Beholder's Eye (41 page)

I left Ragem, climbing much more easily as Ket through the wreckage of the tree to look for my things. My skirt had shredded beyond repair and my flower petal necklace was gone, but I found the hoobit, its leather thong broken but serviceable, the metal of the pendant itself blackened with soot. I tied it around my neck, rubbing at the dirt with already dirty fingers.

Back to Ragem. I piled moss up against him for warmth, then used soil and finally small twigs to brace his body so he couldn’t roll over and jar the ends of the branch protruding from his chest and back. It had missed his major organs by all the signs I could see, but was a serious injury nonetheless. His face was pale and beaded with sweat despite the cool night air.
Shock,
I fussed to myself. That and blood loss could kill him before the sun came up.

Ragem woke up during this handling, his gray eyes fixed on me, deep lines around his mouth ample sign of the pain he was feeling. “What are you doing here, Es?” he said after taking a couple of shallow breaths;
testing his lungs,
I thought. “Go!”

“Yes,” I agreed, crouching so I could run my fingers lightly over his face. “But I’ll be back. And soon.”

“Bad idea,” he murmured, closing his eyes. I stroked the petal-soft skin of their lids. They squeezed together tightly, and I caught the moisture escaping from their edges. “You get out of here,” Ragem ordered in a weak but firm voice. “You get yourself and Ansky off this dirtball—promise me, Es!”

“We’re all leaving—” I began.

From somewhere he found the strength to grab my wrist; his eyes flashed open, their gray almost black. “I can feel the implant sending. You know what that means.”

“We’ll be gone before Kearn—”

“It means I’m dying, you fool. Leave me. Get away while you can.”

Strangely, Ragem’s declaration convinced me he was nothing of the sort. “You’re exaggerating to gain my sympathy, Human,” I said, fluttering my fingers against his wrist so he could feel my smile. “Just stay put and don’t get eaten by the wildlife until I return.” I gently freed my arm from his cold fingers and reached up to pull off my hoobit, pressing it into his free hand. “Mind this for me, my friend.”

Our eyes met. “Esen,” he gasped, as if a last argument.

“I’ll have to come back for it, won’t I?” I said, ignoring his protest as I straightened from my crouch and stepped away. It literally hurt to leave him like this, though I knew it was necessary., My rough work to make him a bed should also hide him from anyone walking by. I stood precisely where Ragem could see me and cycled into the Lanivaarian.
To Ersh with Ansky’s love of the Rules.

“No dying,” I growled, before spinning away on all fours to chase other prey.

Now I could seriously worry about my web-kin.

THIS form loved everything about the forest: jumping over logs, stirring up damp moldy smells with each step, feeling the cool evening air through my coat, hearing the myriad sounds of living things disturbed and otherwise. On one level, I enjoyed these sensations, relieved of the automatic dread Ket-form attached to new and unusual places. On quite another level, I panted with terror as I ran, the scent of Anksy’s pursuers as full in my nostrils as her own.

So it wasn’t surprising that I bolted right into the icy waters of the Clepf, tumbling down its bank before noticing the drop, rolling along the narrow gravel shoreline until stopping myself with all four feet in the thankfully shallow river. I had thought we were close to the river;
just not this close
. There was no sign of Ansky or the Articans upstream, but the Clepf made an abrupt bend as it continued down to the village. I couldn’t see past the rockstrewn bank.

Otherwise, I could see quite a bit,
I realized, moving carefully into the shadow cast by the nearest bank, shaking out my damp paws one at a time as I cautiously followed the river’s flow. The Articans called this time of day “first morning,” as the light from all four moons added to that of the sun about to rise. It was bright enough away from the trees to see the reds and pinks of the stones standing sentinel amid the white froth of the river. This was considered a lucky time of day to harvest mushrooms. On the other hand, it was also believed to be a lucky time of day to die. I refused to think about Ragem, lying in trust.
I won’t fail you,
I promised him in my thoughts.

I lapped up a bit of the glacier-fresh water as I went, ears pricked forward to catch any sound ahead. My nose wasn’t as helpful; the body scents I’d been tracking now merged and were too fresh to give me distance. Then I slowed, catching a low rumble of voices. I was close.

Rather than continue alongside the river, I bounded up the bank, using my nose to quietly push an opening in the shrubs at its top, pressing through one paw after the other, creeping forward with all the care this sinuous body could manage. I only had to travel this way about ten paces before I could see the river again. And Ansky.

There she was, stubbornly Artican, and as definitely and ardently being embraced by an Artican. The pair of them appeared oblivious to the others standing nearby on the gravel shoreline below me. Those two stood at ease, one with a grenade launcher looped over his shoulder, the second with no obvious weapons at hand.

Now what should I do?
I wondered, hiding in the bushes, tongue hanging sideways as I panted.
Had Ansky built a strong enough web with these individuals, as I had with Ragem, to trust them to act against the will of their own kind?
I began to glimpse the quandary I posed to my web-kin.
How to trust those you don’t know?

Should I accept Ansky’s judgment of these beings?
I meant no disrespect to Ansky, but I knew as certainly as I knew how to cycle that I couldn’t share her trust. Her relationships with other species were based on her imposture as one of them, not, as mine with Ragem, on the truth.
At least a significant amount of it,
I amended honestly. For this reason alone, any trust between Ansky and others was flawed; any web she created was false.

So Ansky, despite this affectionate and prolonged physical reunion with her Artican, Iterold, was in danger.

A shame I came to this brilliant conclusion too late.

At that same moment, Iterold drew back, holding Ansky by the shoulders as if to gaze into her eyes. He spoke—something I couldn’t hear over the babbling waters of the Clepf. She answered, a smile on her face. He bent forward as if to kiss her again, a gesture the Articans shared with many humanoid species.

As if in slow motion, I watched knives appear in the hands of the other two, their polished blades taking fire from the increasing light of moons and sun, thrusting forward as if propelled by their God’s will rather than simple bone and muscle. Both plunged into Ansky’s back as I leaped from my hiding place, landing in a spray of gravel.

Iterold tried to cradle her as she fell, then screamed—lurching away as what he held
changed
in his arms.
I’d seen that look on Ragem’s face,
I recalled with a shudder.

I could understand why. I was shocked myself to see Ansky cycle as she died, her web-flesh flowing over her betrayer’s feet, melting into a pool of lush blue on the stones.

There was more screaming, some of it could have been from my throat. I think the Articans ran, but I was too busy backing away from that spreading pool as quickly as I could. Then I lost both sound and the ability to make it as I cycled involuntarily.

Ersh-memory overwhelmed me, tainted by that of my Enemy . . .

... somehow I dragged my consciousness out of the morass of grief, rage, and sickening appetite, becoming aware of my surroundings again, web senses immediately occupied in sorting the chaos of molecular information all about, from Ansky’s dying web-mass to the tastes of more organized collections marking the living, fleeing Articans. There was a distant, familiar resonance: Ragem’s implant.

Gathering all of the control I had, I formed a mouth then tenderly nipped a tiny morsel from the nearest mass of what remained of my birth-mother.

From it came a wash of calm, of caring—somehow she had contained the moment of death closer to her core. I huddled for a moment, assimilating, refusing to take any more than this respectful taste.

Ersh-memory troubled my resolve, telling me how to consume all, to grow in size and rage until I became something large enough, something deadly enough, to kill them all.

But Ansky’s flesh, now mine, sang with her love for these people, for all those she had known, for the Urgian huddled back at the inn, for me. Harming anyone would be the last thing she would wish.

I had to leave her and save Ragem.
I’d promised.
First, I had to ensure what she had been was safe from interference. The grenade launcher lay nearby, dropped in panic. I felt my tail curl between my legs as I thought of what the Articans would tell the rest of their kind.

With nothing to guide me, and no wish to taste any more of what was truly now dead matter, I stood on two legs and, using one of the knives floating on the blue pool of web-mass, dug a trench in the stones to the river. The fresh mountain stream danced behind the blade, flooding into the depression to soften the blue collected there, then, slowly, wash it away to clarity.

 

It wasn’t far to the Sleepy Uncle, especially on four legs, downhill, and at a full-out run. Ansky had almost made it home. Actually, each time I snatched a drink from the waters of the Clepf running beside me, I found the thought of her within it oddly comforting.

I slowed only to make a final cautious approach, sneaking through the culvert channeling the Clepf River under the roadway. The entire village appeared deserted. Maybe they were all gathered in the Shrine to hear about the Boneless Ones.
Maybe,
I thought without bitterness,
they were harvesting Ansky’s flowers
. All that concerned me now was getting back to Ragem as quickly as possible.

I honored Ansky, but no longer cared what taboos I shattered or what customs I offended. There was nothing I could to do to erase or explain away the sight of Ansky’s body melting from those who had been there, let alone my settling into the same substance. In one instant, we had confirmed the Artican priesthood’s worst fears about their God and the presence of aliens on their world.
It was true. We were boneless.

Without a doubt, the result would be an immediate backlash against any alien beings on Artos.

I made my way to the back of the inn as Ket. As I expected, the aircar appeared untouched—off-worlder property being taboo without special permission from the priesthood. The com system in the aircar let me prepare Captain Hubbar-ro, and through him the other offworlders at the spaceport, for what might be to come.

I didn’t have to hunt for the Urgian. The being had been watching for us to return, and slithered neatly down the outside wall of the inn as I made my call to the spaceport. When I let it in the aircar, it immediately began wailing as it had when forced to leave Ansky. I grabbed a notepad and stylus from a compartment in the aircar and quickly, if somewhat brutally, explained what had happened.

Beyond a shiver as it read, the being showed no reaction, nor did it try and respond in kind when I offered it the stylus and pad. I respected its privacy. I’d planned to fly us out, but the Urgian slid into the pilot’s seat with the air of one totally convinced of its right to that action. So I stayed in the passenger’s seat, drawing a quick map to Ragem’s location.

The machine made the return trip in mere minutes. There was no need for me to point—once we reached where the river left the forest, the clearing left by the fallen trees was clearly visible. The Urgian proved to be a master pilot, setting us down in the narrow space without hesitation, though forced to hover rather than land.

I’d imagined any number of dreadful sights that might greet my eyes, but hadn’t actually been prepared for Ragem to raise his arm and wave my hoobit at us feebly. Something tight inside me eased.

By the time I’d climbed out of the aircar and run to him, his eyes were shut again, the hand with the hoobit limp at his side. I took it and placed it around my neck, the metal still warm from his grip. From the steadiness of his breathing, Ragem was unconscious.
Well enough,
I thought, estimating the effort and jostling it was going to take for an Urgian and a Ket to lever a wounded Human into the hovering craft.

It was as difficult as I’d feared, and Ragem’s wounds oozed blood again.
A wonder he had any left.
We propped him sideways on pillows in the passenger’s seat to protect him against any further jarring of the wood through his body. The Urgian sent the aircar upward with a sickening and welcome burst of power.

The air above the village was fragrant with flowers waiting for harvest. Three of Artos’ quartet of tiny moons still hung over the shoulders of the nearest ridge; the rising sun traced the silhouettes of trees and rooftops with its rosy light, reflecting sudden silver from the narrow ribbon of the Clepf.
And Ansky.
The beauty of the place was enough to gag me.

I tapped the Urgian on what could be loosely called a shoulder.
Time to go.

 

“It’s definite. The spaceport’s closed to incoming traffic. We won’t be allowed back, Madame Ket,” Captain Hubbar-ro announced with what amounted to relief. “I don’t imagine anyone wants to return anyway. ’Cept the Denebians, maybe, but they can look after themselves. The Urgian sent its regards before leaving on the Inhaven freighter. We think it was regards,” he corrected himself. “The translator in the com wasn’t quite sure. There was some poetry—and what might be an invoice.”

I nodded, too tired to do more. I was even too exhausted to have felt more than a dull relief when the
Quartos Ank
had lifted from Artos—Hubbar-ro quite delighted to disobey the Keeper of the Spaceport Shrine and leave without clearance.