The Children of the Sky (50 page)

He hustled off the command deck, down to the great meeting hall. For a wonder, the place was empty. Somehow, Nevil had persuaded
everybody
, even the die-hard dog-lovers to attend the rally. Maybe folks were finally getting the message: with Bergsndot and Johanna gone, they had only one hope for salvation and that was Nevil and the DSG.

He stepped out of doors, into a solid wall of cold. Fortunately, the air was still and he didn’t freeze anything. He stepped back into the relative warmth of the entranceway and buttoned up his jacket. Even as he stood there, the first rays of the morning sun lit the hillside above him, showing the town houses along Queen’s Road all the way to the roofs of Newcastle town. Beyond that stood the castle’s marble dome—the Dome of the Lander.

It was another perfectly normal morning at the nether end of nowhere, all thanks to Pham Nuwen and the fungus that came down with the Lander. Bili knew the stories about the day Pham Nuwen raised the Slow Zone high, how the sun had gone dark and the packs had danced in madness. The surge this morning—Bili couldn’t see any evidence of it. Most likely he was the only person on this world who had noticed a thing. It had not been a grand change in the universe. It had been just a tiny slip back toward the natural equilibrium.

As Bili started the long walk to Newcastle, some of his frustration slipped away. Salvation had been snatched away at the last second, but this was a message. Rescue was on the way, and it would arrive sooner rather than later.

“Escape by wriggling out sideways.” Amdi’s suggestion was much easier said than done. The wriggling began with a midnight sneak several kilometers closer to the sinister ‘X’ on Chitiratifor’s map. They forded the river at a fast-moving shallows, under a merciless rain. Once safely across, Ravna decided to be heartened by the weather. The storm might mask them from any enemy scouts. The clouds (probably) meant that Nevil’s orbiter could not see them. And the rain had swatted down the armies of gnats that had so enjoyed yesterday’s sunny warmth.

The path Amdi had found on the maps should eventually take them over mountain passes into another rift valley. The “Wild Principates” was one of the less geologically active rifts, but its name was a confession of ignorance. Its last valley-long blowup had occurred perhaps a thousand years earlier. Afterwards, settlers had trickled into the region, risking merely local catastrophes. Two hundred years ago, such an eruption in the northern part of the valley had suffocated every last member of Woodcarver’s colony there. Queen Woodcarver had a long memory for such things; she had not been back.

Compared to the alternatives, the geological risks were entirely acceptable to Ravna and company.

As they climbed out of the valley, the wind picked up and lightning slammed into the cliffs above them. Nothing came falling down, but their path was narrow and the racket made the kherhogs nervous.

After about half an hour of this, she noticed that the lightning had somehow triggered the tamper alarm on the lamps in the middle wagon. The alarm pattern flickered from cracks in the cabinetry. This didn’t further upset the kherhogs, but it was very distracting to Ravna—and to Amdi, some of whom were driving the wagon behind her.

“It’s all the lamps,” he said to her. “Um, um, They’re coordinating in phase! See the rainbows along the side of your wagon?”

“I know. Don’t worry, Amdi. It should stop after the storm,” unless Nevil was smart enough to be probing from the orbiter—but even that would be a useful bit of information. “Just keep your eyes on the road.” It was better advice for her than for him, considering how many eyes he had available.

The alarm display lasted only another minute or two. Eventually the winds calmed and the lightning retreated. The rain continued, sometimes in icy sheets so dense she couldn’t see beyond her kherhog’s ears. Then there would be a minute or two during which she could see partway across the valley, to where the storm looked more like drifting fog. They were far above the valley forest. Good-bye crusherbushes and arrow trees and stately bannerwood. Up here, the trees were thick and twisted, guarding snowbanks slowly melting in the rain.

The one of Amdi beside her had hunkered down, looking miserable; the rain was a powerful damper on his mindsound. She just hoped the ones on the rear wagon were enough to keep it on the road. In places, the path was defined by cliff rock on one side and vague mist on the other. When the downpour eased, she had scary views of how far she would fall if her kherhog strayed off the path.

Screwfloss kept close together, mostly ahead of Jefri’s wagon. Last night, after revealing the maps, the remnant had been no help at all. When Amdi explained to him about cutting east and asked about the risk of detection, the remnant just stood around cocking its heads in all directions, a kind of sarcastic shrug. But today the pack was really helping. When the path disappeared or appeared to fork, Screwfloss would scramble above and below them. Then he’d come back into sight and lead them forward. Several times they’d had to dismount and lever rocks clear of their way, but they’d always made progress, more eastward and upwards than not.

Just now, Screwfloss was heading toward the last wagon. The Amdi member beside her twisted around to watch. “I think he’s checking on the spare kherhog,” he said. The extra draft animal followed the third wagon, on a short tether.

As the remnant passed she glanced down. As usual, the limper affected the pack’s collective gait, but … She had gotten very used to the pack’s appearance. There were two members with white blazes across their heads, so perfectly symmetrical they had to be littermates. One was the poor fellow whose leg she’d broken. The limp made the critter impossible to miss, but now the border of its white blaze was smeared like … like a cheap dye job.

Huh? Aren’t there enough mysteries?
The thought flitted through her mind, and then her kherhog slipped a half-meter downslope—and all her attention was back where it should be, on surviving the day.

The rain continued into the afternoon twilight, but now they were past the worst of the climbing. Their little caravan trundled along the edge of alpine meadows. If not for the overcast, the orbiter’s cameras could probably have spotted them. Jefri cajoled additional kilometers out of the kherhogs, finally stopping where Amdi judged a cliff side would keep them out of sight of the orbiter even in sunny daytime.

“Unless Nevil maneuvers it again,” said Ravna.

“Yes.” The eightsome looked skyward nervously. “I gotta think. I spread myself too thin today.”

Screwfloss did some climbing, maybe looking for rockfall threats. When he came back, he circled forward, indicating where they should put the wagons.

By now, everyone but Ravna had plenty of practice with the scutwork. Despite the rain, they soon had the fodder set out for the kherhogs. Screwfloss started a campfire and they sat down to eat.

“Even cooked, this stuff still tastes like crap,” said Jefri.

“The salted meat is worse,” said Amdi.

“Ah,” said Ravna. “Then the good news is that we’re almost out of food.”

Screwfloss did not add to the chitchat, but he was chewing unenthusiastically. Being crippled and only four, maybe he wasn’t up for normal Tinish hunting. She noticed that he kept a speculative eye on one of the kherhogs, the nearly lame animal they’d been keeping behind Amdi’s wagon. Screwfloss and Jefri had worked on the kherhog’s front paw, removing a jammed rock. The creature might do some work tomorrow, but it was smart enough to realize that the implicit contract with its meat-eating masters was in jeopardy. Now, it uneasily returned Screwfloss’ gaze.

“Well, I figure we’re at the midpoint of the cut across,” said Amdi.

Ravna remembered what they had seen on the maps, in the valley that lay ahead. There had been scattered settlements. “We’ll find some place we can stop and trade for food.”

Amdi said, “The Tines we’ll meet down there, very likely they’ve never seen humans before.”

Ravna looked from Amdi to Jef. “You think they might attack us out of hand, the way Steel’s troops killed your parents?”

Jefri looked around thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Steel was Old Flenser’s madpack, conditioned for over-the-top treachery.”

“It won’t be like Steel,” said Amdi. “There are still a lot of unpleasant possibilities. I’m sure that people in the Principates have heard of humans, but—”

“Okay,” said Ravna. “Maybe Jefri and I could stay out of sight at first. You and Screwfloss could pose as lone travellers. If we have to, we could trade them our lamps, maybe other things. We can get past the initial encounter, guys. The question is, what then? We have to get home fast, and without anyone noticing—until we want to be noticed.”

Jefri hunched forward, his hands making a thatchy mess of his hair. Abruptly he sat back. “I’ll bet we’d be rescued by now if Jo and Pilgrim were still around. Nevil must have acted against more than just you, Ravna.
We
may end up having to rescue everyone else.”

“I can do it, Jefri,” said Ravna. “Just get me to
Oobii
.”

He gave her a strange look. “You can take control so easily? And yet you let Nevil just push you aside?”

Ravna felt her face warm. “You think I was a fool for that?”

Jef looked away. She couldn’t tell if he was angry, or contemptuous—but when he continued, his voice was mild: “Counting Nevil, we have three enemies looking for us. We have evidence that none of them is above betraying the others, but we don’t know exactly what each wants. Maybe Tycoon really wants us for some kind of zoo. Vendacious’ goon was mainly interested in quietly killing us—you, anyway—while pretending to take us to Tycoon. I think Nevil just wants you out of the way. With you gone, he’ll have
Oobii
all to himself.” He looked back at her. “In any case, by now all three factions must know that we’ve slipped loose. If we try to signal for help, one of them will get us. We have no place to hide out. The best we can do is what you’re saying: get over these hills, hike home through the Wild Principates, and … and then get you to
Oobii
.”

Amdi made a whining noise, not objecting, just very unhappy. “And I’ll be the one who has to do all the talking, to strangers!”

Jefri: “You know Screwfloss may recover some of his Interpack speech, Amdi.”

“Maybe,” said Amdi, hope creeping into his voice. “He was always—”

“Where is Screwfloss, anyway?” Ravna said. Somewhere during the conversation, the remnant had wandered off.

Jefri gave a disappointed sigh, belying his optimistic comment of the moment before. “He got bored, I suppose. I’m not sure how much he understands about strategy. Hopefully, he’s settling in for sentry duty.”

That reminded Ravna of what she had noticed earlier in the day. She described the remnant’s smudged pelt coloring. “So what is he
hiding?
How many layers of secrets are there?”

Amdi gave a tentative laugh. “Oh, that Screwfloss. Being murdered has hurt his self-image. His grooming has gotten so careless…” His voice dribbled off. Some of his heads tilted as he exchanged a look with Jefri. They were deciding whether to clue her in.

Finally Jefri said, “It’s your story to tell, Amdi.”

The pack gestured them nearer, until she was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Jefri, and two of Amdi were leaning onto their laps. This had worked more comfortably when Amdi had been little. “It’s two secrets really. Please don’t blame me, Ravna, but … I’ve been ’prenticing with Flenser since, well, for a long time.”

The one by her lap twisted its neck to look up at her. Its eyes were big and dark. “It wasn’t a Nevilish thing. We weren’t betraying anyone, though you and especially Woodcarver might not see it that way.”

“Yeah, don’t ride Amdi about this, Ravna. We all have our issues.”

Ravna nodded, suppressing a smile. “Amdi, I know a little about what Flenser was up to. He promised you some kind of medical help, right?”

Amdi emitted a squeak and all his heads came up. “How did you know that?”

“Later,” said Ravna. “It’s about the only secret I knew, and I didn’t believe it at the time.”

“Okay, but you’re right.” Amdi’s heads dipped. “I know my problem is cowardice. You humans are brave; you lived with death for so long. Like you, I was born all together and I am so …
afraid
of dying.”

Ravna petted the one that leaned onto her lap. “I don’t think it’s cowardly.” She wondered just what Flenser had promised Amdi. “But you were going to tell me about Screwfloss,” she said.

“Oh, yes. About his disguise!” Some of the perkiness came back to Amdi’s delivery. “Helping with Screwfloss was a more successful project. I’m proud of what I did, even if Woodcarver might call it treason. I knew Flenser-Tyrathect is mainly good.”

Jefri gave the one on his lap a light tap. “Are you deliberately tantalizing Ravna? Get to the point!”

“No, no! I’m circling in on the truth.” He huddled in even closer, took a sweeping look at the darkness. The rain had started up again, but it was gentle in the windless night. “It’s not a figure of speech to say that Flenser-Tyrathect is mainly good. Three of him is from the schoolteacher he murdered. She’s running the show, even though the pack doesn’t consciously interpret events that way.”

“I know,” said Ravna. “Flenser even jokes about it, but in a sly way that implies it’s all a lie.”

“Well, it’s not a lie.” This was asserted with un-Amdian truculence. “The one with the white-tipped ears is the critical connector, but all three contribute.”

“I knew that, too,” said Ravna.

Mischief crept into Amdi’s voice: “I’ll bet you didn’t know that all three have had puppies within the pack.”

“What?” Even her broken surveillance system should have noticed that. Unless, “Was this when Flenser went missing up north?”

“Yup.”

That had been five years ago. Woodcarver had pitched a fit, coming close to making war on what was left of the Flenserist movement. “So Flenser-Tyrathect was trying to recruit from within himself for when the Tyrathect members die?”