Orion Shall Rise (38 page)

She lifted her face toward him. ‘Hi,’ she said tonelessly.

‘May I join you?’ he requested.

‘Sure.’ She hesitated. ‘I may be in want of company. Or maybe not. Let’s see.’ She patted the ground beside her.

He lowered himself. Through the centimeters between them, he thought he could feel the radiant heat of her blood … drumtide of her heart –? … She turned her eyes back outward.

A time passed. Now and then her mouth or brow twitched slightly, as if in pain. Finally he could not but murmur: ‘What’s troubling you, Ronica?’

She made no reply. He waited before he said, ‘All right, I’ll keep quiet.’

‘Thanks for that, Iern,’ she answered. ‘You’re good people.’

Still she looked eastward, to where moon and constellations were ascending. The sky wheeled majestic around the Pole Star. He remembered Orion.… No, not yet. Orion was for winter, when the year must die and a new year come to birth.

Suddenly she leaned over, caught his hand, and cried from deep within: ‘Oh, God, Iern, what am I going to do? We’re almost there.’

She is surprise upon surprise,
he thought. Hope flared, but he kept himself moveless, save for returning the pressure of her fingers, and his own voice muted. ‘What do you mean, Ronica? What’s wrong?’

Her free hand made a fist and beat the earth. ‘We – trailmates – Terai’s such a decent man, and Wairoa – oh, I don’t know, he’s a
mystery, except that he may be the bravest human being I’ve ever met –

‘Not too much worry about you or Plik,’ she blurted. ‘I think we can do pretty well by you in the Northwest Union, and not badly by him. But those Maurai, they’re enemy, it can’t be helped, they are, and we cannot let them carry back the news they’ve gotten. We cannot. It would end any last uncertainty in Wellantoa, you see, and
give
clues, and our venture is so desperate at best. Mikli talked to me about – his pistol or my knife while they sleep – but no, no, no, wasn’t that deer bad enough? I said I’d kill him if he tried. They’ve been our trailmates – What am I going to do?’

She cast herself against him. He held her close. She did not weep, but she shuddered.

Until she raised her countenance, and smiled beneath the moon, however shakily, and said, ‘Okay, no decision yet. I will
not
allow murder, but – Anyway, meanwhile. I need, no, I want – Never mind. Don’t think I, I haven’t noticed the looks you’ve been giving me. And you’re an almighty attractive man, and I’ve grown almighty horny. M-m-m-m?’

She was a storm, a delirium, a lioness. In between times, they were both astonished to find what merriment and peace were theirs to share.

They were near the end of the wilderness when Ronica noticed things that brought her to a halt. It was early in the day; but she had already bagged a fat woodchuck and hoped she would soon get enough else that she could rejoin Iern. Let the others trudge onward, she thought; she and he could take their time and, later, catch up.

‘Oh-oh,’ she breathed, plus a brimstone curse. The traces she had come upon required scrutiny. Those broken branches, slashes through brush, heavy tramplings over ground were from last year. Since, the forest had been healing. Maybe nothing less than a Survivor’s eye would have seen the scars. I
damn near wish I hadn’t
.

She curbed her emotions. Iern was a splendid lover, but that could wait. In fact – she grinned abashedly – her supply of Afterward capsules, which she had slipped into a pocket before leaving Kemper on a just-in-case basis, was getting low. What most of her wanted was simply his company, and even that wish had less to do with his glamour as a Stormrider and (Plik’s phrase) exiled prince than it did with his own self.

Better postpone the fun and games. Something big has happened hereabouts, and we could blunder blind into a hell-kettle of consequences
. She went on all fours. Nose close to soil, she used a twig to tease away leaves and needles that had fallen over the tracks she wanted to read. They were well-nigh obliterated; the fact that any indication of them whatsoever remained gave her ideas which made her uneasy.

Sunlight filtered through greenness, or struck between openings to bake aromas out of earth and duff and speckle them with gold. Insects buzzed; crows made rusty noises from afar; a wild dog barked. She paid only the peripheral heed of caution. Lay cheek to ground and study those hints of shadow that make visible the remnants of a print.…

By now the men were competent to pick a resting place in her absence. They had pitched camp on a bluff above the lake. Though the trees were more than a hundred meters back from it, the sun had gone behind them when Ronica arrived. Their crowns stood black against a yellowing western sky. Beyond the shade they cast, the water seemed doubly bright. Bats and swifts darted through silence. The turf underfoot kept warmth that the air was losing, and springiness and a hay scent of the summer that was waning.

Iern sped to meet her. ‘Hai, where’ve you been?’ he shouted. ‘I imagined the most awful things –’ He embraced and kissed her. His whiskers were thin and soft, and always would be till he found a razor and got rid of them, but the rest of him was man, plenty of man. She responded as vigorously as weariness allowed. Their relationship was no secret.

At length he stepped back and said, glancing at the marmot in her rawhide carrier: ‘Plain to see, you were busy. That isn’t much you’ve brought.’

‘It’ll have to do,’ she replied. ‘If my dead reckoning isn’t way off, we should reach Dulua tomorrow, where they’ll feed us. If we decide against that route, I’ll scrounge us a proper meal.’

The rest, similarly puzzled, had congregated around, hulking Terai, pinto Wairoa, gaunt Plik, Mikli the carrion cat. It was the latter who asked sharply, ‘What do you mean? What have you found?’

‘Spoor,’ she reported. ‘A good-sized bunch of men were busy in these woods last year. They brought in a heavy load of equipment and supplies, mostly on horseback. I found a site where they spent a while, operating out of it on foot, before moving on. The alignments of tent-peg holes, latrines, and what-have-you told me they were soldiers.’ She paused. ‘Not local soldiers. Their clumsiness proves that. I’ve never been in these parts before, but I do better – hell, you guys have learned to; and I understand most Krasnayans have some woodcraft, considering how many of them are loggers or trappers. Any guides they furnished must’ve been run squanchfooted, trying to herd those cheechakos.’

She fished in her pocket. ‘I poked around and came on trash the party had left. Remnants of cardboard containers for field rations, that sort of stuff. The labels are still legible in spots, but I don’t read their alphabet. Mikli?’

He took the moldered scraps from her and squinted at them.

‘Yuanese,’ he said. ‘Imperial Army of Yuan, yes, clear identification.’

Ronica saw Iern whiten beneath the weathering of this trip.
Yuan!
she remembered.
The Maurai claim they have evidence that Yuan grubstaked his enemy. He must feel trapped
. She wanted to take him in her arms and console him.

Mikli addressed her: ‘Last year, did you say? No war was going on. What was?’

Terai stiffened. Immediately he tried to relax, but Mikli had seen. ‘Do you know?’ the Norrman demanded.

Terai hunched his bull shoulders. ‘Why should I answer that?’ he replied, like distant cannonade.

We’re close to civilization again, to our olden hates
– Ronica clutched Iern’s hand.

‘Let’s pool our data,’ Mikli was saying, his tone gone mild. ‘We’ve assumed we’ll be hospitably received and can arrange our passages home. But Mong societies have a xenophobia built into their foundations, and we’d better not walk into a crisis without some idea of what’s safe for us to do and what isn’t.’

Terai glared. ‘All right! I recommend this, you filthy uranium hunter – that you don’t say a word about what you’ve been engaged in, or you’ll likely get torn to shreds. Not that that would bother me, but I’d be sorry about Ronica.’ He glanced at her more kindly. ‘You’ve been duped, lass. I think I understand how and why. Someday you will too, I hope.’

‘Ah, so.’ Mikli stood for a space in thought.

‘Terai,’ Ronica pleaded, ‘I swore we aren’t making Doom weapons or, or anything evil. You Maurai are just fanatical about atomic energy. Won’t
you
ever try to understand?’

Mikli laughed. ‘Well,’he said, ‘we may feel friendlier after we’ve had a bite to eat. Let’s get that animal cooked, shall we? I noticed a currant patch too, not far from here. And the light will soon fail.’ He sauntered off toward the shelter.

Wairoa surprised by breaking his habitual silence: ‘Ronica, we are not fanatics, we are students of history. I know atomic power-plants could be safe – much cleaner and less harmful than the coal you burn so lavishly in the Northwest Union. Why, the isotopes released from the coal spread more radioactivity by orders of magnitude, not to speak of what the fumes and fly ash do to living things, or the mines to a land. But the atom would allow a high-energy
industry to come back, worldwide, and that
is
what the planet cannot bear.’

‘Are you sure?’ Plik asked softly. ‘Demonic, yes, destructive of the old order; but likewise were fire, stone tools, the first farms, the first ships, metal, writing, printing, on and on. Man has always raised demons, and I think that once again –’

Several meters off, Mikli whirled about. His pistol jumped from the holster. ‘Hold!’ he called. ‘Not a move, or I fire!’

Ronica felt no shock. She never did, at the moment of danger. She was aware of how Iern recoiled and reflexively, uselessly went into a fighter’s crouch; Terai trumpeted fury; Wairoa grew motionless; Plik cast himself belly down. Her mind focused on the little man with the gun, and the evening became as clear and sharp as a splinter of glass.

‘My apologies,’ Mikli said. He peeled his teeth in a grin. ‘I really must insist we talk. Please remember I’m rated expert with this type of weapon.’

‘What the chaos do you want?’ Iern rasped.

‘Nothing you personally need fear, I believe,’ Mikli assured him. ‘For openers, I would like to think aloud, if I may.’ His free hand stroked his beard as he murmured:

‘Like the Imperial Yuanese Army, Terai, you’ve left more clues lying about than you realized. You suspected us of seeking fissionables in Uropa. This implies that, earlier, your service had discovered that somebody was gleaning them wherever possible. It would be natural for Maurai to assume the Northwest Union was involved, and thereafter to alert the Mong, requesting their assistance. Your Federation hasn’t the resources to investigate everywhere by itself. But I’d guess that your primary assignment in Uropa, Terai, was to find out if collection was being attempted there, and, if it was, to enlist Skyholm in tracking it down and suppressing it.… In any event, I don’t think you’d have suggested that Krasnayans are ready to kill anyone accused of looking for fissionables, unless they’ve heard about this activity. No public announcement, no; as much discretion as possible; however, inevitably, quite a few civilians will have gotten wind of what all the official excitement was about. Especially after Yuanese military detachments entered this country. Krasnaya hasn’t the capability of rummaging its own hinterlands. Doubtless the Tien Dziang offered, ah, assistance to his good friend the Supreme Gospodin. I don’t suppose the search turned up any
thing. At last the Yuanese went home. But they left their scat for Ronica to find, eh? And thereby hangs a tale that
my
service will find very interesting.’

It couldn’t have happened like this before the Doom War,
flashed through Ronica.
Then everybody was under everybody else’s surveillance. But spies today, or even observers, they’re widely scattered, they lack the equipment and the sophistication – Do I really want that ancient world revived?

Mikli’s voice crackled: ‘Is my analysis right?’

Terai kept silence, but Wairoa, perhaps less used to the malevolent games that governments play, let out: ‘Yes, you are! Now do you see why you’d better not brag in Dulua?’

Terai laid a warning clasp on his countryman’s arm. Mikli smiled anew, askew, and said, ‘Oh, indeed. Nor should you, tomorrow or ever.… Ronica, stand aside. I had to give you your way earlier, but from here I can make the rest of the distance alone. Behave yourself, and you can come along.’

Terai roared and plunged forward. Mikli took aim.

Execution!
Ronica knew.
He’ll shoot the Maurai, and anybody else who might be inconvenient
–

The rabbit stick flew from her hand. Strangely, what was in her mind at that instant was Terai’s talk once while he and she were at work together, about his children when they were small and his desire for grandchildren.

The pistol banged. It missed Terai, who was charging crouched and zigzag. The stick hit straight and hard across Mikli’s right arm. He yelled. The pistol dropped. He staggered, dazed by pain. Ronica reached him barely ahead of Terai.

Rage made a lion mask of the big man’s face. He must intend killing. Ronica snatched up her stick and rammed it into his midriff. Hard muscles were a corselet, but Terai also lurched, went to his knees, and gagged.

Ronica took the firearm, ran to the bluff edge, and cast the thing as far as she could into the lake.

When she returned, her victims were on their feet. Wairoa assisted Terai, Iern and Plik hovered uneasily in the rear. She slid her knife forth, resheathed it, and looked them over. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘there’ll be no more of this foolishness, and we’ll let bygones be bygones. How about starting a fire? I’m hungry.’

‘You were magnificent,’ Iern told her after dark; and he proceeded to be.

During the night, a nudge and whisper aroused her. Their softness was sufficient, for she had been sleeping warily. ‘Come outside,’ Mikli hissed. ‘We must talk. For the sake of Orion.’

They left the shelter and sought a point some distance off, under a giant spruce. Tinged by a waning moon, its branches roofed them beneath fragrance, and a measure of warmth stole from the forest at its back. They were nearly invisible to each other in its shadow. Beyond, turf stretched rime-pale until the bluff toppled into the lake, which mirrored stars in its darkness.