Mute (37 page)

“Something you should know about me,” Knot said reluctantly. “I’m a psi too. The nature of my psi is this: people forget me. If you leave me more than an hour, you will forget me. Hermine maintained mental contact with you while you fished, reminding you of me, so you would not forget I was here, and fail to return. If you sleep, you will wake without remembering me. When we part company, you will forget we ever associated, unless special precautions are taken. So if you should conceive a baby—which is prohibitively unlikely, as far as my participation goes—you will not know how it happened.”

“That’s too bad; I’d like to remember you.” She shrugged. She did that well, seeming to enjoy the heft of her own bosom out of water. She had more avoirdupois about her body than Finesse did; no doubt it protected her from the chill of the water. “But you are only passing, you say. A baby would be real.”

He could not argue with that. They finished their meal. The fire died down. Knot found himself nodding again. It was now late at night, and he had had a most active day, and was tired. But a deal was a deal. “I think it’s time,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed, as if this were routine. But she looked just embarrassed enough to heighten her appeal.

“Do you—in the water?”

“I prefer it.”

Because in the water she was not clumsy or handicapped. It made sense. He would have preferred it on the ledge, but it really was not his choice. He got into the water.

She moved into his arms as he lay on a shallowly submerged ledge. She was lithe and soft and interesting, especially in the darkness of the water. He was cold, but she was warm, and the closer he got to her the more comfortable he was. He—

Finesse is sending,
Hermine thought. Her impulse came through with less force than usual, because she was a small distance removed from him.
Do you wish to receive?

What a time!
Yes.

“I am certain you have psi talent,”
Piebald said.
“But now it seems you are not yourself aware of it. So we shall have to force it out. The trick will be to accomplish this without destroying your sanity.”

This crazed lobo was going to torture a normal to force manifestation of a nonexistent talent? Why? If he wanted to eliminate a CC agent, all he had to do was lobotomize her any way. Why try to evoke psi that was only going to be abolished?

“I have no psi!”
Finesse exclaimed.
“You can rape me, you can kill me, you can make me suffer, but you can’t squeeze psi from a normal!”

Piebald smiled—and the irony was, it was not overtly sadistic. On a city street or in a mutant enclave he would have appeared quite innocent.
“Relax, woman. I have ascertained that physical torture will not avail, and I fear my wife would object to raping you, delightful as the experience might otherwise prove.”

Piebald was married? Knot found this difficult to assimilate. A man that evil—

But the lobo was talking again.
“No, Finesse. What we now have to do is establish an imperative for you to manifest your psi. It will be hard to evoke, after a lifetime’s inactivity. So this will not be comfortable for either of us. But it shall be accomplished.”

“What do you want with a psi?”
she cried.
“You’re only going to lobotomize—”

Finesse had caught on—and her thoughts were parallel to Knot’s own. She now knew what she was up against—and that might be the worst torture of all.

Piebald smiled enigmatically. The discolorations of his face and hair seemed to change with his facial expression: a sinister effect. Perhaps sending accentuated it; this was, really, her impression of the man, rather than the actuality.
“All shall be known in due course.”

The sending ended. “Are you well?” Thea inquired solicitously. “You’re shivering. I can warm you, if you like.”

“I—received a message,” Knot said.

“From your girlfriend?”

He looked at her with alarm, seeing only the glint that the waning fire reflected from her eyes. “You’re clairvoyant?”

She laughed against him. “Merely female. I know when another woman cuts in on me, and I guess she has first call. Shall we let it wait until morning?”

“Maybe that’s best.” He felt considerable relief at the postponement, and knew she was aware of that, and he was sorry. But she accepted it graciously, drawing him against her, keeping him warm, relaxing.

Knot felt there was more to be said, but he was so tired he fell asleep before he could organize his thoughts.

•  •  •

He woke disoriented, after a melange of partial dreams. He was half in water, and it was dark, and there was a woman-body in his arms. What—oh. Thea, in the cave. Yes.

As he stirred, she woke too. And flipped out of his embrace and into deep water. “Who are you?” she demanded, frightened and angry. “How did you get in my home?”

She did not remember, of course. Knot was used to this. He drew on his expertise and experience in interviewing to reassure her and clarify their situation succinctly, and soon she was reassured and began to remember.

“It is strange,” she said. “But it must be true, for I remember the telepathic weasel, and of course you were with her. It’s coming back now. Odd how selectively I forgot.”

“Your mind bridges and interpolates and rationalizes to cover the gaps,” he explained. “But prompt reminders do serve to bring it back, and the fact that you were close to me diminishes the effect. My psi is strong but subtle; you don’t feel it or perceive it. If you really want to remember me, write out a complete summary of the experiences we share, to remind you when I’m gone. Read it as soon as I depart, and keep rereading at brief intervals for several hours. That will fix it in your memory, and then you will be able to retain it with only an occasional reminder, as with any other memory. I doubt it is worth your effort, though.”

“I have no materials for writing,” she said. “Except perhaps my coal-chalk, and the walls of the cave—which wouldn’t be very good for that. Anyway, we have no formal education here in the enclave; I know only a few words. I live for the present—and the future as represented by my offspring.”

“I tried to explain last night—it is morning now?—that I cannot actually give you offspring. So I fear my part of our deal is invalid.”

“How do you know—yes, it is morning, the cave remains dark all day—that you can’t?”

“My friend the clairvoyant crab assures me, and he is always correct.”

“But your friend the crab can tell me which man could give me a baby?”

Knot’s mouth fell open. He asked Hermine.

Yes,
she agreed, as surprised as he at the insight.

“Yes, Mit could do that. I never thought of it last night. I
can
help you, through my psi-friends. Of course there would be no way to make that man do it, if he did not feel inclined.”

“Just knowing would be enough. I could take it from there, one way or another. I have not had difficulty before, making men feel inclined; in fact if I were not able to swim better than they—” She made one of her excellent shrugs. Knot could not see it, this time, but he heard the little slop-slop of the water as her anatomy struck it. “I’ll be happy to show you the way to the ocean, for that information.”

Knot was glad to agree. “We will find you that man!”

Thea became quite friendly, fetching them succulent water plants for breakfast and chatting merrily about her cave and water domain. She had a niche for wastes that Knot availed himself of, so as not to pollute the water. They did not re-light the fire; it was pleasant talking in the dark.

Now they made plans for the journey. “It is no easy trip downstream, even for me,” the mermaid warned. “The rapids are bad and at certain hours the piranha fish are foraging. You would not be able to pass, in the river. So we must schedule carefully.”

“Mutant fish?” Knot asked. “Were they bred in space?”

“No, these are Earth-normal fish, imported from Earth as pets for the richer Machos. Someone must have thought it would be a good joke to stock them in the enclave river.”

Knot remembered the outhouse perched above the enclave. The fish were merely another example of the Macho attitude. On two levels: Machos liked to prove how tough they were, by associating with vicious creatures, and they also were completely careless of the rights or convenience of the less fortunate elements of society—such as the mutants of the enclave. So they dumped bloodthirsty fish in the river and let the misfits worry about it.

“So we’ll go around those sections of the river,” Knot said. “Short hikes—”

“I cannot walk on land,” Thea said. “I will swim through quickly during the piranha’s quiescent hours. I have done it before. We can meet again, below.”

“No. Unless it is a short swim, you will forget me, and we’ll never rendezvous. I fear we might separate beyond Hermine’s range, so she could not keep your memory current. Her sending range is short.”

Thea considered. “Maybe your crab could stay with me, to remind me. He is a water creature.”

“He cannot communicate well enough with you, and he, too, could forget me. He does not like fresh water. He must be with me, to locate your cross-fertile man from among the mutants of the land.”

“You make appalling sense,” she admitted. “Then I will simply have to come with you on land. Can you carry me?”

“For a short distance, probably. I’m not the sturdiest person on foot, because—” He paused, indicating his differently sized legs and feet. This was inadequate, since she could not see him in the darkness, but she seemed to understand. This was getting complicated. “How long a hike is it around the rapids and fish, do you judge?”

“It is hard to estimate land distances. I don’t know the terrain away from the river’s edge. Perhaps a day.”

A day—just to pass a couple of troublesome sections of the river!
Was he ever going to get out of here? But he seemed to have no choice. Had he only accepted Mit’s advice, and waited that half hour for the lobo pursuit to abate... But what use were recriminations? “Let’s a get moving.”

Knot had removed some of his sodden clothing the night before, and saw no reason to don it now, since he would be spending much of his time in the water. He thought of carrying it with him, but that seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Better to leave it here, and worry about what to wear outside once he
got
outside the enclave. He was no longer sensitive about being exposed before Thea; she had been up against him all night without evincing any distress. The only problem was how to carry Hermine and Mit.

Mit says we must cling to your hair,
the weasel thought.

That seemed sensible. Knot put them on his head.

He dived down and out and up, following Thea and Hermine’s instructions. Knot’s head broke water in the bright light of day. “Will it be all right for me to walk the shore, here?” he inquired. “I can make better time.”

“Yes,” Thea said. “I see few brutes in this region, which is another reason I made my home here. Above is the many-armed croc, and below are the piranha, but here it is safe, unless the max-mutes come on a foray. But then you can jump into the water.”

True,
Hermine agreed.

It was good to get back on his feet, though the morning air was cool. Knot wondered now whether he should after all have brought his clothing along. Still, what warmth would soaking clothing have provided? He would have to generate some body heat by running, awkward as that was.

Trouble,
Hermine warned. She was clinging to his hair as he bounced along. Mit, with both claws firmly anchored, was better off.

Knot looked about, stepping toward the water. “Where?”

The fish. The school has migrated upstream.

“Thea!” Knot called. “The piranha!”

“Don’t be silly,” she called back. “They never come up this far.”

“Humor me. Get out of the water.”

She shrugged, wriggled to the bank, and drew herself out to sit on the rocky ledge, her tail-feet remaining in the river. “If this is one of your crab’s notions, I don’t have much confidence in it.”

Then she peered closely at the water. There was a stirring developing, not obvious, but definite. “He’s right. Piranha! That’s some crab!” She lifted her foot section out of the water with alacrity. “I’ve never seen them this far up before. Something must have happened.”

“Could be natural expansion, or better hunting upstream,” Knot said. “This makes it more difficult. I can carry you initially, but will tire soon.”

More trouble,
Hermine thought.
Mutants coming, unfriendly.

“Problems compounded,” Knot said, “We can’t stay here, and we can’t re-enter the water.”

Mit says you can save us. Communicate with the gross one.

“I think we can manage,” Knot said. “Be silent and I’ll try.” Thea’s brow furrowed, so he reassured her. “I didn’t mean you were talking too much; I just need to handle this myself, following Mit’s instructions exactly. Trust us.”

Already the mutants were arriving, clambering over the rocks and ledges. They were worse than Knot had seen before: Their limbs and features were extremely deformed, misplaced and misnumbered. One man scuttled like a huge crab, with five or six legs sprouting from odd points of his torso. Another had eyes down his neck—glassy, blinking things, several of which oozed discolored pus. A female had breasts like those of an animal, five sets, from chest to crotch, some larger than others. Another had two misshapen heads growing from a bump on her back. A man had a snout that twisted down like that of an anteater. But most of the deformities were straight mutilations: limbs severed part way down, eyeless sockets, teeth growing reversed to poke out of the jaw below.

They don’t like you or Thea,
Hermine thought.
You are both too normal. They intend to tear you apart.

“Where is the gross one?” Knot asked desperately.

Behind. He hates you too.

That was all he needed! But Knot had to trust Mit’s perception. He leaned down, put his arms under Thea’s knees and shoulders, hefted her up and staggered toward the horde. “Growrrh!” he screamed, baring his teeth.