Chapter 26
The highlands were easier going than the climb up, even where rain had left centimeters of loose muck. The kherhogs could graze on tender meadow grass—though water lay just below the green, disguising deep holes. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the sky was densely overcast—ideal weather for making unobserved progress. Remnant Screwfloss (Remnant Steel?) behaved as he had the day before, scouting ahead of the three wagons, pointing out usable paths. His limp slowed him down, but it didn’t seriously affect his agility.
The maps were stowed, but Amdi had memorized them: “These mountains dribble off to the west more gently than to the east. There’s a steep descent up ahead.”
Ravna remembered that; “steep descent” was too kind a description. The map’s contour lines had merged into a single curve, a sheer cliff. Amdi didn’t deny that, but at the moment he was worrying about something else: “In a few more hours—two days at most—we’ll run into a village, or an inn, or just farmer packs. What are we going to say to them?”
“It depends on the situation, Amdi,” said Ravna. Poor guy. He was trying to plan for an ad lib performance. Of course, while he was doing that, he didn’t have to think about the coming descent, or the fact that they were out of food (for all values of edible that Ravna wished to consider), and were being hunted by as many as three different gangs. And now, a wind was sweeping across the meadows. Maybe it wasn’t arctic cold, but it jammed icily against her sodden jacket. And they were all tired and filthy and cold and.… Think about something else:
Screwfloss had moved to the rear and was snooping around huge boulders that were scattered in the meadow. His alertness was a comfort, though with every passing day, it seemed more likely that Chitiratifor’s gang was safely lost behind them. Amdi was not comforted. His heads snapped around to follow the foursome. “Wah! We could run into local packs even before we get to the dropoff!”
Ravna noticed that Jefri had slowed the lead wagon, and was watching Screwfloss’ investigation, too. In fact, these meadows didn’t look much different from old-style farms of the Domain. Before genetically modified fodder crops, the packs’ idea of farming was much like the human notion of a game preserve. Traditional Tinish farmers simply made the land more hospitable for prey, keeping their animals fed and protecting them against other predators. Sometimes farm “fences” could be mistaken for natural tree lines and rockfalls—though she had seen nothing really likely hereabouts.
Caterwauling erupted from behind the boulders. Something member-sized came racing out, heading away from the meadow. Three of Screwfloss outflanked it. The creature made a turn so tight it was a flip and headed into the meadow—but Screwfloss’ limper was waiting for it there. The thing had no choice. It made another hairpin turn and was sprinting along the path, straight at the wagons. Three of Screwfloss were closing fast.
It was far too big to be a weasel—and if you saw one of those, you saw a hundred, and then you were probably the weasels’ lunch. Besides, this thing had two extra limbs at its midsection! As it raced past her wagon, she realized that its “extra legs” were the torn and muddy remnants of a travel cloak.
Then lots of things happened at once. She almost lost her reins as her kherhog spooked away from the runner. Up ahead, Jefri and one of Amdi had jumped down from the front wagon.
“Gotta go!” said the one of Amdi beside her. He bailed out, just as Screwfloss stampeded through, followed by the rest of Amdi.
Jefri moved back and forth to block the creature’s escape.
Ravna rose from her bench. “Be careful—” was all she got out before the runner skittered around Jef. But the faster of Screwfloss had caught up. They circled, forcing the singleton back. And now all of Amdi was ranged in front of Ravna’s wagon. Corralling the thing was probably an accident, but it looked like a masterpiece of teamwork. The fugitive had stopped running. It was crouched low, still shrieking monstrously loud.
Nobody moved for a second. Three seconds. The hissing stopped. The creature looked back and forth at its antagonists, then focused on the least numerous: Jefri. A pack could be deadly. What about a singleton? Jefri looked very calm. He kept his eyes on the runaway, but his words were directed elsewhere.
“Ravna, sit back down. Don’t let your kherhog overrun us.” His own wagon had run forward almost fifty meters, then off a little ways into the meadow. “Amdi, you’re doing fine. Just stand up a little straighter.”
She suddenly noticed that Amdi was trembling. His members were large and there were eight of them, but he’d spent most of his life thinking like a human child, with none of the internal role models of normal Tines. But Amdi did his best, all eight rising to alert poses. And he was talking, both to the singleton and to Screwfloss behind Jefri. That pack had been edging around the human, as if planning a sudden rush on the singleton. Now it backed up a little and settled for blocking the singleton’s exit.
“You’re carrying some snacks, right, Amdi?” Jefri asked.
“Yech, if you can call them that.” He reached into one of his panniers and pulled out a big sausage, green with mold. “Not even all of me can still eat these things.” He held it gingerly in the soft tips of a muzzle.
“Why don’t you toss it to our new friend here.”
“Ah! Okay.” Amdi said something to the singleton, then lobbed the sausage toward the creature. It landed just beyond the animal’s reach.
The singleton didn’t move toward it immediately. Its head swept across Amdi, then quickly turned to check out Jefri and Screwfloss, and then sharply looked back at Amdi. It was strange to see a member working so hard just to see what was around it.
After a second more of warning watchfulness, the singleton leaped upon the sausage, flipping it into the air and biting. Big surprise: this food was rock hard. It dropped the sausage to the ground, held it in place while gnawing vigorously. As it ground away, it shuffled around, trying to keep an eye on all the threats.
Suddenly the singleton was gobbling Tinish. The sounds boomed loud from its shoulders. Ravna recognised the chord for “afraid.” Or maybe there was a negation there: “not afraid.” That repeated, became a stream of sounds that was much more complicated.
“It’s a talker, isn’t it,” said Jefri.
Everyone relaxed a little. Ravna let her kherhog turn from the path, just far enough to munch on the attractive grass. “Who is it from, I wonder,” said Ravna. “One of the wagoneers?” Surely this wasn’t part of Chitiratifor. The singleton looked starved, its ribs marking high ridges in its ragged pelt. Chitiratifor’s had all been too fat to be so transformed in just three days.
Jefri went down on one knee for a closer look. The singleton raised its head, and its babbling turned into one of those ear-piercing hisses. When Jefri made no further move, it gave a look all around. Then it set the sausage back on the ground and resumed struggling with it.
After a moment, Jefri said, “I don’t think it’s from either of the wagoneers. What’s left of that cloak doesn’t look like what they were wearing.”
“I recognize her markings,” said Amdi. “She’s one of Remasritlfeer.” He threw a second sausage in the direction of the singleton. “But Chitiratifor claimed he killed him all.”
Jefri grinned. “Well, Chitiratifor was a bragging liar … and this is one tough animal.”
• • •
They called the singleton “Ritl” even though Amdi wasn’t certain that had been its given name.
Ritl ate both sausages and then threw up, all the while making threatening noises. Then it drank of the meadow water and more or less collapsed in the middle of the road. She was silent except for occasional hisses, mainly directed at Remnant Screwfloss.
Amdi circled around and persuaded Screwfloss to back off. Then he and Jefri sat down and chatted gently at the critter.
“I’ll bet that was the last of her strength,” said Jefri.
Ravna had climbed down from her wagon and walked forward until Ritl started hissing at her. “You figure she was a speech center?”
“We won’t know for sure till she’s rested.” Jef shrugged. “Sometimes language ability isn’t concentrated in one member.”
“I’m like that with math,” said Amdi. “All of me is mathematical.”
“Yeah, but you’re one of kind, pal, a genius in every part. Lord Steel…” Jefri hesitated, possibly because much of Lord Steel was right behind them, grumpily climbing aboard the middle wagon. And Jefri had his own terrible history with the original. “… Lord Steel made you of puppies from the greatest geniuses he could kill, gull, or kidnap from.”
Jefri reached out tentatively in the direction of Ritl. The singleton responded with another hiss, but it seemed to be running out of energy. “I don’t think Remasritlfeer was ever a great linguist.”
“If Ritl were friendly, could she tell us much about Tycoon?”
“A singleton? Probably not.”
Amdi gave a sad little laugh. “She probably remembers useful things, but they would come out as nonsense riddling.”
Ravna thought a second. “You know, there is the obvious thing. It would solve two of our problems at once.” She glanced over her shoulder. All of Screwfloss was sitting atop the middle wagon, looking down at them.
“Can you understand Samnorsk?” she said to it.
Screwfloss’ gaze continued intent and calculating, but the pack didn’t respond.
“I don’t think Screwfloss understands human language,” said Amdi. “I’m not even sure how clear he is on Tinish.”
“Okay. I was just wondering … maybe if what’s left of Screwfloss could get together with Ritl…”
Jefri grinned. “That would be a win, but I’ll bet it doesn’t happen. Ritl is so emphatically hostile.”
“Maybe she’s just frightened,” said Amdi. The singleton was babbling again. The noise was less painful than her hissing, but it didn’t sound friendly.
“Yes, but Screwfloss doesn’t look interested either. Accepting Ritl would probably mean a flip in pack gender, and that’s usually an issue.” Jefri gave an impatient shrug. “If Ritl doesn’t run away then this will be something to think about. Meantime,” he glanced at the sky, “we really want to be on our way.”
“She’ll just run if I back off,” said Amdi.
“Naeh. I’ll bet she’s been chasing us; you know how singletons are.”
“Well, okay.” Amdi said something comforting to Ritl, and retreated from the confrontation. At the same time, he was talking to Screwfloss, maybe asking him to look less threatening. Jefri walked back toward the front wagon.
The critter watched all this from its hunkered-down position. It was still blabbering.
Jefri translated: “Mainly it’s threatening what will happen to us if we misbehave.”
Abruptly, Ritl came to its feet and sprinted off—but stopped when it figured it was out of sight in the meadow grasses.
Jefri and Amdi walked forward to where the first kherhog was grazing. In a few minutes, they had persuaded the animal to drag its wagon back onto the path. Amdi came back to drive the rear wagon and they were on their way once more.
• • •
As usual, one of Amdi sat with Ravna on the middle wagon. As the afternoon passed the humidity fell, and Amdi seemed to be thinking faster. That was not necessarily a good thing. “This is the last day when things will be easy,” he said. “Can’t you hear the waterfall? We’re almost to the big dropoff.” He had escalated the “steep descent” to something more realistic. “We’re gonna meet strangers real soon.”
She guessed he was saying similar things to Jefri up ahead. Amdi was like a worrywart on ultradrive. She took one hand from the reins to pat his shoulder. “We can’t do anything about that till we get there. Meantime, you should be paying attention to that wagon you’re driving, and keeping watch on Screwfloss and Ritl.”
“Oh, I am, I am.” He glanced up at her, wriggling under her hand. “If you could see me all at once, you’d know I’m looking every which way. Screwfloss must have understood what I told him. He’s staying behind us. And from Jefri’s wagon, I can see that Ritl is just a little ahead of the wagons. She hasn’t run off, though she’s trying to stay out of sight.”
As a matter of fact, Ravna had no trouble tracking the singleton. It never strayed more than thirty meters beyond Jefri’s wagon, sneaking from hiding place to hiding place. At the same time, the critter was trying to keep track of the wagons and Screwfloss. Sometimes Ritl would stop in plain view, twisting her neck back and forth—then see them watching her, and abruptly run for cover.
Amdi gave a human-sounding sigh. “I feel so sorry for Ritl. You’re right. If only she and Remnant Screwfloss could accept each other, they would be so much better off. Do you read romance novels, Ravna?”
“Huh? Tinish romance novels? Where—?”
“Pilgrim lets me into Woodcarver’s library.”
She had no idea Amdi researched such topics. “Have you read any of the romance stories in Oobii?” she asked. When Ravna worked for Vrinimi Org, she’d noticed customer interest in romance literature. It was probably the most idiosyncratic of all written art forms. No surprise there; when it was intelligible, romance lit gave more insight into an alien culture and psyche than anything this side of Transcendence.
“Our romances are nothing like as weird as in Oobii, but we Tines have more kinds of romance than other races! See, there’s pack-level romance, like Pilgrim and Woodcarver. Then there are romances about injured packs looking to become whole, either from within or without. And one type of story is about packs romancing singletons and vice versa.”
“From what Jefri says, that’s a long shot in our case.”
Amdi said, “Yup. Maybe that’s why people like to read stories where it works out well.” Amdi rode along for a minute or two without saying anything more. He lowered his long neck and rested his head on his forepaws. When she glanced down, she noticed that his eyes were closed. For a wonder, the worrywart was taking a break! Or maybe he was worrying about his larger problems, what had driven him to Flenser in the first place. After a time, he raised his head and continued: “Romance is such a weird thing. It’s how we Tines sneak past death. I think it’s like that with other races, only more metaphorical. I read your human romances especially. This kidnapping is just like in some of your stories, bringing people together, showing them how much they need each other. Don’t you see how good you and Jefri would be for each other?”
“Amdi!”
“What? What? I just want you to be happy.”
• • •
Events intervened before Amdi could make further unsettling comments.
They were descending into scrub forest, and the mud was now a serious problem. Streams cut across the path, and water was coursing through the meadow on their right. As best as they could tell from the maps, they were within a few hundred meters of the “steep descent.” The sound of falling water was loud even to Ravna’s ears. Jefri and Amdi hiked forward to take a look, while Ravna slayed with the wagons. Ritl was nowhere to be seen, but Screwfloss was patrolling some kind of perimeter.
Ravna got down and walked around the wagons, checking that the kherhogs were secured. She was surely the wimp of this expedition. She could barely keep standing, but right now she was too sore to sit down. She leaned against the middle wagon and struggled to stay alert. Since her delirium, she’d been irrationally afraid of the sleepiness that crept over her in the middle of the day. What if my mind comes undone once more?
Perhaps twenty minutes passed. Jefri and Amdi emerged from the scrub. Amdi was huffing and puffing to keep up.
“The maps lied,” said Jefri. He was speaking in a lowered voice, almost a whisper.
A few seconds later, Amdi arrived. “No,” he said, also speaking softly, “the maps were made from orbiter data. They can’t show what’s out of sight.”
Jefri shrugged. Like most of the Children, he tended to attribute motivation to artifacts. “The point is,” he continued in the same soft tones, “there are buildings on the valley floor. It looks like a caravanserai.”
“Yes,” said Amdi, “and there’s a winch station up here, at the edge of the dropoff.”
She noticed Screwfloss walking around the wagons, rousting the kherhogs as if to continue the drive. He was making no effort to be quiet about it. “Screwfloss seems to know what he wants to do.”
Jefri glanced over his shoulder. “I get his point. He figures we’ve already been spotted. We might as well go forward. Now, about our cover story…”
“Our cover story?” Ravna’s words came out in a kind of incredulous squeak. Two aliens and a jumble of Tines come strolling in, with the most amusing story. “Sorry. Right. We two-legs should keep out of sight to begin with, let Amdi do the talking.…” Both she and Jefri were looking at the eightsome.
Poor Amdi was beside himself, each member trying to stay out of sight behind the others. “I can’t! You can’t do this to me!”
“You’re the only one who can even speak the language, Amdi.”
“Wah!” wailed Amdi. “This isn’t fair!” He hesitated briefly, then launched into a string of mostly illogical objections. “Those could be the bad guys up ahead, Vendacious and Tycoon waiting to pick us off.”
Jefri shook his head. “I think Screwfloss would suspect if that were the case—and look at him.” The remnant had mounted the front wagon and was looking back at them expectantly.
“We could go back. We could hunt and trap! I know Screwfloss could. You could. I caught a fish the other day!”
Ravna went to her knees among Amdi. It was not entirely a controlled gesture. Amdi seemed to realize this; she felt him close in, steadying her. She slipped her arms around his nearest necks, and after a moment the dizziness passed. She could feel the cold soaking her knees, and Amdi’s fur against her face. What to say? “You’re the smartest pack in the world, Amdi.”
“That’s … probably true. Mr. Steel made me that way. He got a very, very smart coward.”
“Okay, that’s probably what Old Steel expected. I don’t think what’s left of him believes it.” She looked up, gave a nod in Screwfloss’ direction.
“Maybe, but—”
“Steel made something smarter than himself. I can tell you—personal experience of a Mid-Beyonder—that means the rest of what he expected is vapor. You have a power tool, and no one knows what you can do with it.” Her point applied to peer intellects as well, but Ravna was too tired for full disclosure.
Amdi didn’t say anything for a moment, but she felt a buzzing through his fur.
“We’ll come with you,” said Jefri, “openly. There’s no pointing in hiding us two-legs if we’ve already been seen.”
“We could advise you,” said Ravna.
That might be an empty offer, considering how much fast talking was needed. And yet, Amdi eased back from Ravna and angled his heads together, thinking intensely. “Advise, yes. With the right cover story … hmm. I’ll bet the local packs only have rumors about humans, stories of a supernatural race so intelligent that even their singletons are as smart as a Tinish pack. Maybe I could claim to represent the two-legged godlings.”
Ritl had crept into sight. It sat down near the edge of Amdi’s mindsounds. Amdi gobbled at it, and it responded with a long ramble.
Amdi laughed. “Ritl likes the idea—even if she doesn’t understand a word we’re saying.” And now he was full of supporting ideas: “With you as gods, then I’m just the middleman, the interpreter! We’ll have plenty of time to get our lies right, even if there are surprises. And then…”
• • •
They decided to take just the first wagon and three kherhogs. If this meeting worked out, they could hire someone at the winch station to bring down the other two wagons and the lame kherhog. Meantime, they wanted to put on a good show.
They moved the stash of lamps—their most exotic tradables—to the front wagon. The maps got moved, too, though they were emphatically not for trade. There were no clean human clothes, though Jef’s Oobii weaves were presentable.
And they finally had a use for Chitiratifor’s flashy outfits. They carefully removed one set from the oilskins. The cloth was so clean it fairly glowed, and the fine stitching was almost machine precise. There was a cape and matching jacket—even leggings. Chitiratifor had been big-bodied, but nowadays Amdi was big, too. There were enough outfits for six of him. Amdi immediately slipped into the clothes, adjusting the various belts and clasps.
Amdi strode around the wagons, admiring himself and making final tweaks to the outfit. He was on a roll, his anxiety either forgotten or forcibly suppressed. Ravna studied the beaded designs on the jackets. They probably represented something, though it might not be evident if you couldn’t get your eyeballs more than ten centimeters apart. “Any chance this outfit is a uniform of some kind, Amdi? Maybe now you’re a colonel in the Vendacious Bastards Army.”
“Oh, no,” said Amdi. “This is just a super-nice rich-pack thing.” He looked away from himself. “Now we have to decide where to put you two-legged gods.” He wanted Jefri and Ravna to keep apart so the locals would know they were sufficient even as singletons. “Later, when you are together—then they can tremble in fear of you!”
Jefri was nodding, but he looked seriously at Ravna. “Are you up to walking?”
“Yes.” She did not want to get back on a driver’s bench.
“Okay, then. I’ll walk forward with Amdi. Ravna, you stay near the rear of the wagon.”
“Something I can duck behind, eh?” She noticed that he didn’t smile fast enough at her joke. “Why should you take the greater risk?”
“Don’t go Age of Princesses on me, Ravna. It’s … it’s one of your most irritating habits.”
Okay. She was the weak one here. In fact, she might need the wagon to steady herself.
When they finally rolled forward, the overcast had lowered to a foggy gloom and it was deep twilight.
They’d set the best-charged lamps to cast long, narrow beams past the three kherhogs pulling the wagon. The exhausted animals were doing their part for the show, making it look as though the wagon held awesomely massive cargo.
The two of Amdi that had no costumes were driving the team. Screwfloss walked at the front, behaving like a bodyguard. He was followed by most of Amdi, his beaded cloaks sparkling in the spotlights. After Amdi’s six came Jefri, not so gaudy, though the lamps did strange interference-fringy things with his clothing. Ravna, no doubt invisible in the glare, walked near the back of the wagon. Everybody but her was a fine target.
Amdi was bumptiously loud now, piping the equivalent of cheerful humming. “Just wanna make sure they don’t start shooting out of surprise.”
“Not much chance of surprise,” said Jefri, looking up into the trees around them. The wide, low-set limbs should be easy to climb, even for Tines. “I’ll bet they’re tracking us with nocked arrows.”
As if to prove the point, something member-sized dropped from a low branch and ran forward around the rightmost of Amdi, and then out in front of Screwfloss. That pack started to give chase, then brought itself back.
The newcomer was Ritl. Maybe it was her employer who was lying in ambush.
But the singleton did not keep running. About ten meters beyond Screwfloss, it settled into a sedate promenade and started to blabber on its own. It sounded like doors crashing shut.
“Powers! What is that animal doing?” said Jefri.
“I think she’s trying to announce us.” Amdi dithered a moment, stopping the wagon. “She’s playing something like royal pomp, but with her own nonsense lyrics.” On the ground, Amdi spread out a little, and Ravna guessed he was focusing audio on Ritl. The singleton stumbled, and briefly looked back at Amdiranifani. Then the creature executed an indignant flounce and pranced on, its cacophony louder than ever.
The lights on their wagon showed trees thick on both sides of the path, the remaining twilight a dim patch of gray overhead. The sound of the waterfall was clear and loud ahead. They were truly committed. Forcibly retrieving Ritl and starting over was not an option.
Amdi must have concluded the same. The six resumed their walk, while the two on the wagon cautiously eased the kherhogs into the descent. Ravna caught her first glimpse of what Amdi called the “winch station.” It looked like a small ferry mooring—except that it hung from the side of a cliff. Next to it was what seemed to be a large waterwheel, an arc of shadow biting into the river. Their own path led down to a building close by the waterwheel.
“See the arrow slits?” said Jefri, but he wasn’t talking about the view below. He pointed to the side of the road just ahead, to pitch-dark slots cut in a timber barricade. “We didn’t see that this afternoon.”
The wagon’s lights would be blinding to anyone that close. “Amdi,” said Ravna, “dim the lights.” Sometimes, intimidating the other side just got you killed.
“Okay.” One of him on the wagon glanced back at her. Amdi’s sound effects ceased, leaving just Ritl’s flourishes banging away up ahead. The lights stayed bright.
“Well?” said Ravna.
“Urk. I’m thinking what to do!” Then he was speaking Tinish, fast and unintelligible.
Maybe there was a sound behind her; maybe it was Amdi’s sudden weirdness. Ravna looked behind her. She was not alone. The closest pack held a crossbow with an enormous quarrel—the point of which was less than ten centimeters from her nose.