The Children of the Sky (42 page)

She had crouched down about as long as seemed reasonable, when she heard soft gobbling. This was like Tinish Interpack speech, but with most of the chords unstacked, the squeaks and hisses spaced out. If it had been a little louder, she might have understood it. Someone was using one of Scrupilo’s voice-band radios, speaking very carefully to compensate for some kind of transmission problem. Even so, who could be in range? Now the words were Samnorsk … Nevil speaking.
Nevil was giving them relay service via the orbiter!
She stood, took a step or two in the direction of the muttered conversation.

A hand abruptly covered her mouth. An arm went around her waist. She was lifted off her feet and lowered gently to the ground. It was Jefri. They lay for a moment on the chill moist earth, both silent. Amdi’s voice came in her ear. “We have to go back now.”

Ravna nodded. Amdi was all around them. She and Jefri stood up and—

From downslope, there was an explosion of caterwauling, the sounds of monsters tearing each other apart. Jefri dived for cover, drawing her down with him. The night erupted with the cries of packs running from the campsite toward the river. Screaming rage was all around them. They huddled under something bushy as pack members hurtled past.

All the action was down by the river now. The fighting was louder, punctuated by whistling screams of mouth noise. Somebody was being murdered.

Jefri came to his feet and reached down to help Ravna out from the bush.

Her legs were tangled in the branches. Somehow she had wriggled in too far! She twisted around, looking toward the battle noises. That was louder now, but saner sounding too. Someone was shouting real language, orders. There were lights. A search—but still down by the river.

“I’m stuck!” she whispered.

Jefri braced his back against the lower branches and pushed up. She heard his knife slashing. Amdi had been at the edges of the undergrowth. Now he pulled as Jefri lifted, and Ravna slid out.

Someone had come running up from the direction of the river. Screwfloss, all five of him. “Get back to camp!” he said. With Jefri supporting her, the walk took only moments. As they reached the wagons, Jefri paused, let Screwfloss help Ravna the rest of the way. Then he walked around the wagons into the campsite.

“What the fuck!” came Gannon’s voice, but this was no brave challenge. When Ravna staggered in with Screwfloss, she noticed that Gannon seemed alone. Even the kherhogs were clustered together as far as they could get from the sounds of the fighting. The draft animals were making their own frightened sounds, probably with as much sense as Gannon. Now bright lamplight was visible downslope, but the noise consisted of solitary screams and Tinish laughter.

A cold nose butted into Ravna’s hand. She stifled a squeak and slid her hand around the head. It was one of Amdi, but his whisper came from all of him, audible only in its sum. “I’m so scared, Ravna.”

“Amdi, get over here!” That was Jefri, already back by his bedroll.

Screwfloss settled Ravna down on her bedding and they both sat looking downslope. The survivors were already coming back, dark shadows that moved with the enthusiasm of hunters returning. She could smell blood on them, but their triumphant gobbling was edged with unease. Minutes later, six more shadows quietly moved into camp: Chitiratifor. She felt sure that some of his heads were turned in her direction, but he did not approach. All the surviving packs settled down and soon the night was quieter than it had been before the deadly fuss. There were no whuffling snores and less of the nighttime noise of small animals.

Ravna’s stark panic gradually eased, even as her mind raced around the possibilities. She was sure that Screwfloss was entirely awake, apparently resolved to keep silent. After a while, Ravna realized something else. Now she really did need a potty break.

It was a very long night.

Mere mayhem didn’t slow down Chitiratifor. By the time the sun peeked above the valley walls, their little caravan had been on the road four hours. At their first rest break, the ragged-eared pack paraded around in the sunlight, as if to proclaim he was not skulking—or perhaps to show everyone that he was totally uninjured.

Ravna took a count: both wagoneers had torn jackets and wounds on various members. One of them had been a sixsome; now it was five. Amdi was crouched by Jef; the two were talking in the semi-private language they had used since they were little. Screwfloss stood all around the seated Ravna, as if keeping guard on the prisoner. Gannon Jorkenrud sat on the drivers’ bench of one of the wagons. He was unscathed, but at least for the moment his cockiness had disappeared. He didn’t even look sullen. Gannon was frightened.

The pale-eyed fivesome and one other pack were missing.

Chitiratifor swept close to each of the survivors; his gobbling sounded like a combination of boast and harangue. The two wagoneers shrank from his mindsound even as they cast nervous glances at each another. When Raggedy Ears stuck a snout in among Amdi, the eight gave a frank wail of terror and tried to hide behind Jefri.

And Jefri … Jefri did not flinch from the snapping jaws. He stared back at the nearest of Chitiratifor and his tone was level and stony. “I have no idea what you’re saying or what you want.”

That was probably an exaggeration. Jef had as much knowledge of Tinish as any human. Nevertheless, Chitiratifor’s verbal momentum faltered. He goggled at Jefri for a second and then emitted a very human-sounding laugh. “I was talking to the coward.” He gave one of Amdi a rough poke in the ribs. “I laugh to see one of us who thinks a two-legs—a piece of lonely meat!—can be protection.”

Chitiratifor’s laughter morphed into the natural Tinish equivalent. But he backed away from Amdi and Jefri. “And I forget my good manners. We are allies.” Two of him looked in Gannon’s direction. That worthy perked up, recapturing some of his usual arrogance. “That we are, Chitiratifor, sir. Nevil told us to give you full cooperation. Just tell us what you want. Sorry we don’t understand better.”

“Ah.” Chitiratifor rolled his heads with patronizing good humor. “Yes indeed.” He paused, giving all three humans a calculating glance. “So then,” he continued, “in words of simple Samnorsk, I say I found traitors last night. They both are dead now, totally dead.” He jabbed a snout at Screwfloss. “You. You speak Samnorsk.”

Screwfloss dribbled around Ravna to stand respectfully before Raggedy Ears. “Oh, yes indeed,” he said, “better than some humans do, as a matter of fact.”

“Whatever. I want you to explain things to the two-legs when they cannot understand me.”
I can’t be bothered with dumb animals
was the message.

Screwfloss made a grovelling smile. He was the picture of an intimidated pack, but his Samnorsk was spoken with a sly, Flenser voice. “Yes, my lord. I can be useful in other ways. I may be the only one left who can advise you about the country ahead.”

Chitiratifor emitted a cheerful Tinish laugh, but his patchwork of human voices said: “I’ll cut your throats if you say that to the others. Do you understand?”

“Oh yes, your worship. This is just between you and me and some humans who don’t really matter.”

“Very good,” said Chitiratifor, then added something jovial in Tinish. Amdi remained silent, still hiding his heads behind Jefri, but the wagoneers both chuckled back—surely as ignorant as rocks.

They were still following the river. The path was often steep, bordering rapids and waterfalls. The valley walls climbed high above them. To the west, the snow-covered heights were sun-bedazzled. Jefri was driving the last wagon now; Chitiratifor had given the usual driver some kind of scouting assignment. Raggedy Ears himself drifted up and down the length of the caravan but made no attempt to hustle them past open areas. Maybe Nevil had gotten control of the airship.

Several times that morning, Raggedy Ears consulted with Screwfloss—in Samnorsk. He was totally ignorant of this territory, and just as clearly, he didn’t care if Ravna knew it.

Perhaps the most striking change in the new order was that now Screwfloss chatted quite openly with her. “I wasn’t in on the kill, but I talked to the front wagon driver. The two traitor packs were killed. Chitiratifor hunted down the last of them and dispatched them himself. The pack called—” he warbled a chord or two “—the best you could pronounce it would be ‘Remasritlfeer,’ he was one of Tycoon’s top lieutenants. The other was his assistant. Apparently they both were experts on this rift valley.” At the moment, Chitiratifor was some distance up ahead. He might not be able to make out what Screwfloss was saying, but he could surely hear conversation noise.

Screwfloss must have noticed the surprise on Ravna’s face. “Why am I talking to you now?” he said. He shrugged. “Now that your small human mind has recovered, you’re just someone to listen. What you know doesn’t matter.”

Screwfloss was silent for a moment as he negotiated the wagon’s way across a dip in the trail that at this time of the year was filled with fast-moving water. Some of Amdi braved the cold directly, while about half of him hopped on the back of the wagon and came across dry. They kept their heads down so as not to mix mindsounds with Screwfloss, but nevertheless that pack said severely, “None of your tricks! Understand?”

Among Ravna’s disconnected memories was the vision of Screwfloss chasing Amdi away from her. What had that been all about? A moment later she found out, when Amdi’s focused voice came in her ears: “Screwfloss doesn’t believe I’m smart enough to talk secretly to someone as hard of hearing as a human, not when there is
any
chance of detection. But you have to know: With Remasritlfeer gone, Chitiratifor is just looking for—I’m sorry—some fun way to kill you, maybe kill Jefri and even Gannon.”

Screwfloss emitted a screeching hiss.

Amdi hunkered down at the blast, but his secret voice continued: “Heh. He’s just guessing.” But then aloud Amdi said, “I’ll be good. No more tricks. I promise.”

Anyone who really knew Amdi would know that he kept his freely given promises. Apparently, Screwfloss was such a person. He gave Amdi a long look, then replied. “Very well, Little Ones.”

In any case, that was the most informative, and frightening, moment of the morning. Screwfloss quit talking. Maybe he was sullen, or thinking—or listening to discover if Amdi would break his promise. They stopped briefly for midday meal, but Amdi was away with Jef and Gannon, and Screwfloss went with Chitiratifor to get a view of the way ahead. Back on the wagons, it was well into the afternoon before Screwfloss got into a talkative mood.

“It’s really too bad that we killed the traitors when we did. We’re entering an especially dangerous area,” he said. “It’s like I told Lord Chitiratifor at lunch. Little mistakes can be fatal here.”

Three of Amdi were sitting at the back of the wagon, but faithfully honoring his promise. Aloud he said, “So has Chitiratifor told the wagoneer packs?”

“Oh yes. Those packs are just city thugs. Till now, this job has been a fun adventure—real hunting, live meat almost every day. But now they need all the help Lord Chitiratifor can give them.” Screwfloss gestured expansively at the forest all around them. “It looks so peaceful, doesn’t it? But why do you think it’s mostly unknown to Tines? Because so few get through it whole—or at all. The Old Flenser studied the rift valleys. So did Steel. They got some of their most diabolical insights here.” Screwfloss turned a couple heads Ravna’s way. “Yes, I know you starfolk can be much deadlier, but we primitive folk, we do the best we can.”

Gannon Jorkenrud had been behind them, between wagons. Maybe he had caught some of the conversation, because now he trotted forward and jumped onto Screwfloss’ wagon, kicking Amdi’s members overboard in the process. “You assholes have no business riding,” he said. He settled down beside Ravna and gave her a big smile. “For that matter, we’re being generous to let
you
have a free ride.”

Amdi followed along the left side of the wagon, objecting: “Ravna’s not well enough to walk along. Chitiratifor wants her kept on the wagon.”

“Like I said, we’re generous.” He gestured Amdi away. “Why don’t you go back to your great protector?”

On the wagon behind them, Jefri had risen from his driver’s bench. Ravna knew that Jefri had some special recent hatred for Gannon; right now, Jef’s expression was deadly. Then his wagon began to drift, and he sat down and guided his kherhog back into line.

Fortunately Jorkenrud wasn’t really trying to start a fight. He was more interested in chatting with Screwfloss. “You’re spilling Chitiratifor’s secrets, eh Screwfloss?”

The pack shrugged. “It won’t do her any good.”

“So you’ve told her about the radio link to the orbiter?”

“No, but you’ve done that now.”

“… Oh.” Gannon thought about that for a second and then laughed. “Like you said, it doesn’t matter what she knows now. I bet it’s fun to see her reaction.” He gave Ravna a big grin. “The radio is just one of lots of toys Nevil has given our little friends. Giving you to the dogs is a similar gesture, and it removes a real inconvenience. It was a win all around. Nevil knew that word of the snatch on you would bring Woodcarver’s troops racing down from the castle. That would give us a chance to disappear various gear we’ve been wanting.”

Ravna couldn’t help baring her teeth at this. “So now Nevil is unmasked.”

“Not at all! I don’t know the details, how they got rid of Woodcarver’s guards, but the rumor is going to be that you weren’t kidnapped. You defected because you’d been kicked out of your cushy place on the Starship—and it was your agents who stole the equipment, maybe to set up your own operation. When I’m officially rescued, I’ll confirm whatever story Nevil decides on.” Gannon looked at the wagon behind them. “Jef will too, if he knows what’s good for him.”

“That—” Ravna started to say, and was temporarily out of words. “That can’t possibly convince anyone.”

“Oh? We did something almost as complicated when we snatched the Children.”