Carnivores of Light and Darkness (20 page)
So Simna ibn Sind and Ahlitah squirmed silently and waited to see what their lanky friend was about, wondering how it might involve the three of them with a pack of obstreperous, noisy water dwellers who were not fish but not human, either.
After what seemed like hours of raucous argument the school broke up, its members resuming their former activities of hunting, playing, mating, and chasing one another around and around the single island. Merlescu swam slowly back to land. Leaning back so that she was floating upright in the water, she once again addressed herself to Ehomba. But her words and her gaze encompassed all three of them.
“We will need to find some vines.” As she spoke a trio of adults leaped clear of the pond, across the intervening open space, and into another, larger drifting body of water beyond. “This may take a little time.” With that she turned her head and slipped back beneath the surface.
“Vines?” Simna frowned at his friend. “What do we need with vines?’
“I am not even marginally vegetarian,” Ahlitah added.
“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to swim to the bottom of a pond and be able to stare right through the bottom? It must puzzle the fish.” Stripping off his kilt and shirt, Ehomba kicked off his sandals and dove, naked and none too gracefully, into the water. A pair of the younger dolphins promptly swam up to him and, chattering and squeaking, began a game of tag with him as the divider between.
“Will you have a look at that.” Simna was grinning and shaking his head even as he began removing his own accoutrements. “I suppose any chance to get clean is a welcome one.”
“Not at all.” Lying down on his side, the litah promptly dropped his head onto the soft earth and closed his eyes. Simna eyed the big cat disapprovingly.
“Going to sleep again?”
One piercing yellow eye popped open to fix him in its glare. “When not hunting or screwing I usually spend eighty percent of my time sleeping. It’s what we big cats do. And we do it well.” The eye closed and Ahlitah rolled over so that his back was facing the human. “Go soak yourself, if you must. It’s a human thing.”
Simna started to turn away, then paused. An entirely impish smile spread across his face. Searching until he found what he needed, he walked to the water’s edge, knelt, and then retraced his steps, tiptoeing up to the back of the cat.
The litah’s roar as the swordsman dumped the contents of the hollow gourd onto the big cat’s slumbering face shook the transparent epidermis of the pond and caused cones to fall from the shading casuarinas. With a whoop of delight, Simna had spun around and raced for the water. He had just enough of a lead to beat his pursuer to the pond.
His face twisted into a black rictus of pure ferocity, Ahlitah paced rapidly back and forth along the shore. “You’ve got to come out sometime, little man. When you do, I’ll twist you up so tight you’ll have to drink your own piss!”
“Just as I’ve always suspected.” Treading water, Simna made faces at the outraged feline. “The bigger the cat, the smaller its sense of humor.”
His eyes bugged and his expression was radically altered when, with a warning roar, the litah suddenly crouched and sprang directly toward him. Ducking, the swordsman kicked frantically for the bottom of the pond.
Massive paws dug at the water, but not for long. Soon Ahlitah was bucking and jerking as first one dolphin then another prodded him from below with their snouts, or blew bubbles beneath his belly. A smiling Ehomba joined in, and the big carnivore’s initial outrage was soon forgotten as humans, dolphins, and cat churned the surface of the pond to joyful froth.
It was midafternoon before the absent trio of water dwellers returned from their scavenging. Held in their mouths and wrapped around their upper bodies were long lengths of strong vine, some green, the rest brown. Ragged ends showed where sharp teeth usually employed in the catching of fish had torn the tough lengths of plant matter free.
While Merlescu and Ehomba conversed softly, man face-to-face with dolphin in the water, Simna and Ahlitah hauled themselves out onto the edge of the island to dry their bodies in the sun.
“All right,” Simna puffed, “you win.”
“Win what?” Alongside him, the great cat was even more fatigued than his human companion.
Simna looked to his left, gazing across sand, gravel, and grass. “I retract my earlier allegation. You do have a sense of humor.”
The litah was sitting up and cleaning itself with one paw, attempting to aid the sun in removing as much water as possible from its ebony coat. “Of course I do. But fair warning, man: Have a care when you trifle with a cat’s dignity.”
“Hoy, I allowed as how you might have a sense of humor. Nothing was said about dignity.”
They verbally lunged and riposted in that vein until Ehomba rejoined them, pond water coursing in long rivulets down his lean, muscular form. “Our friends will make ready. I have to help them.” Tilting back his head, he studied the sky. “We will have to spend another night here and leave in the morning.” His gaze dropped to his companions. “They will help us.”
“How?” Simna let out a querulous snort. “By tying vines around us and dragging us from one floating pond to another?”
“You will see.” Turning, he loped back into the water.
Simna wanted to find out what the herdsman and the dolphins were up to, but he was too tired from all the water play. Maybe Ehomba’s occupation was the key, he mused. Perhaps the vines were to be used as whips, to urge and guide the dolphins as the school towed the three travelers from lake to lake. With a mental shrug, he closed his eyes.
Despite his ever-present skepticism, he had come to have a certain confidence in Ehomba, even when he did not always have a clue as to the herdsman’s intentions.
He was awakened by a delphinic din of ear-splitting proportions. It sounded as if every member of the school was squealing and squawking at the top of its capacious lungs. Rising from beneath his blanket, he saw that Ahlitah was standing at the water’s edge watching as Ehomba and the dolphins organized themselves for departure.
Dressing quickly, he hurried to join them. It took only a moment to see what was intended and finally to ascertain the purpose of the scavenged vines.
Secured around each dolphin’s head in a crude bit and bridle arrangement, each set of vines terminated in a pair of reins that ranged from four to six feet in length. Belting his skirt of leather armor, Simna moved to stand next to the watchful Ehomba.
“What are we supposed to do with those? Grab hold and hang on while they drag us from lake to lake? I didn’t know their jaws were that strong. It’s going to make for awkward traveling.”
“Yes,” agreed Ehomba readily, “but not in the sense that you think.” He nodded at the nearest brace of eager dolphins. “The reins are not for hanging on to, but for balance.”
“Balance?” Simna’s brows drew together, as confused as the rest of him.
“Like this.” Stepping out into shallow water, Ehomba proceeded to demonstrate.
Watching him balance himself with one foot on the back of each dolphin, using their dorsal fins to brace his feet while holding a rein in each hand, both swordsman and cat were astonished at the speed and grace the dolphins displayed as they raced around the circumference of the island and the confines of the pond with the human on their backs. After several such high-spirited circumnavigations, they sped into shore and deposited their passenger next to his friends. So skilled, so controlled, had been the dolphins’ run that the herdsman was barely damp.
He handed the ends of the reins to the suspicious swordsman. “Here, Simna. You try it.”
The shorter man held up both hands. “Oh no. Not me.”
“Hmph!” Wearing his inherent haughtiness like a crown, Ahlitah promptly padded forward. Two more dolphins arrived and positioned themselves. Holding the reins firmly in his jaws, the big cat stepped forward and allowed the two dolphins to convey him effortlessly around the island, riding their backs as easily and magnificently as any carved figurehead ever rode the prow of a ship.
Simna eventually did as well. Despite his initial skepticism about the unique means of travel, he was too experienced a horseman to incur a spill from the striking double mount. Thus familiarized with the behavior of their slick-skinned chargers, the travelers gathered up their gear and took up their riding positions.
“Ready then?” Merlescu queried in her high-pitched yet elegant voice. Satisfied by an expectant vocal melange of squeaks, snarls, and shouts, she threw herself forward into the water and kicked violently with her tail. “Then—let’s go!”
There were none to witness the departure but fish and salamanders, frogs and birds, but even they must have been impressed by the sight of an entire school of dolphins soaring as if a single entity from one floating pond to the next—especially with two humans and one great black cat riding upon their arching backs. The splash as they all hit the surface of the next airborne body of water more or less simultaneously was impressive. Water would cascade over the sides of the transparent enclosure thus struck, spilling into smaller pondlets of water and the vast, shallow, freshwater sea that covered the actual ground below.
In this manner the travelers progressed, their fingers wrapped tightly around green reins, their feet planted firmly behind rubbery fins, their legs and joints braced for the relief of each takeoff and the shock of each watery landing. From pond to lake, lake to pond they advanced, never in a perfectly straight line, but always crisscrossing and hip-hopping and hopscotching more or less northward.
With the assistance of the acrobatic, leaping dolphins they covered miles instead of yards, resting and camping on those lakes and ponds that boasted dry land, helping their finned friends to round up and catch enough fish to satisfy all. The humans supplemented their diet with everything from berries to watercress, while Ahlitah proved he was not above eating even snails and crawfish—though filling his belly, they did not offer much of a challenge in the way of a hunt.
Once they encountered a place where no proximate body of water large enough to accommodate the dolphins and their passengers loomed near. Simna was convinced they would have to waste time backtracking and then searching to east or west, but at the last moment Ehomba did something with the reins of his mounts. It was very subtle, and the swordsman was not entirely convinced he had seen anything at all, but it left him with something to ponder while he fought to balance himself on the back of his own steeds as they soared over the liquidless gap. They did just make it to the next, seemingly too-distant hovering body of water, their tails slapping down on the rim of the thin, transparent wall, their squeals of triumph and delight echoing in his ears.
Ehomba had urged them forward with words, Simna decided. Words, or a suggestion, or orders to alter their angle of approach. Or—something more.
There had been no flash of lightning, no burst of alchemic effulgence. Just a barely perceptible flutter of long-fingered hands. The hands of a musician, Simna had mused on more than one occasion. Or hands that could cast spells.
Without preparation, or magic powder, or wand or crystal orb? All Ehomba had was a spear and two swords, and while they rode the backs of the dolphins, those devices rode high and secure against the southerner’s back. Simna shook water from his eyes. Was his tall, soft-voiced friend sorcerer or no? More often than not, he found himself absolutely confused on the matter.
He could not spare the time to cogitate too deeply the conundrum that was Etjole Ehomba. At the moment he was too busy toiling to keep from falling off.
XX
M
ANY DAYS PASSED BEFORE THE FLOATING
,
AIRBORNE PONDS
and lakes began to grow dangerously infrequent. The dolphins had to work harder to clear longer and longer gaps between the drifting bodies of water. After a while it became impossible to maintain a reasonable northerly heading. Too much energy was being expended on leaping from side to side instead of forward, like a sailing ship forced to tack into a steadily decreasing wind.
ANY DAYS PASSED BEFORE THE FLOATING
,
AIRBORNE PONDS
and lakes began to grow dangerously infrequent. The dolphins had to work harder to clear longer and longer gaps between the drifting bodies of water. After a while it became impossible to maintain a reasonable northerly heading. Too much energy was being expended on leaping from side to side instead of forward, like a sailing ship forced to tack into a steadily decreasing wind.
There finally came a day and an hour when Merlescu and Ehomba agreed that the time had come to call a halt and make an end to the joyous and fruitful relationship they had established. Neither wished to risk pressing on until one of the hardworking dolphins fell short of its goal and had to be raised bodily by the travelers back into the nearest, lowest body of deep water. That Ahlitah by himself could accomplish this no one doubted, but any dolphin missing a jump who fell to the ground would not find its fall adequately cushioned by the six inches of water there. Neither the travelers nor Merlescu desired to see that happen.
For their final farewells they chose a pond large enough to aspire to be a lake. Its rippling, curved underside hovered no more than a foot or so above the surface of the endless shallow swamp that covered the ground. The school clustered close along the water’s edge, looking on and offering encouragement as the travelers clambered over the side and, one by one, dropped to the pale, tepid shallows below.
Terse but heartfelt good-byes given, the dolphins turned and, as one, began their return journey southward, heading for the heart of the land of suspended lakes. The travelers watched them go until the last pink, curving back had arched out of sight.
Simna gestured at the dripping length of thin, tough vine Ehomba had been utilizing as a rein for days. It was wrapped in coils around the southerner’s shoulder. “What do you plan to do with that? Rope us a couple of frogs to ride the rest of the way?”
“No. But I have a feeling we may eventually have to use it to rope something.” With that he started off, heading due north. Simna marveled at the herdsman’s ability to tell direction from an empty sky the way a thief senses a heavy purse concealed within many folds of garment. He followed without question while Ahlitah splashed primly alongside, occupying himself with scanning the languid shallows for edible mollusks and crustaceans.
By the morning of the next day they had reached a place where the vast, shallow river bay that underlay the hovering ponds had been reduced to streaks of fading dampness in the sand. Behind them, glittering and glistening like pearls hung on invisible cords, the floating ponds and lakes stretched south to the main body of the river and the veldt beyond.
Ahead lay gravel plains dotted with low scrub and clusters of bizarrely shaped succulents. Half a day’s march later found them confronting a desert. The first dunes lifted smooth-sided yellow-brown flanks toward the deep blue sky.
“More fine country!” Simna spat and watched as the dry grains rapidly soaked up his spit. “I long for the green fields and leafy forests of home.” The disgruntled swordsman looked up at Ehomba. “At least you’ll be comfortable.”
“What, in this?” The herdsman indicated the desiccated terrain that lay before them.
“Hoy, haven’t you told me that you come from a desert land?”
“No, I have not. Dry, yes. Desert—well, to some I suppose it is. But where I come from there are mountains crowned with trees, and valleys that fill with grass and clover and flowers, and springs that nourish small lakes and give rise to flowing streams.” He nodded northward. “I see none of that here. Right now, the only thing about this place that reminds me of home is the temperature.” He looked to his right.
“Are you suffering, my four-legged friend?”
“Not at all. Not yet, anyway.” Ahlitah was panting, the splotched dark pink of the heavy, thick tongue shockingly bright against his black lips. “I know that when the sun is up I get hotter than my kin because of my color, but I have grown used to it.”
“We’re going to need plenty of water.” Grim-faced, Simna surveyed the ground ahead. “No telling what we’ll find out there.”
“That is what I kept this for.”
Turning, Ehomba retraced their steps until he halted before a very small pond. Floating a yard or so above the ground, it contained no central island, no visible soil of any kind. Reflecting its diminutive size, only minnows darted in its depths.
Unlimbering the coil of vine from his shoulder, he turned to his companions. “Come and help me secure this.”
“Secure it?” Simna started toward the other man. “Secure it to what? And why? You’re not thinking of somehow bringing it with us?”
“And why not?” Ehomba challenged him as he began to measure out the length of vine around the circumference of the pond. “Can you think of a more reliable source of water, or a better container?”
“I know it’s small compared to many we’ve seen.” The swordsman bent to help with the vine. “But it’s still a lot bulkier and heavier than a couple of gourds slung over the shoulder. What makes you think we can move it, anyway?”
“It will move,” Ehomba assured him. “Now when I tell you, pick up that side of the vine and press it tight against the water wall.”
It took work and a while—the vine kept slipping against the smooth exterior of the pond—but eventually they had it snugged tight. The green rope dug slightly into the sides of the drifting pond but did not break through. Strange to think of water having skin, Simna mused. With his knife they split the free end of the vine in half. He took one end and Ehomba the other, and together they put their weight into it and pulled.
The pond did not budge until Ahlitah, with a snort of disdain, grabbed the vine in his teeth and tugged. Once set in motion, the pond moved easily, traveling as if on an invisible greased pad. As soon as it had acquired some momentum, one man could drag it behind him. It glided through the air more freely than they had any right to expect.
“We will drink our fill until it is half empty,” Ehomba declared, “and that will make it even easier to pull. Meanwhile we will be able to sip more lavishly than any desert would normally allow.”
Putting out a hand, Simna pushed against the side of the pond. He was careful not to poke it with a finger. The cool, transparent epidermis dimpled at his touch before springing back to its original shape. It took several seconds to complete the process and return to normal, the marvelous container reacting not unlike an old man’s skin.
“Drink our fill? By Ghothua, we can have a bath!”
Ehomba regarded him with distaste. “You would swim in your drinking water?”
The swordsman blinked ingenuously. “Sure, why not?”
“Why not indeed,” added Ahlitah supportively. It was the first time he had agreed with Simna on anything.
Ehomba simply shook his head. “It is true what the migrating traders say. Civilization and civilized behavior are matters of perspective.”
“Aw, our customs are just different, Etjole.” Simna gave the herdsman an amiable slap on the back, marveling as always at the dryness of the southerner’s attire. No matter the time of day or the temperature, he never seemed to sweat. “If it’ll ease your mind, I promise not to swim in your drinking water.”
“I would appreciate that.” Like his companions, Ehomba was enjoying the easy walking. For the first time in many days, the ground underfoot crunched instead of sloshed.
They kept to the dry, dusty washes that ran like rocky rivulets between the dunes. Soon these were towering overhead, their sandy peaks rising to heights of a thousand feet and more. Yet between them, in shadowed and sheltered places, desert plants thrived on subsurface sources of moisture.
Besides the more familiar bushes and small trees with their desert-adapted miniaturized leaves and green bark, they encountered the most extraordinary miscellany of cacti and other dry-country plants. Some had spines that were curved like fishhooks, while others boasted spikes fine as hair, rust-red in color and threatening. Towing their floating water supply behind them, the travelers were careful not to brush up against any of these. In Ehomba’s experience, such plants not only stung, but many also carried poison in their quills. Overhead, small, fringed dragonets soared and circled like tatters of torn tent, their outstretched membranous wings keeping them effortlessly aloft as they watched the progress of the trekkers below. Enamored of carrion, they would track isolated wayfarers of any species for days, hopeful and expectant.
Ehomba’s companions trudged along, sometimes locked in their own private silence, sometimes chattering briskly either to him or to one another. What an odd trio of travelers we make, he meditated on more than one occasion. None of us really wants to be here. I would rather be home with my wife and children, Ahlitah would surely prefer the company of other great cats, and Simna doubtless misses the fleshpots and garish excitements of more populous surroundings.
Yet here we are: I because I made a promise to a man now long dead, whom until he lay dying in my arms I did not even know. Simna because he thinks I am a sorcerer on the trail of treasure. And the litah because I had the audacity to save his life.
I should go home. Abandon this foolishness. Calving season is over and the cows and ewes have dropped their young, but summer does not last forever. There is much to be done before the cold winds come ashore.
Yet Mirhanja would not want for help, he knew. The Naumkib looked after their own. And his friends and fellow villagers understood the nature of his obligation. None of them would complain at having to help the family of an absent husband. Not for the first time, he was glad he was Naumkib. In other tribes, he knew, an extended absence such as his would water the flowers of resentment.
How he missed the sea! Its heavy perfume, the rolling chorus of the waves fondling the shore, the uncompromising purity of its rejuvenating embrace. He even missed its taste, blunt and salty and steadfast in its distillation of every part of the world. Around him desiccation had reduced the good earth to powder, useful for taking the hair off a hide preparatory to tanning but little else. Unlatching the flap that covered the right-hand pocket of his kilt, he kneaded the sackful of beach pebbles between his fingers, listened to them grind against one another, hearing the sounds of the ocean at night resonate between his fingers.
Days that could have been hotter and gratefully were not were broken by chilly nights during which distant creatures howled and screamed at the moon. Twice it rained lightly, not only cooling the travelers but also partially replenishing their drifting bubble of water. All things considered, the journey through the dunes was proving difficult but not harsh. No one had succumbed to the heat, no one had been bitten or stung or acquired an armful of cactus stickers.
The days would have passed more rapidly, however, if they had had some idea how far they still had to go before emerging from such desolate country. Though not overtly hostile, the land through which they were traveling rapidly grew dull and uninteresting. Even the appearance of a spectacular new succulent no longer drew more than a casual comment or mumbled observation.
“I saw something.”
Head down, tongue hanging out, Ahlitah growled testily. “None of us are blind. We all see many somethings. It is hardly reason for excitement.”
“No.” Simna had halted in the middle of the wadi and was shading his eyes as he peered ahead. “This was moving.”
Ehomba was more charitable. Stopping alongside the swordsman, he leaned on his spear and tried to follow his friend’s line of sight. “What did you see, Simna? A rabbit, perhaps? Roast rabbit would be good.”
“Rabbit or rat, I’d thank you for either.” Drawing in its tongue, the litah licked dry lips. “I’m hungry.”
“You are always hungry.” Ehomba spoke without looking over at the great cat. He was striving to see whatever Simna had seen.
“As Gwyull is my witness,” the swordsman insisted tersely, “it was no rabbit. No rat, either.”
“Then what?” the herdsman prompted him.
Lowering his shading palm, Simna looked uncertain. “I don’t know. It was there for an instant, and then it was gone.”
“Like any story.” With a snort, Ahlitah resumed padding forward, his big feet kicking up dust at every step.
Camp that night was uninviting, but in the absence of any kind of shelter it was the best they could do. Ruddy dunes towered all around them as they spread themselves out on the floor of the dry ravine. Ahlitah was less grumpy than usual, thanks to the den of rodents he had sniffed out and promptly consumed. For a veldt master used to bringing down and killing much larger prey, this hunting of rats and mice was demeaning, but an empty stomach in need of meat does not discriminate against the nature of whatever the throat elects to provide.
As they unrolled their blankets on the hard, unforgiving ground, they were more grateful than ever for the floating pond Ehomba had thought to bring along. Half empty now, it was easier to tow. Everyone drank from it, so everyone shared in the pulling.
Overhead, a swelling moon promised good night walking should they chose to exercise that option. It was something to consider if the heat grew intolerable. Lying on his back, listening to the cautious scurrying of nocturnal insects and those rodents who had escaped Ahlitah’s attentions, Ehomba put his hands behind his head and tried to envision what Mirhanja was doing at that same moment. Lying in their bed, most likely, in the posture she usually favored for sleeping: on her left side, with her back toward him, her knees bent up toward her smooth belly, the knuckles of one hand resting just below her slightly parted mouth giving her an incongruously childlike appearance.
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