Uninvited

by Carol Buhler

  He wasn’t looking at me as he talked so didn’t see the change of expressions I didn’t bother to hide. We’d specifically decided not to let the humans enter our mountains. How had Sam encountered Ylsdon? I’ll have to find out.

  **

  Ylsdon himself arrived only two days later to share his news. He and some of his family members had been headed our way to check out the human’s progress when they’d spied an air-car hovering on the south side of the Sapphire Sea. They’d revealed themselves and motioned for the car to land.

  He and Sam had gotten along well—Sam got along well with everyone he met.

  “As soon as he described what he needed, I knew exactly where to take him,” Ylsdon assured me as we lunched with Korola on the patio. “You know that sharp-faced cliff just off the point where the big river starts south? It’s full of the hematite stuff he was looking for. We’ve used that material for years to make most of our metal items, including that carafe you’re pouring from. But, we’ve never mined that particular cliff. It should supply plenty for them to work with.”

  “So you don’t think they’ll run out and started searching into the mountains?” I still worried about the situation, even after Ylsdon’s explanation.

  “Sam told me the next supply ship will be bringing steel, whatever that is. Supposed to be more durable than the iron he’s making things out of now. Once the steel gets here, according to him, they won’t be mining their own hematite and won’t be looking for more sources.”

  “That makes me feel better.”

  He sent me a puzzled glance. “I don’t understand why you’re so determined to keep them out of the mountains.”

  I shrugged and struggled with my reply. “I can’t explain it. I feel we need to guard the mountains for ourselves. It’s like a premonition.”

  “I’m not going to argue with your premonition,” he conceded. “I’d just as soon they stay here on the plains with their extruded buildings.”

  “Have you had a chance to study those walls?”

  “Yes, hard as anything I’ve ever seen. Sam’s using a domed oven affair made of the substance to process his hematite. It requires extreme heat. I have to admit, his method is better than ours—we use clay-brick. It does well, but that material he has contains the heat, better protection for the operators.”

  “Maybe someday we can borrow an extruder from them and make you an oven,” I offered.

  “No,” he responded ruefully. “We’d never get the thing where we need it.”

  **

  The supply ship arrived, they unloaded more equipment, and transportation proceeded as before. I observed none of it. On the Joe land, we were busy watching the techs come and go to the ship sitting out in the middle of what was basically my front yard. They seemed totally oblivious of our precious pasture and I had to lecture them on where they were allowed to park their air-car since they flew back and forth from Samsville daily.

  My family and I, along with human and don helpers, sprayed the fire retardant around the ship every other day. Sam insisted on a much bigger perimeter than I had planned. The grass turned brown, then died altogether, leaving a huge barren circle with the metal monster sitting in the middle. As I walked over the treated area, I felt it had hardened beyond simple soil. In fact, it seemed as hard and tough as the material Sam extruded from his machine.

  Would the grass ever come back? Was I faced with a lifetime of staring at this ugly splotch on my beautiful plains? My anger built but since there was nothing I could do to express it, I kept it bottled up inside.

  Finally, the humans declared the ship safe to lift off. The bunch of us gathered at sunrise on the bluff, our panniers filled with flame-retardant, nozzles in hand. The humans and their air-cars hovered as far out as we were from the ship. Sam had warned us to let the ship get substantially into the air before we approached or the blast would incinerate us. Everyone hoped the initial layers would keep a fire from spreading beyond something we could control.

  I tensed, the human radio in my hand ready to bring me the “go” order. The engines roared, then spluttered. My heart sank. Won’t it be leaving?

  They roared again and flame belched from beneath the ship. It seemed to rise so slowly. I wanted to push it, get it off my land, my world. The flame spread—but the pad we’d built held. Ripples of heat swept past us and I felt my face redden. Aarnyon turned to the side, tucking his head and ears beneath a wing. I sank down behind the same wing.

  It seemed forever before the radio squawked. I didn’t have to yell—everyone heard the “Go” at the same time I did. We vaulted into the air and raced toward the barren circle. Only a few spurts of flame had escaped and we were able to put them out easily.

  The agonizing shriek shot through my head and my heart skipped a beat. Aarnyon whirled. My little sister! Her mind-mate writhed on the ground, flames licking at the mare’s legs. Joela rolled frantically, radiating excruciating pain. Others reached her before I did and doused the fire that had caught them. Joela’s face was blistered, eyebrows gone, beautiful golden hair mere shoots of blackness producing steam from her scalp.

  Korola landed—I wanted to chastise her. She was too close to giving birth to be riding. She shoved a jar of Lareina paste into my hands and ran with the other to Joela.

  “Get it on the reeth’s legs!” she commanded. “Lessen Joela’s pain.” Of course. She shared in her mind-mate’s hurt, just as the reeth thrashed her head about, echoing my sister’s. I slathered the salve down the mare’s legs, then up her lower neck to her jaw line. Her relief was evident. She stopped flailing as the Lareina soothed both fem head and reeth legs. For the life of me I couldn’t recall the mare’s name—my mind too filled with my baby sister’s injuries. I never should have let her help! I yelled, silently.

  Sam landed his air-car and ran to help me. He never questioned my actions, just gently smoothed more purple goo on the reeth’s belly where small charred spots seeped blood.

  Finally, they both lay still, panting a bit, but agony soothed enough for us to transport them to the house and better conditions. My brother, Kaldon, fetched the sling and several blankets. He’d kept his sense better than I had; I’d have forgotten we needed to pad—Bajjett, that’s the mare’s name!—injured stomach from the sling. We gently lay the blankets over the wounds, then maneuvered the sling across her torso. Four of us gripped her four hooves, trying to not touch her burned coronas and pasterns, and rolled her over as gently as possible. She groaned, but helped as best she could.

  I fastened one sling end to the harness on Aarnyon, Kaldon did the same with his reeth-mate, and the two rose slowly, muscles straining, to lift the mare from the ground.

  “Wow!” I heard Sam breathe.

  Back at the house, we found that Jemima and her family had flung together a soft, straw bedding outside the stables, covered with more blankets. Aarnyon and Tattold, Kaldon’s mate, lowered the injured mare onto the bed and the rest of us went through the same process of rolling her to remove the sling.

  Adam appeared and insisted he help care for Bajjett since her mind-mate was out of action. I grimaced as I acknowledged that Sam, his family, and Adam had learned a great deal from the two injuries—at least about the connection between a don and a reeth. Can’t be undone, and if that’s the worst consequence…Well, I won’t fret.

  When we returned to the house, Jemima and her family were ready to serve beverages and food. The crowd, human and don, mingled in somber relief, ate, and congratulated Sam on his precise measurements of the pad we’d needed.

  That night, Korola and I stared out our front room window, arms wrapped around each other in comfort, and lamented the burned circle that gleamed almost silver in the moonlight. I turned and buried my head in her shoulder, seeking comfort from her closeness and the simple sweet smell of her. To my disgust, I started crying.

  Korola tightened her hug and murmured in my ear. “She’ll be fine, in time.”

  At that moment, I hated the human
s.

  “Wish we’d killed them when they first appeared,” I whispered.

  “No, you don’t,” she said softly and Aarnyon echoed her words from his family suite. Pictures of Sam, Jemima, Mama June flowed into my head from him. They’d worked hard to help us contain the fire as much as possible. Many other humans had, too. Ones I’d only just met. And as Sam had warned, the back fire from the rising ship had been a thousand times worse than the first time.

  They’d given us the sprayers, the fire-retardant. They’d worked for days to help lay down the pad. Jemima and her entire family had prepared enough food to support us for the next week.

  Aarnyon sent a view of Adam, hunched under the slapstick awning we’d erected over the mare’s bed, gently smoothing Lareina salve on Bajjert’s burned legs. The look on his face was gentle, loving.

  “You’re right. I might wish they hadn’t come, but now they’re here, I wouldn’t willingly harm them.”

  6. Secrets

  At the age of three, our daughter Kora called her mind-mate to her side, surprising us just moments after the birth of our second son. Of course, as everyone knew, children had no control over when the link-call hit them, but it sure would have been easier if she’d waited a month, or even a week.

  Jol and Kora ran into our bedroom just after noon, followed by his reeth-mate, the palomino Taggert, and another palomino, slightly older and larger than the colt. “Mama! Papa!” Kora shouted. She stopped abruptly. “Oh, the baby’s here. How nice.”

  Swirling around, she patted the mare on the tip of her nose. “This is Gerrele. She’s come to live with us—just like Taggert!” My beautiful little girl shot a look of hatred at her brother and spat, “But she’s all mine!” I felt the strong admonition administered by the mare.

  Kora apologized, to Jol, to Korola, and to the baby.

  My wife was exhausted—the labor hadn’t been hard, but longer than for either of the others. Still, she smiled at Gerrele and held out her hand for the mare to sniff. I stroked the lovely golden neck and welcomed her to the family.

  “Where are you from, Gerrele?”

  She answered me directly instead of going through Kora. A reeth could only speak with one don at a time beside their mind-mate, so my daughter would hear her words but not Jol or Korola who had closed her eyes.

  “From Ylsdon’s family range.” A mountain reeth. That was unusual. I hoped she’d like it on the plains.

  “Was your flight difficult?”

  “Just long. I flew over a great deal of new territory for me,” she said. I thought her voice lovely as I escorted her and the children out of the bedroom so Korola and my new son could rest. She gave me a feeling of confidence that she would be a perfect match for my daughter. Of course, I said to myself, hiding the thought from the mare. That’s what a mind-meld is for.

  I’d already sent word to Cousin Sardon that the baby had arrived and he’d planned to come for the naming. I sent another message for him to bring the whole family for a meld-celebration at the same time. Instead of holding it immediately, which was usual when the reeth hadn’t come from too far, we scheduled both for two days later. Gerrele agreed the delay would allow her family to join her.

  Jol shouted that he was off to tell Sam the good news. I demanded that he wait. “What, exactly, do you plan to tell Sam?” One never could accurately anticipate what might come bubbling out of his mouth. “You may not mention the mind-meld. He knows the baby was due so will be glad of that news.”

  “Can’t Sam and Jemima come to the celebration?”

  “No, they can’t,” I said firmly. “You know we don’t want to reveal to any human how important the reeth are to us. Since Sam still thinks of Taggert as your pet and mount, he wouldn’t understand the ceremony, anyway. You may tell them that Kora is now old enough for her own reeth, but in no way must you imply how the connection came about.”

  “Ah, Pa. We can trust Sam.” He only called me Pa when he was disgusted with my rules.

  “I trust Sam. I don’t trust all humans. And Sam talks too much. Promise me, Joldon. You will not explain a mind-meld.”

  “Pa. I’ve already promised.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  **

  We named our new son after Korola’s grandfather, Kardon, a second son who’d not been required to succeed to the family name. Our Kardon was in the same situation with Jol his senior. A week after the meld-ceremony, we took him to be seen by Sam and Jemima. Mama June scolded us for waiting so long, but she fussed over the baby as she did every other one in the village. And the humans were reproducing almost as fast as their livestock.

  Kardon was longer and stronger than human babies, and Mama June exclaimed when his eyes focused on her face. “This child all by hisself shows us the differences between your folk and ourn,” she said.

  We spent the afternoon with them; Sam’s two-year-old, Sammy, Junior, was given a short jaunt on Gerrele with both Kora and Jol fiercely holding him on. He screamed and yelled in excitement. The mare never even twitched a muscle at the racket and Sam let out the breath he’d been holding when they stopped.

  “Jol assured me nothing would go wrong,” he whispered to me. “But I’ve never been around horses. That mare just seems awful big for a tiny thing like Kora.”

  “As you saw, she’s very gentle and will take good care of any child on her back.” I didn’t explain that Gerrele was now mind-linked with my daughter and would guard her with her life, for the rest of their lives. He wouldn’t understand.

  They asked after Joela and I was happy to report that her face was healing and we didn’t think it had scarred. Her hair was now an inch long—as blond as it ever had been, although I still had trouble seeing my baby sister under that odd fuzz.

  She never let me bemoan the accident nor apologize for not protecting her better. “I’m not your baby sister, Joedon! I’m the youngest but I’m over thirty! Quit treating me like a child.”

  As long as Bajjett was healing nicely, Joela continued with her interests and refused to act like the invalid I wanted her to be.

  **

  Tensions flared on and off with the citizens of Petersborough and the members of Sardon’s family, but those don were wise and followed Sardon’s lead faithfully, allowing him to hear the dispute and settle it. To everyone’s intense relief, Xagdon had adopted a strategy of ignoring the humans since they were staying strictly away from his perceived border on the north. As far as I knew, no confrontations had taken place between Pete’s sons and any don, although the human boys were always surly-looking when I saw them. I guess they hadn’t liked me standing down their father.

  Sardon said the Xag sons were building homes in the eastern part of the land claimed by the family, all but the oldest, Xegdon, who remained in the central household he would eventually inherit. I was surprised they wanted to cover so much land with buildings—that was not the don way. Our ménage was typical; my three younger brothers had suites of their own within our compound. Two were still single, the third had returned from his honeymoon just before our son was born. Only one sister remained with us and she planned to marry and leave within the next year.

  Two of my four uncles also lived with us with their families, including three married cousins and their wives and children. The Joe territory was not dotted with individual dwellings.

  On a whim, Aarnyon and I flew away from the house early one morning to take a clandestine tour of the Xag eastern edge. Sure enough, nine separate establishments were under construction. Wide and sprawling, each perched on a bluff or rise that overlooked a valley or dip in the rolling plains. What are they thinking?

  We hovered above one of the buildings that was empty of figures moving and looked around trying to fathom a reason for this strange activity.

  “To me, it looks kind of like they are scattered, or rather, placed precisely for a particular purpose,” Aarnyon said.

  “It does to me, too. But what pur
pose?”

  “I’m guessing, but the layout of the nine buildings along this ridge is almost like something we reeth would do if faced by one of the giant cats that used to roam our mountains and prey on us. I can just barely pull a recollection of such a formation from my memories.”

  “Who is the current Memm recorder?” I asked. The reeth trusted their history to a particular line that had better memories than the others—although any reeth had an almost perfect memory compared to don.

  “Memmalb. Should I ask him to send me the image?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The moment I received it from Aarnyon, I recognized the pattern. “They’re building a line of defense fortresses—not homes. Look. From this one point…” I extended my arm and swept it in a circle. “…we can see all valleys around us. No one could approach without warning.”

  “Foal!” Aarnyon shook himself and I skittered around on his back. “They’re preparing for war.”

  “Let’s do a flyover of their main household.”

  We hadn’t seen Xagdon’s place for many years. It had been expanded—I counted ten new buildings going up, low, one-story, gleaming in white granite, some with red roofs. From high above, the workers busily building a high wall around the complex looked like so many ants. “Ask Paddyon if Sardon has seen this,” I said.

  He hadn’t.

  Obviously Xagdon was preparing for defense; I wondered if he was also preparing for offense although there was no way for me to find out. Legends said reeth had existed in the past who could read don minds. We didn’t have one among us in this time. And although I was very good at sensing emotions, my skill was useless with Xagdon’s family. They always projected antagonism. Had done as long as I could remember.

  We hovered in the vicinity until Sardon joined us on Paddyon. He’d brought binoculars he said someone from Petersborough had gifted him. I’d not seen such a thing before. With them, I picked out details of the busy complex below us clearly, but neither of us saw something that indicated an offense in the making.