Fish Tails (32 page)

“Seems,” the horse said over his shoulder, “our information is correct about there being two countries now, down where we're headed. Artemisia is one of the two, Catland lies to the north of it. We know what philosophy Artemisia follows. Catland follows another one. That dozen are employed by Catland.” He gave Abasio a significant look. Abasio shuddered.

“Catland?” said Xulai. “They worship cats?”

Blue made a whurfling noise, suspiciously like a whinnied giggle. “Not cats, no. Not just any old cat. Abasio the Cat. Who is evidently the sainted father of the current boy-­child leader and the sainted spouse of the leader's mother, or regent, perhaps. Queen Sybbis, ha.”

“The one you told me about?” whispered Xulai. “The ganger's daughter-­in-­law?”

Blue flipped his tail in amusement. “Better if her sainted spouse didn't suddenly turn up alive.”

Abasio corrected him. “Blue, I was never Sybbis's spouse, and I'd rather not be a sainted anything! The single encounter I had with Sybbis took place when I had been drugged. The only way she could recognize me was by my scars and tattoos. Sybbis never saw the wagon, and it wouldn't matter. It looks entirely different now. None of the gangers ever saw Willum or Xulai. My scars were removed when I was in Tingawa. I'm older and grayer. I can dye my hair to be grayer yet. And starting now, I'll grow a mustache and beard.”

“But they're talking about your son, Abasio,” Xulai whispered. “Don't you want to . . .”

He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her, not entirely gently. “Bailai is my son. Gailai is my daughter. Willum is . . .” He had been going to say “my son.” “Willum is—­at least temporarily—­my foster son. I was only ganger on my father's side. Sybbis is completely ganger both on her mother and father's side. If CummyNup is her boy's father, which is most likely, he's ganger head to heels. Knowing what I know of Sybbis, I'm quite sure she would prefer me to be dead. If she thought I was alive, she might take steps to assure I didn't last long.”

“But, for heaven's sake, ganger isn't a race! It's not like skin color, or blue eyes! It's not something one inherits—­”

“That's not quite true, Xulai. Personality is largely genetic. The ganger personality is a pack personality. If you don't have a pack personality, you don't last! Before the Big Kill some countries were tribal, pack civilizations all with the same language or background or religion, and with a dominating leader—­an alpha male, one who is willing to do anything inside or outside the pack to maintain dominance: kill, rape, torture, murder. No one outside the pack matters. Anyone else can be killed without remorse. Sybbis has this ‘pack attitude' and so does this bunch who are intending to rob Saltgosh. I, on the other hand, do not have it.

“We talked about my using another name when we get down on the plain. We'd better start practicing while we have some little time to get used to it. You and Willum need to practice hitching the wagon to four horses. We're all the ones who own the wagon, having bought it from a stranger man somewhere far west of here.”

“You said we were gonna call you ‘Vahso,' ” said Willum.

Xulai murmured, “Yes. It sounds enough like your own name that if we forget, we can claim we said ‘Vahso,' ” said Xulai. “You're Vahso Gormley. I am Shooey Gormley. Willum is, of course, Willum Gormley. Will we reach the pass tonight?”

“Easily. If there's a good place to stop where we won't be seen, I'd like to see what those men will do in the morning. I don't see any sign of them, back there.”

Blue said, “They let the fire go out. Didn't even cover it. They're not forest ­people or country ­people. Have they built themselves some new city?”

Abasio muttered, “I doubt it. Something more like a camp. Gangers aren't talented in any useful way. They create nothing, build nothing, grow nothing, harvest nothing but ‘riches,' which usually means other ­people's belongings and lives. Nothing gangers do is useful.”

Sooner than they had thought possible, they reached a switchback, high upon the mountain, where they found Kim resting the horses. He told them they were within half an hour or less of the summit but could rest where they were, unobserved, in order to see where the raiders would go in the morning. He pointed them into a glade opening from the end of the switchback and extending some little distance along a cleft in the mountains, rock on both sides, a few stunted trees, a little rock pool full of rainwater. They pulled the wagon in, unharnessed the four horses, and made all the horses more comfortable with a ration of oats and hay. Blue moved among the new horses, asserting supremacy and assuring good treatment. Xulai stared about herself as she entered landmarks into her device. She would return after visiting Saltgosh.

“Abasio, wasn't that ridge down there where the burned trees were?”

Abasio went to look. “I don't see the Listener.”

“I don't either, and I don't see the burned trees. Shouldn't we see them from here?”

(No, idiot, thought
ul xaolat.
You shouldn't. I've replaced them. The Listener wanted them replaced. I also found the remains of the campfire that started the blaze. And the bones which were all that were left after the body burned. And the horse that was wandering around down in the valley behind it from which I removed the halter and saddle. To summarize: one traveler, one horse, one campsite, one large bottle of spirituous liquid resulting in one drunken camper, one runaway campfire, one very large blaze resulting in one cremated camper, one grove of burned trees: sole survivor, one horse. I have entered the facts into the daily report. And by the way, if anyone's interested, that Listener thing is talking to itself. It says requests for aid have been received, help is on the way.)

“If it starts to get late and I'm not back, you go ahead,” Xulai said finally. “I may stay long enough to help the Saltgosh ­people, and I can catch up by taking short visual trips.”

“No!” Abasio said, his voice rising. “Xulai, do not pin us down here with what you
may
or
may not
do. Don't make us fret and worry and maybe endanger ourselves or the children because we're worried about you.”

She gave him a look of annoyance. He took her by the shoulders. “Dear heart, have you forgotten that our children won't wait quietly to be fed while you spend hours back down the road? And have you forgotten that Saltgosh has been right where it is for some hundreds of years? If you feel they're incapable of surviving without your assistance, then go, but come right back! If the ­people of Saltgosh have asked for your help, you can flick back to help them from our next place on the road. We will still be within range.”

“It's more sensible,” offered Blue in his minatory voice. “Really, Xulai.”

“Of course,” Xulai agreed, flushing ruefully. “It's awful of me, but I keep forgetting they're not weaned yet. I keep forgetting I'm a mother!” Her eyes began to fill.

“You have a history of behaving like a heroine,” he said, hugging her and swallowing the grin she would have resented. “It's not a history one drops in a few months of parenthood. I have the same problem. I find myself irresistibly moved toward intrepidity and heroism! It is all I can do to remember I have other responsibilities!”

She gave him a frankly disagreeable look and flicked away, leaving Willum with his mouth open.

“ 'Basio? What's ‘in-­trep-­edy'?”

“Foolish behavior, like small boys teasing giants. It often results in death.”

It was about an hour later, as they were just settling into their beds, when she returned, slightly shamefaced. “I don't need to go back. Gum was perfectly right. The Saltgosh ­people have had it happen before. They'd already seen the group, already diagnosed the situation, but were waiting for them to get a little closer before ringing their big bell. Evidently, even though we didn't see any towns close to Saltgosh, there are clusters of woodsmen, hunters and trappers, back in the hills. When the bell rings, ­people from all over the valley come to help, and all noncombatants go underground—­including the ­people in that Home they told us of. I told them how many men there were and what they were after. I told them we'd taken their horses and suggested they put their own horses where they can't be destroyed or run off if any of the raiders get that close. They'd started moving them before I left, the entrances are in the woods, not easily found. Everyone was quite excited about having someone to fight . . .”

She stopped, head cocked. They all heard it, far away but clearly tolling.
Bong . . .
Long wait.
Bong . . .
Long wait.
Bong . . .
Soft echoes bounced among the hills,
ong,
ong, onng, onnng
.

“I think we'll sleep quietly the rest of the night,” said Blue. “That is, if nobody minds.”

Nobody minded.

I
N THE FOREST SOME DISTANCE
from Tuckwhip, Needly found the going slower than she had thought. There was a certain sense of urgency about her, as though some spirit were at her shoulder, tapping it, saying, “Hurry, girl. Get a move on.” Still, Grandma had always cautioned against undue haste. It killed ­people, she had said. Always look before you step, so she had looked and was still looking when she heard the whurfle away to her left in the woods.

There was no doubt in her mind that it was a bear. After a few minutes' careful travel, she had no doubt it had smelled her trail, footsteps, or just her aroma in the air. She was being followed. Well. She'd been told what to do. Now if she could only do it.

She had to assume it was a grown bear, not a cub. A cub wouldn't hurt her, but it probably wouldn't be without a mother, and the mother would. Therefore, find a skinny tree. One with a diameter too small for a large bear to get its claws into. One standing fairly well alone. Which she did. She took a length of light line from her pack and tied one end to her pack. Another length made a loop to go around the tree. She put her knife between her teeth, remembering that the sharp edge went to the outside, fitted Grandma's foot claws over her shoes, and started up the tree. There were enough little stubs of broken branches here and there to give her feet good purchase. Her legs were getting very tired before she came to suitable branches. Three of them, a pair at one height, one slightly below, the three together forming a basis for her pack, which had straps on either side that could be tied around the side branches. She pulled it up beside her, settled it into place, and tied it there, then sat on it, back against the trunk, more or less at her ease. As per Grandma's instructions, soft things were all at one side of the pack, the top side.

The bear emerged into the clearing below her, approached the tree, smelled it, backed up, and looked up at her. Needly received the very strange impression that it smiled. The bear meandered around the little clearing, sniffing, finding some red berries that seemed to be enjoyable, for it sat down among them and ate them slowly, one at a time. It had finished the berries just before the music began.

Needly took a deep breath of disbelief. Music? She had never heard music. She'd heard Grandma speak of music, certainly, and she had heard Grandma sing, though only when they were far from Tuckwhip, where no one would hear. She had a beautiful voice, though she said that her range—­explaining this meant low to high notes—­had decreased as she had grown older. Grandma said singing, beauty, imagination, art . . . those things were threatening to ­people in Hench Valley, so she did not speak of them or do anything that might make herself seem unusual. This was the first time Needly had heard music that was obviously being made by some not-­voice thing. Oh, there was the music she had felt, that time she saw the Griffin. She wasn't counting that. That had been . . . a kind of miracle.

The bear rose to its feet, brushed itself off with finicky, very human motions of its front legs, and began to dance. Left arm across chest, right arm extended to the right, nose pointed left, right foot raised, tapped, tapped, right arm swung across chest as the left arm extended to the left, nose pointed right, left foot raised, tapped, tapped. Turn left, turn right, both arms up, both arms down . . . the music went on. The bear went on dancing. The music went on playing. After some little time, both stopped.

The bear bowed in the direction from which the music had seemed to emanate. He or she then came to the foot of the tree Needly was sitting in and clumped down against the trunk. It yawned several times before putting its nose straight up and looking into her face, which was peering down.

“Needly,” said the bear. “Are you going to sleep up there?”

Needly thought it over, finally nodding that she was.

“I'll scratch the trunk to wake you early in the morning,” said the bear. “The ­people you're supposed to meet will be only about an hour from here.” It yawned again. “By the way, you should take that knife out of your mouth. Otherwise, you might cut your own head off.”

W
ILLUM WOKE EARLIER THAN THE
others and went exploring down into the woods. He returned while breakfast was still hot and helped Kim and Abasio partly fill the water barrel, just in case there would be no water until they'd moved some way down from the pass. A little wind came up the mountain toward them, bearing the clear sound of the distant bell once again,
Ba-­bong . . . Ba-­bong
. . . Double rings, this time. Xulai said, “That means enough men have arrived! They need no more. They have dozens of deadfalls all around the works, and they've been out in the night, uncovering them—­that is, they're taking off the safety covers that prevent Saltgoshians falling in by mistake.”

“And, I suppose,” said Abasio, “that also prevented our falling in when we were there.” He strode about, examining their surroundings and noting certain features he had not noticed the previous night: a small track led from the main road through their campground and farther down a shallow fold of mountain to the north; old wagon ruts along it indicated that one of the little villages shown on the map might lie at the end of the tracks. He didn't want to leave their cover until the men down the hill could no longer see them, so he came from among the trees to lie behind a conveniently cleft stone and watch the road below them. After a time, the men emerged from the woods, strode or limped about, searching for tracks and evidently finding none. There was a good deal of arm waving by men who were obviously yelling at one another. Eventually they started down the road, bearing packs as men do who are unaccustomed to carrying anything. They would be very, very lame at the end of the day, walking like that.