Shadowplay sq-1

by Jo Clayton

  "You're good at not answering questions," she said. "I suppose you don't want to tell me your name, but give me something to call you; I dislike very much having to say hey you when I want your attention, even if it's only implied. My name is Shadith."

  He walked to the door, pulled it shut, came back and settled onto the dirt beside her. "Shadith," he said. "Does it have a meaning?"

  "It's the name my mother gave me, it doesn't need a meaning. Very good at avoiding answers."

  "In this place, answers kill people. Side-stepping becomes a habit which one means to keep well honed." His eyes drooped half-shut. "Need one say, Kwantawiyal knew one not." A quick flowing gesture, his hand sweeping from head level toward the floor. "I am not so memorable a man as to make recognition immediate. However…" With a wry twist to his mouth, he spread his hands, dropped them on his knees. "One is called Asteplikota, Aste for those who prefer less of a mouthful. It is one's personal name. Since one's family has cast one out, it is the only name I own."

  "Aste it is." She blinked sleepily at him. "I did notice that you didn't seem to fit very well with Silvercreep and his collection of sweepings."

  "I'm flattered. Silvercreep?"

  "He was loaded with it."

  Asteplikota chuckled. "In every sense."

  "True. Well?"

  "Doing it again, eh?" He shook his head. "Ah, habit. Someone I owe a favor wanted an agent he could trust to act for him; he said he'd heard rumors something important was going to happen and he'd bought rights to be in on it from Kwantawiyal… urn… Silvercreep. One does like that name, it catches so nicely the essence of the man." A brief smile, charming, shy. His voice was quiet, musing, a pleasant gravelly tenor, its roughness comfortable like a worn-out old shirt. "No one sane and with a modicum of intelligence would trust him to stay bought; one was along to keep him honest, though he's a lot more frightened of the Na-priests than he is of us. We'd only kill him. The holy screws, well… He didn't want one along, but he was too greedy to refuse the sponsor's gold. There you are."

  Shadith moved uneasily. Tsoukbaraim, I'm starting to like the man. That's a complication, it was easier when all I had to do was lie up a storm and get the hell out. It's obvious, what happened was Ginny pulling the strings and making the puppets dance. That someone he's talking about, he's either Ginny's man or in Ginny's net somehow. What do I tell this Aste? Him knowing about Ginny won't change anything. Ginny's watching us now, bastard! Watching me twist in the wind. Somebody has to do something about him. Killing a world to titillate… gaah! Admit it, Shadow, moral indignation isn't in it, you want to put the boot where it'll hurt because the d'dab's leading you around like his pet simi and it kills your pride. I HATE being helpless. I LOATHE being helpless. All right, all right, all that's given. Settle down, woman. Information-you need information. Can't make a plan till you know the parameters.

  She shifted her legs, they were going to sleep on her.

  A hiss came from the fire, the water was boiling. Kikun reached under his tunic, brought out a handful of herbs and dropped them into the pot. He contemplated them a moment, fetched out a dry stick, and began stirring them. A faint herbal smell drifted over to her. She sighed, folded her hands across her stomach. "All right, we're important. Why?"

  "Because you mean hope to people who have none and where there is hope, there is a will to change present evils for future goods. Which means those now in power will do anything they can to co-opt or kill you."

  "But why us? We're alien, even different species. What've we got to do with you and your people?"

  "One said it was a hard thing to explain."

  "Try…"

  "You were jabbing at one about this being a Lost World. Back there at the cage. When you sang that song. By the way, when there's a moment you'll have to translate it for one."

  "Yes, yes. So?"

  "We know we were born as a species on this world. That we came here as fugitives…" He looked down, pulled a finger along the dirt beside his buttocks. "Funny, once upon a time, it was a lifetime ago almost, one was a teacher, a historian and a writer of histories. A dangerous occupation these days." He straightened his back, a distant look came into his eyes. "This is how it was…"

  Across the shack, Kikun took the pot off the grid and set it on the ground. He pressed his palms together and leaned forward, a matching distance in his gaze as if he followed Asteplikota past time into myth.

  In the time before time, there was only Oppalatin dreaming that he was. There was no beginning and no end, no time, no shape, no life. Only Oppalatin, dreaming. In his dreams he conceived himself and brought himself into being. And when it was so, he knew that he was alone, and being alone, conceived The Other.

  He contemplated The Other, then he spoke: You are Kotakin, I have created you.

  And Kotakin said: You have created me. I am Not-You. And Kotakin wept because he was separate and greatly alone.

  Oppalatin saw and was grieved.

  Oppalatin said: I am your Uncle. You are my Nephew. Go now and lay out worlds for Me and make creatures to dwell on those worlds and I will give you the Lifebreath to breathe into them. Let there be a world where I may contemplate Myself and dream without disturbance, let that world be called Yahwihakai which is My Glory. Let there be a world where You, Kotakin, may contemplate my Greatness without disturbance, where You, Kotakin, may bring such as may please you to make on that world a garden of tranquillity and joy, let that world be called Nahelikai which is Garden of the Blessed. Let there be four lesser worlds for the life to come.

  Kotakin went and did this and he returned to Oppalatin and said: Thus and so have I done. Is this according to your plan?

  Oppalatin contemplated the work of Kotakin and was pleased. He said: It is good. You have done a great work, Nephew. But your work is not finished. Go upon the first of the lesser worlds and make a Woman and I will put life into her.

  Kotakin stood upon the face of the lesser world. He said: I name you Pitamaskai.

  Earth drew apart from water, sky from ground and the world was solid around him. He took clay from the bank of a river and shaped a Woman from it. When he fin ished, he took Breath from Oppalatin and blew it into her mouth. He said: I name you Ni-tahwaikis, She-WhoPlants.

  Kotakin gave the Woman a Blanket, a white Blanket with a thread of black woven through it. He told Nitahwaikis: You will do thus and so.

  Ni-tahwaikis took two lumps of clay from the river bank and lay them upon the land and lay the Blanket over them. She sang the Creation Song over them and took the Blanket away.

  When she uncovered them, two beings, twins, sat up. They sang: Who are we? Why are we?

  To the one on her left, She-Who-Plants said: You are Tahnokipo Waposh. You sing the world into steadiness, it is your duty to see that order and extension remain. Go now about the world and put your hands on it so it will have substance and shape.

  Tahnokipo Waposh left her and traveled through the world and through it again, singing it into order and extension. He sang the mountains into shape, sang the courses of the rivers, sang the rock into long slow being.

  To the one on her right, She-Who-Plants said: You are Shapostim Mayah. You sing the world into movement and change, it is your duty to see that the winds blow when it is time and water flows. Go now about the world and sing without ceasing to wind and water and all things that change.

  Shapostim Mayah left her and traveled through the world and through it again, singing into movement all things that by nature moved. From pole to pole Pitamaskai resonated to his song, wind and water moved and sang the Greatness of Oppalatin the Creator.

  Then Ni-tahwaikis moved about-Pitamaskai, creating trees and bushes, plants and flowers, all kinds of seed-bearers and nut-bearers to clothe the earth, giving to each from the Breath of Oppalatin. In the same manner she created all kinds of birds and animals-molding them out of earth and spittle, covering them with the Blanket of Oppalatin, singing the Song of Creation over them and sharing with t
hem the Breath of Oppalatin.

  Kotakin went to Oppalatin and said: Behold, Pitamaskai lives.

  Oppalatin saw how beautiful it was, the land, the plants, the birds and animals, and he was pleased. He heard the quick bright song of Shapostim Mayah, the slow dark song of Tahnokipo Waposh and he was pleased. He saw the Woman Ni-tahwaikis laid on her face before him, worshiping him, and he was pleased.-He said: It is good. It is very good.

  Oppalatin said: It is time, Kotakin. Lie with the Woman and make children with her that they may grow and tend the world and be Companions for You and Worship Me.

  Kotakin went unto the woman and put his seed in her.

  On the first day, the day called Payatanwahash or the day of the earth, she bore Nataminaho the Hunter. He dropped from her womb fully formed. When she put him to her breast to suckle him, his teeth tore her flesh and she cast him away, crying out in pain.

  He landed in soft warm mud and crawled beneath a shakan bush and slept for two days.

  When he woke, he was hungry. He-called out for Ni-tahwaikis, but she was not there. He stamped the earth in his anger and Tahnokipo Waposh cried out: Who is moving what should not be moved?

  Nataminaho stopped stamping. He considered himself. Standing without moving for a day and a night, he brooded over who it was that stamped.

  Hare came hopping past. Nataminaho smelled the blood in him and remembered his hunger. He seized a stone and killed Hare and ate him. When the bones were bare he looked at them. He looked at the stone. He cried out: I am Nataminaho the Hunter.

  On the fifth day, the day called Niyotansahash or day of the winds, Ni-tahvvaikis bore Opalekis-Mimo the Holy Dancer. He dropped from her womb eyeless and unformed. She lifted him and tried to make him suck, but he had no mouth. He wriggled against her and wept with his body from a hunger he could neither endure nor end. Day melted into night and night into day and still he wept and still his voiceless hunger grew. Ni-tahwaikis laid him on the Sacred Blanket, but he wriggled off. She wrapped the Blanket about and about him and rocked him in her arms and called out to Oppalatin to give him ease.

  Kotakin came to her. In his left hand he had white clay, in his right hand he had black ash.

  Ni-tahwaikis took the Blanket from Opalekis-Mimo and held him still upon the earth.

  Kotakin smoothed white clay over the blindworm baby, covering him from end to end. With the black ash he drew broad bands around Opalekis-Nino so he was striped black and white. Where his face should be, he drew eyes and a nose, a mouth and ears. He drew arms and legs, fingers and toes.

  Ni-tahwaikis spread the Blanket over Opalekis-Mimo and sang the Creation Song. When she took the Blanket away again, Opalekis-Mimo jumped to his feet and went dancing and dancing and dancing until the wind shook with his dancing. Shapostim Mayah cried out: My winds are shaking out of their courses. Who is shaking my winds?

  Opalekis-Mimo stopped dancing. He considered himself. He looked at his feet and his hands, he touched his mouth and his eyes. He flung out his arms and laughed. I am Opalekis-Mimo and I dance. After that he went back to Ni-tahwaikis and suckled like any ordinary baby.

  On the thirteenth day, the day called Milawehtansahash or day of blessings and coming together, Nitahwaikis bore Nikamo-Oskinin. The girl baby dropped from the womb small and neat and fully formed. When she touched the earth, she tore up fistfuls of it and ate it like it was porridge and when she could eat no more, she sang and sang and sang. Her song resonated with the earth and the earth sang in her, her song raptured the winds and they came from the Four Directions to spin about her and sing their descants with her.

  Tahnokipo Waposh cried: Who shakes the stones and the earth, who makes the mountains dance when they should be still and seemly?

  Shapostim Mayah cried: Who tears my winds from their proper courses and sings them dizzy…

  Asteplikota stopped talking when Rohant came in, carrying a bloody piece of hide with a lump of meat wrapped in it, the cats following him looking sleepy and content. Sassa swept down and landed in the doorway with a small rodent in one talon; he shivered his feathers, settled his wings, and began tearing at his catch. Rohant sneezed, sputtered, dropped his burden by the fire, and began unwrapping the hide; over his shoulder he growled, "Flits going past like swarming blackflies. Why it took so long to get back, we had to duck for cover every second step."

  Asteplikota rubbed at the tip of his nose. "Swarming?"

  "Looks like someone wants us a lot:" Rohant began cutting the meat into small chunks and threading them on pointed sticks, leaning the sticks against Kikun's stones when he finished loading them. "How come they know it's us? Or do they?"

  "Oh, yes. How? Kwantawiyal. All he had to do was get into a treelodge and make a conical Once he finished describing you, whoever he called would be as hungry for you as your cats were a couple hours ago for anything with blood in it."

  "Mm." Rohant finished with the meat, began scooping coals into the cee and feeding more wood to the fire, broken pieces too dry to smoke. "What kind of detection equipment do your kanaweh use?" He laid the sticks across the coals, scooped water from the tin and washed the blood off his hands. "Bodyheat? Motionsensors? Visuals? A combination of some or all of those? We need to know." He wiped his hands on his trousers, straightened up.

  Asteplikota scraped his hand across the dirt beside his thigh, frowning. "Depends on what they've been able to buy from offworld traders and that's classified information. There isn't much leaks out of the Kasta-that's Security Headquarters. Last month I heard they hung some poor sotch for talking out of turn. We try, but it's rind squeezings and sludge, nothing worth trusting to."

  Kikun dug into his pouch, brought out collapsed cups, memorplas compressed into a dense rod. He broke off a section, twisted it open, dipped the cup into the infusion and carried it across to Shadith.

  She looked at the murky liquid, looked up at him. "Just what is this supposed to be?"

  "Good for you. Energy. You'll need it. We moving. Tastes all right, you'll see."

  "I was still a babe when I learned what good-for-you meant." She grinned at him. "Oh all right, medicine works best when it tastes bad, give it here." She sipped at the warm drink, grimaced, it was about as foul as she'd expected, but it slithered down her throat and warmed her and swept away the clinging fatigue that weighed her down, mind and body. The meat was bub bling and charring, sending out smells to tempt the dreaming Oppalatin and she was suddenly very very hungry. "Ro, what he said…"

  "Well, think about it, Shadow. Standard search, grid over the target area, sweep along obvious go-routes, what's more obvious than a river? It shouldn't take Kikun's visions to tell us we need to move."

  "Fine time to be bringing that up now. Why'nt you say something before we hit ground?"

  "One, I didn't hear you making any objections, girl. Two, you told me and Kikun shit-all about what you and Aste here were planning to do with the flit."

  "Had all I could do to fly the damn thing and keep my eyes open same time." She set the cup down, brushed her hand across her face, depressed again. "I don't know why I'm fussing, we can turn and twist all we want, but Ginny's pulling our strings, we can't get away from that. He takes a notion, he can bring all hell down on us."

  Roh ant stretched, growled, "That's your bones talking, Shadow. Get some sleep, kit-cat."

  Shadith snapped thumb against finger. "My bones are just fine, thank you. You'd better see to that meat before it burns."

  "Meat's all right." He coughed, turned his head, spat. "Hmp. With a pinch of luck, we can flip this around. Sooner or later someone's going to take a look at these buildings. Unless it's a circle of beaters moving out from the Estate…" He glanced at Asteplikota; the local shook his head. "Glad to hear it. Makes things easier. Probably a squad in a flit, then. Or a boat. Four, five, six men. We can handle that if we work it right. And we get transport out of it." He took the cup Kikun handed him, scowled at it, then drained it in one long gulp. "Dio, that's slop." He sniffed, rumb
led with satisfaction as his nose began to clear and the fatigue washed out of his body. "Works, though. Thanks, Kikun."

  Shadith sat up. "Ante, this is your world, is the Ciocan right? We have a chance of breaking loose?"

  Asteplikota smiled at Rohant, his eyes sinking into a web of wrinkles. "You think like my brother, Ciocan. Yes, Singer. The kanaweh aren't all that bright, you know. Intelligence is a handicap in a headbuster." He looked up as Kikun came across to him with a third cup; he took it without comment, drank it and set the cup down.

  His attention drawn from the meat he was tending, Rohant looked over his shoulder, showing his teeth in a sketch of a challenge grin. "Your brother, huh. We get a minute, I want to know about him. Kikun, those tubers about done? We'd better eat now, time's running out on us too damn fast to be fussy."

  The powerboat came down the river, buzzing like a swarm of elephantine mosquitoes, the noise announcing it several minutes before it appeared, a squat black bug crouching close to the water. It curved over to the sagging wharf, dumped out four half-armored kanaweh, who yelled and swore as the rotten, waterlogged timbers gave under them and threatened to drop them into the muck below. Their leader leaned back, put his feet up, pulled his helmet visor down and prepared to doze until the search was finished.

  Stretched along a wide flat branch in the thickly fronded tree growing close to the shack they'd sheltered in, part of the dense tangle of trees, vines, and thornbrush behind the abandoned landing, Rohant worked his mouth, the drooping tails of his mustache twitching in derision as he watched the men blundering about, visors carelessly pushed up. They were just going through the motions, convinced this search was a waste of time. The Ciocan winked at Shadith who was perched on the next branch over, dragged his sleeve across his dripping nose, then darted two of the kanaweh as they rounded a corner and moved out of sight of the others-a dart in each face, inch-long translucent slivers that drove through flesh and bone and exploded poison deep into the brain. When the men dropped without a sound, he looked at the tiny weapon, raised his brows. He gave Shadith a tight-mouthed grin and rubbed his thumb across the polished wood inset in the grip, a small silent accolade. Shadith eased her finger away from the trigger sensor of the stunner, tucked the tube into the fan of frondlets before her on the branch. Rohant went back to watching and waiting for another shot at the kanaweh.