The Howling Stones

by Alan Dean Foster

  She nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. This alters all pri­orities. We can still work on the treaty, but only in the context of researching this much more important discov­ery." As she speculated, she thrust both long legs straight toward the ceiling and commenced a sequence of exer­cises in place. He found himself speculating, as well.

  "Obviously, the first thing we need to do is try to get hold of a stone for detailed study. That's not going to be easy. No stone master will consent to it. Too much kusum at risk."

  "We have to be careful," he declared. "We don't know what we're dealing with here. Putting the wrong stones together might have unpleasant consequences. Or no consequences at all. Native traditional knowledge would be a great help in our studies."

  Legs up, legs down. Legs up, legs down. She spoke as she exercised. "We already know that the Parrarnati will do nothing that they feel compromises kusum. Letting me witness the ceremony in the field shows how far we've come in gaining their trust, but we've still a long ways to go before anyone offers to tutor you or me in the ways of stone mastering. Nor do I see anyone letting us stick a stone in a spectroscope or a matrix disseminator."

  Rising, Pulickel walked to the nearest window and stared out at the surrounding riot of color that was the tropical Torrelauan forest. Thousands of new specimens lay there, just out of reach, waiting only to be collected and classified. But the only type that interested him now was one to which they would be denied access. He turned abruptly.

  "If the Parramati won't lend us a stone or two, then we'll just have to borrow them."

  That brought Seaforth's legs down. She gawked at him. "Pulickel, are you talking about stealing a stone? First of all, if the Parramati find out, that'll be the end of our work here. Work, hell; it'll mean the end of the sta­tion. The AAnn will have a clear field. As far as any kind of treaty goes, the Commonwealth will have to forget about it. You know the Parramati. They'll never trust us again."

  "Not if they don't find out," he snapped. "I'll handle this myself. If something does go wrong, you can tell them that you had nothing to do with it, that you were against it from the inception, that it was all my idea, and that I did it on my own. Which happens to be the truth."

  "Damn right it is," she complained.

  "If this fails, you can have me replaced. That ought to mollify any outraged Parramati."

  "'They may not accept that explanation. Yours or mine."

  "We'll make sure that when I'm carrying out this little bit of fieldwork the Parramati know your whereabouts. They'll see that you're not helping me, that you're not involved in my efforts. They may be suspicious, but I think they'll accept your protestations of innocence." He straightened. "It doesn't matter anyway, because this is going to come off. Unless you've got a better idea."

  Seaforth was chewing on her lower lip. "I don't, but I don't much like your idea, either. I wonder if we shouldn't clear it with Ophhha first."

  "Sure. Send them the recording. You think that after reviewing that they'll let us proceed in a quiet, studious manner? As soon as that recording's integrity has been verified, a hundred researchers will descend on Torrelau and the other islands of the archipelago. They'll be ac­companied by armed peaceforcers. Lest the AAnn get wind of what's happened and try to muscle in, heavy weapons will accompany the research teams. So much for the easygoing, pastoral Parramati lifestyle. You want to see that happen?"

  She was still reluctant. "You argue persuasively, Pulickel. You always do. But I still don't like it."

  He turned slightly from her. "You think I do? I'm a xe­nologist, not a sneak thief. But viable alternatives elude me. We can't do a proper study of the stones without a specimen or two. What do you think a team from Ophh­lia will do? They'll acquire the necessary research mate­rial by whatever means necessary. Maybe it's a Hobson's choice, but I prefer thievery to coercion.'.' He did his best to cast the proposal in a benevolent light.

  "When we've completed our studies, or at least ac­quired enough material to work with, I'll return the stones. The Parramati will be none the wiser and their way of life, their kusum, will be minimally impacted, if at all. Isn't that better than subjecting them to an armed scientific invasion? Subjected to that kind of pressure, I wouldn't be surprised to see them throw every one of the sacred stones into the deep ocean. That sort of thing has happened before. Many primitives will destroy their cul­ture before they surrender it to force."

  Fawn thought of Jeriill and Ululiapa and the reverence with which they had handled their stones. "It would be terrible," she agreed tentatively, "if the stones and the knowledge they represent were to be lost."

  "Exactly."

  "So by stealing a couple of stones you're actually do­ing the Parramati a service."

  He beamed at her, his teeth white against his dark ­olive complexion. "That's right."

  She shook her head, her tone sardonic. "I'm not sure that you chose the right profession, Pulickel. Okay, I'll buy your reasoning, but I still don't want any part of this."

  "Excellent. It's my intention that you do not. You'll stay well out of it. We'll retain the stones for the absolute minimal amount of time necessary to learn what we're dealing with and then I will return them."

  "It better be minimal," she declared. "Sacred stones don't just go mussing. Their absence will be noted imme­diately and the Parramati will start looking for them."

  "I know. We should be able to acquire enough basic in­formation in a couple of days to give us something to work with. Three days at most. After that we can process readings instead of the actual stones."

  Looking resigned, she swung her feet back onto the floor and stared at him. "You've admitted that you're not trained as a thief. How are you going to steal a stone?"

  "No Parramati would think of making off with one, would they?"

  "Of course not. The penalty would be ostracism and exile. If the stone was important enough, maybe even death. No villager would think of touching a stone with­out permission from its master, much less the family or clan responsible for it. No stone master will even touch another master's stone. It would be an appalling violation of kusum and an invasion of personal space."

  "So they're looked after and cared for but not really guarded."

  She conceded the point reluctantly. "That's right."

  He brightened. "Then all I have to do is wait until everyone in the vicinity is off working in the fields, or fishing, or visiting relatives; then walk into the appropri­ate longhouse, pick up the stone, stick it in my backpack, and leave. Without being seen, of course. There's no guard to battle, no traps to avoid. Kusum is protection enough."

  "I suppose you're right. But how do you plan to carry this off without being seen?"

  "By no means are all the stones kept in the larger villages. We know of many stone masters who live in family‑size communities, or even isolated and alone. Those are the ones I will "borrow" from. Not only will it improve my chances, it will greatly reduce the likelihood of my being seen."

  She rose and moved to the nearest table, began idly fingering the wrist recorder. "You probably won't be able to acquire the kind of stones we'd most like to study."

  He shrugged. "It's the nature and operating method­ology of the stones we need to learn, not the specific indi­vidual functions. The how more so than the what. I'll be perfectly happy with a couple of growing stones or water stones. As for trying them in combination, what's the worst that could happen?"

  She turned to stare back at him. "I don't know, Pulickel. I suppose that depends on the type of stones you bring back:"

  "We must have at least two. Three or four would be better. That would allow us to experiment with a number of different combinations. After we have exhaustively analyzed their internal structure and composition, of course." He smiled expectantly. "Then we are agreed?"

  She hesitated before letting out a long, heartfelt sigh. "In the absence of any viable alternatives, I suppose so."

  He moved to a computer station.
"Then the first thing we need is a list of all the known stone masters on the is­land. I could go elsewhere in the archipelago, but off Tor­relau I'd stand out more. Being familiar with the local topography will also help." He spoke softly to the com­puter and the section of wall immediately above flared to life.

  "There." He gestured at the readout. "The Vounea Peninsula is full of isolated farms and small villages."

  "That's because it's one of the most rugged areas on the island," she reminded him. "You've only been there once."

  "I don't mind a little hiking. Besides, the documenta­tion is excellent. According to this, there are more than a dozen stone masters living in the area. They don't have as much contact with the larger towns like Torrelauapa. With traditional methods of communication, it will take at least a couple of days for word of the disappearances to travel across the island." He looked up at her.

  "With luck we'll be able to return the stones we bor­row before many Parramati are informed that any have gone astray."

  "Which presents another problem," she observed. "As­suming you bring this off, you still have to return them without being seen."

  He waved off her concern. "It's not as important. If I'm seen returning a stone I'll probably be hailed as a hero for making the recovery. This could even end up en­hancing our standing among the locals. The Parramati will be so glad to have the missing sacred stones back they'll soon quit wondering about their mysterious and temporary disappearance. For all I care they can imagine the stones grew legs and went for a stroll."

  He directed the computer to transfer the list on the wall to the portable unit in his locker, which he would carry with him. Appropriate map overlays were next on his re­search list.

  "Twenty‑four lab hours with a couple of stones: that's all I want. That should be enough time for us to get some idea of their composition and internal structure. From that we ought to be able to put together a presentation sufficient to interest Denpasar. If we can bypass the im­ported scientific bureaucracy in Ophhlia, we might be able to keep this to ourselves for a while and prevent Par­ramat from being overrun by the curious. Otherwise it will be impossible to do rational ethnography‑or much of anything else."

  "I agree with that much." Fawn poured herself a glass of fruit juice from a refrigerated pitcher. "What happens if you get caught in the act?"

  "I'll say that I was just looking to satisfy my curiosity. Since no Parramati can conceive of stealing a stone, it's reasonable to assume they'd think likewise of us. I might have to sit through a lecture on proper stone‑visiting pro­cedure, but I think the locals will make allowance for my ignorance." He smiled blandly. "The natives can be very forgiving."

  "They won't be," she warned him, "if they confront you on a trail and find a couple of missing stones in your backpack."

  "You postulate a worst‑case scenario. I'll cope with it if and when it happens." He rose. "You can drop me off somewhere along the Vounea, stand out to sea, and pick me up later that evening. If there's any problem 1' 11 con­tact you and we'll make other arrangements."

  She brooded over the proposal. "You make it all sound so plausible."

  "We've already contemplated alternative approaches and come up with nothing." His tone sharpened. "We can't just leave this alone, Fawn. Not after what you saw."

  "I know. I just wish there was some other way."

  "So do I. Keep in mind that we're not taking the stones. We're not packaging them up and shipping them off to Hivehom or Earth. We're going to look at them for a couple of days, take a few measurements and readings, and then put them back where they belong. That's all. If based on our initial findings more advanced analysis is called for, then we'll formulate a fresh approach at that time. Meanwhile we'll do things a step at a time."

  She nodded. "I wish I could be as sanguine as you. When do you want to do this?"

  "What's wrong with tomorrow?"

  She drained her glass. "I suppose you're fight. The sooner the better."

  He tried to reassure her. "Don't worry. I won't take any unnecessary chances. If one stone is too closely attended, I'll just move on to the next. I'm more concerned about curious cubs than I am watchful adults." Once more he considered the view of the surrounding alien forest.

  "We'd do well to rest for the remainder of the after­noon. Tomorrow is going to be frenetic."

  "I hope that's all it is." She put the glass aside. "Wea­pons here are primitive, Pulickel, but an arrow or an ax can kill you just as dead as a needler"

  "The last thing I want is to precipitate any kind of vio­lent confrontation. I don't want to get hurt and I don't want to hurt any of the natives. It's not going to happen. Will you stop worrying?" He walked over and put his arm around her, having to reach up slightly to do so. "Unless someone sees me actually taking a stone there's no chance of any trouble."

  "I wish I had your confidence." Reaching down, she messed his thick black hair. He kept it combed straight back in a utilitarian but not especially flattering coif. When she was finished much of it stood straight up or out, in spikes. Patiently he smoothed it back down.

  Wish I had you, he thought ... but did not dare even whisper it aloud.

  Chapter Twelve

  Daybreak found them speeding along the outer edge of the fringing lagoon, Fawn guiding the skimmer just in­side the line of marching breakers. It took awhile to half circumnavigate Torrelau, but within the hour they were approaching the Vounea Peninsula.

  Moving inshore, she cruised back and forth while Pulickel studied the terrain in search of the ideal place to land. With the aid of survey maps they found it in a tiny, rock‑walled cove too shallow for fishing and too strewn with silicate and stone rubble to serve as a play pool for Parramati young. The inlet's slick wave‑worn walls offered little in the way of hand or foot grips, and the crumbling rim overhung the water.

  Fawn held the skimmer level with the top of the near­est cliff while Pulickel tossed his pack into a clump of obliging bushes. In addition to map and locator gear, he carried three days' worth of concentrated rations; a backup communicator, first‑aid pack, wet‑weather attire, shoe and clothing repair kit, and several padded sacks for carrying ­and concealing‑stones.

  "I expect I have everything." He put one foot on the edge of the skimmer and prepared to step over the slight gap between the craft's outer edge and the heavily vege­tated stone parapet against which it floated.

  "Just one more thing." Leaving the controls, Fawn walked back to him. Standing on the side of the skimmer put his face level with hers, so she didn't have to bend to kiss him. It was a straightforward and chaste peck on the lips, no more lubricious than a handshake held long, but his mouth burned as if he'd gargled with sambal sauce.

  Before he could react or say anything, she'd pivoted and returned to the controls. "Watch your step. And by that I don't mean look at your feet all the time. I don't want to go back to running the station solo."

  The fire on his mouth lingered, and he wanted to say a great many things. What he said instead was "I will en­deavor to keep myself intact." Though he commanded a large army of words, in the presence of women the ones he wanted to use always seemed to be AWOL when he was most in need of them.

  After backing the skimmer out of the inlet, she threw him a perfunctory wave as she headed for the distant reef line. She'd find a sandy islet with shade and make herself comfortable until it was time to return and pick him up. It was how he'd first encountered her; exposing her naked­ness to Senisran's tropical sun, blissfully indifferent to potential onlookers. Combined with the lingering taste of her on his lips, it kept him from concentrating on the task at hand.

  He allowed himself to remain distracted for approxi­mately four minutes. Only then did he put the delight­fully unsettling farewell out of his mind and get to work.

  A quick check of his equipment revealed that all was as he'd stowed it. Activated, his handheld showed the skimmer moving steadily out to sea. Disabling the unit's integrated vorec, he
used silent manual controls to call up a detailed map of his present position. It indicated that it was a short but rugged hike to the small village housing the nearest sacred stone.

  He eyed the steep, thickly vegetated slope in front of him and sighed. Better get going, he told himself. The sooner he obtained a couple of good specimens and had Fawn pick him up, the sooner he would be able to relax. At his request the handheld mapped out the easiest route up the ridge. Among other functions, the compact device could pinpoint his position, Fawn's, and that of potential specimens; compose a respectable weather prediction on­site; translate all known Parramati terminology; let him communicate with his colleague, the base station, or Ophhlia; access the small but rapidly growing Encyclo­pedia Senisran; and run a fairly thorough health check on human, thranx, or native. But it could not walk for him.

  Keeping an eye peeled for dangerous animals and toxic plants, he slipped the pack onto his back and started up. In hopes of avoiding unwanted attention, he had selected a route that would take him to the most isolated stone repositories first. Only if these attempts failed would he risk borrowing from the larger villages. With luck, his first couple of tries would be successful, and he and Fawn would be back at base in time for lunch.

  He encountered no one in the jungle. The rocky, heavily eroded terrain where the skimmer had touched shore was not conducive to terrace farming, and the vegetation was too tangled for good hunting. He welcomed it as an ally since it would slow communications when astonished stone masters began to spread the news to the rest of the island of stones gone missing.

  Some of the plants and forest dwellers he encountered in the course of his climb were familiar to him. Others, being endemic to the Vounea, were new. Ignorant of their properties and capabilities, he treated anything unfamil­iar with the greatest respect.

  One who assumes that everything bites or stings is less likely to get bitten or stung, he knew. It would be worse than ironic if he were to effortlessly make off with a couple of prime stones and not be seen at all, only to be laid low through careless confrontation with a ravavuaa or tesamau. Incapacitation from natural causes would do nothing to protect him from Parramati wrath if they found him with the missing stones in his possession.