What is it with you, anyway? The Nuum, the Time Police, the klurath, the Zilbiri… nobody seems to be able to make up his mind whether he wants to kill you or elect you president. The only people who ever treated you right straight from the beginning were mine. You were the first human ever to get inside Tehana Mountain, and you were sick and could’ve killed everybody with that virus. But we took you in anyway… Sounds like apes should be running the planet, not humans.
Eventually, someone wiser and more mature than the rest (ahem), persuaded the Zilbiri that they should let Sanja make her own decisions about whom she wanted to talk to and who she didn’t. It didn’t hurt that I reminded them that if we left without seeing her and she got mad about it, somebody was going to be in for a lot of pain. That shook them into shape quick, and we got directions.
Of course, when I say “directions,” that’s not exactly what we got. Because this is the desert, and it’s not exactly marked off in streets and boulevards. Sanja had led some hunters out two days before, last seen heading west. Whether they’d continued going west, well, nobody knew. For all anybody could say, they’d been eaten by sandclaws on the far side on the first dune. In fact, that’s what they did say. They seemed to think it was pretty likely—and funny.
I hate the desert.
It took us most of the night to find them, which was fine by me, because I spent the whole time washing sand out of my fur with a sonic wand. I had so much static built up I looked like two of me. We were lucky, too, because they’d continued west in a straight line. It was amazing how much ground they’d covered. Those weird birds of theirs can run.
“That’s got to be them,” Skull said, pointing at the holoimage. We’d picked them up with our sensors miles away: five humans and assorted animals traveling together.
“But we can’t be sure,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if we come swooping down on them in the middle of the night, they’re not going to be able to tell who we are—and if I know Sanja, she’s liable to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Not to mention it might not be her. It’s almost dawn,” Zachary Kyle said. “Why don’t we just wait until the sun comes up and everybody can see?”
Smarter to wait until daylight. That was what we agreed. And it was a good plan.
Until the screaming started.
Sound carries really far in the desert, especially at night. We were floating about half a mile away, a thousand feet up. We were trying not to look threatening. They could have seen our outline against the stars if they looked in our direction, but since they hadn’t given any sign that they had, we figured they were probably asleep. So when somebody started screaming, we figured they were being attacked. Right?
We swooped in until we were right next to them, not more than a hundred feet up. Now it wasn’t so much screaming as a screaming, snarling, mess. Sensors said there was something alongside the camp now, something that hadn’t been there before, something bigger than a man or a riding-bird. I started having nightmares about you on the plains outside Xattaña all over again, and Skull was thinking the same thing. He shut off the force field, everybody grabbed weapons, and we ran to the railing. Then Skull made his first mistake. He ordered the ship’s spotlights turned on full.
In the middle of the night in the middle of the desert. That’s when the people below really started screaming.
You would, too, if you’d just been blinded by spotlights when you were trying to take down a twelve-foot sand spider. I thought tiger spiders were scary…
The hunters all threw their arms over their faces to protect their eyes, but it was way too late. Their birds were screeching and trying to backtrack away from the light, which fortunately meant they were also retreating from the spider, because whether it cared about the light, it was making for one of the hunters as fast as its ten legs would carry it. I swear I could it hear it laughing.
And then twenty laser beams cut it into forty pieces.
We kept firing until the sand started to turn to glass, and Skull wouldn’t even send a landing party until we’d scanned everything with ten square miles and we were sure there weren’t any more spiders around. Then he was on the first gravsled down. I was right with him, but I should’ve stayed on the ship. I could’ve watched what happened just as well from there, and it would have been safer.
The Zilbiri had one hand over their faces shielding them from the spotlights, but their other hands had nasty-looking lances pointing in our direction. As they heard us approach they dropped their arms and tried to see who we were through blinking eyes. We still couldn’t tell who was who because their hoods were held close to their faces.
That was when Skull made his second mistake. He opened his mouth.
“Sanja? Are you here?”
“Skull?” the foremost hunter asked. She dropped her lance. “Is that you? Where are you? It’s hard to see.”
“I’m right here,” Skull said, running up to her. “The spider’s dea—”
That was when she decked him.
Chapter 20
My Ally, My Adversary
Skull spun a little before he fell to the sand, out cold.
“You idiot!” Sanja screamed at his limp body. I thought she was going to kick him. Then she turned her attention on the rest of us. “What the hells were you… Timash?”
I tried to smile like nothing was wrong; it probably came out more bloodthirsty than disarming.
“Hi, Sanja. Long time no see.” At the word “see,” I got my wits about me and shouted upstairs to have most of the spotlights turned off. I could sense Sanja relaxing right away.
“Thanks. That’s better.” She turned to her men and gave them some instructions and they started picking over the sand spider’s carcass, pushing bits of it about with their lances. Sanja shook her head. “Probably isn’t a damned thing left that we can use.”
“You were hunting this thing?”
“Of course we were hunting it! How do you think—” She broke off. “Sorry. It’s not your fault.” She nudged Skull with her toe and he groaned. “It’s his. He just cost us a small fortune, and I’ve half a mind to stake him out and see if we can catch ourselves another one. But it’s probably too close to sunrise.”
She poked Skull but the butt end of her lance. “Wake up, beautiful! You go to sleep in the sand, you wake up having breakfast with a sandclaw! Except he’s the only one eating breakfast.”
I think Skull was already awake, but he didn’t want to get up to find out why Sanja was so mad. I didn’t blame him. But the bit about the sandclaw seemed to motivate him.
“Why’d you hit me?” he demanded, brushing sand out of his hair. I rolled my eyes. I’d never seen a bigger glutton for punishment. Well, maybe one.
“It took us two days to get far enough out to find a sand spider,” Sanja explained. “Remember when I told you how Keryl and I killed that sandclaw, and how much money we made when we sold the venom? Well, sand spider venom isn’t worth as much as a pharmaceutical, but it’s a lot rarer. Between that and the sandclaw venom, we could’ve bought ourselves a few machines that would make it easier to live out here. What with the black market prices and having to hide the machines from the Nuum, we don’t get many chances at that.” She pointed at the multi-sectioned spider. “How much venom do you think we’re going to find in that?”
Skull had the grace to look ashamed. Poor guy. He came all the way out here just to see Sanja, and maybe convince her to come with us, and now he’d blown his chances sky-high. He didn’t even know what to say. If he apologized, she was likely to explode on him again, maybe even sock him. If he didn’t apologize and tried to explain what we were doing there, the last thing she’d want to do was go with us.
I sighed. I remembered what it had been like with Maire after Keryl disappeared and nobody had any idea where he’d gone or how to find him. It had taken me a long time to find the right words that would calm her down, even for a litt
le while. But Skull had never learned that, and he didn’t exactly have the time now.
“Sanja,” I said as gently as I could to take her focus away from her helpless target, “Keryl needs us.”
Her head whipped around. “What is it?” she snapped. “Where is he?” She let out a whistle. “Pack up what you can! We’re leaving!” The four Zilbiri jumped. Even in the dim light, I could see that Skull was impressed.
“It’s kind of a Keryl thing, if you know what I mean. We can’t talk about here.” I looked at the tribesmen, who had already struck their tents. In a couple of minutes you wouldn’t know they’d ever been there. “And we haven’t really got much time. Can your friends get back to camp by themselves?”
Sanja gave me a withering look.
“I mean—is it all right if you leave them here? It won’t cause you any trouble?”
She looked back over her shoulder. “Eh, Sonoth! Did we get any venom?”
One of the men held up a small bag. “Aye! Not as much as we thought, but…”
“Take my share,” she called to him. Then to me: “They’ll be fine.”
“In that case,” I said, “I guess you’d better ask the captain for permission to board his ship.”
Sanja turned an unsmiling face on Skull, who wisely said nothing, but just stepped aside so she could climb onto the gravsled.
I let out a mental sigh. Thank gods that’s over…
When will I learn to stop being such an optimist?
I had honestly forgotten all about Zachary Kyle until we all went into the captain’s cabin, where he’d been keeping himself out of sight. I know Skull trusts his crew, but I also know that he doesn’t tell them everything—mainly everything to do with Keryl and where he comes from. He had let them think Kyle was somebody he was smuggling past the Nuum—and that was absolutely correct, as far as it went. So keeping Kyle tucked away seemed the wise thing to do, and under the circumstances it hadn’t given rise to any uncomfortable and dangerous questions. Until now.
Sanja had made no bones about still being mad at Skull, to the extent that she’d made far more noise clomping around on deck than she had to. Sanja had spent plenty of time on The Dark Lady, and she moved lightly in any surroundings. So she meant for the crew to notice when her boots hit the deck like bricks dropped on it, just like she wanted them to notice when she gave Skull another one of her black looks. She and Skull had been quite an item the last time she’d been aboard, so news of this new development sped around the ship faster than we could reach his cabin—just as Sanja intended.
Then she saw Kyle. Now, I’m not human, so what they find attractive is kind of speculation on my part, but I’ve been around them for a long time and my theories on the subject are pretty solid. Not to mention that I’d heard from more than one crewman when Skull was busy elsewhere that Sanja was considered to be “quite a runner,” as they liked to say. And as for Kyle, well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was bigger than any Thoran, and while I couldn’t really judge his looks, the expression on Sanja’s face told me all I needed to know on that score.
Skull saw her expression too. I closed my eyes. This kind of trouble we didn’t need.
“We haven’t met,” Sanja said, walking up to Kyle and holding out her hand. “I’m Sanja Drusine. And you are—oh! He’s like Keryl,” she said slowly. “His mind—there’s nothing there.”
He smiled. “There used to be. Something must have swept it all away.”
She smiled back.
Oh, gods. We are in so much trouble…
Chapter 21
The Unknown Past
Awakening from forced unconsciousness has become an unfortunate staple of my life. I have lost count of the number of times I have been shot, beaten, felled by a telepathic attack, or nearly trampled by a dinosaur.
No matter how often it happens, I have never really gotten used to it.
On the other hand, as what one might called a “coerced connoisseur” of the art of being rendered hors de combat, I have formed a few opinions as to the relative merits of returning to one’s senses. In short, how one regains consciousness has a marked effect on how one views the entire procedure; while it is never pleasant, waking up in a comfortable bed is far more conducive to ultimately forgiving one’s attacker than coming to on a straw-strewn dungeon floor. It is also preferable to find oneself among friends to being alone.
I awoke this time on a wide, not-uncomfortable bed. I quickly ascertained that Maire was next to me, still suffering from the effects of whatever had hit us, but breathing regularly, which eased my mind considerably. I also found that there was a pitcher filled with water next to the bed, and two smaller empty containers. I would not call them “glasses” because they were not made of glass, nor any rigid material which might have been used to aid in an escape.
I say “escape,” because the next thing I noticed was that our bed sat on the straw-strewn floor of a dungeon.
Perhaps “dungeon” was too pejorative a term, but certainly it was a secure chamber for holding prisoners, being without windows and only one solid door, featuring the classic barred window. I had noted when I first fell into Nuum custody, twenty years ago, that they seemed to favor a medieval flavor in their incarcerations, and this one did nothing to dissuade me from that opinion. It was not, however, excessively dank, nor did I detect the skittering of rats or other small but vicious creatures, which I counted as a positive note. And there was, after all, the bed.
Finding my throat dry, I drank some water; if our captors had meant to drug or poison us, they had had us at their mercy for an undetermined length of time already. I gently shook Maire awake, holding a container ready for her.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked me telepathically. While it is possible to track a purely mental conversation, it is not as easy as simply installing a listening device. Moreover, as lovers Maire and I shared a link more direct and private than simple thought transference between friends. Any communication can be intercepted, but eavesdropping on us would require a great deal of energy. Scanning our minds directly would be even more difficult; Maire has very strong mental shields, and as far as I can determine, reading my mind is impossible. As long as we were careful, therefore, we should not be overheard.
“Only a few moments,” I said.
Our cell door opened without fanfare and the chubby Nuum himself stood there, beaming down as us where we sat. I tensed, and Maire also, but both us knew better than to move rashly. He smiled more widely.
“I knew I had not underestimated you, Mr. Clee. A true savage would have pounced as soon as he saw me, but you are no savage, no matter your origins. You are intelligent enough to guess what is behind me.” He moved forward a step, enough for us to see his guards.
I frowned, and Maire gasped. The guards were Thorans, without a doubt, shorter than I and featuring the soft caramel skin that characterized humanity’s mixture of races after all these millennia. Unlike the retiring and deferential men and women I was used to, however, these Thorans stood tall and proud, allowing no man their better. These Thorans had never known the Nuum whip on their backs.
And they held weapons.
“How far back did you bring us?” I demanded.
The man laughed out loud, a delighted sound.
“Oh,” he managed at last. “This is going to be so much easier than I feared. Please, get up, we have a lot to talk about.” He waved us to our feet and stepped to the side. “Please, you go first. My men will lead the way. And my name is Res, by the way. Tofan Res. Doctor Tofan Res, if you want to be formal. But we can get better acquainted over dinner.”
It has often been my observation that some human customs and (and many human tendencies) remain steadfast without regard to the passing of the eons. One such was the evening meal, doubtless necessitated by the simple fact that people will always need to eat. More surprising, however, is the persistence of the custom of communal eating around a large table. It is so universa
l that I felt no disorientation at all in sitting down with my host and my wife.
Tofan Res sat at the end of the table, a woman standing behind him to his left. She was taller than average, certainly taller than Maire. I knew her immediately: She was the woman I had seen on the Procyon! She regarded us solemnly, her gaze akin to that of a zoologist watching animals under her study, giving no sign that she recognized us. There was something exotic about her, something of another time.
Since neither Tofan Res nor Maire seemed to take any particular notice of her, I tried not to stare. But she refused to give me the same courtesy, and I was left to try uneasily to ignore her attention.
I attempted to divert myself by focusing on another mystery: the complete lack of anything to eat.
“Are we early?” I asked. I could see that Maire was no less curious. Well-to-do Nuum had servants to bring their meals—Thoran servants, of course. Even “ordinary” Nuum had at least one. While I had stayed at Maire’s house in Crystalle, she had employed several, although her treatment of them contrasted favorably with that which I had observed in other homes. But here there were no servants, and I would never make the mistake of believing that the woman behind our host fell into that category.
“Not at all,” Tofan Res assured me. He closed his eyes for a moment, and suddenly a complete meal appeared on plates out of thin air before him, including two different beverages in stemmed cups so cold I could see the condensation running down their sides! “Just think of what you want, and you may have it.”
I was agog at this unprecedented parlor trick, but Maire was frankly stunned. I had never seen the total shock on her face as I saw now, her eyes never wavering from the food as though she feared it was a mirage.
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