by Jo Clayton
“Of course. Simply stowed, or do you wish Tzgatri to comment?”
“Comments would be more than welcome, along with any data you have on Bol Mutiar. And she might check the flakes for sneaky hitchhikers. Hm. And my other gear, too. For the same thing.”
“Understood.”
She stepped onto the skimmer flat beside the mobile and hummed through melting mutating interior space until walls stabilized about her and she was standing in a pleasant, ordinary room, much like her apartment on University.
“Your gear has been put away. Doll will be your serviteur. If any questions occur, she will have the answers for you. You are free of all areas of the ship except for the Archira’s quarters.” Abra bowed with liquid grace and was gone.
The last time she’d seen Tigatri’s prime mobile, he’d looked rather like Grey. That was gone. Now he might have been a twin to Swarda if he’d had anything resembling flesh.
That startled, her, and when she thought about it a little, depressed her, because it told her more than she wanted to know about the way things were going between Aleytys and Grey. 71gatri was sensitive to Aleytys’ moods because her kephalos was configured to be in part amp;duplicate of Lee’s mind/brain and it was that which took care of Abra’s appearance. It wasn’t a good sign to see Aleytys wiping Grey away so completely and retreating, symbolically at least, to the days before she settled on Wolff, when she still had that drive to ’find her mother and a place where she could fit in.
“Doll, what’s the estimated travel time to Bol Mutiar?”
“Four days, nine hours.” Doll was a small, delicate mobile with huge eyes and daintily pointed ears. She was a remnant from the time when Aleytys’ old enemy Kell had owned this ship, an image dredged up from who knew what corner of that Vryhh’s twisted psyche. Her only changes were interior; she no longer cringed when you spoke to her but grinned like a happy child. How much of that was illusion born of programming, how much a result of the Al Doll shared with the ship, was something Shadith didn’t know and didn’t worry about.
“Tell me what Tigatri knows about the tung organism on Bol Mutiar.”
“The organism is indeed a collective awareness, its intelligence unmeasurable but probably not much above the higher animals. It is rather more complex than you assumed; that which exists within the tung akar produces toxins which slow the rate of reproduction to tolerable levels within the bodies of the hosts as long as the host is in contact with the totality. Remove the host from such contact and the organism will reproduce in such numbers that it will eat the body. One must spend more than a day or two on the surface for the organism to invade all the cells of the body, which is why the Archira only discovered the fragments cysted and dormant in you, Shadow. There is a single exception to that. If a host is attacked or seriously threatened by a nonhost, the collective awareness reacts to protect the host by a massive invasion of the attacker’s body. This counterstroke is usually fatal.”
“Would it count an attempt to remove a host from the surface as a threat?”
“Yes.”
“How quickly would it strike?”
“The moment it felt the loss. As a speculation, this might occur at some arbitrary location within the atmosphere, perhaps that point where the density of the ambient organisms approaches nil.”
“Vindictive little merds. Kill the hosts to get the attacker.”
“As I said, it is not a particularly intelligent organism.”
“Hm. Might be possible to construct a warning device with a bit of Lylunda’s blood in it. When the organism begins its explosive growth pattern…”
“Yes. That would be possible. I would suggest a more sensitive warning device already exists in your empathic response. It seems quite likely that you will sense its agitation before the multiplication actually begins.”
“Maybe so, but it never hurts to have a backup, so if you’d construct such a device and have it ready for charging with the blood…”
“I’ll do that.”
“And work on a plan that will let us take Lylunda offworld without getting ourselves killed in the process. I’m thinking this is going to be very complicated.”
“Yes, I will do that.”
Shadith sighed. “And I hope you’ll come up with something better than the mishmash I’ve been churning out. Take me to the garden, I’ve got a song starting in my head and it wants to come out.”
6
Aleytys drifted into the garden space, lowered herself onto a boulder, and sat with her feet in the running stream.
Shadith looked at the words she’d just written, sighed and slashed a line through them, the black ink from the stylo canceling out another failed attempt. She set the pad down, let the stylo click home in its magnetic holder. “Lee.”
“Sorry if I’m interrupting.”
“Wasn’t getting anywhere anyway. Figured out how we’re going to do this?”
“Tigatri’s been reconfiguring a lander. She’s set up a cleanroom where the air can be changed every few minutes, dumped outside the ship, with fields around it to block anything getting back in. We go down, you identify Lylunda for me, we get her into that room and head for changeover fast as we can punch it. Abra blows all air in the lander except for what’s in the room with us. With the air exchange going, I clean-out Lylunda, probably you, too, this time, myself as needed. We should be flushed sufficiently clear by the time we reach-Tigatri. To be sure of this, Abra will scan Lylunda on the way up, get some subcellular mugshots of the organism and Tigatri will run a full scan on the lander, do another clean on it before she lets us onboard. Then we do a quick jump to one of the outer planets in the system, link with Harskari and Loguisse and head for the destination Lylunda gives us. Might be a good idea not to let her know about Harskari and your plans for the arrays. What she-doesn’t know, she can’t babble,”
“Hm.” Shadith felt uneasy. Silence shouted questions she didn’t want to ask, but every subject she thought about bringing up seemed worse than silence.
“Did you ask Harskari about Storsten as a new home for the arrays?”
“Not yet. Let’s leave that until we’ve pulled Lylunda out”
“All right.”
“You’re sure about quitting Digby?”
“I’m sure. I managed to keep faith with myself and him last time, but it was a shaky peace I made. And this one? This is really a simple job. He said that and it’s true. In a little while I’ll have the answer he needs to collect his fee. I need to be able to do that, Lee.” She sighed. “But the Taalav aren’t beasts. They’re people. They make songs. And I like them. I suppose that shouldn’t make a difference, but it does.”
“Would you do as much for them if they were little horrors?”
“I like to think I would, but who knows.” Shadith rolled onto her back, laced her fingers over her ribs and stared up at the blue shimmer meant to represent sky. “With you and Harskari helping me, there’s half a chance I can pull this one out. The next, though… “ She sighed. “It’s better if there is no next. Hmp, University is all right for a while, but too confining over time. Music’s necessary but not enough. And in a year or two, I’m going to need a way to make enough money to keep my ship going: My agent on Helvetia is doing fairly well with the coin I left with him, but I can’t live on the income for long. Swarda’s found his niche and he’s happy with it. Why can’t I?”
“Is that a real question?”
“I suppose not.” She turned her head. “Lee, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing until Lilai leaves for University. Another nine years. Maybe ten. Depends on how she matures after she passes puberty. Grey will be living in his house, she’ll move between the two of us.”
“Has she inherited the Vryhh long life?”
“Harskari’s been after me to have cell studies made. I’ve put it off. I don’t really want to know. Easier on all three of us if I don’t. He asks me that, you know. Every year or so. She’s his daughter, too; I w
ant him to love her, not resent her. And I won’t lie to him. So, no tests until Lilai herself does the asking.”
“What about Talents?”
“Early days for that. Took me a while to grow into mine, you know. Right now, all she wants is horses. Hm. I just had a disturbing thought. What if Lylunda Elang decides she doesn’t need to keep her bargain?”
“Hah! That’s a cheerful one. I don’t like using it because it’s so apt to do more damage than you expect, but I’ll pump her full of babble and pry the answer out of her.”
“I was wondering…”
“Whether all this fussing about morality means I’ll dither about, resplitting split hairs?”
“Something like that.”
“No. That comes under not-nice but not-fatal and it’ll get the job done.”
“Hinnumn…” Aleytys moved her feet in the little stream, lifting them at intervals so drops of water cascaded musically from her heels into the rush of the current. The minutes slid past in a deepening silence.
On the other bank of the stream Shadith lay watching the blue of the pseudo sky and the small creatures flying about in it. Two of them looked like tiny green and gold dragons and were swooping in interlocked figure eights. Others were small bright birds, silver and blue and crimson and a dark metallic green, with trailing silky tail feathers and elaborate crests. There were soft brown moths that sang more sweetly than any bird. Around her in the grass and the ferns that grew under the trees she heard small rustles, sometimes saw red-brown squirrels run up a crackled trunk.
The whisper of the stream and the tink tink tink of the drips falling from Aleytys’ feet crept into Shadith’s bones and soothed away the worry and uncertainty.
After a while she slept.
17. Waiting
1
Lylunda looked up as one of the village girls came into the house. “He’s worn out. He should sleep for a good while now. What’s your name?”
“Delala, Drummer.” She came across the room, her bare feet silent on the mat. “He looks like just a boy.”
“Don’t let that fool you, Delala. He’s clever and rather dangerous.” Lylunda stood. “Get him into the Bond as soon as you can.”
“Oh, we’ll do that in any case.”
“Omel oma, I leave him in your care. There’s Lung stew simmering on the-stove. Soon as he stirs, get some more of it down him. I’ll look in again before the beronta leaves.”
Lylunda left the guest house and walked down to the beach where the flikit sat like a metallic cricket, already starting to corrode. Tudil was waiting for her, standing beside a small sailing canoe pulled up on the sand.
She waved to him. “See you at the edge of the Deep,” she called.
He laughed. “Edge of the Deep.” He pulled the canoe out into the water, swung himself inside with the liquid ease that still amazed her. After he got the sail up, he went running straight out to sea, the canoe bobbing up and down like a rubber toy as it lifted and fell with the waves.
Lylunda waited until all she could see was the tip of the mast, then she climbed into the flikit. “You or me, Worm,” she said as she took it up. “With this out of the way,” she patted the arm of the pilot’s chair, “by the time you can get back to your ship, you won’t want to. And I’ll be gone. One way or another, I’ll be gone.”
She caught up with the canoe, slowed down and drifted along ahead of it until Tudil dropped sail, tossed a sea anchor overside, and turned into the wind. Blessing Worm’s habit of keeping his tools meticulously maintained, she clipped the lift harness around her, took the flikit spiraling up until she thought she was high enough. She disabled the altitude interlock, started the flikit racing down a long slant toward the surface of the water, a slant pointed away from Tudil and the canoe. A moment later, she ejected and went tumbling away from the machine.
The lift harness was set to Worm’s weight. He was thin and short, without a lot of muscle mass, so her heavier body plunged swiftly enough to put a lump in her throat, but it let her reach the water before the flikit did. The flotation bubbles deployed and she began kicking toward the canoe.
The flikit hit as Tudil reached for her. He got her inside, made her crouch beside the mast. “Hang onto that, we gonna, be jumping.” He got the sail up, cut the drag, and ran farther out to sea, letting the swell from the crash lift the canoe and thrust it onward.
* * *
The sun set before they got back to shore.
As she stumbled from the canoe, Lylunda could hear the beronta drums sounding in the village; they drew her, but she was really too tired to answer the throb in her blood. She touched Tudil’s arm. “Tell Menget I’ll be sleeping in the guest house tonight. We still leaving tomorrow?”
“Yes. After the morning market.”
“Omel oma, come get me when it’s time, hm?”
2
Lylunda sat with Worm while Delala was fixing breakfast for them. His face was knotted with the intensity of his sleep and he looked absurdly like a baby. She’d have felt worse for him if he and his brother hadn’t used Zombi on her. Xman. Hah! Exi Exinta. What an idiot ploy that was. She couldn’t see much resemblance; Worm and the Xman must have had different mothers. The other brother was a convict on Pillory. “Not a political.” She shivered. If you weren’t a political, governments sent you to Pillory because they didn’t do death and cringed at the thought that you’d ever get loose. “I think it’s probably just as well for the universe if your Mort stays right where he is.”
He stirred a little at the sound of her voice. His mouth worked; he closed one hand into a fist, pressed it against his lips, and settled back to sleeping.
She leaned over him, pinched his earlobe.
He woke reluctantly, scowling at her.
“You don’t talk Pandai,” she said. “And I’m leaving. So I want to be sure you know what you’re into here. Make up your mind to it, if you live and I think you probably will, you’ll never leave Bol Mutiar again. There’s something in the air, a virus or something like that. The Pandai call it the Tung Bond, for what that’s worth. Make it mad and it’ll eat you alive from the inside out You should know, because it started to do just that yesterday when you grabbed me. Remember how it felt, Worm, and walk carefully around these folk. Even an ottodoc’s no good, so don’t count on that. The Pandai on this island will take care of you. It’s called Keredel, by the way, and the Pandai here call themselves Kerdela. I’ve explained about your brothers and why you were trying to attack me. They’re good people and are really sorry about what’s going to happen to you, though they can’t do anything about it The flikit is at the bottom of the ocean. I did that, so don’t blame the locals. The girl who will be bringing your breakfast is called Delala. Remember the Bond and treat her nice. Good-bye, Worm.”
He shoved himself up and tried to grab her, but he was too weak and fainted instead.
Tudil came while she was still in the kitchen, drinking the last of the tea. “Luna, Menget says you should come now; there’s a storm blowing up and we need to get clear of land before it hits.”
3
When Worm woke a second time, a pretty, smiling girl was bending over him, washing his face with a cool cloth. She fetched a cup of water, lifted his head and helped him drink.
“Delala?” he said.
She giggled. “Ngar ngi,” she said. “Delala. Kau tkoy ak?” She touched his brow, repeated, “Kau tkoy ak?”
“Worm,” he said, guessing at her meaning, though it seemed obvious enough.
“Warrum,” she said and giggled again. “Ak moi er a tiktut,” She patted his knee. “Nga mengii.”
He watched her trot from the room, listened to the soft pat of her bare feet as she went somewhere to do something. His whole body hurt and he was so weak he couldn’t stand. It was enough to make anyone sink, especially when he’d done it to himself, coming here like this without even wondering why the Spy took off without Lylunda when all she had to do was put out her hand and take her.
Mort and Xman. He’d killed them. No way to get around that. His father was going to get hoiked out of his place because who could defend the Stead now? Cousins was all and cousins don’t have the same blood bonds. Cousins betrayed you all the time. His eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t stop coming. He was shamed, but he couldn’t stop that crying.
Delala came in, clicked her tongue, and began talking at him. He didn’t understand a word of it, and that just made the misery worse. She helped him sit up and empty his bladder into a pitcher of some kind.
It was odd, when he was wrung dry below, he stopped leaking from his eyes. She washed his penis and his hands, eased him back onto the bed, pulled the sheet over him, and trotted out again carrying the pitcher with her.
When she returned, she lifted his head and made him drink something hot and stinking. He almost threw it up again, but by the time she’d got the mugful of slop down him, the woe had retreated somewhere over the horizon. It was still there, but he was too numb to feel it.
After she went out for the third time, he lay staring at the ceiling trying not to think. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry, Fa. I’m sorry, Mort. I’m sorry, Xmae. You’ll have to get on however you can.” Another sigh. He let heavy eyelids droop shut and in a moment was asleep.
4
Early in the morning, a little over a month after leaving Keredel, Lylunda looked up from the mezu she was washing and saw a strange lander go whispering by overhead, its shadow slipping like a bird across the beronta, a bird with stubby wings and a flared tail.
“The woman has come for you.” Menget’s voice. She hadn’t heard the Drummer approach, but he was very light on his feet for such a big man.
Lylunda was annoyed; though she tried not to show it. Here was another case of the Bond stripping her privacy from her; what one Pandai knew, they all knew, as if the Bond thought something and those thoughts were echoed in all Pandai minds. “I didn’t expect her so soon. You sure?”