Fugitive (28 page)

   "Rats?"

   "Yeah, rats!" she replied. "Nasty furry little rodents that everyone hates."

   Zef was still puzzled.

   "It's a mild curse word, Zef," she explained. "Nicer than saying fuck."

   "Got it!" Zef said brightly. "Rats it is!"

   "You know something, Zef?" Drusilla chuckled. "I'll miss you too. You're one of a kind."

   Zef knew he would feel the same. Drusilla was one of the few females that had been nice to him since his dick quit working. Come to think of it, she was the
only one.

***

Tash'dree had followed many paths through the jungle but found no sign of any offworlders—nor had she encountered the wildcat. Tired and dispirited, she marched on, moving through the jungle like a ghost, leaving a trail behind her that very few could have followed. Having lived in a jungle all her life, she knew how to plot her course through the trees and avoid becoming lost, but with no clear destination, all she could do was divide the region into sectors and explore each one.

   She was startled when a young Baradan crossed her path, moving even more silently through the trees than she.

   "Who are you?" the boy asked curiously.

   "I am Tash'dree," she replied. "And you?"

   "Roger," the boy replied. Cocking his orange head to one side, "Are you lost?"

   Tash'dree considered her options and decided she had nothing to lose by telling the truth. "I am looking for a house by a lake where an offworlder is staying. Do you know of it?"

   Roger appeared to consider her as well. "I do," he said after a moment. His voice was as soft as a whisper, but with a distinct melodic quality to it. "I will show you the way, but you must pay me one triplak."

   Tash'dree agreed without hesitation, realizing it was what she should have done at the outset. Handing the boy a small pebble from the pack slung on her back, she gestured for him to lead the way.

   Now that she no longer had to concentrate on her search, Tash'dree began to consider how to approach her quarry. The woman she discounted, but what she would say to him when she found him—if she found him—had her puzzled. It was an odd request, to be sure, and one she didn't feel entirely comfortable making. Lutira had been the one driven to fulfill this goal; no doubt she had her persuasive speech all prepared, but she hadn't related it to Tash'dree.

   The journey took longer than she expected, but at last, the trees began to thin out and she caught glimpses of the lake. Glancing at the sky, she realized that this was in the next sector she would have searched, and though she didn't grudge the boy his payment, she would have preferred that there be no witnesses to her visit.

   As Roger walked on ahead, Tash'dree saw the woman sitting out on the beach, but she appeared to be alone. It wouldn't do to bungle this part, she realized, and considered leaving her weapons behind, but decided against it. They were, after all, concealed…

***

Drusilla sat at her easel and was doing her best to paint the warbird that was trolling the shallows on the oppo site shore, but knew she couldn't do the bird justice, neither from her current vantage point, nor in her present state of mind.

   "Here I am, out here at least
trying
to paint the damn birds, and they won't cooperate!" she grumbled aloud, as another butterfly settled on her arm.

   "You could always paint me," Zef suggested. Turning to the left, he added, "This is my good side."

   "I'm sure it is," she said dryly, "but Ralph wants birds, so birds are what I have to paint."

   "I still think that Ralph character is some kind of parasite," Zef said. "Fuck him, I say!"

   "I don't think he'd like that," Drusilla said, chuck ling. "He's gay."

   "What?" Zef said, raising his head questioningly. "Oh, right. Forgot! Means he likes men. Never understood that."

   Drusilla shrugged. "It's not a question of under standing, Zef. It's just the way some people are—it's not something they choose."

   "Not eltrans, though," Zef said with conviction. "Never heard of such a thing until those sailors showed up here."

   "Well, it's not something either of us needs to worry about right now, so I don't think—" She broke off there as Zef's attention was obviously caught by something behind her.

"It's not—?" she began, as she whirled around.

   "No, it's not him," Zef said quietly. "But it's pretty fuckin' interesting."

   Drusilla looked up to see Roger approaching, accom panied by a tall woman with long dark hair and the most stunning figure Drusilla had ever seen. Dressed in furry animal skins that only covered the important parts and gazing out of deep blue eyes that seemed to be lit from within, she was incredibly beautiful by anyone's stan dards. Though at first glance she appeared to be human, Drusilla noticed that her nose was slightly flat and she had an extra finger on each hand. She greeted Drusilla with a smile that would have made even Ralph recon sider his sexual preference.

   "Wave at her," Zef said, keeping his voice down.

   "Why?"

   "Because I want to see her wave back," Zef said. "That's—she's—
wow!"

   Drusilla rolled her eyes and giggled. "Thought you didn't care for us two-legged types," she said, but waved anyway.

   "Normally I don't, but—"

   Zef got his wish as she raised her hand in greeting. "I wish you good day," the woman said. "I am called Tash'dree."

   Zef choked and had to submerge himself for a moment to get his gills re-situated.

   Drusilla returned the greeting and introduced herself, but was wary. After the visit from the Nedwuts, she was suspicious of anyone, whether Roger was with them or not, and was thanking her lucky stars that she'd chosen to paint the warbirds that day instead of another portrait of Manx.

   "She was looking for you," Roger explained, "and since I was coming to see you, I brought her along."

   Drusilla's suspicions increased. "Looking for me?" she echoed. "Why?"

   "I heard there was an offworlder staying here and was curious to meet you," Tash'dree replied.

   This sounded pretty flimsy to Drusilla, but, having traveled extensively, she was well aware that different worlds often had widely divergent customs, some of them downright bizarre. For all she knew, this could be no more than a form of common courtesy, or it could have been obligatory. Nodding noncommit tally, Drusilla said, "And what did Roger charge you for this visit?"

   "One triplak," Tash'dree replied, "though I would have found you eventually, even without his help."

   "And he was already on his way here," Drusilla said, shaking her head at the boy. "You're really something else, aren't you, Roger?"

   Roger merely grinned in reply and waved away the butterflies that were accumulating on Drusilla.

   "Don't bother," she said. "I'm starting to like them. Their tongues sort of tickle."

   "I do not like the tickle," Roger said as he began to subject her painting to careful scrutiny. "You are painting the warbirds," he said after a moment. "The eyes are not right."

   "Well, if I could get them to come a little closer, I might have done better," Drusilla said with a touch of asperity. "They get upset and look away every time I try to use my binoculars and then they start squabbling with each other."

"They are very shy," Roger said. "I will help."

   "And just how many triplaks will that cost me?" Drusilla inquired.

   Roger grinned and waved his hands in protest. "I'll do it for nothing."

   "Look," said Tash'dree. "They are already coming closer."

   The elusive birds were now wading through the water toward the shore, stopping near the water's edge as though posing for their portrait. "Hmm, well, I see what you mean about the eyes, Roger," Drusilla said as she got a better view of them. "So why are they coming over here now? I've been sitting out here, quiet as a mouse for hours—even Zef has been asleep half the time. Do they like being part of a crowd, or what?"

   Roger grinned again. "I asked them."

   "Oh, really? Talk to birds, do you?" said Drusilla. "That's a neat trick."

   "Are there any other offworlders with you?" Tash'dree asked suddenly.

   "No," Drusilla replied shortly, her suspicions aroused once more.

   "I have seen—" Roger began, but Drusilla cut him off.

   "The only other offworlders I've seen were Nedwuts, and trust me, you wouldn't want to visit them."

   "But that is not—" Roger protested.

   Darting a quelling glance at him, Drusilla hoped Roger would get the message and keep quiet. She had no idea whether he knew anything about Manx or not, but she wasn't taking any chances. Zef, at least, was silent; he knew better than to discuss Manx with strangers—though it was quite possible that Tash'dree's presence had rendered him speech less. "Are you here alone too?" Drusilla asked Tash'dree.

   "No," she replied. "My sister is here as well, but she was attacked by a wild animal and was injured."

   "Not badly, I hope," Drusilla said quickly.

   "She is recovering," Tash'dree replied. "I am hunting the beast."

   "The wildcat? You needn't bother," Drusilla said, breathing a sigh of relief. "It came after me and I killed it."

   "I am very pleased to hear that," Tash'dree said with another dazzling smile.

   Drusilla just sat there for a moment, gaping at her with awe. If this gorgeous creature had been hunting Manx instead of the cat, a passably attractive woman like herself wouldn't stand a chance. "I wonder why it only attacked offworlders?" she mused, and then with a pointed look at Roger she added, "Must prefer the taste of tourists over that of the locals."

   Roger's hands went up in dismay, sending the butter flies fluttering. "I do not know," he said. "There has never been such a creature on our world before."

   "Well, I guess that's what happens when you let offworlders visit," Drusilla reflected. "You pick up all sorts of 'contaminants' that way."

   Drusilla thought Tash'dree's interest was piqued by the mention of "contaminants" but decided not to pursue it. "So, where are you from?" she asked her instead.

   "Statzeel," Tash'dree replied. "It is located on the outer edge of the Andromeda Quadrant."

   "Which is probably why I've never heard of it," Drusilla remarked. "I've never been outside the Terran Quadrant, myself." Brushing a butterfly away from her face, she added, "What brings you to Barada Seven?"

   "Political business," Tash'dree replied after a brief hesitation.

   The evasive nature of Tash'dree's reply wasn't lost on Drusilla. For her own part, she couldn't imagine any kind of business—political or otherwise—that would bring anyone from the next quadrant all the way to Barada, unless it was to lay in a supply of fuuslak juice, which, in Drusilla's opinion, was highly overrated. Still, it was as good a reason as any. "Need some fuuslak juice to make everyone back home get along better?" she suggested.

   "Perhaps," Tash'dree replied. Gazing out at the lake, she added, "The males on my world are very belligerent."

   "Can't imagine why that would be," Zef said gruffly. "Not with beautiful women like you around. But maybe that's why you left."

   "Finally found your tongue, did you, Zef?" Drusilla chuckled.

   Tash'dree and Roger both looked down at Zef with utter disdain, but it was Tash'dree who spoke. "Your pet can speak?"

   "Strictly speaking, Zef is not my pet," Drusilla replied. "He's my friend. Tash'dree, meet Zef. He's what they call an eltran around here."

   Tash'dree gave a quick nod in Zef's direction before dismissing him with a flick of her brow. "This fuuslak juice you mention. I had a sample of it when I arrived here. It has a calming effect?"

   "Well, they
say
it does," Drusilla admitted, "but maybe you have to drink a steady supply of it. It was very refreshing, but aside from that, I couldn't tell that it did much for me."

   "I think it's because you're nice enough without it," Zef put in. "Always been nice to me, anyway."

   Tash'dree glanced at Zef as though a slug had been speaking to her and then addressed Drusilla. "Perhaps it would be useful to transplant these fuuslak plants to my world. The climate and vegetation here are similar to that of Statzeel."

   "I'm sure Roger would be happy to dig some up for you," Drusilla said, laughing. "Might be illegal to export them, but—"

   "We can ask Lester," Roger said eagerly, taking Tash'dree's hand, his other hand a flurry of excitement. "Come, I will take you."

   Tash'dree said good-bye to Drusilla and went off with Roger, who was gesticulating madly as he spoke, extolling the virtues of the fuuslak plant and its juice.

   "Well, that was weird," Drusilla commented to Zef. "Did she strike you as odd?"

   "Maybe," Zef admitted, "but fuckin' beautiful, just the same."

Chapter 16

"ARE YOU SURE THIS WILL WORK?" JADK ASKED. "I KNOW Manx has a great sense of smell, but this pot's been on the boil for two days now, and—"

   "I haven't made a concoction like this in a very long time," Tisana said equably, "but if you've got any better ideas, I'd love to hear them." As an accomplished witch, Tisana was capable of a great many remarkable things, but distilling the scent of Zetithian male was trickier than most. She was glad she'd brought her books along when she and Leo had left her homeworld of Utopia to travel with Jack and Cat, otherwise she would have had to wing it—with uncertain results.

   "Well, we've had you talking to all the animals around, and none of them have seen him, or if they have, they haven't lived to tell about it. Cat says Manx was a darn good hunter. He might have killed all the witnesses."

   Tisana rolled her eyes. "He hasn't killed them all," she said with a chuckle. "If he's even here."

   "You heard what Lester said," Jack countered. "There were Nedwuts here looking for a cat. Now, if you believe it was a real cat and not Manx, you're not as smart as I took you for."