Beast Master's Ark

by Andre Norton; Lyn McConchie

  "Storm, if you have any ideas about this thing now's the time to use them. We were lucky today."

  "I know." Storm was terse. "I'll see what I can do. Quade ranch out."

  Brad had been listening. "What have you got in mind, son?"

  "The big problem is that without knowledge of the enemy we can't formulate a defense. Somehow I have to find the enemy and bring enough of one home so that the Carraldos can examine it."

  "Ride carefully. The Nitra aren't children and they knew something was out there. They must have continued to lose people. Enough to scare them into moving off ancestral lands. For Nitra to do that they'd have to be . . . well."

  "They'd have to have tried every offense or defense they knew and nothing's worked," Storm said flatly. "And if that's happened to one tribe, it'll keep happening. The other wild tribes will be starting to move against the Norbies soon. The Norbies will fight back and the Nitra will decide that we might be easier to take."

  His stepfather looked tired. "I know. I've been talking unofficially to the Peacekeeper Command. If the natives are driven out of their lands, then our treaty rights could be revoked and ranches handed back to the natives. I've argued that all that will do is buy time. We have no reason to think that whatever is causing the trouble is just going to stop on the edge of our lands and leave the natives in peace. The time to do something is now, before a decision like that sets settlers against the natives, and the Peace Officers as well. Apart from that the planet can't afford to compensate ranchers for their land. If the Patrol comes to insist we have to leave and lose everything without compensation, then most settlers will fight."

  "Will you, Asizi?"

  "No, it would be futile. We couldn't win against the Patrol. But if we can find out what is causing all this, then we may be able to prevent the Patrol from arriving. Go and talk to the Zamle clan, son. Talk to Ukurti. He's a medicine man, maybe he has ideas."

  Storm nodded. "I'll ride now. I won't hurry so I can take the team and scout on the way. Tell the Carraldos I'll see what I can find in the way of tissue samples for them."

  He went in search of the meerkats. Hing was sunbathing by the side door. She was all he needed, but he sent pictures to her. "Your kits, where?" In return came pictures of the four other members of her family, all clinging to Tani. Along with that were flashes of emotions. Tani was warm, kind, security. Nice person. Storm cradled Hing. She was nice person too, of course Tani was kind. He received a picture that rocked him with amused surprise. It was himself standing by Tani. Linking them were a trio of meerkat kits with human heads and a query.

  Storm tickled the meerkat's stomach. "No," he said aloud. "No, I don't plan to mate with her. Now go to Surra. We're riding."

  Soon after, Storm walked a fresh pony up the slope. With him trotted Surra while Baku soared overhead. In a framed saddle pouch Hing chittered to herself, grooming her fur carefully. Atop the Basin edge Storm paused to look back down the land. Two dots in the distance to the east must be Logan and Tani. He'd known they were riding today. The girl was the key. Once he returned they'd have to talk. His mount plodded over the Basin rim and down the winding track.

  That night as Storm laid out his sleep sack a thought occurred to him. If Tani could sense the enemy, what of Storm himself? He'd been trained to the team bond, perhaps if he went to sleep with the idea in mind—he did so, to wake sweating with horror and disgust. He slept and woke again. This time he stayed awake by the small fire. It seemed that he and Tani had that much in common. He too could touch the killers when he slept.

  He rinsed his mouth from the canteen. The emotions had been sickening. No wonder the girl had reacted so violently. She had never fought; Storm had killed Xiks on several worlds, seen some of their atrocities, and still what he'd found in his dreams had nauseated him. Somewhere the killers had found prey, hunted, paralyzed, then feasted. Something of both sides had come through to Storm: the blood-mad hunger of the hunters; the sudden burning pain in the throat, which subdued the prey; then the avid joy in gulping hot blood, quivering live flesh. That would have been bad enough. But it was the terror, then the awful agony of the prey that had jolted him awake.

  The second time his mind had known what was to come and he'd felt only the terror of the prey before he woke. That had been bad enough. In the fleeting touch Storm had known the first to die had been animal, the second a person. Nor could those who died have been far away. Storm's normal gifts linked him and his team at a maximum of four or five miles. His abilities under extreme stress had tested out to some ten miles. Further than that he could not drive a mental link to his team even under drugs. He sat drinking a cup of hot swankee and considering. It was possible the killers were broadcasting while he was receiving. In which case he could be picking up their broadcast from a much greater distance.

  He sat by the fire until the sky lightened to dawn. Then he rose to saddle the horse. He'd move slowly in the direction from which he'd felt the killers. He'd move with everything on alert, although so far the enemy only hunted at night. But there was always a first time for change. If he could find the skeletons of the prey he could gain some idea of his range for picking up their hunt. The person who died had seemed the closer. He nudged the pony into a steady walk. Surra ranged out ahead and to either side as she searched the rough land. Above, Baku's eyes were watching. If there were skeletons to be found, one or the other would find them.

  At midday he camped to spell the pony and allow Hing to rest. She vanished with happy squeaks to return just as Storm was finishing his meal. With her she dragged an arrow. Not merely an arrowhead, and not a damaged missile. This arrow was intact, so Storm took it from her gently. He examined it. New, not weathered from lying outside more than a few hours. Unbroken, with markings he did not know other than that they were native. It was likely Hing had found a body with weapons intact. That made it unlikely the warrior had fallen in battle. A victorious Norbie or Nitra enemy would have taken spoils.

  But the killers did not. Unless blood was spilled on the quiver they would have left it alone. He turned to the meerkat, who waited patiently for her treasure to be returned.

  "Where, where did you find it, Hing?" He reinforced the words with a mental question. A series of pictures. Of Hing as she poked into holes and corners of rocks, and found the arrow—where? She gave a small trill and scurried off. Storm followed. The meerkat dived through a tunnel in the grass and ended up in a pile of boulders. There around the side of one large slab was an opening. An old Djimbut warren, the entrance broken larger. He nodded, Djimbut were a native Arzoran animal like a large wombat. They were diggers, preferring to live in a large burrow. Often they enlarged a burrow over several generations and whole families lived in it. Deserted burrows were sometimes used in turn by travelers in the dry country as night shelters, since even a smallish one would take a rider and his mount. Hing scampered inside and returned with a second arrow. Storm let her keep it. Right now he had other things on his mind. A way to light this burrow was one of them.

  He'd left his flashlight behind, but downslope there were puff bushes. The fat cotton-wool blossoms made excellent emergency torches under the right conditions, as the settlers had found. Storm picked an armful and gathered several long thick sticks. These he split lengthways, packing the fluffy blossoms into the length of the split. With half a dozen sticks prepared he tucked them into his belt, readied one last stick and lit it. The blossoms burned, each in turn lighting those below. Holding the light in front of him he stepped, stooping slightly, through the entrance and raised the light stick to see what the burrow held.

  Before him, laid out on the floor, was the native skeleton he'd half expected, half feared. Beside the victim lay his gear. Bow, quiver of arrows, and his travel pouch. Underneath him—Storm moved, bending over to see, yes. Patterned cloth. The blanket woven by a warrior's closest female relative. It brought good fortune to a warrior, helped to balance bad medicine with good. Parts of it that must have been stained wit
h the victim's blood had been eaten away. Storm didn't know the pattern. Not Shosonna, anyhow. Logan might know.

  He dug a couple of the light sticks into the packed earth and swiftly sketched the pattern, listing the colors as well. For now he'd give the native a temporary burial. His tribe, once identified and informed, could give proper rites. Next Storm turned to collect the bow and quiver. That would help identify ... he looked more closely at the arrowheads. Amongst the hunting arrows were others with wickedly barbed heads, war arrows. Once before he'd seen arrowheads like these. Nitra!

  But what was a Nitra warrior doing within Shosonna lands and so close to the Basin? From outside came a quick flash of warning as Surra gave the alarm. Riders approached against the wind, they were close to the burrow already. Storm stamped one of the light sticks into darkness. The other he left on the far side of the skeleton. Let that distract those outside for a moment as they entered. Then he slipped along the wall by the entrance to where the shadows were darkest. He waited.

  Chapter Six

  At the Quade ranch Tani was bored. Everyone had been treating her like an invalid and she was becoming tired of it. She'd firmly repressed the memories of her nightmare. So firmly indeed that she remembered nothing but a vague unpleasantness. She was sick of bed and staying inside, being pampered and fussed over. Outside were new things, horses to ride, Logan to keep her company. Her team longed to run the slopes and small gullies of the Basin lands. But it was Mandy whose needs became imperative. The paraowl wanted space to stretch her wings. She wanted to fly. Then, too, the mixture she fed on was as boring as Tani's captivity. She demanded live prey, a tasty Arzoran rock mouse, perhaps. Tani grinned.

  Slowly she sat up and listened. Almost everyone had left the main house. Brad and his riders were out working. Brion and Kady were busy in the laboratory. Only the cook was inside still. Quietly Tani dressed in riding clothes, adding the special pad that clipped to her shirt. It covered the length of her shoulder and upper arm and was a favorite perch for the paraowl. With claws such as Mandy had padding was needed despite the bird's gentleness with her friend.

  Tani quieted the delight of her team, then examined the window. It was made to open outward, although there were strong bars. In the early days the settlers had built ranch homes as small fortresses. Not against the natives so much as against the lawless men of their own kind in the days of First Settlement and little law.

  Tani investigated to find that the bars were on a metal frame that also could be opened. Moving carefully she opened both frame and window. The window was small but a slender girl could squeeze through. She did so, enjoying the faint feeling of childlike naughtiness. Behind her came the coyotes, rejoicing in the new smells as they sniffed the slight breeze. Tani reached back in to lift Mandy out. The large bird fluffed her feathers in delight. Tani giggled quietly. There was no danger. The natives were all friendly. Tani had even learned the finger-talk, just for fun.

  The young meerkats squeaked imploringly so that Tani paused. She looked at them. She didn't have the right to let them come with her. If anything happened Storm would be furious after the way she'd told him off before. Not that anything would happen. But just in case, they'd have to stay here. She made her decision known and ignored hopeful noises and small cries of protest.

  It was moving from Big Dry to Big Wet. Temperatures were cooler. Occasional light showers were falling, which would in another three months become steady sheets of rain. But for now she would not have to fear flash floods. The yoris were the only danger. The big lizards mated during these periods between major seasons. At such times the males carried a lethal poison, but the team would know about them. She knelt beside the building wall, calling her friends. She passed to them the pictures she'd seen in the tapes. She felt their understanding. They would watch.

  She hesitated. Perhaps she should take a stunner. Then she shrugged, why bother. And to obtain one she would have to enter the main part of the building. She might be seen and her small expedition prevented. The team would be alert for yoris, she had only to circle any they found. Instead she climbed back in the window. She reached for a keypad and left a short message for her aunt and uncle. She was going for a ride, the team would be with her and she'd be back sometime. She picked up her belt. In many compartments along the inside were useful small items. She added her knife, just in case. It rode in a fringed sheath her father had made for her shortly before he died and she cherished it. The knife itself was of top-grade steel, over a foot in length, honed and sharpened to a razor edge.

  To it she added her travel pouch. It held dry rations, a small bowl, eating utensils, and a lidded pot with insulated handles at both sides and over the lid. It also contained a sewing kit, and a small medicine kit, which was more important as far as Tani was concerned. She stood a moment, then gathered up two canteens. Logan had been very dogmatic on the subject of always having water. She could fill them by the corrals.

  Tani peered around the corner of the house. The door of the mobile laboratory was shut and from the half-open window came the sounds of voices in consultation. She knew the pattern of sounds. Her aunt and uncle were working, discussing the possibilities of their experiments as they worked. They'd be oblivious to anything short of loud explosions. The ranch kitchen faced the other way and unless the cook came to the side door Tani would be unnoticed.

  She pattered quietly along to the corral. Once out of sight she filled both the canteens and hooked one to her belt. Then she peered through the high corral rails. There were several horses there brought in by Put Larkin late the previous day. One caught her eye and she gasped. She'd heard some of the evening's discussion. She'd been in bed eating dinner and trying hard to wipe nightmares from her mind. With her dinner finished she had felt like eating some of the fruit usually kept in a bowl on the table near the dining room door. She'd got up, found the fruit, and was just about to return to her bed when she heard Brad speak.

  "Those young horses of Put Larkin's arrived this afternoon."

  Storm was interested. "What are they like?"

  "Good animals, all but one."

  "What's wrong with it?" Logan queried.

  Brad laughed. "Nothing on looks. I think we need a witch or a princess from a fairy tale to ride her." He chuckled again. Then his face went sad. "Your mother would have adored it. Raquel always loved beautiful things."

  "Is it beautiful?"

  Brad nodded. "Larkin brought Astran duocorn crosses into Ar2or about a year and a half ago. You'd remember, Storm. It was soon after you arrived here. There'd been a mix-up with two of the mares and they were already in foal when they were shipped. They foaled right after they arrived and Larkin kept the foals."

  Storm spoke slowly as he recalled the event. "Yes. The mares escaped for a couple of days. Someone left a gate open. They got them back and shipped them anyhow but they'd bred while they were out. To a duocorn stallion, Put thought, judging by the foals."

  Logan grinned. "They wouldn't be so easy to handle."

  "They weren't. One foal was a colt, the other's a filly. Duocorns grow faster than horses. At a year they're old enough and strong enough to take a rider and this pair are three-quarter-breds. They tried breaking the colt and he went crazy. Put's decided to keep him as a stallion for crossing back over the Arzor mares. The filly's the prettiest thing you've ever seen. They've had a saddle on her and she's been lunged and mouthed. She's been taught manners for someone on the ground, as much as she's willing to learn. But no one can stay aboard longer than she wants them to. Put sent her over to see if Storm can handle her. She's for sale to the ranch if we can manage her."

  In the hallway Tani had stiffened. A filly, gray as mist and unridden. She yearned to try. Cautiously she bit into her fruit, listening to the conversation.

  "Is she that bad?" Logan was asking.

  "She isn't good. Being three-quarter-bred she's horned and knows how to use them. She bites as well and she can buck so none of Put's boys can stay on. She's
powerful and she's going to be bigger. Foals from her will be a wonderful addition to the ranch if Storm can tame her."

  Storm spoke thoughtfully. "Duocorn mixes usually bond with a rider."

  Logan laughed. "Then you bond with her, Beast Master. I bet Rain would like a nice mare all to himself."

  The talk drifted to other things, and Tani left; silently. Now she was outside in the first light of a new day, looking at the horse they'd talked of. She stood there transfixed. She'd seen many horses before. She'd been riding as soon as she could walk. Bright Sky was Cheyenne and to him there was nothing more essential than that his child be a rider. Tani had taken to it like Mandy to the skies. It had been one of the things she had not lost with her father. Alisha, too, was a lover of horses and had seen to it that Tani had continued chances to spend time with the big beasts. In some of the places her mother worked there'd been times when Tani hadn't been able to ride for months. Always she returned to it with renewed enthusiasm. To her, the amount of available mounts to ride was one of the best things about Arzor.

  Now the girl walked to the high railings and her eyes feasted. The filly was just over fifteen hands in height. Her hide glowed a gray so pale it was almost silver in the sunlight. She was single colored, unlike most of the horses Tani had known on the Quade ranch. The mane and tail flowed in a long cascade of bright silver. Conscious of admiration the filly posed. The horns that gave her ancestors the name of duocorn stood out sharply. They were almost black, shading to gray at the tips. The filly's body was a solid ball of muscle, as if a far bigger horse had been condensed down to the filly who stood there. Tani spoke softly.