Skeen's Search (30 page)

“Eshkel and his racing yauts,” Zelzony muttered.

Skeen rubbed at her nose. “They've had a lot of practice at that maneuver. You've found nine bodies; I'd say you better look for more.”

“Saaaa smik!”

Picarefy to Lipitero. “Capture complete. They're on the move, going somewhere. I'll advise when they settle.”

Zelzony to Marrin. “Capture complete. Be ready to move when they settle.”

Zelzony to Kinravaly. “Capture complete. Now we have to let them go to ground. Marrin and the crew are in the air, waiting. Timka is after them already, bird shape, she'll be on the scene before anyone else so she can take care of the boy until we get there.”

Kinravaly to Zelzony. “The All-Wise guard and guide.”

The sandstone canyon was deep and rugged with a shallow creek wandering along the bottom between thin stands of shuddering longleaves. At several points wind and water had washed deep recesses into the walls. The triad flew the boy into one of these.

Ti-owl glided past, circled round, came back. Glad of the darkness which turned her into a faint smudge against the pale stone, she hung about trying to work out a way of getting into the hollow without alerting the triad. One Ykx left, Peeper, picking his way carefully over the scree slanting from the recess to the bank of the creek. After water, she supposed, and gave herself a metaphorical pat on the back when she saw the dripping bucket the big brown was hauling up. She grinned, also an inward thing since owls aren't equipped for ironic grins (or any other kind), as she watched that murderous thug struggle back up to the recess, his toe claws gripping the scree, the leather bucket giving him enough trouble to start him cursing violently as he fought to keep the water from spilling.

As he disappeared into the shadow, sour-faced Laroul came out, carrying a hatchet. Ti-owl clicked her beak. None of them trust the others enough to leave alone with the boy, has to be two in there so they can watch each other. Ah, shit, as Skeen would say. For a short while longer, she watched Laroul hacking at downwood, then she spiraled up out of the canyon and started back toward the staging area.

Ti-cat ghosted between the trees. Kert and Fescan drifted after her, almost as quiet despite difficult conditions; along with the soft flowing flightskins that threatened to catch on every stub, they had imagers with long lenses (night adapted) strapped to their harnesses, instruments both heavy and awkward. She led them into a thicket of small trees growing palely in the shade of a giant conifer that had extracted sufficient nourishment from the thin coarse soil in the bottom of the canyon to grow to twice the height of the longleaves; at that point it began dying from the top down, going bald in its old age. Using hand and toe claws they climbed past the fringe of needles and onto the doubled trunk, each finding a crotch to sit in so they could turn their imagers on the recess and start recording what was happening in there.

Timka went back to guide another cluster of agents in, these with night glasses. They were to be witnesses and arresting agents when the time came to stop the torment of the boy.

Zelzony clutched the arms of her chair, watching the central cell which had been expanded a dozen times larger than the others.

The triad carried the boy into the great hollow, a space large enough to swallow a sailing freighter. They put him down. Laroul began cutting the net off him. Eshkel checked his pulse, then settled back to watch Laroul work, his eyes flickering over the boy, his tongue pulsing in and out between his lips, a fine film of sweat gathering on the bunched glands in his forehead and cheeks. Peeper stood with feet apart, his hands clasped behind him though that must have squeezed his flightskins into tight uncomfortable folds. His eyes, like Eshkel's, were fixed on the boy, but his face was an unreadable mask. As Laroul finished removing the net, Peeper said, “I'll fetch water, one of you better be ready to get in a load of wood when I come back. Toss for it if you can't decide who.” He turned and left.

Laroul touched the swollen spot where the yautwhip had landed. “He's been out a long time. If you've spoiled him, Eshko, Peep and I will make a meal out of you.”

Eshkel's hand jerked. He glowered at Laroul. “He'll be coming round soon enough.”

“So you say.”

“Yes. So I say.”

“You're a lazy duggen, Eshko. Peep and I have done most of the work; make yourself useful, go fetch the wood.”

“Saa saa, you'd like that wouldn't you, leaving you alone with the boy. We draw lots for who gets him first. You heard Peep, we draw lots for who gets the wood too, and that 'un don't leave until Peep gets back.” He pulled a handful of terg counters from the pouch on his belt, held them in his fist. “Put out your hand.”

Laroul hesitated, then thrust out his long lean hand. The claws were partway out, a half-threat which Eshkel ignored. He shook the counters in his fist then let one fall. Laroul examined it. “Tree.”

Eshkel shook his fist again, let a counter fall on the stone floor, left it there. Laroul picked it up, turned it over, swore. “Fire,” he said. “Fire takes tree.”

Eshkel shrugged, reclaimed the two counters and returned all of them to his pouch. He got to his feet, found a blanket roll and dragged it into a position where he could see the boy and look out into the canyon whenever he wished. He dropped onto the blanket, shivered a little. “It's supposed to be spring down here. I thought it'd be warm.”

“Early spring, you're up high, it's a clear night so the heat radiates away fast. I wouldn't be surprised to see frost on the ground come the morning. We'll need more wood than I can bring in one load.” Laroul sniffed. “Want to or not, you'll have to do some work or freeze. You try dugg'ning out on us, Eshko, Peep and I will pop those lots to see who gets your blankets.”

Eshkel glared hate at Laroul but the Yasyonykx ignored him.

Peeper came stomping in with the bucket, set it in its frame. “Who gets the hatchet?”

“Me for the first round.” Laroul got to his feet. “Who's doing the supper?”

Peeper snorted. “Neither of you. I want to be able to eat it.”

A moan from the boy. The triad stiffened and turned as one. Their captive moaned again, stirred feebly, tried to move his arms. His wrists and hands were bound, he tugged at the bonds before he was fully awake, whimpered when he couldn't dislodge the thongs. He lifted his head, gazed with bewilderment at the blotches of thicker darkness a short distance from him. “Who are you? Where am I? What happened?”

Rasping breath. One of the shadows swayed off from the others, bent to take something from the stone, the boy couldn't see what it was but there was so much menace in the silence and that hoarse breathing that he went rigid with fear.

One of the shadows moved toward him. Teeth clamped on his lip to hold back the fear whimpers, the boy tried to wriggle away. Large gentle hand took hold of him, lifted his head and shoulders, held a cup to his lips. “It's only water, Giulin. Drink. You must be thirsty.”

The cup was cold and wet as it pressed against Giulin's mouth. His throat was dry and painful, his lips cracking; confused and still afraid, he managed a few swallows, then turned his head away. The strange Ykx lowered him back to the stone, moved off a few steps. Giulin lay silent a moment, then, trying to speak with easy unconcern, no fear, only an understandable curiosity, he said, “Why am I tied like this?”

“So you won't run away, my dear.”

The voice came from the other shadow, husky tones, a quaver in them like that in the voices of the very old, though Giulin didn't feel that the speaker was old, not in that way. There was something else in the voice, something he didn't understand, something that made him shiver from a cold not caused by the chill from the stone that was striking up into his bones. “Why would I want to run away? Where am I?”

“Yaut Reserve, of course. Wasn't that where you were going?”

“Are you poachers?”

“Poachers, you hear that, Peep? He thinks we're here to net us some yauts for the running game.”

“Clever boy.” The second voice was amused, almost playful. This was the one that had given him the water.

Giulin's fear increased; a little more and his sphincters would let go. He felt a searing shame at betraying himself that way and struggled to control the fear, but though they'd done nothing to him so far, nothing but tie his wrists and ankles, though they hadn't threatened him or hurt him, something was going to happen, something terrible. Don't be stupid, he told himself, keep cool and you'll get out of this. All right, so they aren't poachers, that doesn't mean they haven't got reasons for being here. You just ran into those reasons without meaning to. All they're going to do is keep you tied up here, out of their way, until they're finished with their business. Though he didn't quite believe any of that, he calmed down enough to realize that part of his despair came from the cold that was sending spasms of shivering along his body. He steadied his jaw, cleared his throat. “I'm freezing. Would you bring me my blankets please?”

“Of course, how thoughtless of me.” It was the big one being genial. “We don't want you catching pneumonia, now do we. Eshko, get the young man's blankets. I'll lift him so you can spread them under him.”

“Y y you c c could just un untie m me.”

“Nooo. I don't think so.”

The big one, the one called Peep, lifted him. His fur was thick and rough and smelled smoky-acrid, his chest was hard and hot. As he stood holding Giulin, his fingers moved a little, small caresses that nearly shattered the boy's control. He began thinking about rumors he'd heard, tweeners who'd gone off and hadn't come back. He didn't know anyone who'd disappeared like that, but there were stories … about … about bodies turning up, bodies savaged by beasts. Or something. I have got to get away, I have got to get out of here. Docile. Yes. Let them think I've given up. Peep laid him on the blankets, moved his big hands over the boy, fondled his penis sheath briefly, then straightened and moved off.

Giulin tested the thongs binding his wrists and came close to tears. Whichever of them had tied the knots knew what he was doing. He turned on his side and began exploring the stone beyond his blankets, hoping to find a fragment of stone or a bit of bone or shell. What he found was dust. He shivered, recovered, brought his wrists to his mouth and began chewing at the tough leather.

The third Ykx returned to the hollow carrying a load of firewood. He dumped it a few paces away from Giulin, came over to look down at the boy, the scrape of his footsteps barely enough warning so Giulin could stop gnawing and turn on his back. This one was skinny, what the boy could see of him looked dry and dessicated. He grunted and went over to the wood pile. “Eshko, your turn on the wood line.”

The quaverer protested, citing his age, his arthritic hands, his bad back. The thin sour one waited him out, handed him the hatchet. “As much again as this,” he pointed at the wood he'd brought, “or you go back out, you hear?”

“Peep?”

“Hurry back, old friend, or we'll start without you.”

“You wouldn't, you can't, you …”

The big one just laughed. Eshko snatched the ax and hurried out.

Giulin went back to gnawing at the thongs, grinding as hard as he could at leather that seemed more like plaited steel. Firelight. They'd see him, stop him. All-Wise give them good appetites, let them concentrate on the supper they were talking about. The thongs were weakening, he could feel the give.

Peep was whistling as he shaved long curls from a bit of dry wood, the skinny one worked at building a small compact pile of lengths of wood more or less the same size. Stopping a second to catch his breath, Giulin looked over his shoulder at them, fought down the panic that threatened to engulf him. They've done this before. Lots of times. They know exactly what to do, they don't even have to think about it. His breathing broke on a sob, then he went back to worrying at the thongs that bound his wrists.

Zelzony leaned forward tensely, eyes moving over the cells.

*Marrin was wedged in a crotch of a quivering longleaf, glasses fixed on the hollow, agents like dark fruit in trees around her, like her, watching. Her body was stiff with insult, the hands clamped around the night glasses had the claws out. Beyond her, deep inside the hollow, dark figures moved back and forth between the fire and a recumbent figure.

*Tibo, Lipitero, Rostico Burn in their separate skips waited up above, settled on the stony barren earth a short way back from the rim of the canyon. If the triad flew up there, they would see the skips, but there seemed little chance of that.

*Peeper, Laroul and Eshkil were finishing a meal of bread, cheese, meat and roasted tubers, taking turns poking food into Giulin. The boy accepted their tending and its attendant caresses without resistance, his passivity disappointing and angering Eshkel. Peeper wasn't fooled, he grinned at the boy, his attitude one of amused complicity. Laroul was stiff and impersonal, even when he rubbed his hand over one or more of Giulin's erogenous zones, as if he were pushing buttons to test out the responses of some machine.

A remote came in with a table, a pot of iska and some sandwiches, arranged these beside Zelzony.

“Zem-trallen.” When there was no response, Picarefy spoke again, louder. “ZEM-TRALLEN.”

Zelzony started. “What?”

“They're taking their time, it might be hours yet before you can move. Eat something. Hunger plays games with your head.”

Zelzony pulled her hand down her face, left it pressed over her mouth. Two rasping breaths, then she took it away. “Yes. I suppose.” Her eyes drifted back to the screen. “Why don't they do something I can pin them with,” she muttered. “So I can stop this hideous …”

“Eat, Zem-trallen. There's nothing you can do. The boy will survive it. Remember what the dead tweeners looked like, remember the cub, remember the work you've done so there won't be more dead. Your agents are there, they'll move in the minute you give the word. You'll know when you have what you need to put those sorry sick monsters where they won't hurt more children. You know you can't act before then. So?”