Artemis Invaded (3 page)

Adara's memories of her early childhood were scattered and diffuse. Her family had farmed and herded sheep. Adara was the second child of five. Initially, she had suffered no more than any younger child with a talented older sibling but, eventually, she had come to realize that the differences between her and the other children were more than age.

I could see in the dark,
Adara remembered.
All the other children were afraid of the dark, but I wasn't. What was there to fear? I was as afraid as anyone else of the creatures who came to prey on our flocks, but of the darkness itself? I liked it. It hid me, protected me, allowed me to sneak away …

With her more adult perspective, Adara contemplated the child she had been.
I suppose I was a nuisance. I think I knew it even then. Was that why I was so certain—no matter what my parents said when they sent me to Bruin—that they were getting rid of me? Because I knew I'd been bad?

“What,”
asked a voice inside Adara's head,
“is ‘bad'?”

Adara jumped, startled enough that she nearly dropped the harness she had been inspecting. Thirteen days was not enough time to get used to someone reading your mind. It
was
enough time to learn that ignoring the fact didn't do much good—especially when your new friend was the very planet upon which you lived.

The huntress was still not completely certain what had awakened the planet Artemis from the long sleep that had come with the slaughter of the seegnur and death of machines. She did not think that Artemis was a machine, precisely. Perhaps that was why Artemis had slept when so much else had died.

Or maybe more will awaken.
Adara shivered at the unsettling notion.

“Bad…”
Adara shaped the words inside her head—at least her relationship with Sand Shadow had been good training for this sort of communication. She'd long ago learned not to talk out loud to herself.
“You certainly don't ask easy questions, do you? Bad is the opposite of good. And good is, well … Good is what is optimal for a given situation.”

The not-voice sounded puzzled.
“So bad is the least preferred choice for a given situation? Therefore, when you think how you-the-child were bad, you were not acting according to what was preferable? Why would you have done that?”

Adara sighed.
“It's not quite that simple. The child me was acting according to what I wanted to do—what was preferable for me. But I knew that what I was doing wasn't what my parents would have liked—so, to them, my good was bad. Since I knew I was behaving in a way that might be fun for me at that moment, but that might have consequences that wouldn't be so much fun later, I knew I was being bad, even when what I was doing seemed good. Does that help?”

“No.”
The word was accompanied by an image of bubbles rising to the surface of the water, then slowly popping, one by one.
“Yes. Maybe. What is good. What is bad. These are not precise. What is good for the owl is bad for the mouse. What is good for the wet is not good for the dry.”

“Something like that,”
Adara agreed.
“But a lot more complicated.”

“Ah…”
And just as suddenly as it had manifested, the sense of another presence faded away.

One of these days,
Adara thought,
I'll have to teach her social conventions like “hello” and “good-bye.” Maybe I'll even manage to explain that it's not polite to probe someone else's mind, especially when they can't return the favor.

She remembered some of the dreams she had experienced as Artemis learned to touch her mind. They had been bizarre precisely because they were filtered through a sensibility that didn't find the images bizarre at all. Adara had talked a little with Griffin and Terrell about their nascent telepathic link. Once the two men had accepted that their minds were able to communicate when they were asleep—thus far they had not managed any contact when awake—then the communication had not been all that different from what Adara shared with her demiurge, Sand Shadow: images augmented by an occasional word.

Communication with Artemis was easier than communication with Sand Shadow in that the neural network—as Artemis had initially identified herself—understood words and used them easily. However, it was complicated because, compared to Artemis, the way Sand Shadow thought was positively human. Sand Shadow hadn't needed to have good and bad explained to her. The puma had understood the concepts in a very basic fashion: bad was what got you hurt; good was what got you fed. The intricacies of different bads and goods could be presented as variations on a theme.

Since Artemis did not really understand hurt or hunger or desire or any of the dozens of impulses, named and nameless, that drove other living things, Adara was discovering that she must start from a different foundation.

Foundation?
Adara laughed softly to herself.
More as if I must mold the bricks to make the foundation before I can even build a foundation. Still, Artemis is rather sweet in her strange way. I'm not going to push her away while she learns to toddle about in the dark.

*   *   *

They left Spirit Bay two days after the attack on Griffin. By Artemesian standards, they were a group of eight: three humans, three horses, one mule, and Sand Shadow, the puma.

Initially, Griffin had found this manner of reckoning very odd.

Sand Shadow was certainly an extraordinary individual. Not only could the puma communicate mind to mind with Adara, she had been adapted so that her front paws possessed rudimentary fingers and thumb. The earrings of which the puma was so obviously proud had originally been meant to help her train in finer manipulation of those digits. Sand Shadow might not be as intelligent as a human—but if she wasn't, Griffin wasn't going to be the one to say so.

The three horses—Tarnish, Molly, and Midnight—were not adapted, although they were specially trained and would tolerate a puma as a companion. Sam the Mule was as ornery as any of his kind, but his strength and tenacity made him a valued addition. He was trained to carry a rider, as well as baggage, so could serve as a stand-by mount if any of the other three needed a respite.

Although,
Griffin thought,
Sam would have some say as to who his rider would be. If Tarnish or Molly couldn't carry a rider, then I'm guessing Terrell would turn Midnight over to one of us and ride Sam. Sam might be trained to carry a rider—as long as that rider is Terrell.

Although they had left Spirit Bay somewhat shorter of supplies than they had intended, neither Terrell nor Adara seemed particularly concerned.

“We're past the thin times of spring,” Adara explained, “and will be traveling through the low lands for a good number of days before we go into the mountains again.”

She gave Griffin an impish smile. “We kept you well enough fed during harder times, seegnur. We might even fatten you up before we reach Crystalaire.”

“And there are any number of small villages where we can stop if we find we forgot something vital,” Terrell added.

“I noticed those on the map,” Griffin commented, shifting his rump in the saddle, earning a critical look from Molly. “I thought that Artemis was supposed to be mostly pristine wilderness. From orbit it still appeared to be so, but this area seems well settled.”

“Remember, Griffin,” Terrell said. “Five hundred years have passed since the days of which you speak. Although we of Artemis have tried to live as if the seegnur might return any day, when it comes to our survival—well, we've had to make some changes. Even in the days of the seegnur, there were areas given over to the raising of crops and food animals. Most of these were sequestered where they would not interfere with the sports and entertainments that brought the seegnur here. I suspect—heresy though some would have it—that the seegnur used their technology to make sure that picturesque villages in outlying areas were kept supplied.”

Griffin nodded. “And without that technology those supplies wouldn't arrive … Yes. I can see why things needed to change if the population was to survive. Were many areas abandoned?”

“Some,” Terrell agreed. “Especially those that existed mostly to provide a stopping point along the way to some particularly isolated spot. Others lost population. Crystalaire, for example, was a renowned beauty spot, one where the seegnur who came to Artemis to partake in strenuous sport could leave more delicate companions. In those days, Crystalaire supported several very fine hotels and restaurants, as well as a fleet of pleasure boats and like amenities. Today, there is one hotel. Although the views are still magnificent, the reason the area remains settled is because the lake offers excellent fishing. Fish and timber are the basis of the local economy, not the views.”

“Not all settlements declined,” Adara added. “Shepherd's Call, for example, was smaller in the days of the seegnur. Then it was little more than a stopping point for those who wished to hunt and ski in the mountains—or try the rapids on the river. Today, we support ourselves and supplement what we cannot grow by trading—mostly wool, but also hides and furs.”

“Don't forget, Adara,” Terrell said. “Another reason that Shepherd's Call has done so well is that it boasts not one but two professionals: your own teacher, Bruin, and Helena the Equestrian, with whom I was studying. People come from great distances to learn from them or—in Helena's case—to arrange for her to train a mount or to buy one of her prot
é
g
é
s.”

“Like our horses—and Sam,” Griffin added, patting Molly on one reddish-gold shoulder “I'm certainly grateful Helena let us take them. Without Molly, I wouldn't be much of a rider.”

Adara laughed. “Even with Molly, you aren't much of a rider, but you are improving. While we're traveling, I'd like you to ride Tarnish for a few hours at a time. He's more patient than Midnight. Molly's so well behaved you're not going to expand your skill—and there may come a time when you need to ride without a coach.”

These first days of their journey were very pleasant. As Adara had promised, the hunting—even in settled areas—was very good. Often she and Sand Shadow would leave for long stretches, returning with a brace of rabbits or game birds. Sometimes she left the hunting to Sand Shadow, and picked berries or gathered wild greens.

“Is Adara safe out there alone?” Griffin asked Terrell one day when the huntress was later than usual rejoining them. “We do have enemies.”

“She's safer out there”—Terrell waved a long arm to indicate the rolling green that surrounded them—“than we are here on the road. We're much easier to find. Still, I have a feeling that even we are safe for now. The Old One and Julyan took a chance at grabbing you in Spirit Bay, where I'm guessing they had a bolt hole or two. My guess is they're watching us, waiting to see where we go and what we learn. You've found some interesting things in the past, seegnur. The Old One will not have forgotten that.”

“Watching us?” Griffin looked around nervously, causing Tarnish to snort and crow hop a few paces to remind Griffin of his place.

“Tracking us, rather,” Terrell said. “They'll ask about us along the road. By now, I wouldn't be surprised if the Old One has a pretty fair idea where we're headed. There aren't many reasons for us to head this way—not unless he thinks Adara wants to introduce us to her parents.”

He chuckled at Griffin's open astonishment. “That's right, you wouldn't know and Adara certainly wouldn't tell you. Her parents are settled on the outskirts of Ridgewood, a town right along our route. In addition to food, they raise sheep, llamas, and alpacas. Adara's mother has some fame as a weaver. These days, I'd say much of the family's income comes from selling exotic wool blends and the products of her loom.”

“You sound,” Griffin said, aware that a certain stiffness had entered his voice, “as if you did some research.”

Adara was the one problem in his relationship with Terrell. Rather, it was Adara the woman—rather than Adara the Huntress, the companion along the road, and the friend—who was the problem. Adara had been the first person Griffin had met after his shuttle had crashed, stranding him on Artemis. She had been his protector and guide. They had shared a tent in the cold reaches of the mountains, nearly died together in an avalanche. All of this would probably have been enough to create a bond—even if his rescuer had been big, burly Bruin, rather than lithe, lovely Adara.

But his rescuer had been Adara. At first, Griffin had thought Adara might have been interested in him as a man, even as he couldn't help but be interested in her as a woman. However, she had not encouraged him. Was this because of Terrell? From a few scattered comments, Griffin suspected the two had been lovers—if only briefly. Certainly, Terrell remained interested. The two men's dreams did not touch as often as they had when Griffin had been a captive and Terrell his lifeline, but there were hints, images, some of them astonishingly erotic.

So now Griffin looked over at Terrell and repeated his statement, inflecting it into a question. “You sound as if you did some research.”

Terrell gave a rueful smile. “I won't deny it. There can be few secrets between us, seegnur. Before you plummeted out of the skies, I was doing my best to convince Adara to marry me—or if she wouldn't marry, then to at least consider me as a serious suitor. She wasn't encouraging—but she wasn't sending me away, either. Then you arrived and, well … We both know how the world has spun since.”

Griffin bit back the question he wanted to ask—although he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.
Are you sleeping with her?
Instead he managed a casual shrug.