by Clayton, Jo;
Manoreh stood quietly at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Kobe to acknowledge his presence. His eyes rested briefly on her but he said nothing to her, turning back to Kobe as if something like fezza fulled his reactions also.
“Wild Ranger,” Kobe said heavily.
Manoreh bowed his head politely, then he fixed calm eyes on Kobe. “Kobe ya Kimbizi aya Fajir iya Fundi iyai Kisima, the hares march.” He paused, waiting for questions that didn’t come. “They follow about three hours, perhaps four, behind me, a herd so wide it blankets the Sawasawa.” His shoulders slumped briefly before he straightened them, stubbornly refusing to show weakness in the face of Kobe’s hostility. Kitosime was vaguely worried. He’s terribly tired, Meme Kalamah keep him.… She breathed in the mist of hate and fear directed toward him. Manoreh, Manoreh why do you try to endure this? Take up your father’s land and get us both away. Why, why, why don’t you do that?
“Kiwanji.” Kobe grimaced; his eyes opened wide until rings of white showed around the indigo. Kitosime rocked slightly on the kneeling pillow, struggling to maintain her mask. Meme Kalamah, help me, help me. I can’t stand it. The hate, the hate.…
“The psi-screens will keep the people safe.” Manoreh’s face froze. After a minute he said hoarsely, “You haven’t seen what happens in a hare walk. Make up your mind, Old Man.”
“Psi-screens. Abomination.” Kobe twisted small hands on the elaborately carved chair arms. “No!” He scowled at the line of blue where the eastern mountain crests rippled above the court walls. “The mountains will hold us. The Fa-shrine.”
Kitosime jerked, almost cried out. As she calmed herself she saw Manoreh’s face freeze over again. He was silent for a long moment, then said quietly, “If these were all young men—” he moved his hands in a quick circle, taking in all the folk in the courtyard—“used to hard riding and hard living, you might make it.” His mouth snapped shut. She felt the coldness in him. His eyes rested on her. “If you go to the mountains,” he said tautly, “I want my wife and son. I’ve lost enough close kin to the hares.”
“Hold your noise!” Kobe snapped. Kitosime swayed again, fighting to cope with a tiny spark of hope. To get out of here, ride with Manoreh, get Hodarzu someplace safe.… She swayed back and forth rhythmically, blanking out both hope and fear, but deep within, the chant was softly repeated: Talk to me, Manoreh, just one minute, take a minute and talk to me, I’m your wife, talk to me.… She fixed her eyes on him silently begging him to use his FEELING and hear her need.
“I’ve got no choice,” Kobe said sourly. “We’ll take the barges into Kiwanji.” His little dark eyes glittered. “No need to take my daughter scrambling through the wild.” His tiny hands closed into fists. He won’t let me go, Kitosime thought dully. Even if Manoreh bothered to try, he’d stop him somehow. And he won’t try.…
Manoreh’s eyes flicked to Kitosime then dismissed her. “Give me a faras, Old Man. And let me go. The other Holders still aren’t warned of the hare march.”
Kobe grunted. He wants to refuse, Kitosime thought. But he doesn’t dare. The Old Man rose. “So,” he said, “go to the corral and pick your own.” He stumped back into the house, trailed by the silent house servants.
“Manoreh.” Kotosime called to her husband, but he was pushing his way through the murmuring, hostile crowd filling the courtyard and didn’t hear her. Kneeling gracefully erect on her pillow, afraid to call him again, she watched him disappear through the arch. As the silent crowd began trickling out behind him, she rose and walked slowly into the house. I wish I knew what to do, where to go …
Chapter III
The uauawimbony tree clattered as Manoreh rode out, and the dance of the faras’s hooves rattling against the gold-brown gravel echoed the sound. Manoreh loosened the reins a little, letting the faras move into a trot, thinking unhappily about Kitosime. He had a vague sense of foreboding but couldn’t track down any cause for it. He tried to shake it off. I should have taken a minute to talk to her. He grimaced. Women!
He pushed the faras hard along the rutted road that ran beside the Mungivir. The wind was rising again, sending dust skittering through the juapepo. Overhead the clouds thickened across the sun’s face, casting a shadow over the land. The haze of red dust whirled about him, reminding him of the dream woman’s long fine hair. Abruptly he could feel her looking at him. She was getting closer and closer. He tried to concentrate on the ride.
Aleytys narrowed her eyes as the face ghosting across the stars was abruptly gone, the face that invaded her dreams and continued to puzzle her. She leaned back and watched Grey, silent in the pilot seat. He felt her looking, smiled at her, then went back to the tapes detailing the Hunt. My Hunt, she thought. She rubbed her fingertips along the chair arms. First of many. Until I earn a ship. A ship of my own.… She closed her eyes. My Hunt.
Head turned from the window. She was a chunky, middle-aged woman with stiff silver hair worn short like a cap. Her smile flashed wide, white, brilliant. “University sends me good reports of your progress.”
Aleytys smoothed the material over her thighs. “That’s encouraging.”
“It seems you’ve also followed instructions and kept quiet about your background and your … um … talents.” Head charged at the desk and got her body into a chair without kicking it over. “Good.” She leaned back, heavy eyebrows rising.
Aleytys told herself there was no reason to be nervous. Even if Head had sent a special ship to University to fetch her. She smiled uncertainly. “That’s no occasion for praise. Living is easier when the people around me don’t treat me like a freak.”
“No doubt.” Head placed a pile of fax sheets in front of her. “We’ve expended a lot of credit on you. One way or another.” She paused and looked down at the sheets. “And protected you from some powerful enemies.”
Aleytys looked down. “I’m aware of that.”
“Um.” Head leafed through the fax sheets, pulled out one and read it while Aleytys watched, swallowing the knot in her throat. After a moment Head flattened her hand on the sheet and looked up at her. “You’ve made no friends. A year ago you quarreled with Grey and he walked out on you. Since then you’ve been withdrawing from human contact until you hardly bother to leave your rooms except for classes. Would you care to explain?”
“No.”
“What?” Head frowned.
“I think I was clear. How I prefer to live is my business.”
Head settled back in her chair, her shrewd eyes moving from Aleytys’s face to the hands curled into fists. “Sore point?” Her pale blue eyes rose to Aleytys’s face again. “Anything that might affect your performance is my business. I don’t want to think I made a bad decision when I admitted you to training.” When Aleytys remained stubbornly silent, she continued. “Part of what we sell is our reputation, mountain girl. I repeat. Why?”
Aleytys slid her tongue over her lips. “I’m more comfortable by myself.”
Head’s fingers tapped on the sheets. “If you were Wolff-born … Part Vryhh, part god knows.…” She sighed. “There’s more to this. What’s bothering you?”
Aleytys closed her eyes. “All right. I have problems relating to people. According to the letter my mother left when she abandoned me, the Vrya all find it difficult to maintain close personal relationships.”
Head looked skeptical. “You weren’t maintaining any relationships at all.”
“So?”
The chunky woman fixed her eyes on Aleytys until she started to fidget. After several minutes of this uncomfortable silence, she said, “You don’t take orders very well, do you?”
Aleytys moved impatiently. “I don’t see the point of all this. Why bring me from University just to dig at me?”
“If I sent you out on a Hunt.…” Her eyes twinkled as Aleytys, forced back the words that wanted to pour out. “You’ve been given access to classified material concerning a Hunter’s biologic implants?”
Aleytys nodded.
“Um.
I’d planned to schedule for surgery at the end of this year. You’d have spent the next year learning how to use them.”
“Had planned?”
“Keep still and listen. You aren’t ready to Hunt. And don’t give me any argument about that. I concede that you could take out any of my Hunters even without the implants. But you’re politically naïve and potentially disastrous for us. Special skills aside, you’ve got a lot to learn, young woman. Among other things, the limitations to our commissions. We’re not a charitable organization. We can’t afford to be. Wolff is a poor world. We hunt for money, Aleytys. Not for any illusive glory. Not from any moral imperative. We are mercenaries, hired for specific purposes and required not to go beyond those purposes if we want to collect our fees.”
Aleytys brushed impatiently at her hair. “I know that.”
“I don’t think you do.” Head’s lips tightened as she searched Aleytys’s face. “We do not—cannot—get involved with native populations.”
Aleytys lifted a hand, let it drop. A smile started. “I concede the point. I do get involved.”
“So you do. As I said, potentially disastrous for us.”
“You knew that before you sent me to University.”
“Of course. I expect you to make a strong effort to grow out of that sentimentality, mountain girl. Then you’ll be a quite remarkable asset to Hunters Inc.” Head bundled the fax sheets together, extracted a ragged slip of paper, then dropped them into the destructor. “I’ve labored that point long enough. The RMoahl are becoming troublesome. They want you.”
“You said you’d talk them out of harassing me.”
“Hard-headed bastards. Unreasonable.” She wrinkled her beaky nose. “They’re still determined to lock you up in their treasure vault until you die so they can get their diadem back.”
“Their diadem, hah!”
“It has been in their hands for several thousand years. A reasonable claim to ownership.” Head shrugged. “Fortunately they have an exaggerated respect for authority. University is a neutral world and they are unable because of their culture to violate that neutrality, so we have no problem as long as you stay there.”
“Yet you called me here.”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Aleytys smiled. “You’ve decided to use me in spite of my potential for disaster.”
“Um.” Head looked a little uncomfortable, then picked up the small scrap of paper. “Someone’s heard about you.”
“What?”
Head frowned at the scrawled words on the paper. “We’ve had a Hunt proposed. Chwereva Company. A world called Sunguralingu.”
“So?”
“The Reps made a condition. That you be assigned to the Hunt.”
“That smells.”
“Very ripe. Your talents are tailored for this Hunt but how the hell could they know about you?”
Aleytys stared blankly at the window behind Head. “I’ve banged up against several companies,” she said slowly. “The Karkesh on Lamarchos, though I don’t see … they knew me only as a native sorceress. Ffynch Company on Irsud. The Rep there was poking about, looked like the type that could ferret out anything he wanted to know. Wei-chu-Hsien on Maeve. Their present Rep there saw a lot more than I feel comfortable about. But you know that. I’m sure you read Grey’s report.”
Head nodded. “It’s not impossible, it just stinks. I decided to refuse the Hunt.”
“Then why am I here?”
“As you said, a bad smell about the whole thing. I opened my mouth to refuse. And changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Good question.” Head’s eyes were hard and angry. “I intended to tell the Rep it was not possible but before the words came out they changed on me.”
“Ah! I see.” Aleytys frowned. “But your shield.…”
“Tell me about it.” Head shook her head. “I can’t prove coercion so we’re stuck with the Hunt. Find out how I was reached in spite of the defenses of this office. And my own personal defenses. Do the best you can with Chwereva’s problem, but find out for me how that bastard got to me.”
Aleytys rubbed thumb and forefinger together. “I could, I think. Reach you, I mean. But a competent brain scan would show my tampering. Did you … no, that’s stupid, of course you did. What did it show?”
“Not much.”
“The Reps. What did they look like?”
“Hardly your typical watuk. Talker was sloppy fat. Important syb of one of the Eight Families on Watulkingu. Director in Chwereva. Had a twirp with him. Paper carrier, negligible as far as I could tell. Couldn’t make an impression on a milk pudding if he sat on it. Third one was interesting. Watuk features, coloring, scale markings. Tall man, grotesquely thin, wearing an exoskeleton.” Head raised a hand as Aleytys looked up. “No. Analyzed before he got in here. Exoskeleton and nothing else. Very nice drivers. Take a look at schematics when you go through the files. Serd-amachar syndrome. Why he wore it. Wasting disease with no known cure. Under his clothes he was bone and a bit of dried-out skin.”
“Maybe the RMoahl?”
“No. Not their style.”
“Then a psi-freak like me. One of those three.”
“No point in pooling ignorance. Since this is your first Hunt proposal, I have to explain that you may turn it down if you choose. That would let us off the hook. I hope you don’t. However, before you decide, you should know this. You won’t go out alone this time. I’m going to link you to another Hunter. We’ll take time for one of the implants. A minor operation. Just to set in a tracer. I want you to have a backup. Hunters Inc. itself is riding on this.”
“Who’s going with me?”
“Grey.”
“What! No, I can’t.…”
Head watched her quietly. “Grey has seen you work. And he’s a professional. And he knows you. He can head you off if you start running wild. Whatever stands between you, he won’t let it interfere with the Hunt.” Her strong face turned stern. “Make no mistake, Aleytys. He’s in charge. Do what he tells you. Blow this Hunt and we drop you, never mind what we’ve spent on you.”
“Do what he tells me.” Aleytys scowled. “Even if I think he’s got rats in his head?”
“If it’s a question of the Hunt, yes. His judgment is better than yours.”
“You try me high.”
“Exactly.”
“My god, Head. We nearly killed each other that last time we quarreled. Putting us together—it’s ridiculous. Stupid!”
Head’s lips twitched. “Have you no tact at all?”
“I can lie as gracefully as anyone. Do you really want that? I didn’t think so.”
“You might have wheedled a solo from me.”
“If I was that stupid, you really would dump me.”
“Clever. Having found my weakness, you flatter me by subtle indirection.”
“Is there any way I can win in this exchange?”
“No wonder Grey found you a prickly handful.”
Aleytys winced. “Very low blow, Head.”
“No rules in this game. Did you expect there would be?”
“No.” Aleytys grinned suddenly. “I surrender.”
“Accepted.” Head reached into the desk and pulled out a folder. “Preliminary data on the Hunt in here. Study it. If you decide to accept, meet with Grey in the Library at the sixth hour this afternoon. He’ll walk you through the tapes and reports, give you an idea what you can and can’t do. I want to see the two of you here tomorrow morning. Tenth hour.”
“Right.” Aleytys walked slowly to the door. Hand on the massive slab of polished wood, she looked back over her shoulder. “Thanks. I think.”
Aleytys yawned, smiled sleepily. “Sunguralingu. Nice name. When will we get there?” She rubbed at her shoulder, still a little sore from the placing of the implant.
Grey let the viewer fold back into the chair arm. “Couple hours. About sundown, local time.”
“Funny thing happened.” She frowned at the
wide viewscreen over the console.
“It has been a quiet trip.” He started to smile. “What is it?”
“Fool. Seriously, I’ve been touched twice by someone there.”
“Touched how? Where?”
“Sunguralingu, I think. Hard to be sure. Psi-link. Sensory tie.”
Grey looked startled. He swung the chair up and examined the instruments. “This far away? And in the interface?”
“See what I mean?”
“Friend or enemy?”
“Friend, I think. He doesn’t like me much, seems to find me revoltingly unfeminine.”
“Probably a native. The Vodufa’s a back-to-the-primitive movement and pretty damn fanatical about it. You did your homework. You know how they treat women. What are you going to do about him?”
“For one thing, find out more about him. My god, what a reach he’s got.” She closed her eyes. “He’s riding through a windstorm now, bothered about a lot of things. He’s heading for Kiwanji, so I suppose we’ll be meeting him there.”
The sun was going down as Manoreh rode into Kiwanji. The wharves were clogged with incoming barges and the refugees who were streaming up the hill to the temporary barracks set up for them. He waved perfunctory greetings to those who called out to him, but didn’t stop to answer the questions they yelled at him. Faiseh must have come in several days ago, he thought. With this much set up already. He relaxed as he left the last of the shelters and rode through emptier streets, past the market square and the small employees’ houses. The air cleared for him; the people here accepted him for what he was. Coming back into this quiet was like plunging into cool water on a hot, sticky day. The little houses were empty, their inhabitants lodged now behind Chwereva walls.
The Tembeat was a mud-walled compound sitting like a wart against the walls of the larger complex that housed Chwereva headquarters. One wing of the gate was open. Manoreh slid off the faras and groaned with pleasure as he stretched tired and aching muscles. He scratched briskly beside the fara’s mane and projected PLEASURE. The animal rubbed his nose against the Ranger’s shoulder.
A gangly apprentice on duty in the gatehouse grinned down at Manoreh from one of the windows in the guardroom. “Hey, couz, long trip this time. You back?”