the enormous pillars of stone marking the boundary of the stonelands, they heard the rock cats howling behind.

  “How many?”

  Aleytys wiped the dust from her face. The flies were gone again as if the Lakoe-heai had recognized their uselessness when she had repeatedly healed her face, the stimulus from the healing actually serving to pull her from each relapse into lethargy. “Five,” she said slowly.

  “All as big as that red horror we saw on the way in?”

  “Hard to tell size. They’re all hungry.”

  “Oh lovely.”

  The sparse grass thickened and deepened to a darker green while the air lost some of its leeching hunger for the water in their bodies. When the sun was an orange-copper point on the horizon Stavver pulled the caravan off the trail.

  “This is as good a place as any. Water and wood. Stream down there.”

  She glanced at him. “You want to build fires.”

  He nodded. “How close are the cats?”

  “About an hour behind. They don’t like the grass.”

  “You sound sorry for them.”

  “They don’t want to be here.”

  “Hah! Well, I don’t want them to be here myself. Why don’t they go home?” He slid off the seat and held up his hands to help her down.

  “I told you to push me off the wagon.” She swung down, steadied by his hands. “The light won’t last long. We better get the wood.”

  “Wait a minute.” He reached a long arm under the seat and pulled out a crossbow. “Maybe you’d better take this.”

  “What’d I do with it?” She walked away, shoulders slumped, feet stumbling because her legs were too tired to lift them over the clumps of grass. He tossed the bow on the seat and followed.

  Aleytys dragged the heavy limb into the camp and dropped it beside the pile, then dusted her hands and straightened her aching back. “You think that’s enough?”

  He dumped his load beside her. “It better be.”

  “If you’ll build the fires, I’ll take the horses down to the stream. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  When she returned, he dropped the hatchet and rubbed his back. “How’s the time?”

  She closed her eyes. “They’re circling out there.”

  “And …”

  She shifted irritably. “How should I know? They still aren’t ready to attack. That’s all.”

  “Go sit on the seat up there while I light the fires.”

  “Fire won’t stop them.”

  “They’re not afraid of fire?”

  “They’re afraid. But it won’t keep them off for long.”

  He looked up from the stacked wood. “Stop playing Cassandra, Leyta. Nothing’s that bad.”

  She groaned and pulled herself slowly onto the driver’s bench. “What’s a Cassandra?”

  “Don’t ask me. Old word I picked up somewhere.” He frowned at the stubborn wood. “Burn, dammit.” He shaved off a few splinters with his knife and thrust the firelighter into them. “Means someone consistently pessimistic about the future.”

  “Dear, dear. A walking dictionary.”

  He looked up from his firemaking and grinned at her.

  Aleytys bent over the back of the seat and fished under it for the second crossbow. She set it down leaning against the slatted back of the seat and watched the fires bloom in a circle around the caravan. One … two … three … four … five.…

  Stavver climbed up beside her “Any quarrels for these?”

  “Hunh?”

  “Arrows, love. When you use them in engines like these, they’re called quarrels. Or bolts.”

  “Dictionary.”

  He laughed. “Get up on the roof. I’ll hand up the bows after I dig out some ammunition.”

  “Give me a push.” Holding onto the gingerbread carving that decorated the top and sides of the caravan, she climbed unsteadily onto the top slat of the seat back. “My legs aren’t working so well.”

  When he came out of the caravan with a pair of quarrel cases, Aleytys leaned over the edge and called, “Shouldn’t we have some wood up here to keep the fires going?”

  “I thought you said fire wouldn’t keep them off.”

  “Well, it will for a little while. Besides we need the light to see.”

  He handed her the cases. “How long before they attack?”

  “Not long. I can feel them working up nerve to come in.”

  “Then we won’t need wood.” He swung up beside her. “Try getting through to them.”

  “I don’t think it’ll work.”

  “Try.”

  Aleytys stretched out on her stomach and closed her eyes. Breathing rhythmically, she stilled her throbbing nerves and reached out for the minds of the prowling predators.

  Like knobs of glass they slid away from her touch, impervious, unreachable. She tried again and again to find an opening, then gave up. “They’re protected too well,” she said quietly. “I can’t reach them.”

  He cocked the crossbow and slid a quarrel in the slot. “What about the diadem?”

  “I wish—” She pushed herself up until she was standing. “Give me that thing.”

  A crimson feline paced slowly into the ring of light cast by one of the fires and stood staring up at them. Edging along, a careful distance from the fires, amber eyes glaring at them, the cat circled the caravan, looking for a way to get at them. Aleytys fumbled with the bow. “Oh damn,” she whispered. “Go away, cat.”

  A second cat stalked into the light. Then a third. And another. And another. Until five redly glowing rock cats paced restlessly around the ring of fire.

  The first one loped away suddenly then came running back through the gap between the fires, in one side and out the other after circling the caravan inside the ring. “They’re going to jump any minute now.”

  “Then you better get your magic working.” He armed the second bow and knelt by the front where he could see the circling cats.

  Bracing herself, Aleytys closed her eyes. “Rider,” she muttered. “We’ve got trouble. I hope you can use a crossbow. Come, you who share my body. Take it.”

  A feeling of alertness pulsed through her. The diadem chimed. As the time squeeze began the first cat gathered himself, raced at top speed past the fires, and leaped. The chime raced downscale, freezing him in midair as the timespell came full on.

  Beside Aleytys Stavver sat frozen. Her body moved with calm control, lifted the bow, and sent a quarrel snapping toward the leaping cat. The spell affected it, slowing it. The Rider’s aim was a bit off also. The quarrel slid smoothly along the cat’s side and ended up hanging point downward a few centimeters above the ground. The Rider slapped a second bolt in place, aimed, fired. This time the quarrel bit into the rock cat’s eye. The diadem chimed.

  Falling, writhing, howling in agony, the big red cat clawed at the bolt protruding from his face. Then he stiffened, jerked, stiffened, lay stretched out. Dead. Stavver moved, too late to do anything.

  Two other cats fanned out and came leaping toward the caravan.

  The diadem chimed, freezing them in mid-leap. Aleytys’ body moved smoothly, calmly. Once, twice, the trigger clacked and bolts snapped out, thudding home into the topaz eyes. The diadem chimed.

  The cats fell heavily to the ground, squalled, writhed, stiffened, in bloody wasteful death. Yellow eyes opened, closed. The influence of the diadem drained rapidly from Aleytys’ arms and legs as the last two cats fled into the night.

  Slowly, carefully, she laid the bow on the flat roof and crouched beside it, holding herself, rocking back and forth on her knees. Beside her she heard Stavver yell and jump to his feet. He stared into the darkness a minute then came back to her. “You all right, Leyta?”

  “I don’t feel so good, Miks.”

  “Reaction.” He sett
led beside her. “Come.” He held her against him until her chilled body warmed and the trembling stopped. “Poor baby. Better them than you. Or me.” He chuckled. “Or me.”

  “Such a waste. Such a damn unnecessary waste.”

  “They’re predators, Lee. Born to a short and dangerous life.”

  “I know. Why me, though?”

  “You need the answer to that?”

  “No. Dammit, no.” She pulled away from him. “I keep thanking you, Miks. Once again.”

  He shrugged. “You only got three of them. Where’re the others?”

  She pushed up, caught hold of the carving and swung herself down onto the seat. Her voice muffled by the effort, she said, “Gone off. They won’t be back.”

  He swung down beside her. “Any other little surprises?”

  “Not now.”

  He jumped to the ground and strolled over to look at the dead cats. “In the eyes. Every damn one of them. Leyta.”

  “What?”

  “Looks like the diadem’s a weapons master. Handy …” He caught hold of a back leg and dragged the cat out of the light Aleytys stood and watched, tears gathering in her eyes.

  He came back for another. “What about the horses?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hadn’t you better go see? We need them, you know. Unless you think you can walk Maissa down.”

  While Stavver dragged the last body away, Aleytys walked down to the stream where she’d tied the horses. They were wild-eyed and stamping about, one tangled in the rope so badly he had come close to strangling himself. She calmed them and untangled them, the healing work helping her to regain her own balance. She ran soothing hands over neck and barrel, crooning softly to them, feeling warm with affection.

  “Leyta!”

  “Coming.” She walked back to the fire. When she looked around she saw Stavver had smothered the other fires, leaving the one by the front of the caravan for their evening meal.

  “The horses?”

  “Scared. But all right now.”

  “You’re a handy thing to have around.” He poured water in the bucket and splashed it over his hands and face, wiping them on a rag.

  “Thing!”

  “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

  “Probably.” She shifted at her hands. “I smell like horse.”

  “Why not a bath. It’s not cold.”

  “You know me too well. Come in with me?”

  “Why not.” He dropped his arm over her shoulders. “As long as we don’t have more visitors.”

  She leaned against him. “The other two cats are long gone. Heading back for stone.” She yawned. “Miks?”

  “What is it?”

  “Hold me tonight. Just hold me. Pretend I’m an ordinary girl you picked up on some Star Street maybe who came with you because she was glamoured by the stars.”

  Chapter II

  Aleytys pulled back the curtain and stood sleepily in the doorway. The orange sun hung low in the east, the top of its curve already covered by the unwinding clots of bacteria. The brilliant naked rays glanced across the dew settled on the sparse grass, granting a fleeting loveliness to the stark landscape. The air was cool and fresh. A small, dawn breeze wound through the grass, stirring it here and there, making the dew drops sparkle and shimmer.

  Miks slid off the bunk and moved to stand behind her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “It’s a different world.”

  Aleytys tilted her head to watch the bacteria spread in rivers of beauty drifting with slow grace across the cornflower blue of the sky. “Ahyi, Miks, it’s … magnificent.”

  They stood a minute in silence. Then Aleytys pulled free and stepped down to the ground, flinching slightly as her bare feet touched the cold dewy grass; “Miks?”

  He pulled the batik tight over his hips and slapped the belt around to anchor it. As he buckled the belt he said, “What is it?”

  “Could you fix breakfast today? I’ve got to do some heavy thinking.”

  Stavver chuckled. “Good thing I’m not a Lamarchan male.”

  “You’re much too sensible to worry about your masculinity.”

  “Flattery, child?”

  “You think you need it?” She grinned up at him, hands caressing tender breasts.

  “Go about your business, Lee. I’ll have the water hot and the bacon frying when you get back. Figuratively, at least.”

  Aleytys’ mouth twitched into a brief smile. Then she picked her way through the drying grass to the hollow where Stavver had piled the bodies of the dead cats. A stinking, black cloud of scavengers lifted reluctantly from their feast, hooked beaks and massive talons stained with blood. Aleytys shivered. She sat at the top of the slope, legs crossed, turned aside so she didn’t have to see the plundered corpses.

  “So,” she murmured, anger rising in her. “Look down there. To punish me, see what you’ve accomplished.” She stared at the earth, bent over, and placed the palms of her hands flat against the pale gritty soil. “The waste … stupidity!”

  A hot pinch of anger rippled up her arms. She jerked her hands away, then flattened them again, letting her own rage and disgust fight what was coming up at her. “Your people,” she hissed. “You don’t give a damn about them. What are you, a clutch of floating egos? Are you so completely irresponsible? Is Karkys such an itch in your hide? Ahai, my friends, you drive the Karkiskya from Lamarchos and you’ll soon know what an itch feels like. There are companies who would come in here, rape this world until it was a ball of sterile rubble. Ahhh, listen, I told that Karsk to do you honor, build a shrine. Won’t that do? Or do I battle you across the breadth of Lamarchos, wasting life after life. Like those.” She jabbed a thumb at the three carcasses. “Let it go. Let me go.”

  Thunder—tentative, uncertain—rumbled faintly. Beneath Aleytys the earth shifted, bouncing her up and down. She frowned, chewing her lip in a fit of frustration. This was worse than trying to communicate with the diadem. She rested her hands on her knees, searching her memory for the methods the nomad witches of Jaydugar had used to talk to the R’nenawatalawa.

  After a while she pulled grass out, tossing aside the rooted clumps until she had a clear space about a foot across. Then she smoothed the earth until it was a flat even surface like a mirror of dirt. After contemplating her work with a burst of satisfaction she took the discarded grass and shredded the blades until she had a pile of green confetti.

  She caught up a handful of grass fragments. “All right, talk to me. What do you want from me?” She tossed the fragments into the air and watched them drift down on the cleared space. They twisted and turned, falling into a pattern on the cleared space, a glyph from the Lamarchan syllabary.

  “Two? What …” She frowned, then brushed the green off and threw up another handful. “Two?” With an irritated exclamation she brushed the grass aside and for the third time dropped the green. This time the pattern was another glyph, a complex multiple. She bent intently over the pattern, tongue caught between her teeth, and traced the lines with her finger. “Duty … things to come … question slash. Ah! I understand.” She straightened. “Finally. You had four things for me to do. Two have been done. More or less. Two left to do. Question slash? Will I do them?” She sat back on her heels. “All right, what are they?”

  She brushed the space clear and tossed the grass. The new glyph was simpler. “A swarm … no.” She tapped a section of the figure. “Strange … determinant for man … a large number of men?” She shrugged. “You’ll have to do better, Lakoe-heai.”

  The next glyph was even simpler, expressing one single major idea. “Stop,” she murmured. “Command mode. I suppose that means I’ve got to stop a whole bunch of men from doing something.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the sun. “Hurry it up, will you. I want to get after Maissa.” She pushed the grass shreds aside and let more fall, grunting with satisfaction as two glyphs formed this time. Once again she bent over the complicated signs, trying
to make sense of their assorted meanings.

  “Someone … something will be there … no … coming … is in motion toward a definite destination … from a distant point to a nearer one. Hm. The other … there will be—future curl there—yes … there will be … telling of tales.” She frowned. “Lies? No. I don’t think—no! Explanation. Ah! Someone comes to me bringing information that will explain these words.” She rocked back on her heels. “I wonder … Loahn? Mustn’t read too much into this … all right I accept that. I suppose that’s the third task you have for me. What about number four?”

  She brushed the grass aside and tossed the pieces into the air again. “Later … a telling.” She shrugged. “So. I accept.” Her mouth twitched into a rueful smile. “Not much choice. One last thing. Call off the harassment.”

  When the dirt was clear again, she let the grass fall. “Ah. Agreement.” She leaned back on her heels and yawned. A monitory rumble of thunder made her frown. She inspected the glyph again. “Oh. Conditional mode. Temporary agreement conditioned upon the performance of required actions.” Her mouth twitched into a one-sided smile. “I get your point. Agreed. Conditionally. There are things I can’t and won’t do. As you know.” Thunder rumbled like lazy stones across the circus tent sky. Laughing she staggered to her feet, brushing the dry grit from her legs.

  As soon as she had taken half a dozen steps away from the cat bodies, the hovering carrion birds were gliding down.

  “You took your time.” Stavver slipped her batik to her and tossed the pin after it. “Much as I appreciate the view, Lee, we’re on a public way.”

  Aleytys chuckled. “How much more does this bit of cloth cover?” She drove the pin through the triple layer of material.

  “Local mores, my dear. What you bare and what you don’t. Here.” He handed her a mug of tea. A frail curl of steam carried the delicate flower scent to her and she smiled with pleasure.

  “Thanks.” She took a small sip. “It’s hot.”

  “That’s the point.” He laughed, then sobered. “Did you get your thinking done?”

  She cradled the cup between her palms taking more pleasure in the gentle warmth. “I think so. There are some complications, though.”