These eggs, Jacom saw, were not really eggs at all, but wombs: amniotic sacs nourished by maternal blood which flowed in unearthly veins. This was where the drago mite queen gave birth to her human commensals, parodying human birth.
Jacom was dumbstruck, with amazement and with horror.
"Something like this is what the princess intended for me,"
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Myrasol murmured in his ear.
"Checuri told me that Keshvara brought her some vile bush from far beyond the dark lands whose seed she wanted to plant in my flesh, so that I too would become a chimera, human and unearthly flesh combined into some vile collective. These mound-women may look human enough, but they aren't really human at all. They're just another kind of drago mite Jacom shook his head, although the movement must have been hardly visible to his companion. He wasn't sure how much denial there was in the gesture and how much simple wonderment. He had the strangest feeling that perhaps he ought to have expected this, having seen and felt signs enough since they first came into the mound, and that his astonishment was very stupid.
"Come here," said a voice, which was not the voice of their guide.
"Come here, to me."
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^.
13 after so many days of hectic travelling, Checuti found a whole day's idleness surprisingly difficult to bear. It would not have been so bad had the caravan stopped in a pleasant location preferably somewhere which had supplies of food and water close at hand but the middle of the Dragomite Hills was quite the most unpleasant spot he could imagine, and the ever presence of the warriors was discomfiting in the extreme. They no longer stood as ominously still as statues, and were in fact continually wandering back and forth from the interior of the mound in whose shadow the caravan had come to rest, but there were always eight or ten nearby, within what he could not help but think of as 'striking distance'. There was another group much higher on the mound, around and about one of its several peaks; they too were constantly being changed as others relieved them of their mysterious duty.
"This is a bad situation," Checuti said to the little monkey which sat, timid and dispirited, upon his left shoulder. The pet had stuck to him through thick and thin, but it had liked the forest which was its natural habitat far better than this dtfsolatc place.
"In a way, it would be better to be down there in the mound, where Ereleth would at least be close at hand. That way, if some terrible accident should overcome her, I could race to her side just in case she wanted to reach into her belt and pull out the poison which would destroy the worm inside me, thus proving herself capable of one last magnanimous gesture."
The monkey chattered half-heartedly. It was, Checuti supposed, as shrewd an observation as was possible in response to such arrant nonsense.
Aulakh Phar called out to him then, asking him to hand over a drill-bit and a gouge because his hands were full and he was at a 424
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delicate stage in his
work. The aged physician was replacing the rotten spokes in one of the wheels from the smaller wagon.
"You're completely crazy," Checuti opined, having answered the request.
"Of all the times to take a wheel off the wagon, this is the worst imaginable. What if we have to make a run for it?"
"If we have to make a run for it," Phar pointed out, 'we need to be absolutely sure that none of the wheels is going to shatter. We're not going anywhere until Ereleth comes back. "
"Aren't we? Maybe you haven't noticed the sergeant and his band of cut-throats whispering away like washerwomen. Their horses are saddled and their saddle-bags are fully loaded. One sign of aggression from those six-legged monstrosities and they'll be off.
They won't even bother to look back to see whether you're following.
Anyway, we can't stay here much longer. We've no guarantee chat it'll rain again and our supplies of fresh water will soon get dangerously low. "
"This sort of maintenance needs doing," Phar insisted stubbornly.
"We've hardly been able to do patch-work during the short stops we've been making at midday and midnight. Frankly, I wouldn't blame the guardsmen if they did try to make a run for it nor our men if they decided to go with them. But Fraxinus won't go without Ereleth and the others and you can't."
"Fraxinus doesn't even like Ereleth."
"That's not the point. Fraxinus has old-fashioned ideas about loyalty.
Anyway, he's incurably curious maybe far too curious for his own good. He wants to know what in the world is going on. If we do propose to open a trade-route across these hills, it would be very useful to know. If we'd been able to deal with the mound- people before, our ancestors might have established a highway here a thousand years ago."
"I can't believe that," Checuti told him.
Phar shrugged. It was patently obvious that he couldn't either.
Perhaps the repair-work he was doing really was urgent or perhaps he desperately needed something to occupy his hands and his mind.
Checuti could sympathise with that, to a degree. There was something distinctly unsatisfying about wandering back and forth in plain sight of the huge-jawed drago mite warriors.
"Is it my imagination," Checuti asked, 'or are those drago mites 425
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nervous? The ones way up the slope are lookouts, aren't they? What do you suppose they're looking out for? "
"More drago mites Phar said.
"What else is there? My guess is that the nest's been so badly hit by the blight that there aren't enough warriors left to defend the queen. Maybe there used to be dozens of other nests in which humans and drago mites worked in association, and maybe they really were the Corridors of Power around here. Now, their empire's about to fall, and they're expecting the barbarians any minute. They didn't invite Ereleth down there for tea and cakes they want our help. My guess is that they want us to help carry away a batch of eggs, so that they can start over."
"Why would they need us?" Checuti asked uneasily. "Probably the same reason we needed Andris Myrasol," Phar said.
"They don't have any idea what's beyond the horizon."
"There must be more to it than that," Checuti said. "Your guess is as good as mine," the old man muttered, lowering his head over the wheel.
"Maybe better. You're the criminal mastermind I'm just an old fool with itchy feet."
"Another hundred days might have made all the difference," Checuti said, not without a trace of vindictiveness.
"By then, there might not be a living drago mite to be seen. If Fraxinus hadn't been in such a reckless rush . . ." , "If you hadn't been stupid enough to stick your nose into our affairs," Phar retorted, 'you'd be living it up in the wilds of Khalorn. Don't start lecturing us about recklessness.
I suppose I was infected, without quite realising it, by all that dark lander agitation all that stuff about the end of the world. Even though I didn't believe it, it did serve to communicate a certain sense of urgency. "
"Yes," said Checuti reflectively.
"It did, didn't it?" Phar showed no further sign of requiring his help, so Checuti strolled away from the wagon, moving back towards the rear end of the column. The southward-sloping gully in which they were situated extended behind them due north, and its narrow opening encapsulated a surprisingly good view of the hills they had already negotiated. From fifty mets away at the top of the slope, he judged, it would probably be possible to look over the route they had followed. The drago mite warriors were all on the slopes to either 426
side, so there was no particularly powerful disincentive against his wandering back up the slope, so he did.
He had not quite realised how high they were until he reached the mouth of the canyon, which did indeed provide a good view over the northerly hills.
The mounds to either side of him now, he realised, were the tallest in the range or, at least, this part of it.
He scanned the horizon for signs of movement. Then he looked back at the caravan and the steep slope which Ereleth and her companions had ascended the night before, with their escort of human warriors. The entrance which they had used in order to go into the mound was still guarded by two drago mite warriors. On impulse, he begun to climb himself, up the less sheer of the two slopes which enclosed the maw of the gully. He climbed to the nearest of the unguarded tunnels let into the mound and peered into the darkness. There was no sign of anything moving within. He continued upwards, using his hands to help him when the slope became too sheer. He had to be careful not to slip; the rotten vegetable matter was very slick in places.
He paused on a ledge to look back at the column, which suddenly seemed ridiculously small.
What is it, after all? he thought. Two wagons, three ragged tents linked by an extremely untidy trail of assorted debris, plus thirty horses, a dozen donkeys and a mere handful of men . . . well, three and a half handfuls of men, to be pedantic. Not an army, anyhow not a force with which to take arms against a whole world. What real chance have they of crossing a thousand kilns of unknown and dangerous territory, to reach the Navel of the World^
And what could they possibly find there that might be worth the trip^ Checuti noticed that one of the guardsmen, who was pretending to be on sentry duty, was staring at him suspiciously. It was as if the man thought that he were trying to sneak away and make a run for it.
Dolt! Checuti thought. I'm the one and only person who needs Ereleth to come out of that nest alive and well. Never mind watching me watch that sergeant of yours! He'd sell the lot of you for a handful of beans and a chance to eat them. I used to look after my men far better than any leader you've ever followed.
He looked up again, wondering if he could go all the way to the peak of the mound but half a dozen drago mite warriors were 4^7
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there already, and he
wasn't about to compete with them for a mere position of pride. They were in a state of high agitation, dancing back and forth with astonishing agility considering that they were so precariously perched on such a precipitous slope.
While he watched, they all began a helter-skelter descent, vanishing within seconds into the first tunnels they reached.
Desertion! he thought. They've had enough they can't stand the sunlight.
Then he realised how ridiculous the thought was, and how stupid he was for wasting time with it. Slowly knowing what he would see he turned sideways to look northwards again, at the route which they had followed in coming here.
"Oh filth," he murmured in the monkey's ear, pronouncing the expletive with inappropriate gentleness.
The hills to the north, on either side of the track which they had followed in order to get to where they were now, were alive with drago mite warriors not thousands, perhaps, but certainly hundreds.
Far too many, at any rate. Far too many. They seemed to be heading directly for the spot on which Checuti stood, although that was probably an illusion of perspective. Almost certainly, apprehension assured him, their target was something else not him, not the caravan. He looked back down at the wagons and the tents, which seemed even tinier now. The smaller wagon was still balanced on three wheels and a stack of boxes while Phar slotted the replacement spokes into place.
He started running, bounding down the slope with huge, reckless strides. He said nothing, but the shouting had already started. The sentry had readily deduced that something was wrong and had run to a vantage-point where he could see enough of the northward hills to know what was afoot. He was ready for it-all the ex-guardsmen were ready for it. Their cries echoed from the slopes to either side, back and forth in mad reiteration.
"Mount up up up!"
"To horse horse horse!"
"Ride south as fast as you can can can!"
"Leave the wagons! Leave everything thing thing!"
"Dragomites - mites mites!"
The ex-guardsmen were mortally afraid of drago mites They ran for their horses in flat panic, and the other gold ens ran with them, except for Phar.
Fraxinus was still invisible inside the big 428
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wagon. Two adult dark
landers were the only ones who stood their ground they were looking for Fraxinus, valuing his guidance even over their own instinctive fears.
As Checuti ran back to the column, in amongst the horses, Fraxinus emerged from the big wagon, looking wildly about: at the detached wheel which Phar still held in his hands; at the madly running men; at the dark landers
"The drago mites are coming!" Sergeant Purkin yelled to Fraxinus.
"Far too many to fight."
Checuti was no more than twenty mets from Fraxinus when he stumbled and fell.
Fortunately, he knew well enough how to fall; it was a useful skill for a thief to have. The monkey leapt from his shoulder with artful agility.
Checuti's reflexes bade him roll with the fall and he did, using the remaining impetus to draw himself upright again, but he cursed the excess weight about his midriff. He staggered in a most ungainly fashion, but kept to his feet.
"We have no choice, man!" Purkin was shouting to Fraxinus, by way of justification rather than exhortation.
"We must ride or die!"
Fraxinus looked away from the sergeant. He looked, in fact, directly at Checuti and Checuti felt a perverse thrill of pride at the thought that such a man should look to him for advice in a crisis like this.
"It's true!" he called out, thrusting out his arm to point in the direction from which danger was coming.
"They're attacking the mound.
Go to the wagons prepare to stand them off with swords and spears! "
He sincerely believed that this was sensible advice, but hardly anyone was disposed to take it. He was in amongst the scattering horses now, and the crowd swallowed him up. He found the dark lander boy Koraismi running by his side, and urged him on but Uluru or not, dark lander or not, Koraismi was in no mood to do as Checuti directed. Although the lad had been unable to ride when he joined the expedition, Jacom Cerri had taught him the rudiments of it, and now he had only one thought in his young mind: to get away. Almost everyone else had the same idea.
The horses didn't take kindly to being charged in this unruly fashion, but most were already saddled and loaded. Those which were not, and which resisted, were immediately let alone in favour of more docile companions.
The guardsmen who had mounted 429
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first were pointing at the mouth of the
canyon, where huge-jawed warriors were already visible, pouring over the ridges in awful profusion.
We'll lose everything! Checuri thought, as he tried to fight his way through to the nearer wagon, intent on following his own advice.
Koraismi was trying desperately to haul himself up on the back of a ready-saddled horse, but could not do it. Unthinkingly, Checuti stopped and turned. He grabbed the boy about the waist and lifted him bodily into the saddle.
"Go!" he shouted.
It was the horse, not the boy, which obeyed him. The boy clung to the rein for dear life as the an
imal hurled itself forwards, away from the charging drago mites All the horses which remained unsaddled joined the rush to escape, and the donkeys too. The whole lot were running in the same direction, like the herd animals they were, and there was nothing now to stop Checuti running to Phar's wagon. The two adult dark landers were already climbing up alongside Phar, and one reached down to lend a hand to another boy, no older than Koraismi. Fraxinus was climbing up on the same wagon, leaving his own to look after itself.
Checuti knew as he jumped up behind the trader that five men and a boy could hardly be expected to stave off a whole horde of creatures like the ones whicrj were now thronging the canyon, even with the advantage of the wagon's height and the protective shelter of its wooden sides, but it was the only defence they had. The drago mites were too big, and their enormous heads too heavily armoured, to be long inconvenienced by the wooden palisades, but any barrier was better than none at all.
Phar was passing out the guardsmen's half-pikes, which had been stored here, but Checuti knew that he was not strong enough to wield one effectively and could not believe that Phar, Fraxinus and the boy could make any better use of such weapons. He took one anyway, but he knew that if they were to be seriously involved in the beginning battle, their part would be over in minutes. If the mounted guardsmen boldly joined in, trying to cripple the drago mites according to the method Andris Myrasol had worked out, the defenders on the wagon might stand some sort of chance even in a pitched battle but he knew that the men who had run for the horses had no such intention in mind.
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As Checuti stood shoulder to shoulder with Fraxinus and one of the dark landers he had no alternative but to ding hard to his initial and entirely rational conviction that whatever appearances might suggest, the attackers were not aiming for the wagons at all: their target was the nest. The only problem with that thesis was that the attacking warriors might not be able to discriminate between the mound-people, who were presumably their enemies, and other humans, who were not.
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