Clapping Carl on the back, Jeff stood up. “Or in Anthropology. But then, how do we define human? See you in the morning, buddy. I’m really tired.”
“Thanks for the wakeup call, Jeff. It reminds me that I’m a biologist, and also that we’ve fallen into a wonderful world. There is so much to learn.”
“In spades, my friend.”
When Jeff walked into his room, Zimma was in bed waiting for him. Compared to their first night together, the second was quiet. While Zimma was passionate and physical, she displayed none of the ferocity Jeff vividly remembered. She made no attempt to bite him, her skin temperature seemed normal, and his desire for her was free of the external compulsion that had driven him into a mating frenzy.
Zimma accompanied Jeff and Carl next morning on a shopping trip to complete their provisions for the trip north. The day passed too quickly as they wandered Astholf. Zimma led them from shop to shop and finally to the food store she had discovered. Frowning over the sausage, thumping and squeezing the fruit, she personally picked the best foodstuffs. That evening they attended a final conference.
Since everything but a few details had already been settled, Belstan and Rogelf concentrated on major points only. They planned to leave within three weeks. In fact, Belstan noted, they had to leave in that time frame if they wanted to arrive at Rugen before first snow. He estimated they would be on the trail for at least seven or eight weeks. Rogelf gave a number of letters to Jeff for delivery to businessmen in Rugen he had dealt with in the past. There wasn’t much more to talk about, and they broke up early in a somber mood.
Jeff and Zimma spent their last night together holding each other and saying little. They savored every minute, tucking away memories that would have to last for many months. Zimma fervently wished the caravan would arrive at Rugen before Jeff had to leave for Valholm, but she knew the wish was hopeless.
Their lovemaking was intense and slowly thorough, each stroke prolonged until it was hardly bearable in anticipation of the next. It was not until dawn that tears of parting were shared while they assisted each other in dressing. A last, lingering hug that nearly broke their wills and they left for communal breakfast hand-in-hand.
The horses were saddled and waiting when they walked out of the warehouse. Zimma helped him load Cynic and then there was nothing left to postpone departure. Jeff and Zimma walked off a distance so they could speak in private.
Zimma sighed with resignation when Jeff took her in his arms. When she pushed back, Jeff saw something that reminded him of their first night together. Her eyes seemed to glimmer with a light that had no connection to the sun.
“In the short time allotted us, Jeffrey, I have come to understand little of your homeland, this America. Yet withal, my heart is chilled and saddened by the estrangement between men and women that may be perceived. My love, the ways of America are not the ways of Chaldesia.” Zimma paused and seemed to be searching for the right words. “There is much that I would share concerning the manner of men and women together in my homeland, on this world, but the telling would be long and such time is not given us.
“I know in part what you will face this winter. That you must travel when others stay warm by their fires, travel even in the great cold of deep winter. The time may come when your spirit threatens to fail and cries for human warmth. If this should occur and you are offered the comfort of another woman’s arms, it would greatly please me if you would accept.”
“I will not. You…” Zimma put a finger on his lips. “This is our way and is offered to women as well, but I will be among family and friends, warm fires and plentiful food. Jeffrey, I do not fear the loss of your love. That I hold secure in my heart. If the love and warmth of another woman means that you come back to me whole, then I will owe her a debt of gratitude and more. Do not object, my love. Think on it and remember.”
“I begin to understand how fortunate I am to have come to this wonderful land. I am blessed in your person. Know that I will return to you.” In spite of resolve, they mixed tears in a final embrace.
After a round of farewells with Belstan, Rogelf and others that had gathered to say good-bye, Jeff stepped into the saddle. Wrenching his eyes away from Zimma, he lifted Cynic to a trot and rode out of Astholf with Carl trailing behind.
Chapter Fifteen
Words of Wisdom
Carl hung on for dear life. Never having ridden, he had to bend all his concentration on staying in the saddle. Elbows flapping, he bounced from side to side, up and down and in several other directions as well. He thought the first day on the trail would never end.
When Jeff called an early halt to ease the pain, Carl’s rear end and thighs were in agony. They hurt so bad he nearly fell from the saddle while dismounting. Very carefully, slowly, he peeled off leather britches. One look at the oozing blisters on Carl’s bright red fanny and Jeff hurried to his saddlebags.
“We have to take care of that right now or you’re going to be crippled up by the end of another day. I have just the thing.”
“You’re going to shoot me, right?”
“Break a leg and I’ll consider it,” Jeff laughed. “Tell you what, go soak your butt in that creek. Those blisters are ugly and have to be cleaned up. Don’t use a lot of soap.”
“I know, I know,” Carl muttered.
Although Jeff knew it was his imagination, he could swear that steam hissed up when Carl eased down into the creek with a relieved sigh. Jeff located the pot of all-purpose salve, the same compound he had used to treat Cynic’s wound. It had worked so well that he now used it on himself.
“Okay, great buffalo hunter. Let’s do it.”
Before Jeff could apply the salve, Carl snatched the pot from his hand. “What is this stuff? It smells terrible.”
“It’s supposed to—that’s what does the trick.”
“No, seriously. Where’d you get it?”
“Down south a ways.” Jeff gave him the background.
“Okay, it works.” Carl bent over. “Lay on, McDuff, and let the microbes be damned.”
Jeff was determined not to take advantage of the situation. He did smile at the way Carl danced around and shouted when he applied the salve.
“Looks real good, Carl. Too bad your butt didn’t look like this when you mooned the city guard. You probably would have blinded them as well as pissing them off.”
“Anything in the service of a good cause.” Carl stood up with a vastly relieved expression. “I suspect there’s more in that jar than you think, Jeff. You have the formula?”
“Yep. Made this batch myself.”
“I’ll want it the minute I can lay my hands on a stylus. The salve base is good, but I suspect the active ingredient is the mold.”
“Penicillin?”
“Well, Jeffrey, you did learn something in school!”
Carl picked up his underwear and waded into the creek to wash out blood and serum from the blisters.
“While I doubt the mold is Penicillium notatum, I’d be willing to bet it produces some form of antibiotic. Whatever the case, we have a winner and I intend to exploit it.”
With summer just over its peak, the night was balmy. Bathed in a warm, fragrant breeze, they strolled away from camp to get the full effect of the night sky unhindered by firelight. Carl wore no more than his boots and walked like a crab to make sure the wind continued to cool his rear end. Although there were no terran-style grasshoppers, an insect chorus of another sort was in good voice.
Head tilted back, Carl tried to comprehend the blazing expanse of stars overhead. “I wonder where it is. Where Earth is.”
“Yes. Even after all this time, it still tugs. Nothing much for us there, but it had so much beauty in it.”
“No, nothing much at all. I wonder if we’ll ever see it again.”
Days and nights gradually fused together in a fashion Jeff remembered so well from his trip south. It was later in the season, however, and the prairie’s rolling vastness was now covered with gras
s that was seared golden brown by the sun. The good weather held and they were blessed with dry, hot days.
While Carl’s rear end healed within a matter of days, his skin was another matter. He was quite fair and suffered from the effects of sun and a strong breeze that, to his mind, was tiresome because it never let up.
Carl’s riding improved rapidly until sitting a saddle became so natural he stopped thinking about it. In the process he became very attached to his horse, a seven-year-old gelding chestnut he had named Sam. Sam was proving to be sure-footed, showed a good turn of speed in their occasional gallops, and withstood Cynic’s attempts to bully him with aplomb.
Well into the second week of their journey, Jeff stopped and unfolded a map Belstan had given him. Carl watched as Jeff frowned over the map and took a series of compass bearings.
“How we doing?”
“I think we’re in good shape. I’m hoping to find a spur of the forest that dips south. We should run into it any day now. It’s one of the few landmarks that really stands out. We’ll cut through the spur, then follow the forest border all the way to Rugen. Question is, how accurate is this map not to mention the scale?”
To his relief, they encountered the forest spur several days later. Near its southern terminus as they were, the forest proved to be more open than farther north and offered cool shade. They were well into the forest when Jeff caught a passing mental image that could mean only one thing. Jeff made sure he had a good seat and spread an image of a wolf in Cynic’s mind.
“Horse-brother, have you met these before?”
Cynic jerked to a halt and his ears swiveled rapidly in tactical radar mode. “Do these creatures eat horses?”
“Those we will soon greet are friends and would be offended at such a thought. Others we happen across must be approached with caution if their bellies are empty. You are in no danger at this meeting, and I wish for you to speak with ‘Sam’ on this matter if that may be done.”
Reassured, Cynic chewed it over. “His mind is better than most. I will try.”
Carl was lounging in the saddle and whistling when Sam gave a startled jump. Carl slapped him with the reins.
“Settle down, nutbrain. What’s gotten into you?”
Turning his head to hide a smile, Jeff tried to speak casually. “Probably spooked by a rabbit or something.”
Casting his mind out like a net, Jeff made contact with one of Balthazar’s pack. The rest chimed in and he was swamped with enthusiastic greetings. Balthazar’s symbol flashed into his mind.
“We are pleased that our brother has managed to retain life and appears to have prospered. We will come to your fire this night.”
As the day progressed, Carl started to get suspicious of his friend’s sudden high spirits. It wasn’t so much that Jeff was in a good mood. That was nice to see. It was the sly looks followed by bursts of laughter that had him on edge. Jeff was blandly evasive when questioned, which did nothing to ease Carl’s suspicion that he was about to be zinged. Toward the end of the day, they spooked a herd of deer.
“And away we go!” Jeff thumped Cynic with his heels. “Yee-ha! Sic ‘em, boy!”
Wild to chase one down, Cynic took off like a shot. Jeff mentally pointed out a buck and Cynic went to afterburner. Trees whipped by in a blur as they cut right and left, Cynic leaning like a barrel racer as he herded the buck away from the other deer.
Sailing through the air in prodigious leaps, the buck rapidly pulled ahead. An old pro at the pursuit game, Cynic was undaunted. When the buck accelerated, Cynic dug into a turn and arrowed off on a tangent. Carl was laughing so hard he almost fell off when Sam leaped a log trying to keep up.
They were waiting in deep cover when the buck came sneaking by. Jeff brought it down with a well-placed arrow and dismounted to butcher it.
“Want to tell me how in hell you knew that deer was going to pass this spot?”
Jeff looked up from his task and smiled at Carl’s bemused expression. “I didn’t, but I learned long ago that Cynic almost always does. That horse is an artist. First he separates the one I select from the herd, then picks a spot he figures the deer will pass trying to rejoin. It’s uncanny.”
As Jeff packed up section after section of venison, Carl’s suspicion that he was going to be zinged grew by leaps and bounds. It wasn’t only the amount of meat that got his attention, but the grin on Jeff’s face. He’d seen that grin before.
It was getting late so they made camp near a stream. When Jeff laid out all of the venison he had just packed, Carl knew he was in for it. Suspicion had given way to a certain degree of frank paranoia when he walked over and glared at Jeff.
“What on earth are we going to do with so much meat? And don’t feed me any bullshit!”
Jeff smiled innocently as he put steel and flint to work on tinder. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find some use for it.”
Kicking a rock, Carl walked off muttering to himself. From prior experience, he figured it was going to be a major hit. Then he smiled and chuckled, remembering some of the setups he had lured Jeff into.
Later, when Jeff set hunks of venison over the fire to roast, Carl brushed his suspicions aside for the moment. This was something new. He hung over Jeff’s shoulder with endless questions until nothing would do but to give him a turn handling the spits.
They ate more than they should have, but it felt good to have really full bellies and they lounged around the fire in a relaxed stupor. It was a cheerful cocoon of light, one that played endless variations on the leaves overhead. Jeff pulled out his recorder for the first time since leaving Astholf and attempted to match the fire’s dancing rhythm.
While he played, memories of his trip to Valholm from the snowfields filled his thoughts. All of that trip’s loneliness and sorrow were now softened by the image of Zimma that glimmered in his mind.
Some time later he was startled from his reverie by a gasp from Carl and snorting, stamping dismay from the horses. Jeff urgently motioned Carl to sit down with a downward sweep of his arm. One after another, eighteen wolves trotted into the firelight and sat down in a semicircle of three ranks. Lord almighty, Jeff thought, I’d forgotten how big they are.
“May your pack prosper, mighty leader of comedians.”
Balthazar was taken back not at all by what he fathomed to be Jeff’s attempt at humor.
“We are well met, wolf-brother. From that which is clearly marked in your mind, we are aware that much has occurred since last we spoke. Will you share your experiences with this one more fully?”
Jeff turned to Carl with a smile. “Worth being zinged?” Carl responded with a silent, wide-eyed nod. “Keep an eye on the horses, will you? I’ve got a lot to talk about with Balthazar.”
“Sure, be glad to,” Carl replied, “but who’s going to keep an eye on me?”
“They’re something else, all right.” Jeff turned his attention to Balthazar. “I would be pleased to recount what has occurred, wolf-brother. While we speak, will you and your pack share our kill?”
“We thank you for such courtesy, wolf-brother. Our way has been long with little time to hunt.”
The wolves with Balthazar immediately arose, each expressing their thanks before beginning to eat. Carl watched in amazed silence. There was no growling or squabbling like he would expect from a pack of wolves on earth.
“If only I were telepathic,” Carl murmured with great longing. “What wonderful creatures.” When a pack member dropped a big piece of venison in front of Balthazar, Carl could do no more than shake his head in disbelief.
While Balthazar ate, Jeff recounted the last several months culminating with their discovery of the Salchek and subsequent evacuation to Astholf. When he had finished, Jeff sat back and clasped his knees.
“As suspected,” Balthazar commented, grooming himself, “the invaders have returned and war will soon be on this land again. We conclude you and yours have come to prepare?”
“It is so.”
Jeff proceede
d to lay out their plans for the coming season and years to follow. As they talked, Jeff got the strong impression that other forces were present in Balthazar’s mind. At the end of Jeff’s narrative, the wolf turned his head toward Carl.
“This is your packmate?” Jeff affirmed that fact. “May we speak to this one’s mind? We are aware that it is not ‘Carl’s’ habit to so speak, yet possibilities may lie buried that none suspect such as with your companion, ‘Cynic’.”
“I will present this to him.”
Carl was studying the wolves so intently that Jeff had to jog his elbow to get his attention.
“Balthazar there, the big one in the middle, wants to see if you have latent talent that might be developed. I personally believe you do.”
“Yes! Absolutely! I would like nothing better!” Carl’s excited expression quickly faded. “As long as there’s no big risk that he might burn out my brain in trying, that is. It ain’t much, but it works.”
Nodding agreement with a smile, Jeff reconnected with Balthazar. “While eager to discover if talent exists, my packmate is concerned that no damage occur in the exploring.”
“A request that will be honored. As you have correctly surmised, we will have assistance in this matter. Advise your packmate that some suffering will be unavoidable. Have ‘Carl’ indicate when he is ready to begin.”
“Now look, Carl,” Jeff said with a worried expression, “it sounds like this is not going to be a painless procedure—my first contact certainly wasn’t—although Balthazar assures me no damage will be done. Problem is, I have no idea how wolves judge the severity of pain. I’m afraid their threshold might be a lot higher than ours. Still want to go ahead with it?”
“Yeah, definitely,” Carl responded after a moment’s hesitation. “No pain, no gain, they used to say. I will not pass this up. What do I have to do?”
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 29