Sky Coyote (Company)

by Kage Baker

  “You’d better go in there, sir. He sounds like a spy. Potential compromise.”

  Sepawit pushed ahead of me, and what was I going to do, tell him to keep out of his own house? I did manage to get through the doorway at roughly the same moment, at least, so we saw our visitor at about the same time. I felt Sepawit’s silent cry of disappointment. Myself, I was surprised.

  After all, this was the guy whose rage I’d felt miles away, who’d been evading our patrols for weeks; I guess I’d been expecting some wild-eyed commando savage with dreadlocks. Not this little man. He wasn’t Chumash; Shoshone, maybe, but there wasn’t much identifying stuff like tattoos or ornaments, only a pattern of lurid purple burn scars on his chest. He was stark naked, in fact, but that was because the belt and pouches he’d worn had been confiscated. He was sitting on the floor, hands bound behind him, and he was chanting as we entered. Praying. I know praying when I hear it.

  But he broke off when we entered, and stared up wide-eyed. He had an open, kindly face, mild of expression. When his gaze fixed on me, he gave a little gasp and a shiver, almost of pleasure. But he forced himself to look at Sepawit.

  “Sepawit, my friend,” he said in perfect, unaccented Chumash, and what a sweet, deep, authoritative voice he had. “I’ve come to ask you a question.”

  Sepawit stared. “What? How do you know my name?”

  “Tell me, Sepawit, if you saw your neighbor’s little child fall into water, and your neighbor wasn’t there to see, would you rescue the child yourself?”

  “What? What does that have to do with anything?” Sepawit’s brow furrowed. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  “I’m trying to explain that to you. What would you do? Would you let the child drown?”

  “Of course I wouldn’t! Now, who the hell—”

  “Who I am doesn’t matter. What I am is His Voice. Now, follow my argument a little further. If your neighbor’s house were on fire, and his women and children asleep inside, and he was with them and also sleeping, what would you do? Would you try to wake them by shouting? Would you try to beat out the flames? Failing that, would you go inside and try to pull them out, even at the risk of getting burned yourself?”

  Sepawit controlled his temper with an effort. “Yes, I would. Anyone would.”

  “Of course you would, because you’re a good man, Sepawit. Now. You should be able to understand my duty here. I too am a good man. I’ve been sent to pull you from the fire.”

  “In what sense?” Sepawit asked, eyes hardening. He was beginning to have some idea who his visitor was. “There’s no fire burning here, stranger.”

  “You think not, because you are asleep. You’ve been lulled to sleep by the one who’s set your thatch ablaze. You don’t know what’s happening. He came as a guest to your house, but he hasn’t told you his real name. I know his name, however. He is the Great Thief and Cannibal. He’s come in all his evil to destroy your family, Sepawit, to take them off the face of the earth, and why? To prevent them from hearing the Joyous Message.”

  “That’s it!” Sepawit glared at him. “You’re from Yang-Na, aren’t you? You’re one of the Chinigchinix priests.”

  The stranger beamed at him. “And, oh, Sepawit, I have got such good news for you. None of his threats are true! He’s been lying to you all along. You’ve been lied to all your life! The Sun isn’t your enemy, and there are no white men coming to do terrible things. All this was a stratagem of the Thief, here.” He nodded at me, a little shy deferential nod, as though I were a celebrity.

  I sighed and sat down. Talk about deja vu. Why do I keep running into these guys?

  Sepawit’s voice was cold. “Uh-huh. I’ve heard your opinion of Sky Coyote. I don’t care to hear more. What you’re going to tell me is what’s happened to Sumewo. Where is he?”

  “Ah, Sumewo,” said the stranger with a nod. “The one you sent to spy on us. He’s safe; safer than he’s ever been, in fact. He knows the Truth now.”

  Oh, Sepawit was afraid: sick afraid. I could smell it in the air. But he just nodded and folded his arms. “What’s your business here, really? You’re a spy too, I suppose.”

  “Sepawit, I meant it when I said I’d come to save you.” The little man spoke softly, earnestly. “I really mean you no harm, not you, not any of the others. But when He told me I had work to do here, I must confess I had no idea you stood in such danger.” The stranger dared a glance across at me. “We all knew the Thief had a grip on you up here, but I never thought he’d dare to walk among you all in his own flesh! How can you stand it? You must be able to see what kind of creature he is. And such a story he’s told you! You must understand that it’s not true, any of it. There is no evil old Sun who hates you. How can He be the sort of creature the Thief says He is, when all life proceeds from Him? Doesn’t He warm you, doesn’t He make food grow out of the earth for you? Do you think He’d do that if you weren’t His beloved children?”

  “I know your line,” said Sepawit with admirable patience. “But if we’re the Sun’s beloved children, why does He let us suffer and die? Why did He beget us so weak and small? Why does He allow evil to trouble us? It makes no sense, and I don’t intend wasting time listening to you tell me it does.”

  “But all the evil in the world proceeds from him!” The stranger gestured at me with a frantic nod of his head. “He’s the one who gave the grizzly bear his cruelty, he’s the one who stole the fire of eternal life from your homes! Oh, my friend, how he’s lied to you all! You think the world is ruled by a host of petty little gods, more foolish and wicked than men are. I tell you it’s not true! There’s only One, and He’s the Sun and the Moon both, the brightest Being in Creation! He may be terrible to the wicked, but not to those who believe in Him.”

  He had that professional magic in his voice that gets ‘em up and storming the barricades. But Sepawit wasn’t buying it—he was too afraid about the fate of his Speaker. He turned in disgust.

  “What should we do with him, Sky Coyote? I’ve got boys who can get information out of him. Or do You think You can do something?”

  “I’ll talk to him,” I replied wearily. I had the training, after all. “Go out and tell your people it’s all right. Offer your wife my apologies. Oh, and send in one of the spirits, will you?” He nodded and stalked out.

  The stranger watched Sepawit through the doorway until he was gone. Then he tried to focus on the ground in front of him, but he couldn’t. I just sat and stared at him, and after a minute or two, he had to do it, he had to look up and meet my eyes.

  “Hi there,” I said.

  He looked scared but joyful too, and I knew why. “I refuse you,” he told me. “I reject you utterly.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” I told him. This was the last place I’d expected to have this conversation again. I’d lived through so many miserable decades of standing over poor mortal bastards in dungeons, people who hadn’t done anything to deserve what I and the rest of my pals in the Holy Office were putting them through. Every once in a while, though, there’d be somebody there on the torture table with the light of Revelation in his eyes, somebody who’d angled to die like a martyr. Mostly I deserved the names they called me, but it was hard not to lose patience with them. What kind of nuts were they, to thumb their noses at a power that could put them in a spot like this?

  And you couldn’t argue with them. Like this guy, they had all the answers. Like the Englishman had, the one who broke Mendoza’s heart. What is it with martyrs, anyway? Are they so set on death because they can’t cope with life? Or do they really believe that somehow at the last minute they’ll escape by some mystical ladder to paradise? The big Englishman had. I remembered that flat certainty in his pale-blue eyes. God, I’d hated that man.

  The security tech I’d requested put his head through the door.

  “Sir?”

  “Long-range broadcast to base. Give them a situation report. This is a spy for the Tongva, one of the Chinigchinix cultists. H
e appears to be operating alone. Could be advance scouting for an invasion. Could be a missionary. Interrogation is proceeding. Send instructions, if any.”

  “Yes, sir.” The tech went out again. The stranger had watched us in fascination as we spoke, taking in every detail of the tech’s green skin, of my muzzle and paws. When we were alone again, he cleared his throat. He would never for the world have admitted to himself that he was trying to get my attention, but I turned my head to stare at him again, and this time he stared right back, feasting his eyes on my strangeness.

  “You’re glad to see me, aren’t you?” I remarked. “My very existence proves something. Before today you believed what you believe on faith alone, but now you’ve seen proof with your own eyes. Of me, anyway. And if I really exist, then your Lord must, too, huh?”

  “Even the Liar must tell truth when speaking of Him,” he said. I had the feeling it was a quote from oral Scripture.

  “You’ve done a pretty good job of evading my spirits. Why did you give it up? Why did you just walk in here and surrender?” I leaned forward.

  “I had my duty to fulfill, and I’d waited long enough. At last, I saw no other way,” he replied. “If I can’t give these people the Message by my teaching, I can give them the example of my death.”

  “Nobody’s letting you give them any examples.”

  “You think not?” He shifted, crossing his legs. “I’ve already planted the first seeds in Sepawit’s heart. And all of them out there, Ponoya, Kaxiwalic, the rest of them, they want to know who I am and why you keep me prisoner here. I shouted no threats, I didn’t fight your spirits; I let myself be led like a child to my prison. You think that hasn’t puzzled them? I won’t resist, either, when you have me killed; and you’ll look brutal, killing a harmless little fellow like me, who’s done nothing but testify to the Truth. And you’ll have to kill me, or I’ll keep talking to them, telling them what you don’t want them to hear. Either way, His purpose will be served.”

  “Okay.” I yawned and scratched my ear. “So let me see if I have this right. You’ve been sneaking around Humashup for months, maybe even before I got here, watching these people without their knowing it. You’ve learned their names; you know who’s related to whom and all kinds of other little details about their lives. Whoever trained you did a great job. The plan was,when you knew enough, you’d just appear in the village one day, knowing things about people here you couldn’t possibly know unless you’d been given divine knowledge.”

  “And if I scouted the place where I was to fight you, Thief, who can blame me? Yes, I learned what I needed to know about these poor people. And I learned about you! I’ve seen your hive of demons over at Raven Point. I know all about what you’re doing there!” His eyes were stern. “You’ve done your best to conceal what unnatural creatures you are, but you can’t hide the truth from His Eyes.”

  “I’ll grant you this, you’re a pretty good sneak. So then, when you’d awed everybody with the confidence game, you’d start giving them the Message. Winning over converts and disciples to Chinigchinix. I’ll bet you’ve been carefully trained in the right people to go after, too; the ones with power who are emotionally weak enough to listen to you, the ones you can scare. If that doesn’t work, the alternative is to build up a convert base among the poor and dispossessed. There are lots of them, and they have nothing to lose by a change of government.”

  He blinked at me, saying nothing.

  “Am I right?” I went on. “So, okay, the next step is invasion. If you’ve converted the rich, it’ll be peaceful and gradual. If you’ve only managed to get the poor to listen, it’ll be a civil rebellion, with lots of assistance from the Brothers in Chinigchinix down south. If you haven’t won any converts at all, you’ll still have enough information on these people to make an invasion force’s job easy. And—worst-case scenario—if you’re killed before you can accomplish any of the above, you’ve been trained to die well, and your martyrdom will confuse and intrigue everyone. Then another missionary will be sent to replace you. They’ll keep sending little men like you until one of them does the trick.”

  He was trembling where he sat. I hated this. I didn’t need his terrified expression to tell me I was guessing right; there’s only one way to do a job like the one he’d been given, after all, and I should know. I’ve been a missionary myself. I’ve persecuted them, too.

  “The only problem was,” I continued, “nobody counted on my actually coming down here, in the flesh, with all my spirits, who hide in the woods and create surveillance barriers even the best-trained spies can’t slip through. Suddenly you couldn’t get close to these people anymore, that was one problem, and your other problem was that it was going to be a lot harder to sell your story to them with me here. You solved your first problem by letting yourself be captured. I don’t think you’re going to be able to solve the other problem, though.”

  “Wrong.” The stranger swallowed hard. “I’ve told you. Sepawit is doubting you already.”

  “You wish. I don’t think you realize that your people are building themselves a nasty reputation. Sepawit’s heard of your tactics: why do you think he sent a spy to gather intelligence on you? And Sumewo wasn’t the first one, you know. If you’ve killed the guy—and Sepawit is pretty sure you have—not all the sweet talk in the world will convince him to worship your god.”

  The stranger was silent for a moment before he shrugged. “Well. The Lord may have hardened Sepawit’s heart for His own purposes. It doesn’t matter. We will win here, you know that! We have conquered in His name everywhere we’ve gone.”

  “Everyone’s a winner until he loses,” I told him. “You’ve just had a long streak, that’s all. Hey, why don’t you tell me why this all-loving Father of yours would deliberately harden one of His children’s hearts to not do His will? I’ve always wondered about that, myself. Think He’s setting poor old Sepawit up for damnation, just to make an example of him? Sounds a lot like cheating to me. Almost like something a Trickster god would pull.” I was getting angry; not a good sign for me. This was the place in the argument where I used to have to resist the temptation to give the wheel a little crank, just to wipe some of the smug self-destructive confidence off their faces.

  “You’re testing me.” The stranger looked serene. “You’re tempting me to doubt. Unfortunately for you, by manifesting here in earthly form, you have proved to me forever and beyond question that He is Lord. You yourself said it.”

  “Well, yeah, but I’m the Great Liar, ain’t I?” I said with a grin. “What if the only thing my being here proves is that I exist? You can see me with your own eyes, but have you ever seen Him?”

  “Everywhere,” he replied with certainty.

  I nodded grudgingly. “Nice. But not enough. Look, my friend, let’s make this short and sweet. You’re not going to teach anybody anything, and you’re not going to win a martyrdom for yourself, either. I’ve worked too hard here for you to louse things up at the last moment. My friends the spirits are going to put you to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll be wandering along the beach at Syuxtun with no thought in your head but getting back to Yang-Na. You won’t remember what happened here for months, if ever. I’m sure your god has a lot of fine qualities, but you ain’t peddling him on this side of the street, not while I’m working it. Understand?”

  He was opening his mouth to protest, when the tech came back in.

  “Sir? Instructions from base. Prisoner is to be detained at all costs until the cultural anthropology team can get here. Do not, repeat, do not allow prisoner to sustain injury. This is a priority request.”

  “Huh. Okay.” I turned to the stranger, hoping he couldn’t read expressions very well. “And then again—maybe I will let you speak your piece. Not to these mortals, though. How’d you like to preach to my spirits? Think of it as a test. Can you convert one of them? I’ll bet that’d win you commendation from your Boss, big time. Care to give it a shot?”

  His face was som
ething to see. Disappointment and suspicion and crazy hope. He leaned back against the wall.

  “My faith is strong,” he told me. “Do your worst.”

  My worst was sending him Imarte, who arrived in a flurry of field notes, dragging her little team pal Jensen with her. Imarte, by the way, was a good-looker of a type that doesn’t pop up much in the gene pool anymore, Mesopotamian dusky with bright green eyes and an hourglass figure.

  “I came the second I heard,” she told me breathlessly. “I can’t believe it! Until this time we’ve only had the Boscana manuscript as any proof this religion arose before the introduction of Christianity and not in response to it! What a fabulous opportunity to document a spontaneous monotheistic movement!”

  “For you, maybe,” I told her. “I guess you’re going to interview him for the details. Will it take long?”

  “Of course.” She stared at me as though I were nuts. “You think I’m going to pass up a chance to study this man? He’s a priest of a living faith, not some pathetic old mission wreck with half-forgotten traditions. Think of all he can tell us!”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I replied. “Look, I don’t want to step on somebody else’s discipline, but this guy’s presence here is endangering my work. It’ll be all I can do to keep the Chumash from killing him, let alone allowing him to live here while you pick his brains. You can’t take him back to the base for study, because what will you do with him afterward? He’s not going to Mackenzie Base with my Chumash, I can tell you that. I can’t even guarantee he’ll cooperate with you. You don’t know these guys the way I do.”

  She gripped her notebook with both hands. “We’ll manage. Joseph, we really have to do this! And you can bet that once the stockholders hear about this man, they’re going to agree with me.”

  I threw up my paws. “It’s your project. Don’t blame me if things go wrong.”

  I led her into Sepawit’s house, and Jensen followed us. The stranger had slumped down, but jerked up straight as we entered. He had his serene and kindly look on again. It slipped a little when he saw that his tormentors were to be a lovely lady with big knockers and her mousy assistant.