She found a downed tree a short distance from the glade; it was old and crumbling on the outside, but the inside was firm and mostly dry. She laid down the square of carry canvas and began cutting and prying lengths of wood loose. She was sweating and developing blisters when she heard a rustle. She dropped the hatchet, flung herself onto the far side of the tree, then sat up, laughing, as a moss pony edged from behind a tree.
It whuffled plaintively and a familiar smell came on the wind.
“Brйou.” She stood. “All right, bйbй, come here, luv.”
The caцpa came sidling toward her, head turning and eyes still a little wild, tail swishing.
“Ahhh, that’s a splendid pony, that is.” He leaned into her, head pressing against her breasts, making small contented groans as she rubbed his poll and dug her fingers into his roached mane. He was wet and stinky, but she was almost crying at his pleasure in their reunion.
One of the packers came easing into the small clearing around the downed tree, the pack listing, the straps of the packsaddle distorting the round of his barrel. As she worked to ease the strain and get the pack resettled, the rest of the pony string gathered around her, nuzzling at her, pushing at her as if they wanted to crawl under her skin.
She gathered what_ wood she had, slipped the hatchet through her belt, and led the small herd back to the clearing where she stripped off their gear and salvaged some corncakes from the packs she removed and piled beneath the thickest of the trees, resting them on high-kneed roots to keep them out of the muck. The corncakes she broke and put in their nosebags, left them munching away while she took her meager gleanings of wood over to the tent and got a fire started.
The light dimmed a bit as the sun passed behind a clot of dark clouds, but Melech was still bright gold and shining as xe hovered above the tent, tentacles anchoring xe to the tree. She sang a few notes to xe as she moved about, getting the grate settled above the fire and soup fixings into the cookpot.
2
Marrin heard the hissing whispers and smiled as he recognized them. He didn’t turn as the scuff of bare feet told him Glois and Utelel were edging into the workroom, just kept at his work refining the map of Dumel Alsekum, drawing on the lightpad, his crude lines cleaned up and made elegant on the screen.
They edged up until they were leaning against him, watching the marks he was making on the pad, seeing how they were changed on the screen. “What’s that?” Glois said.
“It’s a map of the Dumel. I’m putting in where people live and the kind of gardens and trees they have. See, this square with roundish corners is the Everything Shop and I put a smaller square on top for the place where your friend Likel lives with xe’s family. Those marks there are the names of xe’s Parent and sibs.”
“I know what maps are. How come it looks different up there?”
“There’s a bit that thinks in there and it knows what I want so it does it. There’s a bit that thinks in all our machines.”
“Oh.”
Marrin set the pen down, swung his chair around and scowled at the pair. “It’s the middle of the day, why aren’t you in school? You know what I told you.”
“Ah, Aide Mar, it’s Rest Day. And it’s first Seibibyl and that means it’s Summer now and us Sekummers we getting ready for a biiiig party. And we got chased, so we come here and anyway we found out some stuff you maybe want to know.”
“Ihoi, we did,” Utelel said, his lighter voice as filled with triumph as Glois’. “There’s this Fior swampie, his name’s Sabhal, he carves stuff; you know, like crogalls, he makes hinges so their mouths come open and even sets in bitty teeth from something, I dunno what’s got teeth that little, my Parent buys stuff from him for my sibs and me, so he knows us pretty well and…”
“And you go round the Dumel when you try to explain anything, Utta. He want to go see Ut’s Parent, ‘cause xe can talk to Met ‘n Tas for him, he don’t like officials and won’t go round them. We got him to talking to us ‘cause Ut’s Parent is busy with Summer Day business. He forgot what day it was and he almost run off when Ut tells him. Anyway, what he said was, there’s a funny looking mesuch fossicking around in the Marishes. Like a big crogall with xe’s snout pushed in. Anyway, the mesuch, he’s got this weird stick thing that flies and he’s messing around with choreks and giving them these things like our mesuch got, you know, fire comes out one end and burns through just ‘bout anything. Sabhal, he says the choreks are getting real stirred up, like you kick into a mutmut nest and they go running round like crazy. Sabhal, he says one bunch of ‘em nearly set Marish on fire, burn down all their bothys, and if it didn’t rain woulda took a lot a grass and trees with ‘em. Anyway is that the kinda thing you want to know?”
“It certainly is. Chorek with cutters, that’s not a happy thought. Have you talked to Ut’s Parent yet?”
Utelel shook xe’s head, the orange and yellow flowers dancing with the movement. “We just heard and we come here first.”
“Well then, you’d best scoot along and take the message like Sabhal wanted you to. Tell them that you told me and that I’m passing the word on.”
Glois wrinkled his nose and looked at Utelel, but before he could say anything, Duncan Shears walked in.
He raised his brows when he saw them, but didn’t comment. “Here, catch.” He tossed Marrin a flake in a portable reader. “List of parts the Goлs swore he’d send us. His signa included. Haven’t had a smell of ‘em. I want you to get hold of the Molyb Oschos, see what’s holding things up. Use the authorization on that to build a fire under him if he’s dragging his feet.”
“Right. By the way, I’ve just learned that the Chave have an agent over here passing out cutters to the chorek. Think I should get hold of Security there and let them know?”
Shears scowled. “How sure are you?”
“Pretty damn.”
“I’ll give a call to the Scholar, let her know. If she decides better not, she can get through to you on the jit’s com. Button up before you leave, but don’t worry about the alarms. I’ll set web once you’re out.” He glanced at the two young Bйluchar, sighed, and went out.
“Gonna take the, jit? Take us with you, Marrin, hunh? Give us a ride, huh huh?”
“No way, my young friends.” He powered down the port, tapped on the datalock and got to his feet. “Besides, you have something you’ve got to do, remember?”
“Ahhh, we can do that anytime. Ut’s Parent don’t want to see us now, xe said xe don’t want to see us, said it loud.”
“Well, you’ve just got to change xe’s mind. Look, Glois, I’m a target, like all the rest of us from University. Any shooting, it’s going to come at me. You want me to have to live with knowing I’ve got one of the people I’m supposed to be studying killed?” He lifted the jit’s keypack from the hook by the door, shooed the still protesting pair outside, pulled the door shut behind him. “And I’m really serious, Ut, Glo. It’s important that your officials know what the swampie told you. It could save lives. That’s on your shoulders. Now you go and do right by your folks.”
He watched the youngsters drag off along the shadow-dappled walkway, then went to the main workroom and stuck his head inside. “Dunc, how about letting me trade for a heavy-duty stun? Don’t want to sound too nervous, but cutters floating around makes me sit up a bit.”
“Done. Let me get to the cache…” He palmed the lock box open, turned back the lid. “Hm. Another thing… come over here, I’m going to load you down with a few telltales. Won’t do much, but maybe could give you some warning.”
“Did you get to Aslan?”
“She’s in the middle of an interview, but I set the flasher going so she’ll be coming through any minute now.”
Marrin swung into the jit, set the telltales on the shelf in front of the stick, then took a good look round to make sure Glois and Utelel weren’t anywhere near. He sighed. He liked that pair, they reminded him of himself and a cousin of his. Wonder how close we came to getting ourselves killed? he thought with a pleasing sense of nostalgia only possible because he had no intention of going near his homeworld again. And how many times. He started the jit, backed it from under the tree, and started around the outside of the Dumel. Now that he was out of the workroom, he could hear the voices, the snatches of music, could see the pennants being raised and now and then catch the wisps of aroma from the food and the mulled cider being heated in a vast pot outside the Meeting House.