Why don’t you eat people? Alea demanded, fear gripping her vitals as her hands gripped her staff.
Because you have minds, the creature answered, minds complex enough to be aware of your own existence. In that, you are enough like us so that we could not think of you as food.
Even though these people took your land and chased you away?
There is surely enough land for us over the sea, if we wish it, the alien answered, unperturbed.
No, not alien, Alea realized—native. It was she who was the alien on this planet.
Even so, the monster agreed, but you are fascinating, and all the more so because you are alien. Those of us who grow weary of the daily round of hunting and eating and begetting and kit-rearing find diversion in the strange and foolish doings of your kind.
So you are glad to have them? Alea asked cautiously. Quite pleased, the creature assured her, and you and your mate are even more diverting, because you are stranger than the strangers! You are new, you are novel, you are …
Not mates! Alea thought fiercely.
All kits must learn as they grow, the creature thought in a consoling tone. Be patient and you shall learn, too.
Alea stifled an angry comeback—it wouldn’t do to antagonize a telepathic creature with so many sharp teeth. Do you often show yourselves to the people? That must change the way they behave.
It would indeed, the creature agreed, so we never let them see us—and if they should do so by accident, we make sure they forget. Still, there seem to be tales about us in the land.
Alea could believe that easily. Why, then, do you show yourself now to me?
To learn what you are, and what you mean to do, the creature said. Thus we showed ourselves to the first of your kind to come here, and would not let them settle until we were satisfied of their good intentions. Alea frowned. How did they convince you?
By deciding to leave the planet as soon as they knew we were intelligent and self-aware, the creature replied. They trooped back aboard their bird-ships, and would have left, robbing us of a fascinating diversion.
So you told them they could stay?
We erased all memory of us from their mind, the creature told her. Then they had no reason to leave.
But they took your land!
We let them settle, the creature said. Those who did not find them amusing swam away to other lands. Those of us who loved to watch their antics retreated to the wild places, the barrens and the depths of the forests, the mountains and the fens, to listen to their thoughts and watch their mad caperings.
So now you come to see if I too shall be amusing, Alea thought, anger growing again.
More importantly, we wish to know your intentions toward our little friends, the monster thought. They have good hearts, most of them, and we would not like to see their lives disturbed.
We mean this land no harm, Alea said, only good.
I can see that in you, the creature replied. Moreover, I can see that you are very courageous—frightened, but able to overcome your fear. That is a brightness within you that we respect.
So—you do not object to our coming?
Be welcome, the monster thought. Help whom you can. If you need help yourself, remember and call upon me.
I-I thank you, Alea thought, astounded. How—how shall I call?
Call me “Evanescent,” the creature replied. I shall come, or one much like me.
A sudden distant squalling off to her left made Alea turn to face it, staff coming up, heart pounding—but she recognized it even as it stopped: two cats disputing territory, or perhaps a coupling that one of them did not desire. She turned back to the fire, trying to make herself relax, wondering why she was gripping her staff so tightly. Really, a catfight was nothing to fear, and there hadn’t been anything else to attract her attention, except that owl flying over the road—a very dull watch, in fact.
Sudden pain throbbed in her head, but was gone as quickly as the catfight. She pressed a hand to her temple, frowning. Something seemed to be missing there, some thought that she’d wanted to remember but that had slipped away. Well, she had much to learn yet, about meditation.
She scanned the woods again, then the fields, seeing nothing unusual—but she did notice that the gloom had lessened. She stood and stretched, amazed at how quickly the night had passed, amazed that dawn was coming and it was time to start cooking breakfast. That would teach Gar to let her sleep longer than she deserved!
Still, she would have liked to remember that fleeting thought. Well, if it was important, it would come back to her.
The next day, Gar stripped down to his breechcloth and folded his clothes carefully, then smeared himself liberally with dirt, mixing dead grass and leaves into his hair while Alea packed his clothes under her trade goods.
“How’s this?” Gar hunched over, even bending his legs, and stumbled toward her, whimpering, “Poor Gar’s a-cold! Poor Gar’s a-cold!”
“I should say you are.” Alea stared, unnerved by the change in his appearance; surely she would never have recognized him through all that dirt. He was right—bent over like that, he actually seemed shorter than she was. Which isn’t saying much, she thought with irony. She was well over six feet herself, after all, and had long ago resigned herself to never finding a husband—and still didn’t think to, but here she was traveling with a man who actually made her feel small! “How are you going to keep from freezing?”
“I’ll grow used to it,” Gar, assured her. “If worse comes to worst, we can trade for a blanket at the next village.”
So off they went at sunrise, Gar slouching along at her side; which took a foot off his height. “If we hear a patrol,” he assured her, “I’ll cringe low again.”
“Let’s hope they don’t throw water on you,” Alea said.
Gar stopped and frowned up at her. “I don’t have the right to pull you into danger with me—and you’re right, there’s far too much chance of our being discovered. Perhaps we should abort the mission after all—I have no right to put you in danger just to satisfy my insatiable curiosity.”
Privately, Alea agreed, but aloud she only said, “Don’t be ridiculous!”
They found a village late in the afternoon and came out onto the road so that they would seem to be normal travelers. Gar started cringing well before they came in sight of the houses.
It was a tidy place, prosperous though not rich—a circle of wattle-and-daub cottages with thatched roofs and plain shuttered openings for windows. Flowers made the patches of lawn colorful; chickens scratched behind the houses between fences that separated them from the family pigs.