The Loafers of Refuge (12 page)

They linked arms and Carey led her to a seat by the fire, where most of Loafertown was gathered. Sitting across the fire was a giant of an Earthman with a neatly trimmed white beard and short white hair, quietly watching the performance. Brian Jacobs had come down out of the mountain at last. A little to one side was Doreen Sheldon, with Timmy at her side. They were holding hands and watching three boys acting out an ancient ritual in a cleared spot by the fire.

“I didn’t know Doreen and Timmy were going together,” whispered Marge in Carey’s ear.

“They’ve always been friends, and the friendship turned into romance when Doreen started studying Controlling,” Carey answered, low-voiced. “It worries me a little. Doreen always goes overboard when her emotions get involved and she forgets Timmy will inherit responsibilities that may limit his freedom of choice.”

The small play reached its climax when one boy walked off on his hands, bringing a tremendous burst of laughter from the audience. It had meant nothing to Marge, but she saw Doreen laughing as heartily as the rest, and Carey was chuckling slightly. She felt a touch of resentment because everyone understood the joke but herself.

Carey gripped her arm a little more tightly, and she turned towards him inquiringly. His eyes were bright in the firelight.
“I just had a thought, Marge. Brian Jacobs is going to return to farming when he finishes training with the Loafers, and he’s looking for a wife. He’s only a little over forty, not nearly as old as he looks. It seems to me that he and Miss Kaymar …”

Marge, startled, considered the notion a moment, then she smiled and patted Carey’s hand. “That’s a wonderful thought. I’ll arrange an introduction tomorrow.”

Tharee appeared and sat down on the other side of Marge. Carey nodded a greeting, then explained to Marge that Tharee would be her interpreter, or sensual projector, for the main act of the evening, which was what he had wanted her to see.

The audience quieted, in breathless anticipation. “We are going to see, and feel, a new dance called ‘Dancing on Air’,” said Carey. “Open your mind to Tharee and I promise you an experience such as you’ve never known.”

Marge felt a moment of wild rebellion. She wanted no one intruding into her mind. But then a soft, warm sense of presence was pressing gently against her resistance, and she yielded and admitted Tharee. Carey’s hand found and pressed her own, and she realized he had sensed her resentment, and known when she acquiesced.

There was movement at the edge of the fire-lit area, a blurred feeling of movement in her own mind, and then a small figure ran gracefully into the centre of the clear area and paused, arms above her head, in a typical dancer’s pose, It was Micka, her slim child’s body devoid of wirtl-cloak or other covering. For a moment only she stood motionless, then swept into a graceful bowing glide that took her to the edge of the firelight, and back again towards the centre in a series of dipping turns that were beauty in motion. And Marge felt the surge of taut muscles in strong young legs, felt the ground moving beneath her bare feet, felt a sense of lightness and freedom such as she had never experienced. She was one with the dancer, enjoying the sensations in her own body, taking pleasure in the controlled, rhythmic movements of her hands and feet. A cool, detached part of her mind realized
what was happening, but she ignored it and concentrated on the enchantment of the moment.

The dance built, grew, approaching a climax that seemed fore-ordained, inevitable, and as natural as breathing. The ground grew light beneath her feet, airy, insubstantial, and then she was off the dirt, dancing on air, her feet a foot from the ground, then two, then a dozen. She felt the heat from the fire, a taste of smoke, the lightness of the heated air rising about her and dissipating into the night, and knew she could join it if she wished, fly to the furthest and highest corners of the sky, dance with the moonbeams as they entered the atmosphere, cavort with abandoned joy among the scudding clouds in the upper winds, leaving all that was earthy and crass far below her flying feet. And then she spun completely around the fire, still many feet above the ground, and came gracefully downward again until she touched earth, paused, let the sensation of gravity overtake her again, bowed, and Marge Anders was sitting in the audience watching a small hairy child running across the firelit ground towards the protective darkness.

She felt Carey’s hand holding her own, felt the quiet presence of Tharee by her side, felt her own plump, strong body again, in all its weight and mass. She watched the tiny form of the Loafer child disappear into shadows, and waited for her heart to break. After a passage of time she was again conscious of the pressure of Carey’s hand on hers, knew that Tharee had risen and moved away, and that the meeting was breaking up. She finally released her hand from Carey’s and rose slowly to her feet, then took his arm again and let him escort her to the buggy. The night was still beautiful and it was a quiet ride home. When she stood before her parents’ door again Marge turned to voice the thanks she had not been able to utter, to question, to commend. But then Carey Sheldon’s strong young arms were around her, she was pulled into a snug proximity with his thick chest, and his lips came seeking and finding her own. And for the second time that night an outsider’s mind probed gently against her natural defences, crumpled them into nothing, and entered and became a part of her own consciousness. The physical kiss
blended with, and became a part of, the larger sensation of sharing minds and emotions, sharing the person that was Carey Sheldon. And this was an experience above and beyond the descriptive ability of words.

It was a very long kiss, and it left her breathless and spent. When their lips finally parted she took a deep, trembling breath, and then Carey turned away and walked swiftly into the darkness. This, too, was as it should be. Words would have only been anti-climactic, and an emotional let-down.

She found her room through misting eyes, and undressed and crawled naked between the sheets, though it was not her custom to sleep that way. She took the pillow from beneath her head and pulled it close in her strong arms, and cried a little. After a time she slept.

Carey Sheldon drove the six miles home in reflective silence. Marge Anders had been pretty wonderful, and the ease with which she had accepted mental projection surprised him. He had felt a definite return of the projection during that pleasure-filled kiss, though probably Marge hadn’t realized what she was doing. Still, it indicated that perhaps Nyyub and the other wise men among the Loafers knew what they were saying in insisting that the power to project was in all humankind, and needed only training and time to bring it forth.

As he was getting into bed he decided to see Marge Anders again, if she would let him, and taste again the sweetness he had briefly felt.

Next morning across the breakfast table Doreen was very quiet and uncommunicative, though twice Carey felt her tentative efforts at projection plucking at his mind. He ignored then, and after a time she said, “Carey, I had a wild idea last night. I want to study and practise controlling just as much as I can between now and initiation time, and if I pass I want to start spending as much time as possible with the breshwahr. There’s so
much
that could be learned there!”

“That’s true, Sis, but wouldn’t it be easier to let the Sweetwater Loafers handle the direct communications, as they usually do, and learn second-hand from them?”

“It might be easier, but it’s not what I want and I don’t
think I’d ever learn as much,” said Doreen. There was a stubborn look, one Carey knew only too well, on her thin features. “Don’t be surprised if your horse is gone a little more often from now on.”

Carey was not surprised. Doreen started spending a part of almost every evening at Loafertown, and all day Sunday. She spent most of her time with Nyyub, but some also with the other elders of the village, and Carey found in later talks with the older men that all were well pleased by her progress. She made one weekend trip to the Upper Sweetwater and spent two days with the Harpers, but her efforts to communicate with the breshwahr only gave her a severe headache. She could feel the presence of the massive minds, could tell distinctly when she was’ approaching the grove and when moving away, but there was no direct communication of
senses-sensations
such as she sometimes experienced with Carey and Timmy.

The trip was an enjoyable break from household chores and the routine of school, nevertheless. She was able to give Sam Harper some help with the book that was swiftly taking shape under his hands, and she enjoyed spoiling the new baby girl, which Cassie permitted with a tolerant smile.

The cool days of autumn fled past in a leaf-strewn breeze. Carey and Timmy were called on twice more to negotiate delicate relationships between the new settlers and the aborigines, and once, with the help of some other young Loafers, to track down and exterminate a flying cat which had stolen a small child from a cabin near Crystal Lake. The child was dead, but they recovered the body and returned it for burial. The cat, Carey noted, had one paw burned off cleanly at the knee joint. Some farmer who was a poor shot had injured it with an arc rifle, turning the woodland carnivore into a mankiller.

The first snow was slow in coming and the rites were delayed accordingly, but the day came when Carey awoke to the patter of snowflakes against his windowpane and knew the time was near. It snowed all day and all next night, the wind growing stronger by the hour, and when the wind died and the snow abated next day the ground had over a foot
coverage. The trees on the northern edge of their property were mantled in a cover of soft silver, and the temperature had dropped well below freezing.

Timmy came that night, and smiled to see the eager expression on the face of Doreen. “Many young people go to the rites in fear and trembling. How comes it that you are so happy?”

“I’m not going to fail,” answered Doreen, and her voice gave Carey pause for thought.

“Sis, I hope you remember to give up trying before you become too weak to find your way home.”

Doreen only smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Carey. Just keep digging at those
psi
studies, and try to spend a little more time with Micka.”

“I’m spending less time with Micka now than with Sanda, her younger brother. He’s only five, and already he’s partially mastered levitation. He can run hard and jump … and go twenty feet!”

“Does he know how he does this?” asked Doreen, interested.

“He hasn’t the slightest idea. He jumps and
tries
, he says, and goes further.”

“He will never need take the rites,” said Timmy soberly. “But you, my thin friend, must do so, and the day is tomorrow.”

“Who’s calling who
thin
?” asked Doreen with a very unladylike snort. “And I’d already guessed it was tomorrow, and I’m ready.”

“Timmy, you are of the same blood as Micka and Sanda. Have you tried levitation, or any of the new accomplishments Micka has shown us?” asked Carey.

“Many times, my friend. Nothing has resulted from my efforts, other than the fact I can both send and receive words from Micka. I think this is because she is as strong in receiving as in sending, not because I send so well.”

“Probably,” said Carey with a grin. “But your children—”

“For them there is hope. But that must wait for another day.” Doreen was gazing out of the window into the piled snow, and Carey had seen Timmy glance at her when they spoke of children.

T
HE DAY OF
trial dawned cool and clear. Carey roused himself early to eat breakfast with Doreen, and advised her to eat as much as she could put down.

Maud came into the kitchen as they were preparing to leave, her worn face troubled. It had been bad enough with strong, reliable Carey. Doreen, for all her independence, did not possess half the capabilities of her brother, and Maud was definitely worried.

“Take good care of yourself, young lady. Carey came back near to skin and bones, and you don’t have the meat to sacrifice that he did.”

“Oh, Mother!” Doreen tossed her long hair in mild exasperation. “There’s nothing to worry about!”

“I certainly hope not,” said Maud, not appeased.

Carey saddled the horses and brought them to the kitchen. They entered Loafertown just as Antares was thrusting its huge bulk over the horizon, the first rays dyeing the snow a violent shade of heliotrope. The other pre-initiates—there were only four this year—were waiting.

Carey rode with her to the group and took her horse’s reins when she dismounted. “Do you want me to stay and take your clothes back?”

Doreen coloured slightly and looked at the ground. “No, I’ll leave them here until I return.”

Carey leaned forward and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then turned his mount and cantered out of the village.

There were two girls and two boys in this group, all four of them friends of hers for years. She had seen them naked more often than clothed, and it was with very little embarrassment
that she shed her clothes in front of them. But she was glad that her brother had gone, and that Timmy was not there. Not that she was especially modest, but a slim form such as hers looked better in clothes.

She had barely stripped when Nyyub appeared, and before Antares had cleared the horizon she was on her way into the woods.

She had better luck than Carey. Within five miles of Loafertown she found a place where a runner had lain while the snow fell, before he left to start his mad run through the woods. She found the interior snug and dry, the thick brush holding back most of the snow. Unless it warmed enough for a thaw she would be safe.

She crawled as deeply into the dead brush as her slim form permitted, then pulled frozen branches and snow down over the entrance until it was completely sealed. When the narrow tunnel was silent, even the small noises of the forest locked out, she curled into her wirtl-cloak and went to sleep.

Carey led Doreen’s horse home in thoughtful silence. It was true that she had made very good progress for a preinitiate, but her limitless confidence worried him. She did not seem to realize this trial could result in her death.