Star Hunters

by Clayton, Jo;

  Kitosime stepped out the door, feeling clumsy and uncomfortable in a tunic and shorts. She tugged at the neck thongs then at the bottoms of the shorts. When Manoreh grinned, she glared at him. “I’d like to see you try to manage a dress-cloth,” she snapped. His eyes twinkled. Hodarzu was sitting by his feet. The boy looked up. “Mama?”

  “You see, even my own son.”

  Manoreh let his eyes drop to her long, slim legs. “He’s not old enough yet to appreciate something good.”

  Kitosime gasped with indignation. “Manoreh!”

  There was a sudden flurry of excitement in the courtyard. Mara ducked around a faras and came hesitantly to the foot of the steps. “Mama ’Tosime?”

  Kitosime stepped to the front of the porch. “What is it, Mara? We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  “Mama, if there’s time.…” Mara hesitated, then plunged on. “New wildings want names, please.”

  She looked down into the wildings’ anxious faces. “Eight of you?” She shook her head. “That would take.…”

  “Please, mama.” S’kiliza trotted up the porch steps and tugged at Kitosime’s hand. “They need names.”

  Manoreh chuckled. “That’s telling her, Siki.” He moved past Kitosime and teetered on the top step, glancing at the sun, then at the fidgeting children. “Might be a good idea, giving them names. Make them easier to keep track of.” He rubbed his head. “Make it fast, love, not more than half an hour.” He dropped down on the step.

  “I’ll try. Fool!” She laughed, settling herself beside him on the step. Hodarzu snuggled against her knees, watching the children in the court with fascination and excitement. Kitosime hugged him lightly, then called to the other children. “Mara, S’kiliza, Wame, Liado, Amea, Cheo, come here.” When they were bouncing excitedly beside her, she said, “You’ll have to help me.”

  “We help, we help.” Wame grinned and beat Liado’s shoulder. The others projected intense agreement. Hodarzu wiggled against Kitosime’s leg and started to get up, but she tapped him on the shoulder and made him stay where he was.

  She smiled proudly at them. “Good,” she said. “Go and stand in front of the new ones. Come to me when I call your names, but don’t, let them move. We’ll do that … um … three times, then I’ll name the new ones. When I call the names, you say them too. Help me make them understand which name belongs with which. We have to do this fast. Understand?”

  With the help of the children the naming ceremony passed very quickly. The wildings seemed to grasp the meaning of names almost at once. To Kitosime’s surprise they tried to say the names she gave them. They quivered with exaltation as they stood in front of her and croaked the syllables in voices long unused. When the last child was named and had tried out her name, the whole group of children yelled hoarsely then joined in a wild dance winding through the faras and around the Mother Well, singing a fluid, silent music.

  Kitosime swayed uncertainly as she jumped to her feet, then Manoreh was beside her, holding her up. “What’s wrong?” he said.

  “Just tired.” She leaned against him, grateful for his strength. “Manoreh, the children, they’re too excited. We should get them quieted down.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Rest a minute, Kita,” he said softly. “Let me help. No hurry, not yet. They’ll calm themselves in a minute.” As she relaxed against him, he looked out at the dancing children. “Naming.” There was wonder and amazement in his voice. “Something as simple as that.”

  Jua Churukuu was a finger’s width above the mountains when they left the Holding. In minutes the long line of faras turned into the rutted road leading to the river and the ferry landing, their hooves kicking up clouds of red dust that hung in the still air a moment then fell back. Already there was a promise of breathless heat waiting for them in the afternoon. Manoreh frowned. Kitosime wasn’t accustomed to riding—or the children. He watched her shifting uncomfortably in the saddle and wondered how long it would be before they had to start walking.

  The ferry was a clumsy, flat-bottomed barge that moved along twin cables between landings at each side of the river, powered by heavy ropes running from the landings to drums turned by long-handled cranks. By the time Manoreh reached the beaten-hard loading space, Faiseh had stationed Cheo and Amea at the crank and was vigorously directing the loading of the faras. He looked around as Manoreh rode up. “Think we can make it in two trips, couz.” Then he swung back to the ferry. “That’s enough. Rahz, stand by the gate. Be ready to close it when I’m on.” He led his nervous faras onto the ferry, waited till the small boy latched the gate. Then he tugged at his mustache and tilted his head to look up the bank at Manoreh. “Got a funny feeling, couz. Keep your eyes open, will you? We’re kind of stuck out here. Good targets.”

  “Right.” Manoreh waved the remaining children back behind him. Kitosime shook her head when he tried to send her with them. “Stubborn,” he murmured. She laughed but shook her head again. He shrugged and pulled his gun out and held it ready, as his eyes scanned the heavy brush on the far side of the river.

  Kitosime shifted again in the saddle trying to find a more comfortable position. She felt a sudden warmth on her breast, a familiar stirring. She pulled the neck pouch out and closed her fingers around it. The heat exploded, striking to the bone. She gasped and closed her eyes.

  And saw fur-clad men with hideous scarred faces crouching behind heavy brush, waiting, assegais gripped in quivering hands, ready … saw spear tips glinting in the sun, flying into tight packed children … blood … screams … death.…

  She sobbed, opened her eyes. “Manoreh.…”

  “Don’t bother me, Kita.” He moved his shoulders irritably and fixed his eyes on the other river bank. “I don’t have time now.”

  “Time!” She flung her anger at him. “Manoreh, listen to me!”

  He winced. “Dammit, Kitosime.…”

  “Hah!” She pointed at a thick clump of brush close to the far landing. “There are Fa-men over there. Four of them.” Still seething, she glared at him. “They’re waiting for the ferry to come a little closer, then they’re going to kill as many as they can with those cursed spears.”

  “How do you know?” He scowled at her, then waved her aside. “Get out of the way, will you?”

  She brought the faras around, calmer now that he was listening. “The eyestones,” she said.

  “Ah!” He raised in the stirrups and waved vigorously. “Head down, Faiseh! Trouble!” Then he set the energy gun for continuous burn and sliced the beam through the heavy growth across the river. For a second nothing happened, then he heard screams and thrashing in the brush. He snapped off a single shot as two shadowy figures staggered up the bank. He saw one throw up its arms, but both men kept moving and vanished among the kuumti trees.

  Out on the river the children were wild with excitement, blasting silent shouts of triumph at the Ranger. Faiseh shouted them into a measure of calm, then cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Good shooting, couz, do the same for you some time.” He swung around and started Cheo and Amea turning the crank again. The ferry began creeping forward and touched the landing a few minutes later.

  Manoreh slid the gun back, snapped the holster shut. He looked thoughtfully at Kitosime. She was dusty and sweating, sitting awkwardly in the saddle, tendrils of her dark blue hair pasted around her elegant silver-green face. She was still angry, sizzling with life and energy. He eased the faras closer to her, then drew his fingers along her cheek. He pulled them away and looked down at the smear of dust and sweat on the tips. “No,” he said quietly. “You won’t go back to being a pretty doll.”

  She caught at his hand, still angry. As their eyes met, they leaned toward each other, breathing hard. Then Faiseh’s yell reminded them where they were. “Tonight,” Manoreh murmured.

  Kitosime looked nervously around at the wide-eyed, fascinated children behind them, then at Manoreh. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to still some of the turmoil churnin
g within her. “Tonight,” she croaked. She glanced shyly at Manoreh’s amused face. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to people listening in.”

  Chapter XVII

  Aleytys felt her tension flow away. Kobe’s Holding was lost in the night shadows. “I feel like I’m putting down a story only half read,” she murmured.

  “They’ll write their own ending, Lee. Without us.” Grey sounded oddly somber. She turned her head and watched him lazily, wondering why he seemed so down when the Hunt was ended successfully.

  “My first Hunt. Think Head will approve?” She frowned. “I wish you hadn’t left the Vryhh behind. I wanted to haul him back and let Head chew on him a bit. Flames were shooting out of her ears when she told me about being tampered with.” She giggled. “I’ve got the most godawful relatives. He said he was Tennath, my grandfather, great-grandfather, or something.” She grinned at him. “You blew up a member of my family.”

  “Does it bother you?” He spoke with some effort. Aleytys frowned. Something was definitely bothering him.

  “Not really,” she said slowly. She waited a moment for him to say something more, then scanned the ground below. They were over the big river. The silver surface was broken by small black squares that looked to be pinned in place. “Barges,” she said. “Holders on their way home.” She paused. “I’d hate to have to live here. Maybe getting hell kicked out of them will teach them something.” She sniffed. “Doubt it Bunch of glue-brained fanatics.” She smoothed her hands over the crumpled green velvet of her dress. “What’s wrong, Grey?”

  “I didn’t blow him up, Lee. He’s not dead.”

  “Not … the Vryhh?”

  Grey faced her. “He wasn’t in that room, Lee. Must have used another skimmer to get away while we were fetching the Rangers.”

  Aleytys stared at him. She was cold. COLD. There was no strength left in her. She opened her mouth to speak, produced a strangled croak, swallowed, tried again. “He knows about my son, Grey. He knows where to find him. He wants the diadem. He’s gone for my son.” She swallowed. “My son … oh god.” She sagged slowly forward until her forehead rested on her knees.

  Grey smoothed a hand over her hair. “Lee, we’ll get the boy. I’ll take you.” Then he caught hold of her shoulders and lifted her until she was leaning back in the chair, gasping and coughing. He waited. Gradually her breathing steadied. “You all right, Lee?”

  She passed a shaking hand across her face. “I could have killed him,” she said suddenly. “I had my hand on his throat.” She stared down at her hands, shuddering.

  Grey caught hold of her wrists. “Don’t be stupid, Lee. Stop it!”

  “Or I could have just let him be. Once I flipped the power cells out of the exoskeleton, he couldn’t breathe.” Her voice was growing louder and shriller. She tried to free her hands from Grey’s hold. “I healed him. I healed him and sent him after my son. I sent him.…”

  Grey slapped her hard across the face. Tears flooded into her eyes. He sat back and scowled at her. “Dammit, Lee.”

  Aleytys closed her eyes. Harskari, she thought. Help me. I need you. Shadith? My friends, I need you. What can I do? My baby.… But there was nothing there, just a great echoing emptiness. The skimmer hummed steadily; she could smell a faint oiliness in the air, hear the harsh sounds of her own breathing. The tears dried on her face as emptiness expanded until she was nothing but a shell. Oh god, how do I deal with this? She sighed. Nothing. There’s no way … nothing I can do. Nothing. He could be there already in that Vryhh ship. She raised a shaking hand and touched her lips. Professional. She turned her head enough to see Grey; he was a black silhouette edged in shimmers of gold. Professional. I have a job to do. Think of that, forget Sharl and Kell the Vryhh. He won’t kill my son, no, he’s too crazy for that. There’s time, plenty of time. She thought of Head, the wide flashing smile, the sharp, all-seeing eyes that could twinkle one minute and pierce to bone in the next. “I owe her,” she whispered. “And Grey.” She sat up and rubbed her hand across her eyes. “Grey?”

  He ignored her. He was leaning tautly forward, looking ahead. Aleytys watched a moment, puzzled, then followed the direction of his gaze. Kiwanji was passing below. She winced as she saw the burned-out shells of the small houses and the piles of dead hares. Then frowned as Grey left Kiwanji behind and brought the skimmer down beside his ship.

  He swung the seat around. “We’ll go after the boy now, if you want.”

  She moved uneasily in her chair. “We have to report. The fee.”

  “Make up your mind, Lee. I mean what I say.”

  She looked at the ship, then at his impassive face. For a minute she was tempted, then she shook her head. “Thanks, Grey. I … I know what it would cost you … I appreciate what … Head would skin you alive … me too, if she caught me … there’s … there’s no point to it, I’m afraid … we’d never catch him.…” She straightened. “No,” she said crisply. “I’m back on track, Grey. Forget it.” She smiled. “Sometimes it takes a while to get things straight.” She fussed with her tumbling hair. “Damn. I swear I’ll cut this mess off.” She worked two strands loose and used them to knot the rest back from her face. “I’d sell my soul for a comb and some pins.”

  Chuckling, considerably relieved by her decision, he touched the sensor and sent the skimmer back into the air.

  In the yard outside the main building of Chwereva complex, Grey dragged her from the skimmer and plunged through the crowd of watuk. With their adulation and curiosity and excitement nearly suffocating her, she clung to Grey’s arm and dived through hands grabbing at her, through a deafening clamor of questions, demands and wild well-wishing.

  In the hallway, she gasped with astonishment. “Has that happened before?”

  “Sometimes.” He grinned at her. “Come on.”

  In the Rep’s office, he went briskly and efficiently through his account of their activities, avoiding problem areas with a casual skill. Aleytys listened with appreciation and admiration.

  The Rep’s eyes glistened liquidly when Grey described the hare-weapon. Aleytys felt a touch of cold. All for nothing, she thought. She glanced at Grey. Well, no. Hunters Inc. gets its fee and I’m on my way to earning my own ship. And Chwereva will be breeding hares.

  As Grey’s ship floated away from Sunguralingu, Aleytys watched the Sawasawa shrink. “I wonder where Manoreh and Kitosime are now, what they’re doing.” She leaned back and sighed. “Will we ever hear?”

  “Probably not.” He rested his fingers on the panel of sensor squares. “We could still dogleg to Jaydugar.”

  “Don’t fuss, Grey. I’m fine.” She closed her eyes. “There’s nothing I can do for my son. I have to accept that.” The emptiness was there inside her. “Nothing.”

  “Lee, come on trek with me when we get back to Wolff.”

  “What?”

  “I need to find my center again.” His face and voice were quiet, his eyes were fixed on her. “Too many worlds. Too many Hunts. I’ve got too far away from something important.”

  “My center. I wonder if I have one.” She swung around and stared at the emptiness filling the viewscreen. “I’ll come.”

  EPILOGUE

  Sunguralingu:

  The sand was damp and hard under the hooves of the faras. The salt water hissed back and forth in front of the tired, silent line of riders, dirty brown and green up close, edged with foam and a brilliant green-blue where the water met the paler green sky. The smell of dead fish, seaweed and salt was heavy on the brisk wind that snapped at faces and clothes.

  “Which way?” Manoreh said.

  Faiseh shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much. We need to find a fisher hut and get the man to take us out to the islands in his boat.” He waved his hand at the horizon. “They’re out there but too far from shore to be seen.”

  Manoreh eased his faras closer to Kitosime. “Kita.” He put his hand on her arm.

  She was tired, but not too tired to take joy in the warmth that flowed b
etween them. “What is it?”

  “Tell us which way. North or south?”

  She touched the eyestones in their pouch. After a minute she nodded. “Help me off this creature. If I tried to get down by myself, I’d break my neck.”

  With a soft laugh he took hold of her waist and lifted her off the faras. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he let her down until her feet were on the sand. Then he slid off his own mount and stood beside her. “What do you need?”

  “Fresh water and a little time.” She walked apart from the children and sat on the sand. Lifting the pouch cord over her head, she took the stones out and put them on the sand in front of her knees. Manoreh brought her one of the limp waterskins and she squeezed a few drops onto the pale gray stones, filling the eyeholes with darkness. She closed her own eyes and felt the humming of the power blending with the soft brushing of the sea.

  Flashes of light, small darting sparks of fire … A boy’s face … bright in the darkness … the boy from the Tembeat … he who had sneaked her in that night … the night that began this long trek she’d made from doll to woman … he looked down into flames and grieved … he led boys over a wall … he took a boat … loaded the boys in … went down a river … a wide shiny river … reached the coast … saw the emptiness of the sea stretching to the horizon … and was afraid … he sent the boat along the coast … stopping at huts … stopping again and again in vain … the huts were empty … then three men came out of the last hut … it was close … close … around a bend … no more … three men came out of a hut and saw the boat … saw it and desired it … and fell upon the boys to take it from them … happening now … right now … the boys are fighting … struggling … right now … holding the men off … but at what cost … three dead already.…

  She moaned and opened her eyes, stopped the soft mutter of her words. Manoreh and Faiseh were leaning close, listening intently.