Maeve (15 page)

“Um. There's something really peculiar about that man. Let's wait here until he takes the machine away. If he does that …”

“How long will that take?”

“If he means business, I expect he'll move it before the day's out. It's still early and with these long days …”

The steamy heat worsened as the sun rose higher. Nothing much happened in the clearing. A guard came out one time—no armor—walked around the harvester, came to the forest and relieved himself against a tree, then went back inside.

A little later, a skimmer came from the south and settled beside the machine. The Director came out accompanied by the engineer, talking in low tones. Although Aleytys strained to hear, she could catch none of the words. Then Lushan went back inside and Manhanu climbed into the skimmer. A minute later it rose, hovered a moment just above treetop level, then darted away.

More waiting.

“I'm getting sleepy.” Gwynnor slid back along his limb until he was braced against the bole. “Much more and I will go to sleep, and fall out of this damn tree.”

Holding onto a secondary branch, Aleytys swung around to face him. “I've got to stay here until I make sure the harvester's gone. Why don't you go back to the village and see if you can arrange supplies and a boat to take us down river and around the cape to the city.”

He nodded. “You take care.”

She lay down again, eyes fixed on the clearing. “I will.”

Chapter XIX

A fresh breeze slid along the water, stirring through her hair and making the furled sail slap against the boom. Aleytys wrenched her eyes from the silent, watching cludair and examined the river. It was several meters wide here, larger than any river she'd seen before … except maybe the one Captain Arel landed by, six worlds back. What was that one called … she shook her head … so many worlds, so many strange names … she could hear a waterfall somewhere to the west. Walking closer to the water, she leaned out and found she could see the edge of the plateau, visible as a level shape against the paler blue of the sky. She thought she could see a vague vertical cutting the blue. The waterfall? It was further away than the sound seemed to suggest. She shook her head.

Silent as green ghosts in the gloom under the trees, Qilasc and Tipylexne waited for her to step into the boat.

Gwynnor sat in the sailboat's stern, holding it against the bank, a paddle thrust behind the root of a tree that was gradually leaning farther and farther out into the water. One day soon it would fall and go floating off to the sea. Like us, she thought.

“Aleytys, you going to stand there another hour? My arm's about to break off.”

She looked unhappily at the small bobbing craft. “I'm supposed to get into that thing?”

“Unless you want to walk.” Gwynnor grinned at her. “Just move slow and careful. Jump around and you'll have both of us in the water. The boat's a bit tender in its handling.”

“I won't put a foot through the bottom?”

“No, Aleytys, that's not what I mean. Come on before my arm really does fall off.”

Aleytys glanced at the forest for the last time, saying a silent farewell to the forest people. Then she gritted her teeth and swung one foot into the boat. It shifted under her weight and she grabbed wildly at the mast, knocking her hip against the boom, sending it swinging around, nearly decapitating Gwynnor. The boat rocked back and she slammed her head painfully into the mast.

Gwynnor ducked as the boom came around at him, pulling the oar free so that the boat drifted out and began moving faster as the main current caught it and pulled it along. He grabbed the tiller and steadied the boat's wild swings, edging it into the center of the river where it began moving swiftly and smoothly through water, glassy green and deep.

Aleytys clutched at the mast, gradually regaining her nerve. A narrow ledge ran along the curved sides of the boat. Without thinking, she started to lower herself onto this seat.

The boat began rocking ominously as her weight shift destroyed its trim. Gwynnor threw his body to the opposite side as Aleytys froze in mid crouch. “Aleytys.”

“Wh … what?”

“Dammit, when you move remember, you balance the weight on one side of the center with the weight on the other. Or we capsize.”

She nodded, a small tight dip of her head, being too scared to venture on any larger movement. Holding onto the mast so hard her fingers ached, she lowered herself until she was sitting in the exact middle of the boat on the floorboards. Carefully, she unlocked her fingers and flexed them slowly, then folded them on her lap.

“You all right?”

She looked up. “Yes.” Her eyes moved beyond him. The tongue of the forest touching the river had already vanished, hidden around a curve. The banks on both sides changed to gradually rising rose-red cliffs. A vast desolation hollowed her. Tears gathered in her eyes. Angrily, she brushed them away. Crying. What the hell for? The desolation spread. Chilled her. She pulled her knees up, ignoring the slewing of the boat, surrendering to the violent emotional storm that threatened to tear her apart. In a last concession to her pride, she dropped her head onto her knees, hiding her face behind crossed arms.

Gwynnor relaxed as the river slid the boat down the channel, swift, smooth, and steady. No need to raise sail. Going fast enough. He looked back over his shoulder. Farewells are always difficult, he thought He straightened again, blinking as the low morning sun shone right into his eyes. He frowned.

Aleytys was bent over, head on knees, her body shaking with hard, hoarse sobs. “Aleytys!”

She didn't seem to hear. The great wrenching sobs that shook her body, even shook the boat, went on and on endlessly.

He clutched at the tiller, scowling at feathers of white water breaking the jade not far ahead of the bow. Miserable in his turn, he sat helpless, tied to the tiller bar, unable to touch her, comfort her, as he wanted. Able only to wait for her storm to subside. To wonder why? What had brought it on? To be reminded, painfully reminded, that this was an alien being, another species whose thoughts and emotions were sometimes incomprehensible.

Aleytys lifted her head, the turmoil within her worn to a dull, aching misery. She looked around, took in Gwynnor's worried face, took in the jade-green sweep of the water, the high red sandstone cliffs, the pale sky interrupted by thready clouds. Sighing, she slid around so she was lying curled up on the floorboards. In minutes she sank into a heavy sleep.

When she woke the sun hung low in the sky, turning Gwynnor's head and shoulders into a black bust against the glowing crimson. She levered her stiff body up, moving with exaggerated care.

Feeling the boat move, Gwynnor nodded briefly to acknowledge her return to consciousness, then went back to scanning both sides of the river.

“Gwynnor?”

“What is it?” he said impatiently.

“You think you could move the waterskin where I can reach it?”

He lifted the skin by its shoulder strap, swung it back then forward, releasing it at the end of the forward swing so that it plopped to the floorboards in front of her feet.

“Thanks.” She took a mouthful of the warmish water, sloshed it around, then let it trickle down her dry throat. Then she drank again, taking a few small sips until the sick, cottony feel was gone from her mouth. She replaced the stopper and settled the skin by her feet.

She looked around. The red cliffs were gone and the river had spread until it was twice the width she remembered. On either side, trees stood in water that crept on and on under their spreading branches. She could see no end to it. The trees had a ragged, pallid look as if dipping their feet continually in the black water had leeched some of the life from them. Even the air flowing past the boat had a stale decayed smell. More and more patches of reeds grew up around dead trees that were bone-white skeletons reaching up from the thickening reedy fringe.

Gwynnor was frowning anxiously as he continued to swing his head from side to side, examining the dead trees with particular care.

“Is there something dangerous in that mess?”

“Not to us out here.”

“Why work for a sore neck?”

“Night. Moonless night. I don't plan to sink us on hidden snags or wander off the main channel. There's supposed to be a lay-by somewhere around here.”

“Spend the night in that?” Aleytys shuddered.

He shook his head, a sharp impatient jerk. “No. Of course not. Siglen-du has a bad name. The lay-by's a platform in one of those dead trees. We'll stay there for the night.”

She wrinkled her nose at the still, black water under the trees. “What lives in there?”

“According to trader tales, nothing we'd like to meet.”

“Have you ever come this way before?”

“No.”

“Oh, great!”

“Don't worry. I've listened to trader's talk about the river and the Siglen-du. Besides, I asked Tipylexne.” He frowned. “As long as we keep to the main channel, we'll be fine. But, dammit, if we miss the lay-by we'll be in the delta in thick dark.”

“I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.” She looked over her shoulder at the wide ribbon of river unreeling from the line of the horizon. She jerked a thumb at the muddy greenish-brown liquid sliding past the boat. “That doesn't even look like water.”

Curiosity widened his cat eyes.

“Trees, I know. Rocks. Grasslands and even deserts. But I've never seen an ocean. Except from up there.” She flipped a hand at the sky. “What's a delta?”

“Where … huh! there it is.” He dug the paddle into the water and began angling the boat inshore.

“Can I help?”

Grunting with effort, he fought the current. “Just sit still,” he managed, spitting out each word at the end of a stroke.

The current let go reluctantly but he gradually edged the boat to the right. As soon as he was out of the main channel, the water slowed and he was able to angle more sharply toward the dead giant, thrusting bone-white limbs far out of the thicket of reeds. Then they were in the reeds, poling the boat through the bundled pithy stalks, stirring up foul-smelling mud. Something lay dead not far away. Dead and rotting, the sweet putrefaction hanging in the air like some over-ripe perfume. The stench became unbearable.

Aleytys held her hand over her nose and breathed as shallowly as possible, unwilling to protest because to speak she would have to open her mouth and she deeply didn't want to do that. For the first time since she woke she was glad to have nothing in her stomach.

As Gwynnor shoved the boat through the reeds he stirred up another nuisance, clouds of insects that added a whole new dimension to their discomfort. Landing on every square inch of exposed skin, biting, crawling, the bugs swarmed over them.

Several birds went flapping wildly into the air, their harsh croaks protesting this intrusion into their home place. Aleytys caught fleeting glimpses of water serpents curving silently off into the noisome fluid, and other things she couldn't name but instinctively recognized as something to avoid.

Eventually, Gwynnor brought the boat alongside the bleached white trunk of the dead giant. A laddervine, yellowing with age, climbed up to a large platform a good twenty meters above them.

Batting fretfully at the bugs, Aleytys frowned. “Do we have to stay here?”

“The air'll be cleaner on the platform. Maybe even cooler. Get the packs while I tie up.”

“Yes, master.”

He looked up quickly, saw her grin, and went back to working the mooring rope through a hole bored in one of the knobby roots.

Aleytys pulled the packs from the nose of the boat and left them sitting on the floorboards by the mast. “I'm afraid to move.”

“Want to spend the night down here? With the snakes and the other things?” He grunted with satisfaction as he tested the knot with a quick jerk on the line. “Don't forget the waterskin.”

He took two steps and stopped at the mast. “On your feet, Aleytys.” He picked up his pack and slid his arms through the loops. As he adjusted the tump strap on his forehead, he went on, “A matter of keeping the ship trimmed. Sudden moves are stupid. Getting out, catch hold of the vine and let it take a lot of your weight before you move. Understand?”

“Easier said,” She stood up, cautiously, freezing as the boat rocked under her, starting to breathe again when the swaying damped out. A little more calmly, she slid her feet along the floorboards until she was beside him, her hand just below his on the mast. “What now?”

“Hand me the waterskin. Don't pick up your pack till I'm out of the boat.”

“Right.” As she moved her pack into position with her foot, he slipped his arm through the shoulder strap of the waterskin. “At least I've acquired a good, empirical notion of what tender means when applied to boats.”

“Nothing like experience.” He leaned out and caught hold of the laddervine. “Give me your pack as soon as I'm a little way up. You'll have an easier time without it overbalancing you.”

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes as the boat rocked wildly when he swung onto the vine. She heard little scrabbling sounds as he began climbing.

“Aleytys!”

She pried her eyes open. He was half a meter up the trunk, leaning out, reaching for the pack. Swallowing hastily, one hand locked around the mast, she scooped the pack up and managed to extend it far enough for him to catch hold of the strap.

Agilely as a treecat he swarmed up the vine, disappearing in seconds over the edge of the platform. Almost immediately he came down and stretched out a hand. “Take it slow. Don't try jumping or you'll end up to your waist in the muck.”

Aleytys shuddered. Moving with exaggerated care, she pried loose her fingers from the mast and leaned over to catch hold of his hand. She got out of the boat and onto the laddervine with an ease that surprised her. “Hey, you think I'm getting used to this?”