Hidden in Sight (56 page)

“I KNOW you're there.”

Startled, Kearn slipped at the edge of the rock cut. The voice spoke comspeak, but was made of bells. He looked in vain for its source, his hand light sending its beam coursing over strange shapes and producing irregular shadows that moved across his view as if alive. And waiting to pounce. “Is that Fem Skalet?” he whispered.

“Kearn?” the voice grew startled as well. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, yes.” Kearn relaxed as his light found the Tumbler, squinting up through the reflections. Then he saw where the crystal wasn't gleaming. Something on the hands and arms ate the light, something dark.

Skalet lifted one long hand, as if to show him. “Fools' blood.”

“I—” he decided he didn't really want to know. “Esen was able to send the Ganthor away. She didn't tell us how ...” He left room for her to answer. When she didn't, he shone the light to find a safe path for his feet, feeling the darkness press on every side, and went closer.

Bells could toll in warning. “Why are you here, Kearn? Do you think to kill a monster?”

“No. I have something of yours. I wanted to bring it back to you, before you left.” He halted to pull the book from his pocket, then played the light over the gilded bones and scales of its cover.

Bells could tinkle with laughter. “You came here, in the dark, to bring my book to me? Why?”

“I—I read it, Fem Skalet. You have lovely handwriting, by the way. The other you,” Kearn fumbled for whatever terminology a web-being might prefer, then settled for: “S'kal-ru.”

“A scholar. I'm impressed.” A pause. “The book isn't necessary. Esen and I. Did you know we never forget? Not a molecule, a whisper, a sunrise.”

“No. I didn't know. I guessed. Hypothesized. To remember each form, there had to be a mechanism. There—”

“We are memory.” Another pause. “Still, I should like the book. Thank you for its return.”

Kearn found himself as close as he dared, and found a boulder on which to sit. He set the light down, so it splashed against another rock and back over them both, then drew his coat more tightly around his shoulders against the chill night air. “It was fascinating to read. I gained valuable insights into the Kraal—”

“And into a web-being?”

Caution, not warning. He went on before his courage failed. It almost had twice before: when leaving the
Russell III
and when landing here.
But this was his only chance.
“I believe so. I have so many questions. I—” Then, the truth poured out, as if the dark made it safer. “They'll take my ship away. My research funds. But I thought, if I could talk to you for a while, I'd know enough.”

“You can talk to Esen all you like. I'm sure the Youngest would be pleased to reveal all manner of secrets for the asking. Why come here? To me?”

“This.” Kearn patted the book. “This—this is how I am. I put pieces together, fill in every detail. Reading it, I thought we were alike in that. And—” he hesitated. “I don't wish to cause offense, Fem Skalet, but ...”

“Go on.”

“This was written by an adult.”

Definitely a laugh. “Do tell Esen you said so. I can see her face now. Whichever one she's wearing.” A chime as the Tumbler moved, seemed to look up. “She'll come soon—when true day restores safe passage. When our business is done, I don't plan to return.” A minor chord. “Like you, Lionel Kearn, I find myself at a loss for a future.”

He lifted the book. “Your House?”

“Events here have made me—conspicuous—among the Kraal. It is not conducive to establishing a home. Or safe, for that matter. I can wait.”

Kearn licked his lips, tasting acrid dust. “How long? How long can you wait? Another two generations? Three?”

“You do have questions.” Another minor chord.

He closed his eyes briefly. “My apologies, Fem Skalet. My enthusiasm gets the better of me.”

“Your enthusiasm—your passion—kept you searching when no one else believed. I valued it then. I value it now.” A pause. Then, “How long before the Kraal settle? What do you know of the House of Bryll, and its conflict with ...”

Kearn leaned forward, intent on the magic of that voice.

34: Mountain Dawn

I'd always hear their voices on this mountain, I thought as I took the last three steps to the top. The Kraal had left enough scars on the peak; I'd asked Rudy to land the aircar on the pad below. He and Paul followed me now.

“Skalet!” I called, walking to the place where I'd always walked.

She appeared, but not alone. Kearn, of all beings, walked beside her as she tumbled toward us. I gave my jaw a strong push to keep it in place. “You're late, Youngest.”

Some things never changed,
I thought.

Paul, who knew what to expect, had warned Rudy. They both looked concerned, if for different reasons. Rudy had resolved to learn more about the “non-Bess” me, and worried about what that might be.

Paul? He worried about me. I could see it in the way he stayed calm and reassuring, helping me remove my new clothes before I could cycle and leave their molecules as a fashionable stencil on the ground.

Paul, Rudy, Kearn. Skalet and me. The mountain.
Some part of me found it fitting that we were again six.

The rest of me knew exactly what Ersh would have said about the presence of the Humans and winced.

Skalet tumbled to her accustomed place and waited. Paul and Rudy, without knowing, took positions where Mixs and Ansky would be. Kearn was closer to Skalet than Lesy ever stood, but on that side. The place for Ersh remained empty.

“Where is what you promised me, Youngest?” She held up one bloodstained hand. I found it didn't trouble me, this once, that Skalet had fought and likely killed. The Tumblers had been without a champion.

I nodded at Paul. He held up a cryosac, opening its mouth to show a brilliant blue, then closing it again.

Skalet leaned toward him, as if to roll. “Wait.” I told her. “I have something to say to you first.”

“Why should I listen?”

“Because Paul has his thumb on a control that will heat and destroy what's in his hand.”

She chimed amusement, then settled back. “Very well. Say what you wish.”

“Not like this,” I told her, then cycled . . . moving through web-form too quickly to change my mind . . .

... until the cold thin air burned its way into every part of my damaged muzzle. My good eye watered as I braced my feet. I heard Rudy gasp and Paul's snapped order for him to stay still. He'd known I planned this. The Web of Ersh met in their preferred forms. It was her Rule.

Skalet didn't hesitate. Crystal blurred and flashed blue, then . . .

... fierce eyes surrounded by black-and-red tattoos met mine. She dropped to her knees, naked, the knife gone. The wound fountained blood until Kearn gave Skalet his gloves to press over it, then it merely welled out and over, puddling in the diamond dust. He wrapped his coat around her shoulders, then stood back, shivering.

I spoke even as Kearn cared for her, knowing her time in this form was short, feeling my own form grow weak. “You never asked why Ersh shared with me alone, Skalet. It was because I was the only one who could protect the rest of you from her secrets. Things about her and her beginnings. Things that changed me forever.” I tasted blood as my wound reopened. “It was no gift. It was a penalty of my different beginning she used to spare you—all of you.

“I am the Senior Assimilator of our Web, Skalet,” I continued, taking an unsteady step into the center of our circle. “If you would now share what Ersh chose not to give you, I will provide it. But you will no longer be who you are. And you will lose the Ersh you remember.”

Her hand plunged down to grip the stone. Not to brace herself, but as if asking a question. “I want to—fly.”

From somewhere, I found the strength to look down at my trembling web-kin and tell her the truth. “No. You want the Ersh you knew. I can give that much, Skalet. If you trust me.”

I saw the answer in her eyes even as she cycled to save herself . . . I did the same . . .

... sensing the perfection of her teardrop shape, beyond it the throbbing heart that was Picco's gravity, courted by the echo of her Moon, beyond that the singing spin of stars and atoms . . .

Share
. . . I released the message to the winds, offering my flesh.

Feeling Skalet's jagged teeth rip through me as proof I was again as I was meant to be . . .

Tearing free bites of Skalet-mass, to replace what I'd lost. Assimilating her memories into mine . . .

... as proof I was no longer alone.

Humans were perhaps the most adaptable species to ever develop self-consciousness. I had further evidence, if I needed any, when I found duras plants conveniently nearby when I was ready to cycle from web-form into something that could sit in an aircar.

Comfortably Lishcyn again, I looked for Skalet, finding a magnificent Moderan lifting its fangs at me—an expression of happiness. But her memories in mine were like shattered crystal, edged in grief and need. I found I had to push away the emotion in order to assimilate the rest.

Most I knew, or guessed. Her life within the Kraal hierarchy had become a desperate struggle to be Human, to fit in and succeed. She'd done her best, but I could have told her being Human wasn't as easy as slipping into that flesh. Memories of her manipulation of Kearn were overlapped by their conversation of this morning, colored by a new and rather perplexed respect.

She'd feared Death, that another mindless web-being might attack us, and planned weapons to defeat it. But she'd been Kraal enough to assume her worst enemy would be her closest ally, and made the design include a trap keyed to Mocktap. Rudy could have killed her. She'd believed he would.

Her impressions of me ranged from infuriating to embarrassing, but, like Kearn, I'd earned something approximating respect.

I thought I'd keep her impression of Paul to myself.

What I'd shared kept Skalet quiet as well, on the trip back, although she'd had an implant grown into her throat to utter comspeak. I knew what she was assimilating.

Memories of Ersh. I'd had hundreds of years living with her, while Skalet collected information on other species for the Web. I gave every minute of them back—including the ones where I was in trouble.

It seemed only fair.

We were, in the end, family.

There was a balcony attached to the Port Authority cafeteria, for those who didn't mind the looming presence of Picco. I stood there, watching the shipcity disassemble and move itself back into space—one more amazement in a day I wouldn't forget, even if I could.

“I thought I'd find you here.” Paul rested his elbows on the rail. “Any sign of a Tumbler? Alphonsus tells me the sanitation workers are getting worried. Something about pensions.”

I pointed to a glint of light on the horizon. “They're out there. Should I tell Alphonsus they believe he's been replaced? That everyone here is—new?”

Paul's laugh was low and contagious. I bent my ear to enjoy it. “Will it matter?”

“I suppose not.” I curled my lip. “But I do like the irony.”

We became silent to watch the lift of two freighters, paired flame until one peeled away from the other.

“Speaking of irony, you did notice that Skalet managed to steal the bag of bits, I trust? In spite of your talk with her about the value of not-knowing.”

My other lip curled over a tusk and stayed there. “I noticed,” I said contentedly.

“Rudy offered to hunt for them while she's in
Russ
' med box.” At my look, Paul chuckled. “Don't worry. I told him not to bother. But she's not going to be happy when she finds out they are your bits, not Ersh's.”

“Or she will.” The bits were something of a gift. Paul and I had accumulated a fair amount of information on other species during our time at Cameron & Ki. I thought Skalet would appreciate it.
Eventually.
I'd also included something of Paul's. That, I expected to hear about.

“You were never going to show her how to fly, were you?”

I glanced at the silver pendant hanging from his neck, watching it catch the light and return it as flashes of orange. “How could I?” I said, turning back to the view. “You know I excised that mass. When they destroyed our home, they destroyed our cryounit. Not that Skalet would have believed it.”

Mind you,
I thought,
she'd have been right.
The pendant still held its message introducing Paul to another web-being, but since our last trial together, it had held more. I looked on it as my conscience, that my greatest and most dangerous temptation rested out of reach, just over Paul's heart.

“So what now, Old Blob?” Paul twisted around to put his spine against the railing and looked up at me. “Apparently we are clear to go back to the export business—if the Largas family hasn't offended too many customers with suspicious questions about our whereabouts. Meony-ro even managed to get those knives appraised for you.”

“And Joel?”

“Yes, Joel.” Paul bent his head so I couldn't see his face. “He's never said a word about us. Even now, he talks to me as if nothing's happened. But it has. I don't know what to say, Esen.”

“I do,” I said gently, bending down so I could look him in the eyes. As a result, I went off my center of gravity and had to grab the railing for balance. “I do,” I repeated, deciding erect was safer.