Six Moon Dance (56 page)

“What’re you thinkin’?” asked Dyre.

“I was thinkin’ about Madame.”

“Old horny corsets? What about the old bitch?”

“I was thinkin’, she was right about some things.”

Dyre sniggered under his breath. “You’re goin’ soft in the head.”

Bane took a deep breath. “I was just rememberin’ she said that thing about men being angry. Ashes there, he’s angry.”

“I’m angry,” snarled Dyre. “All those people saying we stink. It’s enough to make you good and angry.”

“I mean besides that. Got to be something more than that to make Ashes so ferocious.”

“Hellfire, you know,” said Dyre. “He’s mad at those people on Thor who got in his way, and he’s mad at the Timmys for what they did to him, and he’s mad at the women for dyin’ on him, and he’s mad at Marool for doin’ … whatever she did.”

“And he’s mad at you and me because we’re not girls,” concluded Bane. “And if we was girls, he’d be mad at us for something else.”

“You are getting soft,” muttered Dyre, pulling his horse back to conclude the conversation.

Bane said softly, between his teeth, “I’m just thinking I’m not set on dying just yet. And the way he’s going, he’s going to get himself killed and everybody else who happens to be standing too close.”

Dyre pretended not to hear and they rode silently for a time. A legger came up behind them, abated its speed, and seemed content to follow. Nonetheless, Dyre kicked his horse into a trot and came up beside Bane, throwing suspicious glances over his shoulder. Bane ignored him, though Dyre had been right, of course. Bane did get mad at people saying he smelled. But then, they’d been at Madame’s, and she’d stopped the way he and Dyre smelled, and nobody at House Genevois had ever mentioned it, not even Mouche, but they’d still felt mad. Like being mad was a sort of habit. He thought about this for a time, then tried again to involve his brother.

“All right, look. Who’s on our side? There’s Hughy Huge. And there’s those crawlers we saw this morning, like Crawly, back at the camp, only bigger. And there’s that one we heard about, the one that’s grown into the mountain. And there’s the ear and the eye and all, who’re probably coming along. And there’s Bone and Mooly, and the rest. So there’s muscle ones, and mouth ones, and belly ones, and other kinds of ones. There’s all kinds of body parts, all kinds but one. There’s no brain one. Don’t that make you wonder?”

“Wonder what?” snarled Dyre.

“Oh, shit, forget it.” Bane frowned to himself and shut his mouth tightly, drawing his horse away from his brother’s. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he’d caught this sickness at House Genevois. He’d never had thoughts like this before. He’d always been pretty much like Ashes, mad at everybody, getting his pleasure out of hurting them, screwing them up. So now Ashes was really going to screw something up, and then what?

As though to accentuate this thought, the earth moved beneath him, the horse stopped, legs braced wide, white showing at the edges of its eyes, nostrils flaring. The tremor went on and on, then faded. Ahead of them, the road danced then stilled. Behind them the legger emitted a confused noise, for it had been knocked off the road and now lay on its side, all its legs kicking without being able to right itself. Suddenly the legs came loose in pairs connected by saddle-shaped bits, and a few of these pieces began galloping away down the road, making the horses shy away. Then the tubular body split into cylindrical sections that wheeled onto the road and began rolling westward, spinning like tires, while the abandoned legs assembled themselves into pairs of pairs and spun after them like four-spoked wheels.

Only a squarish part was left behind, one that immediately began a shrill screaming, “Weeeple, weeeple, weeeple!”

The rearmost set of legs skidded to a stop, turned, sped back, separated itself to attach one leg pair at each end of the remaining part, then galloped off after the rest, the screamer still keening, “Weeeple, weeeple!”

Another tremor began, a long, slow shaking that seemed to go on endlessly. The horses refused to move. Cursing, Ashes dismounted and sat on a quivering rock at the side of the road, the reins loose in his hands.

“Did you see that?” Bane asked.

“See what,” his father growled.

“D’ja see that thing come apart?”

“They all come apart. Joggiwagga comes apart into snakes and balloony parts. Leggers come apart into tubes and legs and voice boxes. Tunnelers are just legger tubes with a driller section added on in front. Swimmers are just tunnelers with fins added on.”

“How about Timmys?”

“Funny about them. They don’t seem to fit together real well, and they don’t come apart into smaller things.”

“How do you know all that?” Bane asked.

“Been watchin’ ‘em. Long time.” Ashes yawned, his face suddenly becoming vacant and unlike himself. Bane stared at him, wondering why he looked so mushy, as though his nose and chin were sinking into his face. “You feelin* all right?”

“Why?” snapped Ashes, suddenly himself. “Something the matter with you?”

Bane shook his head slowly, making his voice sound uninterested again. “You were yawning and looked a little sleepy, that’s all. I thought maybe you hadn’t slept real well.”

“Slept fine.” Ashes got back on his horse and rode on without a backward glance. Bane kicked his mount, as did Dyre, and they followed after.

“You were right,” whispered Dyre. “He looked funny. Like somebody melted him.”

“Like I said,” muttered Bane. “I think we’d better be careful not to stand too close.”

W
hen Questioner and the women came to the shores of the Fauxi-dizalonz, they saw Questioner’s entourage disconsolately huddled in the mouth of a nearby cave. Simon and Calvy were with the four young people, all concentrated upon the Corojum, who was tightly pressed against what appeared to be a curved rock wall. The new arrivals joined the others in time to hear the Corojum say loudly, “Bofusdiaga says your people won’t help, so probably none of you will help.”

“What people?” demanded Mouche.

“Your people. Bofusdiaga wanted to talk to them, but they became frightened and silly. Bofusdiaga is annoyed.”

Questioner stepped forward and pulled the Corojum gently away from his attachment, earning a scowl from the Corojum and a tremor in the ground beneath them.

“Corojum, what’s going on? We haven’t killed any of you, like the settlers did. Bao and Ellin and I have only been here a few days, along with the members of my entourage. Why would Bofusdiaga be annoyed with us?”

“Because they won’t be sensible. All they will do is talk about how they have been wronged. Those jongau, they were also wronged. Bofusdiaga says creatures who think only of how they are wronged cannot help with the dance and everything is lost.”

Questioner rubbed her head. “If you had asked me, Corojum, I could have told you that those people in the cave would be of no help. They are young, rebellious, and not at all useful. At that age, many young people spend a great deal of time thinking they have been wronged.”

Corojum snorted. “So. Bofusdiaga says past wrongs cannot be righted because past wrongs are past and time only runs one way. Bofusdiaga says all you independent creatures suffer great wrongs sometime in past, which is normal, but you stay always living in past so you can continue wronged forever! Forever miserable, forever tragical! Bofusdiaga says so long as you go on chewing yesterday’s pains, you cannot eat today’s pleasures, so it is no help!”

“This is Bofusdiaga, not Kaorugi?” Questioner persisted.

Corojum leaned against the stone, faced the group, held up his hands for silence, and said with an attitude of sorely tried patience: “Before Quaggima, in this place was only Kaorugi and this world that Kaorugi came into and made Kaorugi’s own. Kaorugi, only! Itself! Solo! One living thing and its parts! You are also living things with parts. You say fingers to do work; Kaorugi says Timmys. You say arms; Kaorugi says Joggiwagga. You say eyes; Kaorugi says Eiger. You say conscious activity; Kaorugi says Bofusdiaga. You say creativity; Kaorugi says Corojumi. You understand?”

Questioner nodded, intrigued, as the Corojum went on: “Only difference is, Kaorugi’s parts know themselves and act by themselves. Well! After Kaorugi heard Quaggima calling, here was this world and Kaorugi and its parts, but also there was Quaggima coming toward it, Quaggima who evoked many new ideas: stars and galaxies and sex and other peoples, outside. Kaorugi had never thought of other people, and now Kaorugi had to think about that and other new things, and it was very difficult! So, Kaorugi takes a part of itself, the Bofusdiaga part, and Kaorugi says to itself, Bofusdiaga, ‘You do this work here, you, Bofusdiaga, you go on being part that builds, alloys, puts together and takes apart! You take charge of the Fauxidizalonz, for I am going down deep to think!’ And since then, Kaorugi has gone down deep all over, under cities, under oceans, under mountains, and Kaorugi is thinking, all the time thinking deep thoughts, and Kaorugi is not finished thinking yet.”

The ten visitors looked at one another for support, at the sky, as though for inspiration, up at the ledge, as though for direction, finding no help.

“What is problem?” demanded the Corojum.

Calvy asked, “Where is Bofusdiaga?”

The Corojum stared at him incredulously, gesturing widely. “Here. This is Bofusdiaga. Bofusdiaga is all around us, anywhere inside this valley and in next valley, where Quaggima is, and I think spills over a little even farther.”

“What if we want to talk to Kaorugi itself?” asked the Questioner.

Corojum’s fur stood on end, both head and hands waved in negation. “Oh, no, no. Kaorugi would be very angry. Kaorugi does not want to be distracted and has made self unavailable.”

“Rather like the male Quaggi in that respect,” muttered Questioner, fidgeting, feeling inadequate. She could not recall ever before feeling inadequate and could not understand why she did so now, as though something very important was going on that she was not seeing! She took a deep breath.

“Corojum, Bofusdiaga is quite correct about the people in the cave. Most of them are very young and given to rebelling against their fathers and mothers. Do you understand the word mother?”

“Kaorugi understands; Bofusdiaga understands. So, I understand. Quaggima is nest keeper, child hatcher. Mankinds have also nest keepers and child hatchers also, called mothers. Other sex is called fathers.”

Questioner said, “Well, the mothers and fathers of these children have grown tired of them, so they sent them to me, hoping this will help them grow up, which it sometimes does. For the moment we can forget them. They are not part of this. We, the rest of us, are not feeling wronged.”

She said this with a swift glance at the others which they uniformly interpreted as a directive to give up any such feelings on the instant and not make a liar of her.

Mouche said, pleadingly, “We are really interested in helping, Corojum. Can’t we please get on with it?”

Corojum stared at them, looking from face to face, letting his eyes rest finally on Mouche, who held out his hands pleadingly. “I will ask Bofusdiaga.”

The Corojum went to the rock wall, leaned against it, and stared at the sky, his eyes moving, his body moving, various muscle groups knotting and relaxing, all in accompaniment to the communication, which was lengthy. Those closest could see that it had opened a seam along its side which had actually attached to the stone.

Finally, just as Questioner was running out of patience, Corojum pulled away from the rock and said, “Bofusdiaga says all right for now. Bofusdiaga will forget those others and cooperate with you. We have asked for all Timmys who danced to come here; some are here already. Every other creature who saw dance is coming, also. Some Joggiwagga, some Eiger, some others….”

“Then I think we’d better get started, because we’re running out of time!”

In the brief pause that followed, Questioner went to the cave and told the captives there to get themselves onto the high rim to wait for her, and if they wanted to avoid being eaten by the monsters, to do it without any talk whatsoever. Casting resentful glances behind them, they went, the last of them departing just before Corojum returned leading an assortment of creatures.

Questioner instructed the group: “Each of you take one of the portable data heads and record everything. Ask about the site, first. Where did they dance, where from, where to. Then ask about what they did, what they saw done by others. Corojum says when you are finished with the Timmys, they will translate for the others.”

So they began with the Timmys, their initial diffidence giving way to assurance as afternoon wore away toward evening. Questioner moved from place to place, feeding the data head information into the larger accumulator she carried in a compartment on her person.

“What is that thing, anyhow?” asked Calvy, alert to the possibility of profit.

“An IDIOT SAVANT,” she murmured. “An Improved Deductive Imager Of Theoretical Scenarios And Variations, Ambassadorial, Non-Terrestrial. It was invented by HoTA—the same department that designed me—for use by Council of Worlds diplomats. It has a data bank that includes most of what we know about intelligent races; it takes everything that is observed, fact by fact, and extrapolates a logical scenario that includes all observed realities. Then it does variations on the scenario. It helps me understand both mankind and nonmankind races.”

Sundown neared. Ellin gaped with weariness; Mouche slumped; Madame, impossibly erect and Eiger eyed, continued her slow accumulation of data, as did Simon. Calvy and Bao gave up for a time to take a nap in a cave. D’Jevier and Onsofruct worked methodically, occasionally rising to take a few steps, roll their heads about and wave their arms, restoring circulation. Bao returned from his nap and bantered with Ornery and with the last few Timmys who were translating for the Joggiwagga and the Eigers.

“Is your IDIOT SAVANT coming up with anything?” Calvy asked.

“Not so far,” Questioner admitted. Actually, a three-dimensional moving construct of the supposed dance had emerged, but it meant nothing to her at all.