Maeve (35 page)

He looks odd
, she thought.
Tired. But more than that
. She felt the pricking of curiosity but the fezza took away her will.
He's been long away at a time I needed him
. The fezza washed above the anger, damping down its fumes, sparking only a flow of thought passing behind her doll's face.…

Hodarzu feels, Manoreh, and Kobe will give him to the Fa-men, and they will roast and eat him, my little son.

As he'll throw you, Manoreh, my husband.

As soon as he's sure he doesn't need you to take possession of your land, all of it, unshared by other council members.

At one stroke he doubles his land and his power, Manoreh.

And he hates you, Manoreh.

Even through the fezza dullness it sickens me, his hate.

He can claim the land through Hodarzu too, Manoreh, so be careful, my husband, you walk on a thread that could break any minute, Manoreh.

Once the Fa-men have you, Manoreh, what happens to me?

He hates the wildings, Manoreh, he goes to the Fa-men's burnings and eats the burned flesh.

He has a taste for wilding flesh.

See how hungrily he eyes you, Manoreh; he marks your flesh for a meal.

Soon, I think, he'll have you.

And when he has the land in those tiny, greedy hands, Manoreh, he'll eat my son.

The words unreeled before her eyes, tangible things. She sat with her head high, face empty so expression would not mar its pure beauty. A possession of the Old Man, Kobe of Kisima clan, her father who would throw her to the scavengers if he suspected what she needed the fezza seed to hide.

Manoreh stood quietly at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Kobe to acknowledge his presence. His eyes rested briefly on her but he said nothing to her, turning back to Kobe as if something like fezza fulled his reactions also.

“Wild Ranger,” Kobe said heavily.

Manoreh bowed his head politely, then he fixed calm eyes on Kobe. “Kobe ya Kimbizi aya Fajir iya Fundi iyai Kisima, the hares march.” He paused, waiting for questions that didn't come. “They follow about three hours, perhaps four, behind me, a herd so wide it blankets the Sawasawa.” His shoulders slumped briefly before he straightened them, stubbornly refusing to show weakness in the face of Kobe's hostility. Kitosime was vaguely worried.
He's terribly tired, Meme Kalamah keep him
.… She breathed in the mist of hate and fear directed toward him.
Manoreh, Manoreh why do you try to endure this? Take up your father's land and get us both away. Why, why, why don't you do that?

“Kiwanji.” Kobe grimaced; his eyes opened wide until rings of white showed around the indigo. Kitosime rocked slightly on the kneeling pillow, struggling to maintain her mask.
Meme Kalamah, help me, help me. I can't stand it. The hate, the hate
.…

“The psi-screens will keep the people safe.” Manoreh's face froze. After a minute he said hoarsely, “You haven't seen what happens in a hare walk. Make up your mind, Old Man.”

“Psi-screens. Abomination.” Kobe twisted small hands on the elaborately carved chair arms. “No!” He scowled at the line of blue where the eastern mountain crests rippled above the court walls. “The mountains will hold us. The Fa-shrine.”

Kitosime jerked, almost cried out. As she calmed herself she saw Manoreh's face freeze over again. He was silent for a long moment, then said quietly, “If these were all young men—” he moved his hands in a quick circle, taking in all the folk in the courtyard—“used to hard riding and hard living, you might make it.” His mouth snapped shut. She felt the coldness in him. His eyes rested on her. “If you go to the mountains,” he said tautly, “I want my wife and son. I've lost enough close kin to the hares.”

“Hold your noise!” Kobe snapped. Kitosime swayed again, fighting to cope with a tiny spark of hope.
To get out of here, ride with Manoreh, get Hodarzu someplace safe
.… She swayed back and forth rhythmically, blanking out both hope and fear, but deep within, the chant was softly repeated:
Talk to me, Manoreh, just one minute, take a minute and talk to me, I'm your wife, talk to me
.… She fixed her eyes on him silently begging him to use his
FEELING
and hear her need.

“I've got no choice,” Kobe said sourly. “We'll take the barges into Kiwanji.” His little dark eyes glittered. “No need to take my daughter scrambling through the wild.” His tiny hands closed into fists.
He won't let me go
, Kitosime thought dully.
Even if Manoreh bothered to try, he'd stop him somehow. And he won't try
.…

Manoreh's eyes flicked to Kitosime then dismissed her. “Give me a faras, Old Man. And let me go. The other Holders still aren't warned of the hare march.”

Kobe grunted.
He wants to refuse
, Kitosime thought.
But he doesn't dare
. The Old Man rose. “So,” he said, “go to the corral and pick your own.” He stumped back into the house, trailed by the silent house servants.

“Manoreh.” Kotosime called to her husband, but he was pushing his way through the murmuring, hostile crowd filling the courtyard and didn't hear her. Kneeling gracefully erect on her pillow, afraid to call him again, she watched him disappear through the arch. As the silent crowd began trickling out behind him, she rose and walked slowly into the house.
I wish I knew what to do, where to go
…

Chapter III

The uauawimbony tree clattered as Manoreh rode out, and the dance of the faras's hooves rattling against the gold-brown gravel echoed the sound. Manoreh loosened the reins a little, letting the faras move into a trot, thinking unhappily about Kitosime. He had a vague sense of foreboding but couldn't track down any cause for it. He tried to shake it off.
I should have taken a minute to talk to her
. He grimaced.
Women!

He pushed the faras hard along the rutted road that ran beside the Mungivir. The wind was rising again, sending dust skittering through the juapepo. Overhead the clouds thickened across the sun's face, casting a shadow over the land. The haze of red dust whirled about him, reminding him of the dream woman's long fine hair. Abruptly he could feel her looking at him. She was getting closer and closer. He tried to concentrate on the ride.

Aleytys narrowed her eyes as the face ghosting across the stars was abruptly gone, the face that invaded her dreams and continued to puzzle her. She leaned back and watched Grey, silent in the pilot seat. He felt her looking, smiled at her, then went back to the tapes detailing the Hunt.
My Hunt
, she thought. She rubbed her fingertips along the chair arms.
First of many. Until I earn a ship. A ship of my own
.… She closed her eyes.
My Hunt
.

Head turned from the window. She was a chunky, middle-aged woman with stiff silver hair worn short like a cap. Her smile flashed wide, white, brilliant. “University sends me good reports of your progress.”

Aleytys smoothed the material over her thighs. “That's encouraging.”

“It seems you've also followed instructions and kept quiet about your background and your … um … talents.” Head charged at the desk and got her body into a chair without kicking it over. “Good.” She leaned back, heavy eyebrows rising.

Aleytys told herself there was no reason to be nervous. Even if Head had sent a special ship to University to fetch her. She smiled uncertainly. “That's no occasion for praise. Living is easier when the people around me don't treat me like a freak.”

“No doubt.” Head placed a pile of fax sheets in front of her. “We've expended a lot of credit on you. One way or another.” She paused and looked down at the sheets. “And protected you from some powerful enemies.”

Aleytys looked down. “I'm aware of that.”

“Um.” Head leafed through the fax sheets, pulled out one and read it while Aleytys watched, swallowing the knot in her throat. After a moment Head flattened her hand on the sheet and looked up at her. “You've made no friends. A year ago you quarreled with Grey and he walked out on you. Since then you've been withdrawing from human contact until you hardly bother to leave your rooms except for classes. Would you care to explain?”

“No.”

“What?” Head frowned.

“I think I was clear. How I prefer to live is my business.”

Head settled back in her chair, her shrewd eyes moving from Aleytys's face to the hands curled into fists. “Sore point?” Her pale blue eyes rose to Aleytys's face again. “Anything that might affect your performance is my business. I don't want to think I made a bad decision when I admitted you to training.” When Aleytys remained stubbornly silent, she continued. “Part of what we sell is our reputation, mountain girl. I repeat. Why?”

Aleytys slid her tongue over her lips. “I'm more comfortable by myself.”

Head's fingers tapped on the sheets. “If you were Wolff-born … Part Vryhh, part god knows.…” She sighed. “There's more to this. What's bothering you?”

Aleytys closed her eyes. “All right. I have problems relating to people. According to the letter my mother left when she abandoned me, the Vrya all find it difficult to maintain close personal relationships.”

Head looked skeptical. “You weren't maintaining any relationships at all.”

“So?”

The chunky woman fixed her eyes on Aleytys until she started to fidget. After several minutes of this uncomfortable silence, she said, “You don't take orders very well, do you?”

Aleytys moved impatiently. “I don't see the point of all this. Why bring me from University just to dig at me?”

“If I sent you out on a Hunt.…” Her eyes twinkled as Aleytys, forced back the words that wanted to pour out. “You've been given access to classified material concerning a Hunter's biologic implants?”

Aleytys nodded.

“Um. I'd planned to schedule for surgery at the end of this year. You'd have spent the next year learning how to use them.”

“Had planned?”

“Keep still and listen. You aren't ready to Hunt. And don't give me any argument about that. I concede that you could take out any of my Hunters even without the implants. But you're politically naïve and potentially disastrous for us. Special skills aside, you've got a lot to learn, young woman. Among other things, the limitations to our commissions. We're not a charitable organization. We can't afford to be. Wolff is a poor world. We hunt for money, Aleytys. Not for any illusive glory. Not from any moral imperative. We are mercenaries, hired for specific purposes and required not to go beyond those purposes if we want to collect our fees.”

Aleytys brushed impatiently at her hair. “I know that.”

“I don't think you do.” Head's lips tightened as she searched Aleytys's face. “We do not—cannot—get involved with native populations.”

Aleytys lifted a hand, let it drop. A smile started. “I concede the point. I do get involved.”

“So you do. As I said, potentially disastrous for us.”

“You knew that before you sent me to University.”

“Of course. I expect you to make a strong effort to grow out of that sentimentality, mountain girl. Then you'll be a quite remarkable asset to Hunters Inc.” Head bundled the fax sheets together, extracted a ragged slip of paper, then dropped them into the destructor. “I've labored that point long enough. The RMoahl are becoming troublesome. They want you.”

“You said you'd talk them out of harassing me.”

“Hard-headed bastards. Unreasonable.” She wrinkled her beaky nose. “They're still determined to lock you up in their treasure vault until you die so they can get their diadem back.”

“Their diadem, hah!”

“It has been in their hands for several thousand years. A reasonable claim to ownership.” Head shrugged. “Fortunately they have an exaggerated respect for authority. University is a neutral world and they are unable because of their culture to violate that neutrality, so we have no problem as long as you stay there.”

“Yet you called me here.”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Aleytys smiled. “You've decided to use me in spite of my potential for disaster.”

“Um.” Head looked a little uncomfortable, then picked up the small scrap of paper. “Someone's heard about you.”

“What?”

Head frowned at the scrawled words on the paper. “We've had a Hunt proposed. Chwereva Company. A world called Sunguralingu.”

“So?”

“The Reps made a condition. That you be assigned to the Hunt.”

“That smells.”

“Very ripe. Your talents are tailored for this Hunt but how the hell could they know about you?”

Aleytys stared blankly at the window behind Head. “I've banged up against several companies,” she said slowly. “The Karkesh on Lamarchos, though I don't see … they knew me only as a native sorceress. Ffynch Company on Irsud. The Rep there was poking about, looked like the type that could ferret out anything he wanted to know. Wei-chu-Hsien on Maeve. Their present Rep there saw a lot more than I feel comfortable about. But you know that. I'm sure you read Grey's report.”

Head nodded. “It's not impossible, it just stinks. I decided to refuse the Hunt.”

“Then why am I here?”

“As you said, a bad smell about the whole thing. I opened my mouth to refuse. And changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Good question.” Head's eyes were hard and angry. “I intended to tell the Rep it was not possible but before the words came out they changed on me.”

“Ah! I see.” Aleytys frowned. “But your shield.…”

“Tell me about it.” Head shook her head. “I can't prove coercion so we're stuck with the Hunt. Find out how I was reached in spite of the defenses of this office. And my own personal defenses. Do the best you can with Chwereva's problem, but find out for me how that bastard got to me.”