The Many-Coloured Land - 1 (47 page)

They plodded along, making almost no sound on the path that wound beneath the sheltering trees. The long canyon had many Uttle dead-end tributaries from which the numerous springs debouched. Most of the cottages had been built close to these natural water supplies. There were some thirty homes altogether, in which dwelt the eighty-five human beings who made up the largest Lowlife settlement in the known Pliocene world.

The four men crossed a rill on stepping-stones and headed up one of the rocky clefts to where a distinctive little house stood under a huge pine. The cottage was not built like the others of prosaic logs or wattle and daub, but of neatly mortared stone, washed white with lime and reinforced with dark half-timbering. It was eerily evocative of a certain elder-world dwelling in the hills above Lyon. Madame's rose cuttings, nourished by the manure of mastodons, had burgeoned into rampant climbers that all but smothered the thatched roof in blossoms. The night air was heavy with their perfume.

The men came up the path, then halted. Standing in their way was a tiny animal. Stiff-legged, its oversized eyes gleaming, it growled.

"Hey, Deej!" Burke laughed. "It's just us, pupikeh. Friends!"

The little cat growled louder, the low nimble moving up the scale to become a threatening howl. It stood its ground.

Chief Burke put down his burden and knelt with one hand outstretched. Khalid Khan stepped behind Sigmund, a memory and a terrible suspicion crowding to the fore of his mind. A memory of a rainy night inside a Tree when the cat had growled like this before. A suspicion of a valued companion who had been too good a woodsman to be surprised by the relatively sluggish attack of a giant salamander . . .

Khalid slipped open the mouth of his sack just as the cottage door swung wide to show Amerie's veiled figure silhouetted against dim lamplight.

"Dejah?" the nun called, rattling her rosary beads in what was evidently some signal. She caught sight of the men. "Oh, it's you, Chief. And Khalid! You're back! But what..."

The turbaned metalsmith seized the hair of the one they had called Sigmund. With his other hand he pressed something gray and hard against the man's throat.

"Do not move, soor kabaj, or you are dead, even as your brother before you."

Amerie screamed and Uwe uttered an obscenity, for Khalid was suddenly struggling with a gorgon. Instead of hair, the Pakistani clutched writhing little vipers growing from Sigmund's scalp. These struck, sinking tiny fangs into flesh that puffed up, throbbed, as quasidcadly venom flooded the blood vessels and went racing toward Khalid's heart.

"Stop, I say!" roared the anguished smith. Involuntarily, his right arm tightened, driving the dull point of the iron lance-blank into the soft hollow below the monster's voicebox.

The thing emitted a gurgling squeal and went limp. Khalid sprang away from the falling body, dropping the iron. It hit the earth with a dull thud and came to rest close beside the dead shape-changer. Amerie and the three men stared down at the creature, which could have weighed no more than twenty or thirty kilos. Flattened little dugs identified it as a female. Its bald cranium was monstrously compressed just above the eyes and elongated backward into a triangular bony collar. It had a mere hole for a nose and a massive lower jaw with loose, peg-like teeth. The body was almost globular, the limbs spiderishly thin, with the left forepaw missing.

"It's not... a Firvulag," Amerie managed to say.

"A Howler," Burke told her. "Some biologists believe they're a Firvulag mutation. Each one is supposed to have a different true shape. All hideous."

"You see what she was trying to do, don't you?" Khalid's voice was shaking from reaction and chagrin. He felt his left hand, which was now completely normal. "She saw us kill her mate with iron, and had to find out what the new weapon was. So she must have crept up on Sigmund as he marched at the end of the line and . . . she took his place. Cut off her hand so she wouldn't have to carry the iron."

"But they've never masqueraded as humans!" Uwe exclaimed. "What could have been its motive?"

"Look at her, dressed in rags," Amerie said. She knelt down in the light from the doorway to examine the goblin body. One of the Howler's crude skin boots had dropped off in the struggle, exposing a humanoid foot, miniaturized but as perfectly formed as that of a child. There was a pathetic blister at the heel; evidently the little being had had to hurry to keep pace with the faster humans.

The nun replaced the boot, straightened the pipestem legs, closed the glazed eyes. "She was very poor. Perhaps she hoped to discover information valuable enough to sell."

"To the normal Firvulag?" Burke suggested.

"Or to the Tanu." The nun got up and dusted the front of her white habit.

Khalid said, "There might be others. Others who watched us at the smeltery. If this one could change to human shape, how will we ever be sure..."

Burke picked up the iron blade, grasped the metalsmith's arm, and drew the rough lancehead across the skin. A few drops of dark blood sprang from the abrasion. "You're real enough, anyhow. I'll go test the rest of the crew right away. Later, we'll work out something a little less crude. Pinprick, maybe."

He limped away toward the bathhouse. Uwe and Khalid hauled the precious bags of iron into the rose-covered cottage, then returned to where Amerie stood over the body. She held the cat, which was still gently growling.

"What shall we do with her, Sister?" Khalid inquired.

Amerie sighed. "I have a large basket. Perhaps you can put her in the springhouse for me. I'm afraid I'll have to dissect her tomorrow."

As the Steering Committee watted for Chief Burke to return to the cottage, the Victualer in Chief offered samples of a new beverage. "We took some of that lousy raw wine of Perkin's and steeped this little forest wildflower in it" Everybody sipped. Amerie said, 'That's nice, Marialena." Uwe said something in German under his breath. "You know what you've done, woman? You've reinvented Mai-wein!" "That's it! That's it!" Old Man Kawai piped. He was only eighty-six; but since he had declined rejuvenation on a matter of principle, he resembled an unwrapped Oriental mummy. "Most refreshing, my dear. Now if we can only produce a decent sake . . ."

The cottage door opened and Peopeo Moxmox Burke stooped to enter. The other committee members sat stark still until the red man gave a nod. "They were all kosher. I tested not only the smelters, but all the rest of the folks in the bathhouse as well."

"Thank heaven," said the Architect in Chief. "What a thought, shape-changers infiltrating our people!" He wagged his neatly trimmed muttonchops, managing to look like an accountant who had discovered that a valued client was cooking the books.

"Neither Firvulag nor Howlers had any reason to try this trick before," the Chief warned. "But now, with the attack coming up and the iron as a maybe not-so-secret weapon, we're going to have to be alert for other attempts. When the volunteers start arriving, every single one must be tested. And we'll test all participants before every important meeting or briefing."

"My responsibility," said Uwe, who was Hunting and Public Safety. "Whip me up some needles, Khalid?"

"As soon as I can get the forge hot tomorrow."

The Chief took his place with the other seven committee members around the table.

"All right, let's get this over as quickly as possible so Khalid can get some rest. As Deputy Freeloader, I call this meeting of the Steering Committee to order. Old business. Structures. Let's have it, Philemon."

"The huts at the Rhine staging area have been completed," said the architect. "Everything is ready there except the main shelter pavilion. The boys will have our Hidden Springs visitor dorm ready in another two or three days."

"Good," said the Chief. "Public Works. Vanda-Jo."

A taffy-haired woman with the face of a madonna and the voice of a drill sergeant spoke up. "We've finished the masked trail from here to the staging area. A hundred and six bloody kilometers, invisible from the air. Corduroyed the last two kloms through the swamp, and that wasn't a bitch! Still putting up the thorn boma around the staging camp to keep most of the critters out and the recruits in."

"How about the launching ramps?"

"Decided on pontoons. Inflated skins and boarding. Put 'em up at the last minute. Pegleg and his lads are contributing the skins."

"Good. Hunting and Public Safety."

"Nothing much new from me," Uwe said. "Most of my people are working with Vanda-Jo or Phil. I've liaised with the commissary at High Vrazel to help with quantities of game and staples when the extra bods start arriving. And we've set up a procedure for processing new arrivals here at Hidden Springs before sending them to the river."

"Sounds okay. Domestics."

Old Man Kawai pursed his scored lips. "There is no way we can come up with more than a hundred boiled-leather hard hats and chest guards by D-Day. You know how long it takes to shape and dry that stuff, even with the forms filled with hot sand. The volunteers are just going to have to go mostly bare-ass unless you want our people deprived. Do shimasho? I've done my best, but I'm no miracle man."

"The shortage can't be helped," Burke said soothingly. "How about the camouflage nets?"

"We'll be putting the big one in position tomorrow, just in case they get back early with the exotic flyer." The wizened ancient threw an anxious glance at the Chief. "Do you really, think they've got a chance, Peo?"

"Not much of one," Burke admitted "But we won't give up hope until the last hour before the Truce .. . Human Services."

"Linen bandages ready," Amerie said. "We're assembling stores of oil and alcohol and all of the AB we can scrape up. Fifteen fighters have been rough-trained as front-line medics." She paused, her face furrowed with determination. "I want you to change your mind about having me accompany the fighters, Peo. For the love of God, when will they need me more than in a battle?"

The Native American shook his head. "You're the only doctor we have. Probably the only one in the Lowlife world. We can't have you at risk. There's the future to think about If we do liberate Finiah, we may be able to de-torc other medical people. If we fail and the troops come across the Rhine to our staging area ... it may be a long time until the next war. Our fighters will tend their own injuries. You stay here."

The nun sighed.

"Industry," said Burke.

"We brought back two hundred and twenty kilos of iron," Khalid said. "Four of our men died. We have enough experienced people left to begin final work on the weapons as soon as we get some sleep."

There were somber congratulations all around.

"Provisioning."

"We've enough stored here to feed five hundred people for two weeks," Marialena said. "That does not include the five tons of instant rations we'll distribute to fighters going down to camp. You don't want any cooking going on down by the Rhine where the Tanu might spot the smoke." She pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her pink and yellow gown and mopped her ample brow. "Those poor souls are going to curse pemmican and parched bulrush roots before this thing is over."

"If that's all they curse," Burke said, "they'll be lucky. All right, that leaves my report Warlord in Chief. I've received word from Pallol, the Firvulag generalissimo, that his forces will hold themselves combat-ready for the last three days in September. Under optimal circumstances we'll mount the attack before dawn on the twenty-ninth, which will give us nearly two full fighting days before the Truce officially begins on October first at sunrise. After that, we humans'll be on our own, and Finiah better be ready for mop-up. I'll have more details on plans of attack at the war council later. Okay? Now, new business. We'll consider the matter of the Howler spy as already introduced and sent to Public Safety for action."

"The final preparation of the iron weapons," Khalid said. "My men will soundproof one of the vented caves and turn it into a smithy, I'll need some help from Phil's people."

"More new business?"

"We will need more alcoholic drink," Marialena said. "Mead or beer from the Firvulag. I can't have the volunteers swilling our young wines."

Burke chuckled. "Perish the thought. Uwe, will you sound out the High Vrazel people on that?"

"Check."

"Any more new business? "

Amerie hesitated. "Perhaps it's too soon to bring this up. But there is the matter of the second phase of Madame's plan."

"Hai!" cried Old Man Kawai. "If Finiah is a success, Madame will want to send others south immediately!"

Philemon was uneasy. "We'll do well to accomplish even a small part of the first phase of Madame's plan, much less the other two. I say, leave this to Madame to work out when she returns. It's her scheme. Perhaps she and that wild little person, Felice, will have worked something out."

"Caracoles," grumbled Marialena. "I must consider the later phases, even if the rest of you shirk your responsibility. If our people must go south without proper provisions, it is I who receive the cowchip bouquet! Ahhh, I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, querida," the Chief said peaceably. "I'll talk with you tomorrow about a possible division of rations. But I think that's the best we can do for now on Phase Two or Three planning. There are too many unknown factors...."

"Such as who will survive Finiah!" wailed Old Man Kawai. "Or, if we even mount the Finiah attack in the first place!"

Vanda-Jo slapped one hand on the table. "Tails up! No defeatism allowed! We've going to hit those high-pocket bastards like they've never been hit before. And, Khalid, I've got dibbies on one iron arrowhead, if you please. There's a certain Tanu stud on the other side of the Rhine whose ass belongs to me."

"If you're sure that one will do it," the metalsmith laughed.

"Order," Burke muttered. "Chair will entertain a motion to table strategy planning for the Grand Combat."

"So move," said Amerie. It was quickly affirmed and seconded.

"Any more new business?" the Chief asked. Silence.

"Move adjournment," said Old Man Kawai. "Past my bedtime."