The Children of the Sky (52 page)

Jefri and Amdi walked forward to where the first kherhog was grazing. In a few minutes, they had persuaded the animal to drag its wagon back onto the path. Amdi came back to drive the rear wagon and they were on their way once more.

As usual, one of Amdi sat with Ravna on the middle wagon. As the afternoon passed the humidity fell, and Amdi seemed to be thinking faster. That was not necessarily a good thing. “This is the last day when things will be easy,” he said. “Can’t you hear the waterfall? We’re almost to the big dropoff.” He had escalated the “steep descent” to something more realistic. “We’re gonna meet strangers real soon.”

She guessed he was saying similar things to Jefri up ahead. Amdi was like a worrywart on ultradrive. She took one hand from the reins to pat his shoulder. “We can’t do anything about that till we get there. Meantime, you should be paying attention to that wagon you’re driving, and keeping watch on Screwfloss and Ritl.”

“Oh, I am, I am.” He glanced up at her, wriggling under her hand. “If you could see me all at once, you’d know I’m looking every which way. Screwfloss must have understood what I told him. He’s staying behind us. And from Jefri’s wagon, I can see that Ritl is just a little ahead of the wagons. She hasn’t run off, though she’s trying to stay out of sight.”

As a matter of fact, Ravna had no trouble tracking the singleton. It never strayed more than thirty meters beyond Jefri’s wagon, sneaking from hiding place to hiding place. At the same time, the critter was trying to keep track of the wagons and Screwfloss. Sometimes Ritl would stop in plain view, twisting her neck back and forth—then see them watching her, and abruptly run for cover.

Amdi gave a human-sounding sigh. “I feel so sorry for Ritl. You’re right. If only she and Remnant Screwfloss could accept each other, they would be so much better off. Do you read romance novels, Ravna?”

“Huh? Tinish romance novels? Where—?”

“Pilgrim lets me into Woodcarver’s library.”

She had no idea Amdi researched such topics. “Have you read any of the romance stories in
Oobii
?” she asked. When Ravna worked for Vrinimi Org, she’d noticed customer interest in romance literature. It was probably the most idiosyncratic of all written art forms. No surprise there; when it was intelligible, romance lit gave more insight into an alien culture and psyche than anything this side of Transcendence.

“Our romances are nothing like as weird as in
Oobii
, but we Tines have more
kinds
of romance than other races! See, there’s pack-level romance, like Pilgrim and Woodcarver. Then there are romances about injured packs looking to become whole, either from within or without. And one type of story is about packs romancing singletons and vice versa.”

“From what Jefri says, that’s a long shot in our case.”

Amdi said, “Yup. Maybe that’s why people like to read stories where it works out well.” Amdi rode along for a minute or two without saying anything more. He lowered his long neck and rested his head on his forepaws. When she glanced down, she noticed that his eyes were closed. For a wonder, the worrywart was taking a break! Or maybe he was worrying about his larger problems, what had driven him to Flenser in the first place. After a time, he raised his head and continued: “Romance is such a weird thing. It’s how we Tines sneak past death. I think it’s like that with other races, only more metaphorical. I read your human romances especially. This kidnapping is just like in some of your stories, bringing people together, showing them how much they need each other. Don’t you see how good you and Jefri would be for each other?”

“
Amdi!
”

“What? What? I just want you to be happy.”

Events intervened before Amdi could make further unsettling comments.

They were descending into scrub forest, and the mud was now a serious problem. Streams cut across the path, and water was coursing through the meadow on their right. As best as they could tell from the maps, they were within a few hundred meters of the “steep descent.” The sound of falling water was loud even to Ravna’s ears. Jefri and Amdi hiked forward to take a look, while Ravna slayed with the wagons. Ritl was nowhere to be seen, but Screwfloss was patrolling some kind of perimeter.

Ravna got down and walked around the wagons, checking that the kherhogs were secured. She was surely the wimp of this expedition. She could barely keep standing, but right now she was too sore to sit down. She leaned against the middle wagon and struggled to stay alert. Since her delirium, she’d been irrationally afraid of the sleepiness that crept over her in the middle of the day.
What if my mind comes undone once more?

Perhaps twenty minutes passed. Jefri and Amdi emerged from the scrub. Amdi was huffing and puffing to keep up.

“The maps lied,” said Jefri. He was speaking in a lowered voice, almost a whisper.

A few seconds later, Amdi arrived. “No,” he said, also speaking softly, “the maps were made from orbiter data. They can’t show what’s out of sight.”

Jefri shrugged. Like most of the Children, he tended to attribute motivation to artifacts. “The point is,” he continued in the same soft tones, “there are buildings on the valley floor. It looks like a caravanserai.”

“Yes,” said Amdi, “and there’s a winch station up here, at the edge of the dropoff.”

She noticed Screwfloss walking around the wagons, rousting the kherhogs as if to continue the drive. He was making no effort to be quiet about it. “Screwfloss seems to know what he wants to do.”

Jefri glanced over his shoulder. “I get his point. He figures we’ve already been spotted. We might as well go forward. Now, about our cover story…”

“Our cover story?” Ravna’s words came out in a kind of incredulous squeak.
Two aliens and a jumble of Tines come strolling in, with the most amusing story.
“Sorry. Right. We two-legs should keep out of sight to begin with, let Amdi do the talking.…” Both she and Jefri were looking at the eightsome.

Poor Amdi was beside himself, each member trying to stay out of sight behind the others. “I can’t! You can’t do this to me!”

“You’re the only one who can even speak the language, Amdi.”

“
Wah!
” wailed Amdi. “This isn’t
fair!
” He hesitated briefly, then launched into a string of mostly illogical objections. “Those could be the bad guys up ahead, Vendacious and Tycoon waiting to pick us off.”

Jefri shook his head. “I think Screwfloss would suspect if that were the case—and look at him.” The remnant had mounted the front wagon and was looking back at them expectantly.

“We could go back. We could hunt and trap! I know Screwfloss could. You could. I caught a fish the other day!”

Ravna went to her knees among Amdi. It was not entirely a controlled gesture. Amdi seemed to realize this; she felt him close in, steadying her. She slipped her arms around his nearest necks, and after a moment the dizziness passed. She could feel the cold soaking her knees, and Amdi’s fur against her face. What to say? “You’re the smartest pack in the world, Amdi.”

“That’s … probably true. Mr. Steel made me that way. He got a very,
very
smart coward.”

“Okay, that’s probably what Old Steel expected. I don’t think what’s left of him believes it.” She looked up, gave a nod in Screwfloss’ direction.

“Maybe, but—”

“Steel made something smarter than himself. I can tell you—personal experience of a Mid-Beyonder—that means the rest of what he expected is vapor. You have a power tool, and no one knows what you can do with it.” Her point applied to peer intellects as well, but Ravna was too tired for full disclosure.

Amdi didn’t say anything for a moment, but she felt a buzzing through his fur.

“We’ll come with you,” said Jefri, “openly. There’s no pointing in hiding us two-legs if we’ve already been seen.”

“We could advise you,” said Ravna.

That might be an empty offer, considering how much fast talking was needed. And yet, Amdi eased back from Ravna and angled his heads together, thinking intensely. “Advise, yes. With the right cover story … hmm. I’ll bet the local packs only have rumors about humans, stories of a supernatural race so intelligent that even their singletons are as smart as a Tinish pack. Maybe I could claim to represent the two-legged godlings.”

Ritl had crept into sight. It sat down near the edge of Amdi’s mindsounds. Amdi gobbled at it, and it responded with a long ramble.

Amdi laughed. “Ritl likes the idea—even if she doesn’t understand a word we’re saying.” And now he was full of supporting ideas: “With you as gods, then
I’m
just the middleman, the interpreter! We’ll have plenty of time to get our lies right, even if there are surprises. And then…”

They decided to take just the first wagon and three kherhogs. If this meeting worked out, they could hire someone at the winch station to bring down the other two wagons and the lame kherhog. Meantime, they wanted to put on a good show.

They moved the stash of lamps—their most exotic tradables—to the front wagon. The maps got moved, too, though they were emphatically not for trade. There were no clean human clothes, though Jef’s
Oobii
weaves were presentable.

And they finally had a use for Chitiratifor’s flashy outfits. They carefully removed one set from the oilskins. The cloth was so clean it fairly glowed, and the fine stitching was almost machine precise. There was a cape and matching jacket—even leggings. Chitiratifor had been big-bodied, but nowadays Amdi was big, too. There were enough outfits for six of him. Amdi immediately slipped into the clothes, adjusting the various belts and clasps.

Amdi strode around the wagons, admiring himself and making final tweaks to the outfit. He was on a roll, his anxiety either forgotten or forcibly suppressed. Ravna studied the beaded designs on the jackets. They probably represented something, though it might not be evident if you couldn’t get your eyeballs more than ten centimeters apart. “Any chance this outfit is a uniform of some kind, Amdi? Maybe now you’re a colonel in the Vendacious Bastards Army.”

“Oh, no,” said Amdi. “This is just a super-nice rich-pack thing.” He looked away from himself. “Now we have to decide where to put you two-legged gods.” He wanted Jefri and Ravna to keep apart so the locals would know they were sufficient even as singletons. “Later, when you are together—then they can tremble in fear of you!”

Jefri was nodding, but he looked seriously at Ravna. “Are you up to walking?”

“Yes.” She did not want to get back on a driver’s bench.

“Okay, then. I’ll walk forward with Amdi. Ravna, you stay near the rear of the wagon.”

“Something I can duck behind, eh?” She noticed that he didn’t smile fast enough at her joke. “Why should you take the greater risk?”

“Don’t go Age of Princesses on me, Ravna. It’s … it’s one of your most irritating habits.”

Okay. She
was
the weak one here. In fact, she might need the wagon to steady herself.

When they finally rolled forward, the overcast had lowered to a foggy gloom and it was deep twilight.

They’d set the best-charged lamps to cast long, narrow beams past the three kherhogs pulling the wagon. The exhausted animals were doing their part for the show, making it look as though the wagon held awesomely massive cargo.

The two of Amdi that had no costumes were driving the team. Screwfloss walked at the front, behaving like a bodyguard. He was followed by most of Amdi, his beaded cloaks sparkling in the spotlights. After Amdi’s six came Jefri, not so gaudy, though the lamps did strange interference-fringy things with his clothing. Ravna, no doubt invisible in the glare, walked near the back of the wagon. Everybody but her was a fine target.

Amdi was bumptiously loud now, piping the equivalent of cheerful humming. “Just wanna make sure they don’t start shooting out of surprise.”

“Not much chance of surprise,” said Jefri, looking up into the trees around them. The wide, low-set limbs should be easy to climb, even for Tines. “I’ll bet they’re tracking us with nocked arrows.”

As if to prove the point, something member-sized dropped from a low branch and ran forward around the rightmost of Amdi, and then out in front of Screwfloss. That pack started to give chase, then brought itself back.

The newcomer was Ritl. Maybe it
was
her employer who was lying in ambush.

But the singleton did not keep running. About ten meters beyond Screwfloss, it settled into a sedate promenade and started to blabber on its own. It sounded like doors crashing shut.

“
Powers!
What is that animal doing?” said Jefri.

“I think she’s trying to announce us.” Amdi dithered a moment, stopping the wagon. “She’s playing something like royal pomp, but with her own nonsense lyrics.” On the ground, Amdi spread out a little, and Ravna guessed he was focusing audio on Ritl. The singleton stumbled, and briefly looked back at Amdiranifani. Then the creature executed an indignant flounce and pranced on, its cacophony louder than ever.

The lights on their wagon showed trees thick on both sides of the path, the remaining twilight a dim patch of gray overhead. The sound of the waterfall was clear and loud ahead. They were truly committed. Forcibly retrieving Ritl and starting over was not an option.

Amdi must have concluded the same. The six resumed their walk, while the two on the wagon cautiously eased the kherhogs into the descent. Ravna caught her first glimpse of what Amdi called the “winch station.” It looked like a small ferry mooring—except that it hung from the side of a cliff. Next to it was what seemed to be a large waterwheel, an arc of shadow biting into the river. Their own path led down to a building close by the waterwheel.

“See the arrow slits?” said Jefri, but he wasn’t talking about the view below. He pointed to the side of the road just ahead, to pitch-dark slots cut in a timber barricade. “We didn’t see that this afternoon.”

The wagon’s lights would be blinding to anyone that close. “Amdi,” said Ravna, “dim the lights.” Sometimes, intimidating the other side just got you killed.