Three Hands for Scorpio

by Andre Norton

  This was no rope I grasped, but neither did a vine bear scales. Only some protection of the Great One saved me as the “vine” suddenly flipped over in my hold. Instinctively I cracked it against the stone and flung the limp body from me, hardly able to believe I had been so unwary. A snake of sorts, perhaps so well matching a vine in its coloration as to fool its prey. I took a small step backward, but my foot hit a rough place and I lost my balance as the ledge shifted beneath me.

  I fell on my back, momentarily as helpless as an overturned beetle. The moon was now completely veiled, and I dared not struggle to sit up, so close was I to the precipice.

  Neither of the sleepers stirred until a squall rose from the ocean of shadow below, and brought a drowsy mutter from one of my sisters. A light floated up from those wooded depths. It leveled out a little above the ledge, then zigzagged its way toward us. No chance it was Zolan or Climber—neither could travel the air in such a fashion.

  I levered myself up and scurried back to our impromptu camp, rousing Cilla and Tam with an urgent Send. A buzzing sounded, louder by far than any normal insect call. Darkness only intensified the feeling of danger.

  “What is it?” The demand from Tam’s direction was sharp with fear.

  “A flier—?” Cilla answered hesitantly.

  A flier indeed, yet not, I was certain, of the same breed that had slain the spider-thing. I could trace outlines just enough to tell that the newcomer must be insectile and I stooped, running my hands along the surface of the ledge, seeking, for lack of any other defense, a stone lying there. If we were to attempt to use the Talent, so soon after drawing deeply upon it, we could leave ourselves totally weaponless.

  The thing did not aim directly at us, as I had expected. On our feet now, we retreated, still facing outward until the cliff backed us. The light-bearing air creature moved to the right, slowed, then alighted. As far as I could determine, it had come to rest against the cliff wall not far from where Climber had left his mark. A change had occurred there: in the growing dark I could see a bright cluster of small light-specks fanning outward.

  We had won into a semicave through a well-like entrance; here now was a similar fissure in the ledge. Our visitor left its perch. With a fluttering of wings, it descended to the break. Its head bobbed up and down as might a tool wielded with precision. A series of clicks sounded, suggesting that its actions were loosing debris into the hole. At last, rather clumsily, it sought to face the cliff again.

  Its two forefeet were clamped, as well as I could judge, on either side of the bedewed wall, while its head, pear-shaped and crowned with whipping antennae, rested over the stain. By its movement, which I could only half see, I thought it might be tonguing—if lick it could—the “marker.” Whatever it did strengthened the scent I had detected earlier. It had no interest in us; the stony cliff held its whole attention.

  We gathered together. Swiftly, by Send, I outlined my exploration. The hole drew us but we must contain our impatience until the creature with the curious taste had departed.

  Time stretched out. The first pallor of dawn streaked the sky, illuminating our visitor more clearly. It possessed a rounded ball of a belly and lower body, a very slender rod of waist and beyond, a much smaller ball from which extended two very thin upper legs, one on either side, with thicker ones flanking them below. The lower pair folded to peak joints well above its upper portion. The head was very small compared to the rest, and neither eyes nor mouth could be discerned. However, a pair of furred antennae beat ceaselessly on the cliff.

  With the increasing light of day, we could clearly see the opening on the ledge. Why we had not discovered signs of this during first careful inspection, I could only wonder. Had a Ward indeed been set, one that had been banished by the coming of the flyer? Or had my touch broken it earlier without my knowledge or any planned attempt at doing so? That did not matter now—what was important was its existence.

  I pushed past Cilla toward the cliff wall. When would an end come to the winged thing’s nuzzling of the tainted rock? I leaned against the cliff, fingers working. A blast of the Power that had served us before might clear our way. My fingers twisted open; then, by force of will, I curled them palmward. This was like being caught up in a dream—such a dream as I had long feared might be a key to unlock a portion of the mind better kept under control.

  Now that I sighted the night creature more clearly, my curiosity grew. The flier had made no move against us, and to kill where no attack was threatened was against all we had been taught. A ruthless use of Power was a step down the Dark Path.

  I flexed fingers once more. The sense of immediacy that had bullied us since Zolan and his beast left us was with me again. Almost I could hear—or was it feel?—a sharp voice repeating, “Cilla, Cilla!” as I had often been summoned when too long at a project.

  The eater—or licker—raised its head at last. Its antennae were now scraping the edge of the fissure. Proceeding out on the ledge, it turned its body, the lower part of which now appeared very swollen, and backed once more toward the crevice.

  That huge abdomen, its light dimmed to a faint gleam, seemed to contract and expand several times. From beneath the rounded bottom fell a green orb about the size of a ball of wool prepared for the weaver. Then one of the back legs kicked, and the ball rolled to the edge and fell into the wellcrack. Six more of what I now recognized as eggs followed to disappear so. Its duty to the species done, the creature spread its wings and rose gracefully from the ledge to fly toward the forest from which it had come.

  Perhaps imprudently, we felt sure that our problem had been offered a solution. We emptied Zolan’s pack, dividing its contents among us. I brought out the small stone knife and began sawing the lacing of the bag in such a way that I soon had a long strip of well-cured hide. This I rolled and fit into the top of my carrier. Though I had no really workable tools, I was not minded to waste anything now.

  The sun was well up when we agreed we were ready to go and approached the opening through which the eggs had rolled. Somehow we were not really surprised to discover rough hand- and footholds descending along one wall to a lighted space below. I held out a hand to test if this possible way of escape held Wards. I was not alone in doing so. As I took this precaution, Tam and Bina did likewise.

  No barrier rose against us. Tam swung over and made use of the aid offered by the niches. She had not reslung her pack, but left it above where Bina knotted all three together with the rope we had earlier found inadequate.

  Bina waved to me to follow Tam when a signal came from below that our sister had safely reached bottom. I set myself to a slow descent, testing each hold as I went; I have never found myself at ease with heights.

  Bina lowered our supply-sacks to us. With more light I looked up to see if the eggs had found a resting place. From this point they could be seen on the wall at about my height. They had lost some of their roundness and appeared to have become plastered to the stone.

  “This place,” I said slowly, “did not show when we first searched the ledge. Was it Warded? If so, what destroyed the Ward?”

  Bina looked at the right hand she held up into the morning light. “Perhaps any such barrier was destroyed by my discovery of Climber’s ‘mark.’ Who knows? How greatly are the Dismals guarded—and by whom?” We could make no answer to that.

  Not too far away, a stream gurgled out between two wide slabs of rock. Toward that we veered, realizing acutely just how long it had been since we had slaked our thirst. We refilled our water skins and set about to see more of what lay around us, seeking any visible trail we could follow.

  We soon emerged into the open before a thick wall of trees and discovered a carpet of long springy grass. For some reason, the urge for action that had driven us lifted from me. I commented on that discovery, only to be assured by Tam and Bina that they also shared my sense of relief. We did not, however, quite relax our vigilance, remembering the unknown perils that might be concealed by the giant vegetation.<
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  Soon Tam discovered a sign, which we agreed was probably left as a trail marker. It lay along the bottom of the cliff and ahead of that the way appeared open, unchoked by tree or vine, bush or rock. It was a stone, wider at bottom than top, standing upright. Along one side were markings, half erased at places. These carvings bore close likeness to some found on the walls of Zolan’s cave fortress.

  We gnawed at the hard rations we carried. The salty taste of the meat sticks overrode the sweetness of the clumps of what must be dried fruit. It became harder and harder to think of shouldering our packs and getting to our feet to push on. Instead, I sat watching the flow of the stream, noting the fleeting shadows below the surface that suggested some sort of aquatic life.

  Tamara

  AFTERWARD I KNEW right well what had drained from us our will to travel. We were being lulled as weary children might be quieted to take a nap. Except—

  The pouch at my belt that held the light-gem suddenly shattered my sleepy contentment with a burst of warmth, though I was not aroused to the point of uneasiness. Overhead the sun no longer shone so directly, and tree shadows crept towards our halting place.

  For a moment or two the strange shapes cast by the trees held my stilldrowsy attention. Then—I must have cried out as I grabbed the top of the gem bag, jerking it away from close contact with my body, though my hands were not safe from that blast either. Fire had blazed from it—yet not any fire such as sprang from wood offering comfort and service. This, instead, took the place of a rousing war-horn and jerked me to my feet. Bina and Cilla blinked up at me.

  I had no time to alert them. That was denied me as if they were warded by a power as strong as any my mother and Duty working together could raise.

  All contentment disappeared. I wheeled to face the post of stone. I was summoned, my body controlled by the will of another. And, for this moment at least, I was powerless to fight its urging.

  Past the carved stone I moved, and, as I put it behind me, Bina and Cilia were—gone! I was alone. Suddenly my mind was whelmed by a tide of memories that flooded in, carefully sorted and drawn from my past.

  Afraid? Yes, I, Tamara of the House of Scorpy, was afraid. Still, that emotion was deadened. I was very aware of all about me, but it was as if I were viewing a series of pictures, seeing things not a part of my real life. My pace was now near a trot as the compulsion on me tightened.

  The bright, intense colors, the sharpness of tree and leaf, began to dull. Some of the drabness of the stone to my right seeped out to cloud my path. Yet, in an odd way, as all I passed seemed to fade, within me grew a sharpness of other sight. Did I “see” what did not exist? There was no way I might prove or disprove that. However, I was aware of figures who might have risen out of ground as growing vegetation, or else were released by curdling pillars of the very air.

  They lacked my height, being instead short-limbed, the flesh and bones of their extremities heavy and stumpy. The trunks of their bodies were overthick, their shoulders very wide. And—they had no faces! No feature existed above the spread of those shoulders. Glints of color, which might have issued from gems, a suggestion of shadowy garments. Not beasts—of a certainty, not of clean animal-kind-rather, these were beings apart.

  The North was rich with strange stories of things no one of our day had ever seen: dwellers in mountains and hills, who often teased and tweaked mankind for their own entertainment. I thought now, when I caught a clear look at this company matching pace with me, that I did recognize some as emerging out of one such tale.

  Save for an area about ten paces around me, I could no longer see anything clearly. Somehow, though, I was not fearful anymore but increasingly impatient. I progressed toward some goal of immense importance. I wanted, pressed by all the emotion in me, to arrive. That need became a punishing lash to set me into a run with no care for the way beneath me or any difficulty awaiting me ahead.

  Sabina

  CILLA HAD SEIZED my hand with crushing force as Tam left us. First there was a very dim shining about our sister’s body, ever moving with her, becoming brighter and brighter. At the same moment the Power that held her reached out also for us. It was a force we could feel against our skin, taste, hear—sometimes as a humming, at others like a call just beyond our ability to capture with ears.

  This near-music did not warn us against following—it urged us to action, and we must needs follow. With our packs and Tam’s bag, which we carried in turns, we could not match her speed, and she was soon out of sight. However, that tie binding us together from birth held tightly. She was, we knew, ahead, and we hurried along her trail.

  Later we caught sight of—Tam? Could we be sure that speeding column of light was she? We could. The time that passed could no longer be reckoned in precise measure. Our sister continued to hasten away from us at an ever-increasing speed. We struggled to keep up as best we could.

  Fifteen

  Sabina

  We tried, first singly, then together, to reach Tam by Send. What we met was a barrier, but not one of Tam’s raising. We had discovered long ago among ourselves that no mind-message propelled by strong purpose sent by any one of us could be refused by the others. However, I began to wonder if, since she had found the talisman, Tam had won to a new level of skill.

  The blanketing forest never reached quite to the cliff. For that we could only be glad, though in this open we might be easily sighted by a prowler within the edge of the green to our left. Also, at times, Cilla and I had to slow and pick a cautious way across stone and gravel fallen earlier from above; but such obstacles did not appear to slow Tam, who was so far ahead that a curve to the left hid her from sight.

  “She—” Cilla spoke with a discernible tremor in her voice. “Could she be possessed?”

  She was putting into words my own growing fear. We had believed ourselves armored by the personal Wardings which we had carefully renewed at intervals since traveling north. However, that had not saved us from being drugged, nor had it won us our freedom from Maclan or stood against all that had happened in the Upper World—perils against which the spell was supposed to guard us. In fact, we knew very little, until exposed to it, what might chance here.

  “Yes, it is possible.” I could make no other answer to Cilla’s question. Then I began to delve into my memory for what I knew about signs of possession.

  Such displacement of one soul by another had been known in the past. Twice in fingers’ count of centuries an accusation of that foul practice had been raised against families who exhibited Talent. From our first coming north, we had been warned against any open display of our Gifts for, in this land, ignorance and fear had brought punishment and even death to innocents accused of misuse of Power.

  Still, what we knew might only be the outermost fringe of the whole truth. Too, the Dismals appeared to follow another law. Zolan—? No. Somehow I clung to the belief that, highly gifted as he appeared, he was not in control. The unknown in this place was powerful enough to engender profound fear.

  “Look!” We had paused to exchange the extra burden of Tam’s pack. Cilla caught at my shoulder, pulled me around as she pointed with her other hand.

  Tam had slackened speed. We could see that the pillar of light, which we had come to accept as our sister in this place, had halted before the cliff. Rising behind her was what could only be a structure of some sort, though it was difficult to make out any details. Between us and the—building?—the air was murky, almost as if fog surged in waves.

  I admitted to myself that I wanted to go no further. However, those who can summon Powers dare not yield to fear. Surrender, even in a small measure, ever opens a way for the Dark to rend and destroy. This had been our teaching since the Talent first stirred in us.

  So I hefted the extra sack and stumbled forward, Cilla flanking me, pace for pace. Tam remained still in sight, now unmoving. Our boots, in spite of their many layers of thick lining, had been badly worn. As I took a forward step my foot came down on a sharp stone, s
ending me off balance. Striving to keep to my feet, I spun sideways, to fall heavily on more punishing gravel. I could not stifle my cry as more pain sliced through me, but my own cry was lost.

  “No! No!” Cilla screamed. “Tam—Tam—we come!”

  I pulled myself upright. The light that was Tam—but this could not happen! Power—yes, Power gathered here, a mind-might that was not ours. Nor could I feel any trace of my sister’s Talent, if she were struggling against the alien force. Tam was being absorbed by the cliff facing her. No opening could be detected there—she was simply being drawn in through the stone, and in the space of two breaths she was gone. Cilla collapsed beside me and hammered her fists against the ground where we now crouched.

  “Send!” she shrieked an order. “Merge and Send!”

  We Merged, tried in every way we knew to raise a silent shout, calling on all our Talent. We broadcast our message—and that rebounded, the energy returning even as the Power had flashed back at Tam when we had fought to pierce the barrier in the cave. There was no reaching our sister.

  We scrambled up, abandoning our packs, and hastened back along the trail to the point where we were sure we had last seen her. We even lunged against the wall, beating at it with our fists until sense returned and we knew that, for now, we must admit defeat. But one battle lost did not mean that our warfare was ended.

  Tamara

  THAT SHADOWY CREW I had sensed keeping me company was gone. Their disappearance was like having chill water flung in my face; I was aroused. Stone walled the way ahead of me, but I had no command over my body’s action now. In a step or so I was going to flatten myself against that barrier. When we had attempted to leave the prison cave, there was a Warding, which could not be seen. Here was quite the opposite. I did not smash against the rock as I expected, I simply passed through it, realizing in the doing that I was triumphing over another unseen barrier. Yet no planned and successful ploy of mine brought me through, for my body still refused any orders I gave it. The will of another drew me.