Diadem from the Stars (16 page)

The land washed out in front of her eyes, washed out like a faded print, until all she could see was flash on flash of blue-white light.

Up another hill, then down, bracing with feet in stirrups; the mare's gait grew rougher … she was speeding up. Hoof-beats sounded beside her … the stallion. He was a black blur going by on her right side. She opened swollen eyes. At first it was difficult to focus on anything, then she squinted painfully and made out a blue-green line crawling at the bottom of a long slope. The mare twitched her head from side to side, pulling the reins loose from Aleytys's shaking fingers as she stretched out into an eager run. Aleytys hung on grimly, bobbing about in the saddle like a bundle of avrishum, her legs too tired and sore to have any grip left in them.

A sudden halt … belly banging into saddle horn, face into mane.

The mare was standing knee-deep in muddy water, her head buried up to the eyes in the tepid wetness. Aleytys worked her left leg up over the saddle and slid—fell really—into the stream. She didn't bother trying to stand, just collapsed flat out into the water.

She splashed the water over her face and into her hair until she was saturated, streams of water pouring down along the strands of hair and the folds of her abba. She sat up and shook the wet hair out of her face. “Ahai, Pari love, I think I'm going to live.”

Both horses were having a little trouble drinking around their bits so she stripped the bridles off and tossed them up onto the bank. Then she loosened the cinches a little. She leaned against Mulak's side and watched the two horses sucking in water, frowning as some vague memories nudged at her about the problems caused by too much water after too much heat. She waded over to Pari, the soggy abba pulling heavily at her legs, threatening to trip her with every stride, further muddying the lazy flow of the water. “Out, Pari,” she said, then she tugged at her mane, trying to pull her head up. Pari shook her head impatiently, splashing water all over Aleytys.

“Hai!” Aleytys backed up and plopped herself down on the bank. Taking firm hold of the two equine minds, she forced the horses out of the water. “Wait a little, mi-muklisha, then you can have some more.” She smiled as the two horses began cropping at the tough springy grass, then looked around. The trees provided protection from the direct rays of the double sun, but did nothing to cut the stifling heat. Her sopping abba wasn't cool anymore but was more like a portable steam bath. She plucked disgustedly at the clinging material. “What a mess.”

Struggling with the wet ties, she finally managed to wriggle out of the abba. Carrying it upstream, she sloshed it around in the water, then lifted the dripping garment, and wrung it out. Above her head a low limb stretched out over the water as if made for a clothes line. She grinned and hung the abba over it. Then she stood up and stretched, feeling gloriously free as the feeble breeze played around her naked body.

When she got back downstream, the horses were still grazing peacefully at the thick clumps of grass.
Good,
she thought,
I won't take the packs off now. We can go farther after we rest a while. Ai-Aschla, I'm tired.

Finding a flattish spot thickly carpeted with grass, she stretched out on her stomach, resting her head on her crossed arms. It felt good to lie flat and let her aching muscles rest. She closed her eyes and slid down the long slope into sleep.

Deep in the darkness in her mind something stirred, expanded into a shimmering image something like a mirage. Gradually it steadied and the dreaming Aleytys recognized the tracker, crouching uncomfortably in the shade of a blanket tied to an ironwood, his horse kneeling close beside him barely inside the limits of the shadow. The dreamer shuddered as she traced the dour fanatical lines of the tracker's' face. As she watched he leaned from the shade and squinted thoughtfully at the suns. Working with neat, efficient movements that husbanded energy, he urged the horse onto its feet and began untying the blanket sunshade.

In her sleep the dreamer stirred and a mischievous smile spread over her face. As the tracker unhooked the waterbag and pulled the stopper loose, she insinuated sensor threads into the patient mind of the horse and spooked him into a panicky flight, leaving the startled tracker cursing furiously as he watched his mount disappear upslope along his backtrail.

Home,
she breathed into the equine mind.
Home without stopping.
Chuckling happily, she let the scene dissolve and went deep into sleep.

4

The bottom of the huge red ball touched the mountain, then seemed to sit motionless while the sides squeezed out like a tomato being slowly squashed by an invisible foot Hesh was still a double palm's width above the horizon, sitting like a belly dancer's navel jewel on Horli's middle. Aleytys pulled the mare to a halt and flexed her cramped legs.

“Three, four hours till dark,” she murmured thoughtfully, easing back in the saddle. The mare shook her head briskly, making the bridle jangle. Leaning on the saddle horn, Aleytys eyed the narrow, deep river rushing past a few feet from Pari's hooves. “Can't cross yet. Look at those clouds, muklis. It's a good thing it didn't rain the past three nights.” She stood in the stirrups again and looked around. “Ai-Ascha, nothing but trees.” With a sigh, she settled down again and sent the mare into a fast walk with a gentle nudge in her flanks.

“We need a roof of some kind over our heads, Pari, azizmi. I can't afford to get sick.” Humming softly, she scratched her fingers along the base of the mare's mane.

The river gradually broadened as the slope of the land gentled, but there was still nothing visible but the same trees and tangled bushes, neither the thick-leaved horans nor the squat bushy bydarrakhi, just spear-straight ironwood and thick stands of mingled raushani and pricklebushes offering no shelter at all. Then the river curved and the mare followed around the bend.

They emerged from the trees into another of the soggy open meadows that dotted the banks of the river. She shifted in the saddle again, running her eyes around the clearing in a cursory, disinterested sweep. This time, though, she looked back quickly. Halfway under the trees on the far side of the meadow a brownish square object loomed out of the shadows. A cabin? She looked hastily around but saw no one.
Good,
she thought. She kneed the mare toward the shaded shaggy edifice.

Halfway across the clearing she burst out laughing. “What an idiot.” Pulling the mare to a stop, she sent her mind questing out, sniffing for intelligence. Nothing. With another laugh, she patted the mare on the neck. “Luck's really holding me.” She stretched and yawned. “Come on, Pari, let's inspect our new home.”

Sitting with hands crossed over the horn, she examined the cabin. It was constructed of peeled logs and roofed with shakes, heavy timbers hammered into shutters and door. Very neatly made, too, under the weathering and webbing of seasonal debris. Dry leaves snuggled in dusty heaps against the walls; spider webs festooned the eaves and dripped over the shutters.

“Hmm.” She swung down and stepped cautiously across the mud to the door. “Ahai, I hate spiders.” She grabbed a handful of leaves and wiped the webs away from the door. “How do I get in? Oh. Yes.” She tugged at a braided thong dangling near the doorpost. With a hollow thud, a swoosh of dust-laden air, and a sepulchral
cre-eak,
the door swung open and she poked her head in.

The interior had a dank and musty smell. Even with the door open, little light got in because the window was tightly shuttered. She backed out and considered the window. “Open that and blow the dead air out. I wonder what that stink is. Hope I find something disgusting in there.” Using the palm of her hand as a hammer, she pounded the shutter bars out of the hooks and dragged the heavy shutters back. More dust splashed into her face, making her sneeze. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Ahai!” She waved her hand back and forth in front of her face. “If there's a lot of sassha in there … the thought of being a meal a bite at a time for a pile of vermin …” She shuddered. After hooking the shutters open, she leaned through the gaping hole and peered inside. “Looks clean. Hmm.”

She walked into the cabin and stood in the middle of the single room, hands on hips, examining the place. The floor was constructed of carefully fitted planks, neatly level and joined so well that it was hard to tell where one plank stopped and another began. On the far wall shelves made of open latticework marched up to the roof. There was another window in the back wall directly opposite the one in the front. “That's interesting. I wonder why.…”

She moved over and sniffed at the lathwork. “Ahai! That's where it comes from, yes.” Flicking a clump of short silky fur off a corner, she grinned. “Fur hunter's hold. Talk about luck. If there's a balance to things …” She bowed her head and made the shalikk to the Madar, then turned and leaned back, bracing her elbows against one of the shelves. “I'm going to have some bad, bad times ahead to make up for all this honey. Madar willing, I'll survive.…” She laughed and looked around again. “The owner of this little gem probably won't be by here till Baligh at the earliest. Ahai-mi, what it must be like when the hides are green!”

On the other side of the window a field-stone fireplace spread out across the wall. The inside was blackened with use, but the old ashes had been swept neatly out. Only a few of the ever-present spider webs and a lot of dust and a few skeleton leaves rested in the firehole. She pushed away from the drying racks and sauntered over to the other wall.

An open bunk bed with nothing on it but laced leather ropes woven in a taut webbing that creaked and screeched as she leaned on it was snugged neatly in the far corner. She sat on the webbing, her knees hiking up as she sank with the elastic leather. “A place to sleep.” She wiggled on the sagging web and chuckled. “Softer than the rock I had for a bed yesterday.”

After lugging the pack sacks inside, she hung the saddles and other tack on the pegs that marched up the wall beside the bed. By this time the light inside was a dim red haze. Alevtys walked over to the doorway and glanced to the west. Hesh was gone completely and she could barely see any of Horli above the trees.
I'd better get in some wood,
she thought.

The last light was a fading fan of red thrust through a break in the heavy clouds when she dumped the final load of wood beside the fireplace and went outside again. Large drops of rain came plopping heavily down. “At least the horses are under a roof.” She chuckled. “Even a shed out back with a manger and all. This is a man who loves his comfort and not so bad a person; he thinks of his horses, too.” She sighed and stretched, letting the raindrops splash on her upturned face. “Talking to myself more and more. Well, long as I don't begin answering … ahai!”

She slammed the shutters closed and shoved the bar back in place. Inside, she could scarcely see the packs sitting in the middle of the floor. After a few attempts accompanied by a lot of lurid language, she managed to light a candle stub. Planting it in the middle of the hearth, she leaned back, stretched, dragged her fingers through her hair, then scratched industriously. “Ai-mi, will I ever get used to riding?” She examined her fingernails. “And I
need
a bath.”

After supper she sat cross-legged on a piece of tufan in front of the fireplace. The golden-red light played comfortably on her face while the wind howled around the corners of the cabin, though the storm had dwindled to a few scattered raindrops. She sighed with pleasure as a comfortable warm peace lapped around her. Leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, she stared into the flames until she sank into a doze.

The brightness spread and reached out, encompassing the two horses dozing behind the house … reached out … a tars walked the dark wetness of the forest, stalking a fral that sheltered in a raushani tangle … dark red blood-hunger … blind green panic … sliding on … warm sleep thoughts deep under earth … feel pull of cool and patient laughing water in deep-swift river … slow … slow … slow … slow … aeon-turning tree cycles … and threading through the whole a sense of watching, calm warm wisdom … guiding … nudging … watching over.…

She became aware of herself as a separate self again. She was afloat in a drifting current of light, turning, rising, falling, immersed in liquid golden glow, then lifting out again … slow at first, then faster, sweeping toward a grouped pulsing brightness … coiling around.…

A sharp crack … a small intense pain … jerked abruptly back to here-and-now, Aleytys looked down. A pinpoint of light burned on her knee, a spark smoldering in the abba cloth. With a quavery startled laugh, she flicked the spark back onto the stone and crushed the smolder out with her thumb. Then she stretched and yawned, scrunching around onto her side. Resting her hand on her arm, she stared once more into the fire.

Body warm and relaxed, comfortably tired, she watched pictures form and die liquidly across the coals. Her mind floated out again. The tars was feeding … a bright blue aura, shining killer glow. Nausea soured her mouth. Eyes closed, she moved restlessly on the tufan.
Animal, predator, true to its nature
…
man is a predator, too,
she thought uneasily. She merged deeper with the tars, savored the salty heat of the bloody chunks of meat … blazingly alive … stalking free and wild … tear, claw, chew, swallow … quivering chunks of bloody meat … juices coursing down an eager throat … kill … muscles moving in perfect harmony … aware.…
aware
… more than animal … less perhaps than man.…

Aleytys shook herself free, a little ashamed, more than a little surprised at the wild places in herself. The fire was dying down to a mass of red-black coals. Using a branch as a poker, she spread these out and laid on a hefty load of wood.
That should last a while,
she thought.