They reached the cabin. The sentries lifted spears in salute and stood aside. Arnanak unbolted the door and led the humans in. He closed it again immediately, before his watchers stepped back to where they could see.
Within, a pair of clay lamps cast dim light and monstrous glooms; for the windows, too high for peering through, were full of dusk. A single room lay roughly furnished in miniature. Shelves held blue-leaved vegetation, odd-shaped butchered carcasses: food for T-life. A rear door, latch on the inside, gave egress at will to the three who lived here.
Sparling choked on a gasp. Jill squeezed his hand.
Otherwise her attention burned at the starfish shapes. They scuttled back, letting out timid whistles and trills. The Ishtarian—the ortho-Ishtarian—reassured them with Tassu words, and at last they came to stand before newcomers who must be hideous in their sight.
“Hear the tale of my quest,” Arnanak said.
While he spoke, Jill stared and stared. Like most sophonts, the dauri seemed fairly unspecialized in body. She identified features, modified to be sure, she had seen illustrated in many works on T-biology. Inside those roughly spheroidal torsos must be skeletons arranged on a plan of intersecting hoops, with ball-and-socket joints for the five limbs. The top one, the branch, culminated in five fleshy petals which served both as chemosensor organs and as tongues to push food down into a pentagon of jaws. Under each petal was a tendril, an intricate set of fibers that received sound. At the ends of the arms, five symmetrical fingers could not grasp a shaft as firmly as man or Ishtarian, but no doubt were superior for an object like a hand ax. (Yes; Jill saw how their iron knives were hafted, and admired the ingenuity of Arnanak, who must have designed this.) The eyes at the roots of the arms were well developed, though strange to look into because the entire ball was self-darkening according to light intensity. Under the branch was a more primitive third orb, to co-ordinate visual fields which did not overlap. The remaining two eyes had changed into protuberances above the legs, whose varying shapes, colors and odors indicated that all three sexes were here represented. Otherwise, in this gloaming, the skin was dark purplish. In full tropical day it would be an almost metallic white—not too conspicuous, when many plants had the same protection.
Yes, remarkable but comprehensible, as T-life went… except for the minds behind.
And when Arnanak finished, and from a chest took out the Thing he had carried from the Starklands—
Both humans cried aloud. A crystalline cube, some thirty centimeters on a side, held blackness full of many-colored gleam-points. When Arnanak gestured, the vision changed, and symbols glowed now beside this spark, now beside that.
“Look well,” said the Overling of Ulu. “You will not see it again soon, if ever. It, and these dauri, go with me a pair of days hence, to hearten my warriors for our onslaught.”
A lamp had been lit in their room, and a bed heaped for Sparling, to rustle beneath feet when they entered. Oil burned with a piney fragrance, the air was merely warm, the window revealed the brightest stars.
“Oh, God, Ian, what a marvel!” Jill had not felt this caught up in splendor since—since—
His visage grew still more gaunt. “Yeah. But for what use?… Well, we’ll pass the information on.”
“We,” She caught his hands afresh. “You were here, to share it. Can I ever make you know what that means?”
“I, I’m glad I was.”
Borne on a tide, she said, “Ian, this is the first good I chance I’ve had to thank you. I never will be able to, not really, but I aim to try my damnedest.”
“Well, uh—” A side of his mouth bent upward, though he spoke almost uneasily: “Look, I should’ve insisted on separate rooms. If none’re available, and doubtless none are, I— Okay, I’ll go find my sleeping bag, wherever they’ve stowed it. Good night, Jill.”
“What? Good night? Don’t be ridiculous!”
He made as if to retreat. She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. After a second, he answered.
“Stop being this bloody honorable, man,” she murmured at last. “Oh, I’m fond of Rhoda myself and—You don’t have to say it, you didn’t expect a reward. But I want to!”
I do, I do. It’s been a starvishly long time. And, I don’t know, does revelation make a person horny? Anyhow, what harm, what besides kindness and caring, between two people who may never come back?
A wispy voice said through the drumbeats that there was a possibility her most recent sterishot had worn off. Go to hell, she told it. A thought flickered that the Sparlings had always wanted more children, but none were for adoption in Primavera. “I think I’m in love with you, Ian,” she said. “Already.”
NINETEEN
About the time that Ulu celebrated midsummer, Bel solstice, by dance, chant, drumbeat, and sacrifice, the yellow sun overtook the red one in the sky. Thereafter Anu was the pursuer. Heat waxed; waterless winds roared; the veldt burned for days, and bitter smoke drifted into the hills; clouds surfed white against the Worldwall, but never broke past to birth their rain in this country.
Sparling ignored any discomfort. Jill claimed she did, too. He believed her, and not just because she was the most disconcertingly honest person he knew. In near-zero humidity, temperature tolerance is a matter of relaxing and letting the body go about its business. Food was coarse but still in ample supply. Except for keeping control of dietary supplements, the natives were eager to please, whether by helpfulness or by letting their prisoner-guests alone. Most often it was the latter. For he and she were taking all they were able of each day and each night granted them.
He had never been as happy as now. That was a feeling laced with fret and, for him, a dram of guilt, less on Rhoda’s account than because he couldn’t bring himself to work full time on escape. But then, he reflected, joy never comes straight; only fear and pain do.
They seldom spoke about their private future. Such talk always ended soon, in a passage of love. Presently he, like she, ceased tallying the days; he let them happen in a place outside of time. But afterward he reckoned their number at forty-three, and wished they had been Terrestrial in length. Being who they were, he and she found a great deal else to do together.
They sat where a shrunken brook muttered around stones it had formerly hidden. Sky showed pale behind boughs which did keep enough leaves that the forest floor was partly shaded, flecked with gold and ruby light-spots. A perching ptenoid, blue as a kingfisher and itself watching for ichthyoids which would likely never come by, hung on four-footed as if already heat and hunger sapped its life. “Okay, we’ll have another try,” Sparling said, and turned the knob on his transceiver. Jill leaned close over his arm. The clean odor of her hair took him in a wave. “Calling Port Rua,” he intoned.
“Please reply on this band.”
“Military Intelligence Unit X-13 calling Port Rua,” she added solemnly. “Secret and urgent. We need new disguises. An onion sandwich has made our false beards uninhabitable.”
I wish I had her gift for having fun, Sparling thought.
Is that why she’s so splendid in bed? Not that I have much basis for comparison. I didn’t even know what a difference it makes. “Frankly, I’m getting worried,” he said. “Larreka would have a technician on duty around the clock. Either our idea hasn’t worked, or—”
Insect-small, but sharp in the silence around, an Ishtarian voice rose: “Port Rua responds. Are you the captive humans?”
Jill rocketed to her feet and did a whooping war-dance. “Yes,” Sparling said, while his relief reached a lower peak than hers. “We’re fine thus far. How’re things with you?”
“Quiet. Too quiet, I feel.”