Blue Magic dost-2

by Jo Clayton

  They reached the Plain by midmorning, emerging from a last wave of brushy, arid foothills into a land lushly green, intensely cultivated, webbed between its several rivers by a network of canals that provided irrigation water for the fields and most of the transport for produce and people. Braun and Danny Blue rode side by side, neither acknowledging the presence of the other, an unbroken tension between them as threatening as the unbroken storm hanging overhead. The changers flew in circles under the lowering clouds, probing with their telescopic raptor’s eyes for signs that Settsimaksimin was attacking, signs that held off like the storm was holding off.

  The day ground on. The hilltrack had turned into a narrow dirt road that hugged the riverbank, a dusty rutted weed-grown road little used by anything but straying livestock. Out in the river’s main channel flatboats moved past them, square sails bellied taut, filled with the heavy wind that pushed them faster than the current would. Little dark men on those boats (hostility thick on dark skin, glistening like a coat of grease on a kisso wrestler’s arms and torso) glared at them out of hate-filled dark eyes. In the fields beside the road and the fields across the river landfolk worked at the harvest, men, women, children. Like the boatmen they stopped what they were doing, even those far across the river, and turned to glower at the riders.

  The hangfire storm continued to hover, the storm smell was strong in the air. Whether it was that or the hate rolling at them from every side, by nightfall the mules were as skittish as highbred horses and considerably more balky. Yaril and Jaril vanished for a while, came back jittery as the mules; they flitted about overhead long after Brann and Danny Blue stopped for the night, camping in a grove of Xuthro redleaves that whispered around them and sprayed them with pungent medicinal odors as the heat of the campfire lifted into the lower branches.

  Danny Blue rested his teamug on his knee and cleared his throat. Brann gave him no encouragement. A catface came into the light, crystal eyes flashing a brilliant red, the cat stared at him for an uncomfortably long time, then withdrew into the darkness; he couldn’t forget it was out there not one minute and while that was comforting in one way, in another it turned his throat dry thinking about the changers pacing and pacing in their sentry rounds, feral fearsome beasts angry at the world in general and at him in particular. He gazed across the fire at Brann who was in her way quite as lethal. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said.

  She nodded, accepting his apology without commenting on it.

  “I do fine,” he said, “as long as it’s the rational side of me called up. Or the technical side. Doesn’t matter who’s running the show, Akamarino or Ahzurdan or me.

  It’s emotions that screw me up, ah, confuse me. Ah, this isn’t easy to talk about…”

  She looked coolly at him as if to say why bother then, looked down at her hands without saying anything.

  Anger flared in him, but he shoved it down and kept control, him, Danny Blue the New, not either of his clamoring progenitors. “When it’s strong emotions, well, Daniel avoided them most of his life, couldn’t handle them, which gives Ahzurdan an edge because he played with them all since he was born, anger, you know, lust, frustration, resentment, he’s loved a maid or two, a man or two, been wildly happy and filled with cold despair, too much passion, his skin was too thin, he had to numb himself, dreamsmoke washed out the pain of living, you know all that, you heard all that on the trip here. He has ambivalences about you, Brann, growing all over him like a fungus, I suppose I should say all over me. That’s the problem, I can’t control him when there’s emotion involved. Think about it a minute. How old is Danny Blue? Three weeks, almost four, Bramble-all-thorns…”

  Her head came up when she heard the name the changers sometimes gave her. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why not, it suits you.”

  “Maybe it does, maybe not. My name is Brann and I’ll tell you when you can call me out of it.” She twisted up onto her knees, touched the side of the teapot, refilled her cup and settled back to her blankets. She sipped briefly at the hot liquid, then sat with her legs drawn up, her arms resting on them, both hands wrapped around the cup as if she needed the warmth from it more than the taste of tea in her mouth. “Do me a favor,” she said, “experiment on someone else.” She gazed at the fire, the animation gone out of her face, her eyes shadowed and dull. After several moments of unhappy silence, she shivered, fetched a smile from somewhere. “You still think you want me when you’ve combed the knots out, I expect I’d be fool enough to try again. At least you already know what I am. What a relief not having to explain things.” She gulped at the tea, shivered again. “Looks like everyone about knows where we’re going and why.”

  “And they don’t like it.”

  “And they don’t like it. Yaril, Jaril,” she called. “One of you come in, will you?”

  The ash blond young woman came into the firelight, tall and slim, limber as a dancer, crystal eyes shadowed, reflecting fugitive glimmers from the dying fire. She glanced at Danny Blue, her face bland as the cat’s had been, showing nothing but a delicately exaggerated surprise at seeing him there. He grinned at her, Daniel uppermost now and finding her much to his taste, an etherial exotic lovely far less complicated and demanding than Brann; watching her settle beside Brann her shoulder and profile given to him, he wondered just how far she’d gone in taking a human shape and what it’d feel like making love to a skinful of fire, hmm! who was also a contact telepath. Now that’s rather offputting. Gods, 01’ Dan, you’re hornier ‘n a dassup in must. And neither of them’s going to have a thing to do with you and it’s your own damn fault. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot, huh, that’s not where the bullet went. Say this is over and you survive it, you’ll have to hunt up a whore or three and argue old Ahzurdan into a heap of ash so you can get your ashes hauled. Till then I guess it’s the hermit’s friend for you if you can get yourself some privacy, shah! as Brann would say, to have those changers come on me and giggle at what I’m reduced to… uh uh, no way. A little strength of mind, Danny Blue, come the morning, dunk yourself in that river, that should be cold enough to take your mind off.

  “A while back,” Yaril said, “Jay and I, we decided we wanted to know what all the glares were about, so we paled out and probed a few of those peasants out there. They’ve had news about us from Silagamatys, all of them, farmers boatmen you name it. They’re trying to think of some way to stop us. They don’t know how so far, the ones we checked were thinking of sneaking up on us when we’re asleep and knocking us in the head or something like that, maybe setting up an ambush and plinking us with bolts from crossbows, so far they haven’t nerved themselves into trying anything, it was mostly wish and dream, but they surely wouldn’t mind if we fell in the river and drowned. They’re worried about Settsimaksimin, if anything happened to him the wolves would be down on them from all sides. They love the man, Bramble, sort of anyway, he’s mixed up in their heads with the land, everything they feel for the land they feel for him, it’s like when they’re plowing the soil, they’re plowing his body. They pray for him, and, believe me, they’ll fight for him. Any time now we’re going to start running into big trouble. Probably tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the wilder local lads tried their hands with bulikillers or scythe blades. Probably around the third nightwatch, I doubt if they’ll come sooner and later it’d be too light.”

  “You and Jay can handle them?”

  “Hah, you need to ask? Braaaann.” She clicked her tongue, shook her head, finally sobered. “You want us to wake you?”

  “As soon as you see signs of trouble, yes. We want to get the mules saddled and the supplies roped in place in case we have to leave fast.”

  “Gotcha, Bramble. Anything else?”

  “Um… what’s the land like ahead?”

  “Pretty much more of the same for the first half day’s ride, another river joins this one a little after that, hard to tell so far off but I think there’s some sort of swamp and the roa
d seems to turn away from the river. You want Jay or me to go take a look?”

  Braun frowned at the fire. “I don’t… think so. No. I’d rather you rested. Take turns with Jay. How are you doing on energy? It was a cloudy day. Give me your hand a minute. Good. That god didn’t change you so much you can’t take from me, I thought a minute it might have, self-defense, you know, so we-couldn’t build the bridge again and suck godfire out of it, but I suppose it wanted to be sure we could handle Amortis if she poked her delicate nose in the business with Maksim.

  “You needn’t worry about us, Bramble, our batteries are charged, matter of fact we’ve been pretty well steady state since we left the ship.”

  “Happy to hear it, but tired or not, you and Jay both operate better after a little dormancy, I think its like with people, you need your sleep to clear out the day’s confusion. So, you rest, both of you, hear?”

  Yaril giggled. “Yes, mama.” She got to her feet and walked with lazy grace out of the circle of firelight.

  Danny Blue yawned. “Looks like Maksim’s made himself some friends.”

  “You could try helping us a bit. I agree with Yaro; we’re bound to run into trouble; I’d like to know more about that and how you’re going to help deal with it.”

  “That depends on the attack, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t know, does it?”

  “In a word, yes. Trouble, mmm. Maksim’s got earth and fire elementals tied to him and an assortment of demons. You’ve met some of those.” A quick grin. “Demons aren’t too, big a problem, you send them home if you know where home is and I know most of the realities Maksim located because Ahzurdan knew and I’ve got his memories.” A lazy stretch, a yawn.-Flip side.” When she raised her brows, not understanding, he murmured, “The good of having Ahzurdan in here. As opposed to the problems he causes.- He took a sip of the tea left in his mug, grimaced. “Stone cold.” He poured it out on the ground beside him and managed to squeeze another half mug from the teapot nestled next to the fire. “Which reminds me, one of the things Maksim might try is tipping the changers into another reality; it’s something I’d do if I could. If he managed that, he could really hurt our chances of surviving. Something else…” He gulped at the tea, closed his eyes as warmth spread through him. “It’s a plus and a minus for us, Ahzurdan might have told you this (I’m a little hazy here and there on my sires’ memories), the top rank sorcerors don’t often fight each other, no point and no profit. They tend to avoid taking hires that might oblige them to confront an equal. He’d argue this, but I don’t think Ahzurdan is one of them. Might be close but the impression I get is he lacked a certain stability.” His body jerked, he looked startled, then grim. He set the mug beside him with careful gentleness, pressed his lips together and slapped his hands repeatedly on his knee until the nagging itchy under-the-skin pains faded away. “He didn’t like that.” He finished off the tea, wiped his mouth. “Where was… yes. What I’m saying is, Settsimaksimin has never been in a war with someone as strong as him or close to it. We’ve both seen it, he doesn’t like to attack. He’ll make individual strikes, but he won’t keep up the pressure and I don’t believe it’s because he can’t. He’s a warm man, he likes people, he needs them around him and he’s generous, if I’m reading the Magic Man right. Aaah, yes, what I’m saying is his peers are all frogs in’their own ponds, they don’t want to share their how shall I say it? ahhh adulation. He’s like that in some senses, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone who pretended to equality with him, but he’s got friends in the lower ranks and among the scholars who don’t operate so much as study and teach, more of them than you might expect. Ahzurdan’s not typical of his ex-students either, poor old Magic Man (uhnn! there he goes again), but even he can’t hate the man. That’s one of his problems, shahhh! apparently it’s mine too. I’d say this, if we hurry him, don’t give him time to set himself, there’s that little hiccup between thought and act we could use to our advantage. No matter how he nerves himself, attack isn’t natural to him, his instinct is to defend. Which is a potent reason for making sure he doesn’t flip the changers off somewhere. Amortis wouldn’t have that drag on her, her instinct is stomp first then check out what’s smeared on her foot. He knows his limitations better than any outsider making funny guesses. He’ll use BinYAHtii to drive her against us. She’s afraid of you, Brann, you and the changers, and she loathes you and she loathes Maksim for con7 straining her, all that fear and rage is waiting to dump on you… ahh… us. With the changers we should be able to deflect it onto Maksim and let him worry about it. Without them… I don’t like to think of facing him without them.”

  She bit into her lower lip, frowned at the fire a moment, looked up at him. “How do we stop it?”

  Danny Blue unwrapped his legs and lay back on his blankets; he gazed up at the spearhead leaves fluttering over him, the patches of black sky he could see in openings between the branches. “I don’t know. I have to think. I might be able to block him if I have a few seconds warning. If the changers start feeling odd or if they see sign of Amortis, they should get to me fast.” He yawned. “Morning’s soon enough to tell them.”

  “Why not now?”

  He pushed up on his elbow, irritated. Her face was a pattern of black and red, he couldn’t read it, but when could he ever? “Because I don’t know what to say to them yet.” His irritation showed in his voice and that annoyed him more.

  She got to her feet. “Then you’d better start your thinking, Danny Blue. I’ll be back in a little.” She walked into the darkness where Yaril had gone, a prowling cat of a woman radically unlike the changer, slender but there was bone in her and good firm muscle on that bone. He remembered her hands, wide strong working hands with their long thumbs and short tapering fingers, he remembered Ahzurdan looking at them disturbed by them because they represented everything he resented about her, her preference for low vulgar laboring men, her disdain for wellborn elegance, for the delicacy of mind and spirit that only generations of breeding could produce, her explosive rejection of almost everything he cherished, he remembered even more vividly the feel of those hands moving tantalizingly up Daniel’s arms, stirring the hairs, shooting heat into him. He pushed up, slipped his sandals off and set them beside his blankets, then stretched out on his back and laced his hands behind his head. “Yes,” he said aloud. “Thinking time.”

  Toward the end of the third nightwatch six young men in their late teens slipped from the river and crept toward the redleaf grove. Jaril spotted them as he cat-walked in ragged circles about the camp. To make sure these young would-be assassins were all he had to worry about, he loped through one last circuit; reassured, he woke Yaril and left her to rouse the others while he shifted to his shimmerglobe. He considered a moment, but the impulse was impossible to resist; he’d wanted to try a certain repatterning technique since he’d sat on Daniel’s stunner and sucked in the knowledge of what it was. He made some swift alterations in one part of his being, suppressed the excited laughter stirring in him and went careening through the trees, a sphere of whitefire like a moontail with acromegaly. He hung over the youths long enough to let them get a good look at him, then he squirted force into his metaphorically rewired portion and sprayed them with his improvised stunbeam. He watched with satisfaction as they collapsed into the dust.

  Yaril glimmersphere drifted up to him. *Nice. Show me. *

  *It’s based on Daniel’s stunner. You do this. Then this. Right. One more twist. Good. That’s the pattern that does it. Remember, keep the lines rigid. Like that. And you cyst it. I didn’t at first and look what I’ve done to myself, that’s going to be sore. It gulps power, Yaro, but you don’t have to hold it more than a few,seconds.*