Maeve (2 page)

Aleytys sighed and pushed the hair out of her face. The fitful breeze meandering down the canyon alternately lifted and let fall gouts of coarse grit; now and then it played at her hair, sending loose, tickling ends waving around her face. She touched Arel's arm. “You've got some energy weapons stored there.” She nodded at the ship. “You'd get a lot more for them.” She reached out and touched his knee. “Why?” Pinching the flesh lightly, she grinned at him. “Though I think you've screwed these poor ignorant creatures out of their back teeth. I can feel the cat inside you licking the cream off its whiskers. But they'd really put out for energy weapons. They want them.”

“They'll have to want. If I gave them energy guns, I'd have a Company search-and-destroy mission on my tail. No thanks.”

“Oh.” She looked around the canyon. Dry barren walls. Small spring, its water carefully hoarded in a cistern built from rough stone blocks joined with yellow-brown mortar. A few scraggly weeds, gray with dust, clinging to the cracks of the rock. A small gray lizard ran a jagged race across the wall, disappearing into one of the larger cracks.

“This is a damn inhospitable place.”

One eyebrow went up increasing the sardonic amusement in his face. “You expected me to land in some farmer's field?”

“I suppose that wouldn't be too safe. It's hard on me though, unless one of them would guide me down from here.”

“He might.”

“For a price, maybe.” Aleytys rubbed her nose.

“That one'd sell his grandmother for more guns.”

“They hate us.”

“Why do you think they want the guns, love?” The crow-tracks at the corners of his eyes deepened momentarily. “They don't hunt the kind of game you'd want to eat.”

“Doesn't it bother you? By selling them these guns you help them kill people.”

He shrugged. “Company men. If I had my way, I'd dump them all into a drone and junk it on the nearest sun.” For an instant, hatred leaped from him across her sensitive nerves, along with hurt, loneliness, and loss. Something bad out of his past, she surmised, knowing she'd never find out what it was now that she was leaving him.

“I'll buy the guns from you, Arel.”

“Don't waste your money, Lee. You'll need it to bribe your way onto a ship.”

She grinned. “I wasn't about to give you all the jewels.”

“Keep them. I'll supply the guns.”

She shook her head. “No, Arel. I know how close to the line you run. I'll pay for the guns.”

“You don't like owing people, do you.”

“It's hard for me to take things. I … I've learned to put a premium on my independence, Arel.” She brushed her head with quick, nervous hands. “I'm going to pay my way from now on.”

“Dammit, Lee. You've earned …”

“Then pay me off with money. I expect I'll need it for living expenses when I make it to Star Street.”

“What about advice? Willing to take that?”

“Why not.”

“Don't let anyone know about the jewels. When you get to the city, use everything you've got to find a man you can trust before you let anyone see them.”

“Man?”

“Wei-Chu-Hsien Company believes in male supremacy, Lee. Most likely the only women you'll find in the city will be streetwalkers or menials like cooks and cleaners.”

“Phah!” She sniffed. “Their loss.”

He shrugged, then grinned. “When you start working on those grubs, let me do the bargaining. Even with that on-off empathy of yours, you drive a lousy bargain. You give away too much.”

“Well, I don't intend to set off trudging on foot across that mess.” She waved her hand at the cliffs rising above the ship.

“I still think you should sign on with us.” He scowled at her. “You seemed to like it.”

“I did.” She stroked her fingers over his arm. “And the three of you, too.” Then she shook her head and sighed again. “I have a baby somewhere. I've got to find him, Arel. He needs me more than you do. And … and there's a lot more you don't know about me. It's not pretty.”

“I know your nightmares.” He reached out and slid his fingers down her cheek. “We'll all miss you, Lee. Even Joran.”

At that moment Vannik leaned out of the lock. “Captain.”

Arel looked around, one eyebrow sailing up into the tangle of black slanting across his forehead.

“Right stuff.”

“Then let down the sling.” Arel turned back to Aleytys. “I wouldn't trust that bunch far as I could throw one of those four-footed hairballs they ride.” Frowning at the patient, hunched figure of the drieu, he curled fingers around her hand until the pressure hurt. “Probably slit your throat the minute we leave.”

She gently freed her hand. “No. I can protect myself. You should know that by now.”

He was silent a minute, then swung around. “Vannik, break out another half dozen guns and a thousand more darts.”

Vannik's shaggy eyebrows rose and he ran a bony hand through the white thatch on his head. Then he moved back up the ladder, his awkward-looking body agile as a monkey.

“Wake your fuzzy little fanatic.” The Captain moved his long body around to face the native.

The lighter gravity of this world fooled Aleytys again as she attempted to follow his example. Her heavy-world muscles overreacting, she caught herself at the edge of an undignified sprawl.

“Drieu Dylaw.”

“Yes, woman?”

“The weapons are ready. The Captain is anxious to leave before the city spies find him. I suppose you'd like to get out, too.” As the drieu started to stand, she said quickly, “However, there's another thing. My service to the Captain concludes here and we part company.”

“Why tell me?”

“Name a price for supplying a kaffa and a guide to take me to the sea.”

A sudden fierce anger exploded from the stiffening figure of the drieu. Then he was on his feet, turning to leave, unable to be in her presence any longer without destroying his honor by breaking trade truce.

In the shadow of the wall, young Gwynnor's eyes stayed fixed on her with a growing fascination despite the fear which was turning his body cold.

The kaffa stirred nervously.

The gray lizard poked his head out of the crack, scuttled in a tight circle, eyes jerking from side to side. A moment later he plunged back into his hiding place.

The wind sang down the canyon with an eery mourning note, a dirge portending fateful events.

“A price, drieu Dylaw. More guns, more darts to fill them.” Her voice sang in his ears, whispering temptation.

A small dust devil broke over the drieu's feet, showering desiccated leaves and other debris on his legs, breaking his mood. He shuddered and turned to face her, hating her all the more because he knew he couldn't refuse.

“I will not take you.” His voice was harsh and abrupt.

“I don't expect that. You have your people to care for.”

“But I'll ask those.” He swung a hand at the squatting figures. “If one will do it, then we can bargain. If not …”

Aleytys looked over scowling faces alike in their ingrained xenophobia. Then she focused on one face, a young face twisted in the most malignant scowl of all. She reached out. Touched the turmoil boiling in him. Snatched the probe back. Reeled under the impact of his confusion. The drieu stared at her, then turned his back on her.

“If one among you would take this—this person to the sea, our cause would benefit greatly. They have offered additional guns and darts to pay for this service.” Aleytys could see the long muscles of his neck tighten, then loosen. “Is any willing?”

Gwynnor ran the tip of his tongue over his lips as he fought the pull of the starwitch. He … he must … he must … no! He almost shouted the words, but clamped his lips over the impulse to speak, swallowing the soaring words, afraid to answer, afraid to acknowledge her influence in any way. But the pull strengthened. She reached out touching him tickling gently along his nerves whispering comecomecome … until, his feet scraping heavily over the sand-littered stone, he stepped forward. “I …” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and spat, grudging briefly the expenditure of his body's moisture here in this desert. “I'll do it.” He forced himself to meet Dylaw's incredulous eyes, drawing back his narrow shoulders in a mockery of stiff pride while his anger beat futilely at invisible seals. “Let the weapons be my gift to the cause.” The words were proud also, but he felt hollow inside, knowing that the woman had laid a spell on his soul.

“So be it. Come, Musician, sit beside me till we find what your sacrifice can buy us.”

Chapter II

The ship rode an ascending whine into the sky, melting after a few moments into the sterile blue. Southwest, a winding dark line marked the creeping progress of the Dylaw's pack train. Aleytys shook her hair out of her eyes and dug her heels into the kaffa's sides.

The animal had an odd, loose-kneed gait that she found disconcerting, the dip and heave close to making her trail-sick. When she glanced for the last time into the canyon, then up at the sky, the ship had vanished, cutting off her retreat. She felt awash, disoriented, even a little frightened. She pinched her lips together, then sighed. Ahead, the boy's slumped shoulders were eloquent of his troubled dislike for this expedition. Aleytys caught wisps of anger and fear blown back to her like snatches of smoke torn apart by a restless wind. The silence was heavy between them, broken only by the sweeping moan of the wind, the schlupp schlupp of the kaffa pads, the creak of saddle leather.

“What's your name?” she called to the boy.

He glanced back briefly, his round face clenched in a scowl, then swung forward again without answering her.

Aleytys prodded the beast into a brief jolting run until she was riding beside the cerdd boy. “What's your name? It's awkward not knowing.”

Grudgingly the boy muttered, “Gwynnor.” Then had to repeat it louder, as the wind snatched the word away.

“Such anger, Gwynnor. Why?”

He stared sullenly at her.

“Don't try to tell me I'm mistaken. Look. My name is Aleytys.” A corner of her mouth flicked up. “Means wanderer. Appropriate, don't you think?”

“So?” He shrugged and turned his shoulders until his back was to her. “I don't want to talk.”

“You mean you don't want to talk to me.”

“Yes.”

“Don't be a fool. You can't ignore me. I won't let you. I refuse to ride beside a lump.”

“Duyffawd!”

Her eyebrows rose. “Most impolite.”

“You laugh? Ah, Mannh! What do you want on our world?”

“Nothing.” She sighed and tried for a more stable position on the kaffa's limber back. “Nothing but to quit it as fast as possible.”

Disbelief hung in a fog around him. “You're here.”

“A waystop. That's all.”

Against his will he found himself responding to her calm, friendly tone. “Why didn't you go on with the smuggler?”

“This world is as far on my way as the Captain goes. At Maeve, he circles back on the other wing of his route.”

“Oh.” Gwynnor starred thoughtfully at the bobbing, swaying neck of his mount. “How're you going to get off Maeve?”

She shrugged. “Bribe my way onto a starship, I suppose.”

For several minutes they rode along in silence. Aleytys could feel the boy struggling to assimilate her words.

He looked back at her, his dark-green eyes open wide, the pupils narrowed in the brilliant afternoon light. “Then you're going to the city.”

“I have to.” She caught the sharp scent of suspicion. “Gwynnor, look! If I told the Company men I came here on a smuggler's ship, I'd be sticking my head in a shark's mouth. They'd have to sponge up what was left of me. No, I won't betray you. Couldn't if I wanted to. What the hell do I know that I could tell them?”

“About the place.” He jerked a head at the dark line that marked the position of the canyon.

“Dammit, Gwynnor, Captain Arel's my friend. You think I want him killed?”

“Oh.”

Aleytys shifted again to relieve the ache in her thighs. “It's been too long since I rode anything with four legs. Why hate all starmen?”

His head swung around and he stared at her, startled. Then his young face pinched into an angry scowl. “They come. Take. Take.” He ran his left hand over the top of his head repeatedly. “Take and kill. Kill gentle people …” His shoulders slumped suddenly as he retreated into unhappy memories.

“So you want to drive the Company out.”

“Yes.” She felt his helpless anger. For a minute, pity stirred in her, then she pushed it away. No, she thought, not again. It's none of my business.

They rode on in silence through air thin and chill enough to make her shiver and think about untying the poncho from behind the saddle, but not chill enough to make the effort really worthwhile. The air burned her lungs and leeched the moisture from lips and nose. As her tongue flicked around her mouth, struggling to replace the moisture, she could feel hairline cracks opening in her lips. Overhead the sky was a cold blue with ragged, wispy clouds scudding across the bowl while wind down lower drove the coarse dust singing over the scarred stone. Behind her, the sun crept down in its western arc with a foot-dragging lassitude that made her feel like clawing it to a more normal speed. Each time she glanced back she had to search for the rusty disc, her body rhythms with their ingrained expectations sending her eyes automatically to the wrong part of the sky.

“Company men!” Gwynnor said suddenly. “Are you …”

“Huh?”

“Are you part of a Company?”

“No. Where I was born no one had even heard of the Companies. Damn! That was a long way back.” Rubbing her fingers lightly over the springy hair on the kaffa's back, she stared over the bobbing head at the desolate expanse of weathered stone. “A long way back …”