Uninvited

by Carol Buhler

  By the time we reached the household, we’d realized we’d been kept grossly uninformed. I was furious. Sardon counseled reserve. “What they do here doesn’t affect us,” he said. “If they’re satisfied, we should be, too.”

  “But they’re supposed to tell us these things,” I hissed as Vuddon came out his front door to greet us.

  I let Sardon do the talking. We learned the humans had taken up fishing and had included Vuddon’s family in the profits. Not only were they harvesting huge amounts of a fish they called “atun,” they’d built a factory to freeze the stuff and were preparing to sell it to Earth when the next supply ship arrived. Vuddon proudly conducted us through a small “power plant” where electricity was generated. They’d built a gigantic wheel and diverted a portion of the river to turn it. I had to admit it was an ingenious construction. Vuddon gave all the credit to the humans. Then, we learned the humans had named their city Vuddonville.

  After lunch back at his home—his fym served baked atun and it was delicious—he asked the local head man, named Bill Shoeman, to show us the freezers. After that, he insisted we see the docks where a group of five were constructing an even larger ship.

  “That’s going to sail up the coastline to deliver our product to the landing field,” Bill said. “They’ll have two ocean transport sailing ships ready by the time the next supply ship comes.”

  “Why have you kept this secret from us?” I asked once we got Vuddon away from the humans.

  “Didn’t think you’d care,” he said bluntly. He gave me a chastising glare. “All you ever want to know about is troubles. We don’t have any.”

  I cast my mind back over the last several conversations I’d had with leaders along the southern coast. He was right. I’d only asked about problems, not successes. “What about the Fur and Nel?”

  “They’re busy building boats. They will have to bring their catch to us because they don’t have a handy river to create the power to run freezers. We’ve worked it all out, don’t you worry.” He looked out over the ocean, dotted with fishing boats. “These humans have brought a whole new way of looking at the ocean, and running a business! We’re happy. You keep your troubles up north and leave us alone.”

  Part III

  Dates: 822 through 830

  Location: Gareeth, eastern section of the continent

  9. Tensions

  The renewal ceremony and celebration of Jol’s and Taggert’s mind-meld was three weeks away when he confronted me in my study with the demand I’d been dreading.

  “I will invite Jackson to my Affirmation,” he said bluntly. Twenty-one, on the verge of the most unruly age of don adolescence, he’d filled out from his earlier extreme lankiness, matching me in height and musculature. He was also entering the period of aggression and surliness all don parents suffered through with their offspring.

  This is not going to go well.

  “You know I cannot allow him to be present.” I strove for a gentle, mild rebuke.

  “Why not?” His temper flared as I knew it would. “He already knows Taggert isn’t just an animal. That he communicates and thinks for himself. And, he’s never told anyone!”

  “I am aware, and I honor him for his silence. If it were just you, your mother, and me, I would welcome his presence to witness the joy and emotion of this celebration. But, Korola’s entire family will be here and you know how her father is. And Taggert’s family, as well. Sardon is coming with many of his kin. This is an unusually important occasion for don and reeth—the affirmation of my heir and his mind-mate. We cannot have a human as witness among our guests. They’d think we’d betrayed the Council’s agreement.”

  He pulled his shoulders tall, as if he could intimidate me. “I could disguise him.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” I snapped in response. “Every reeth would know he’s human, and they wouldn’t be quiet about it. No, Jol. I’m very sorry. He cannot be here.”

  In fury, he stomped out of the room and we didn’t see him for two days. Aarnyon knew where he was—at Jackson’s home. I worried for him and his friend, but this had to be.

  When he returned to the house, he was sullen, but cooperative. The three weeks passed swiftly and the day was upon us. Don and reeth arrived throughout the morning, filling the plaza, the patio, the gardens. Korola, her mother and sisters, as well as mine had placed huge baskets of grass in strategic places, and tables laden with food and drink lined every open area where guests gathered.

  Hopefully, few noticed that neither Jol nor Taggert expressed the usual thrill the occasion warranted as they went through their vows. Since Jol didn’t associate much with his cousins, they wouldn’t know he was unhappy at Jackson’s absence rather than simply shy. Taggert managed to keep his family fooled and the guests departed with only a brief word from Sardon.

  “Mad about Jackson?” he asked me. He was the only one outside of my immediate family that knew about the two boys’ intense friendship.

  I took the opportunity to ask, “Do you think I’m wrong to allow their attachment?”

  “No,” he said. “But I’m not hide-bound. We’re stuck with the humans on our world—we need to make friends with them. Though I think your father-in-law would have a fit if he knew his most important grandson spent so much time with a human.” His eyes glinted with merriment. “And that scamp Taggert has matured beautifully these last few years. He’ll keep them out of trouble, if anyone can. The way he handled his family was a treat to watch—through Paddyon’s eyes and mind, of course.”

  “Yes, Taggert did better than Jol. Aarnyon says he was just as upset about my not letting Jackson attend. However, he understands, better than Jol does, what the potential problems are.”

  “Of course he does. That’s why reeth are always a good deal older than the children that call them to mind-meld. What good could they do if both were babies?”

  Sardon’s attitude made me feel better about the day.

  **

  Only two days later, Jol and Jackson showed up in my study, this time with Taggert at their shoulders. The young reeth rarely came into the main part of the house and his presence immediately set me on the defensive. What are they up to?

  “Dad,” Jol started. He wants something. “Jackson’s cousin Paul and his family are moving from Petersborough to the new community out by Bardon’s homestead. The one called Johnstown. Jackson’s family is going to help them move. Taggert and I want to help, too.”

  I looked sternly at Jackson—he immediately said, “Ma and Pa and the whole family’s going. They’ve rented the big produce truck from Sam to help my cousins take all their household goods and everything.”

  “I can help them load and unload, and Taggert can carry us so there’s more room in the truck for the families,” Jol added quickly.

  “They’d really be a lot of help,” Jackson said without giving me a chance to ask anything.

  I made them wait a minute, to see if they’d blurt something else out. They didn’t. Just stood there looking anxious. Taggert hadn’t moved a muscle, not even a twitching ear. “What do you think?” I asked Aarnyon mentally.

  “Taggert will watch over him. And they’ll check out that area for us—tell us how large the population has gotten.”

  Bardon didn’t mention any problems the last time we met.

  “When are you planning on doing this?” I asked without emotion. The boys broke into wide grins. They knew I would say yes.

  “Next week,” Jackson said.

  “We’ll be gone a week,” Jol said almost at the same time.

  “We’ll be careful!” they said in unison.

  Smothering my need to laugh, I turned my attention to Taggert. “I expect you to keep in close contact with Aarnyon while you’re gone. Don’t make us come looking for you because we haven’t heard anything.”

  “I will.” I started; Taggert’s voice was lower than I was used to hearing. I recalled Sardon’s comment about how much the reeth had matured while I wasn’t l
ooking. Too close. I see him every day. Sardon doesn’t.

  “Go talk with your mother, then. You can tell her I have no objections if she doesn’t.”

  Jol beamed. “Thanks, Dad.”

  **

  They left as scheduled. Korola and I refrained from following them through our reeth-mates’ eyes. With Jackson’s and Paul’s parents within their constant vicinity, we felt we had to give Jol some room to accept his coming maturity. When I next visited Sam, I found a nicely worded note to Korola from Paul’s mother, thanking us for letting Jol go with them, and detailing how hard he and Jackson had worked when loading the air-truck. The note satisfied me that she had no idea we could have watched the proceedings through Taggert’s eyes if we’d been in the mind to spy.

  Those folks didn’t know about any talents Taggert might have other than to fly. Good.

  10. Franktown

  After Jol left, Cobdon and Quodon came to the house with their elder sons and a complaint they wanted Sardon and I to help them handle. Evidently, the fish adventure down south had caused an influx of humans at the coastal location of the spaceship landing pad. Word had spread of a sizeable market developing in anticipation of the supply ship’s arrival within the next month.

  Not only had sailing ships loaded with frozen fish gathered in the natural harbor and blocked Cobdon’s own fishing fleet from deploying, people swarmed the docks to trade produce they’d hauled in via air-cars and trucks for some of that fish.

  “I wouldn’t mind so much,” Quodon said, “except they’re rude and pushy. My own farmers are in competition with these strangers and prices have dropped. There surely is a sufficient market for everyone—or should be—but the sellers from Petersborough shove my people aside.”

  “Your people?” Sardon asked. “What exactly do you mean? Your family farmers?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all. We don’t trade with the humans just as we don’t eat fish. I mean the humans who have settled on parts of my land. Like your Samsville, we have a small community that was thriving. Now, they struggle to feed their own folks ‘cause of the Petersborough vagabonds undercutting prices.”

  “We think,” Cobdon added, “these interlopers take the fish they get in trade back to their city to sell—thus making a profit unavailable to our folk.”

  “You have a human community, too?” I must keep closer watch along the coast.

  “Of course!” He looked at me like I should have known. “It’s been seventeen years. Humans are spread all over the place by now. There are little fishing villages from the tip of Iladon’s corner all the way north to Jerdon’s land. Most have ten—maybe fifteen families. They’ve been trading local-caught fish with communities inland, but now, the frozen fish has flooded the market.”

  “And the supply ship is still a month out,” Sardon said, the foreboding in his voice making me nervous.

  “What should we do?” Quodon asked.

  “Let’s take Sam and go see what he can do,” I suggested.

  “Is he still considered the human leader?” Cobdon asked.

  “I thought so. But maybe not. We need to find out what he knows about this mess.”

  Sam and Adam agreed to meet us at the landing pad early the next morning. After he’d heard what the two don reported, he said he thought we should arrive before the market actually opened, if the haphazard method of doing business described could be said to actually open. We’d have to fly all night, but so would they.

  As we approached through the early morning gloom, I noticed a glow lighting up the sky ahead. “What can that be?”

  An instant later, Aarnyon received a message from Quodon’s reeth-mate. “The dock’s on fire,” he shouted as he thrust himself forward with strong down sweeps of his wings. “Humans are fighting.” I lifted one of Sam’s radios to my mouth and passed the news to those in the air-car. They accelerated to match us.

  Within moments we hovered over the melee. Men and women swung wildly at others with whatever they had to hand: hatchets, long vegetables, mallets, fists. I saw a women bash another with a wooden chair. They both went down and were trampled by a trio of men, two holding a third, both punching.

  The air-car hovered at our side. Aarnyon flinched sideways when a loud voice called out, “Stop! In the name of the law!” Sam has something that magnifies his voice in that machine. A few of the combatants looked up; the rest continued fighting. A nozzle snaked out of the air-car and something sprayed down on the people. They shook their heads, forgetting about their fight as they rubbed furiously at eyes. They seemed to be crying.

  “Tear gas,” Sam said over the radio. “We loaded it last night after your people’s description of the problem. I suspected they might fight. We need to land before they get their wits back.”

  His pilot swooped away, I saw it was Adam, and they landed on the beach south of the docks. Sardon and I picked them up to fly back to the focus of the problem when I heard the noise of two other air-cars. They were dumping fire-retardant on the docks. The smell carried on the wind toward us—an odor I’d never forget.

  Sam carried a bell-shaped apparatus and when he lifted it to his mouth, his voice boomed over the combatants, most of whom were seated haphazardly on the ground struggling to draw in air.

  “What’s the meaning of this nonsense?” Sam hollered. No one responded. I wondered if anyone could. Mingled with the fire-retardant smell coming from the docks, I felt another particle in the air, tickling my nose and burning my eyes.

  Behind me Aarnyon sneezed, showering me with snot. “Sorry,” he said, as he sneezed again. “Awful stuff.”

  “Well, it calmed them down.” I said, rubbing my nose hard. “What next, Sam?”

  Before he could answer, a voice called, “What do you want, Sam?”

  “Pete! What’s happening here? Are you in charge of this mess?”

  “No, I’m not in charge, any more than you are. This is their battle and you need to stay out of it. Whoever wins gets control of the dock.”

  “Don’t be daft, man. The dock belongs to everyone. Remember? Free Trade?”

  “Not anymore it doesn’t.” He waved a hand over the still weeping crowd. “These people have established a city, given it a name, and elected their leader. All others must pay duty to use the facilities.”

  I started toward Pete, outraged. “They had no right to do that!” I spat at him. Before I could reach him a huge man, only a few inches shorter than me and much heavier, stepped between us. He didn’t scare me but he made me think. I can’t attack Pete before all these humans. They’ll learn how strong I am.

  “Yes, they did,” Pete shot back from behind his muscle-bound mountain of a protector. “You’re the one who said the supply ships must land here. You gave us humans the land. The ships come for us—not you, so the land is ours to do with as we please.”

  Behind me, the various don shouted in dispute. Then, a reeth screamed and I saw Aarnyon swing his head at Sam, knocking the man flat. Behind him, Adam crumpled, a red burst obliterating his face. In a moment, reeth lunged every which way, kicking, biting, smacking with wings. The don had knives drawn and were slashing at attackers that were no longer disabled by the gas.

  The mountain sprang at me. I dodged to his side, caught the arm he swung under my armpit and flipped him onto his back on the stone pavement. He struggled to get his breath. Pete’s eyes widened. He turned and fled.

  Shots pinged off stone and screams filled the air. I charged into the riot, using illusions to weave between combatants, searching for Sam. “To your right,” Aarnyon said and I turned on my heel. Sam was struggling with a hatchet-wielding woman intent on cleaving his head in two. Snatching the hatchet, I flung it away and punched the woman softly. She went down.

  Adam lay at Sam’s feet. “We can’t leave him!” Sam cried. I felt Aarnyon at my side, lifted Adam’s limp body and tossed it across my reeth-mate’s back, and turned to Sam.

  “Get on.” Sam stared at me as if he’d never seen me before. Well,
he hasn’t. I picked him up and flung him aboard. “Hold Adam stable. Balance yourself. Aarnyon will get you to your air-car.”

  He nodded abruptly and Aarnyon took off. I whirled to check on my fellow don. Quodon and his sons had fended off their attackers and were on the move to help Cobdon, their reeth clearing a path.

  Sardon appeared at my side out of an illusion and I dropped mine. “We need to get our hands on Pete. He’s responsible for this mess, I’m sure of it.”

  I agreed. We headed in the direction I’d last seen him. The mountain stepped into my path. This time, he wasn’t grinning. Arms wide, like he would grab me and squeeze the life out of me, he left himself wide open for an attack on his belly. I jumped, flipped sideways, and hit him with both boot heels at the sternum, then catapulted to the left off him. He went down backwards, and I heard his skull crack as it hit. He struggled to his knees, then collapsed on his face, blood streaming from the back of his bald head.

  “Good blow!” I heard from an unexpected a voice. I whirled. Xagdon had Pete dangling from a grip behind his neck. “Told you these humans would cause trouble.”

  “Thank you for not killing him,” I said, forcing my voice into mildness. The look on Xagdon’s face made me feel he might strangle Pete at any moment. But, he set the man onto his feet, maintaining his hold.

  He shook the human who whimpered and begged with his eyes for me to save him. “I think we need to renegotiate,” Xagdon growled, “so that this garbage will get the message, loud and clear.” Ignoring Pete, I turned to Sardon.

  We studied the chaos the fight had caused. Humans bleeding, some more than others. However, the only dead was Adam. “Do you know where the gunshots came from?” I asked Xagdon.