"…what does man want?"
"Your strength." Gidds was just as serious talking to a piece of straw as he was with anything else Laura had seen him do. "The land of Ramara has fractured and fallen beneath the ocean. We are gathering allies to heal the damage that has spread from her fall, so the land of Zathar does not share her fate."
"…don’t care. Ramara, Zathar, not here. Only care Zylat."
"If Zathar falls, Thetis will follow. And after Thetis, Mris, and Kaztar and Zylat. In return for your aid, I offer my blood."
"…eat man?"
"Yes," Gidds said, with perfect gravity. "Blood in exchange for your aid."
"…eat man," the wind repeated, and the piece of straw whirled faster, slashing Gidds' avatar’s face and leaving a tiny purplish line. A dark droplet of blood escaped the line, and a mote of light bloomed, burning it away. The light lifted, circled Gidds once, and then dropped to rest upon his hand.
It vanished, along with the wind, and Laura stepped forward to study the mark it had left behind. A tiny spiral of pale blue, slightly raised.
"Like a brand," she said. "Did it hurt?"
"Momentarily."
"Well, I don’t think that was the teszen of the goo-glucks. You seem to have done some background research of your own."
"I asked many questions when I joined the Path of the Weaver." He looked around the farmyard thoughtfully, and his brief smile surfaced as he glanced up at the dozens of climbing birds still sporadically letting out their signature call. "I do wonder what their teszen would be. It is an interesting idea, to give every part of the world a motive force."
"A bit like Shintoism," Laura said, and explained that as they started back toward the route to her starter teszen.
"This isn’t one of the belief systems you described in our briefing sessions."
"Earth has a lot of religions," Laura said, shrugging. "I’m surprised the Triplanetary has so strongly kept to planet-spirit reverence, especially when it only seems to be Muina herself that has ever responded in a verifiable way." She hesitated, aware that while there was some debate among Muinan descendants as to what exactly the spirit of Muina constituted, most treated the planet quite factually as a living creator entity.
"Which of Earth’s beliefs do you follow?" Gidds asked.
"Oh, well, I’m an atheist. I’m sure—have had demonstrated by coming here, in fact—that there are powers that Earth’s science hasn’t yet come to understand or acknowledge, but Earth’s gods have always seemed to me to be explanations that developed into complexities."
"And so you don’t believe that Earth, like Muina, lives?"
"I believe it’s a living planet, and deserves our care for that reason alone. I’ve never seen any sign that it’s a thinking entity." She sighed. "Of course, I’d say the same thing about Muina if it weren’t for the fact that there appears to be a place in Kalasa where people can experience some form of communication with…something. Do you believe that it’s really the planet?"
"Yes." He was direct, firm. "I had never been certain before visiting Kalasa. But I could not say whether the same core exists for other worlds."
As they followed the route on Laura’s card, they discussed the theories around Muina’s resemblance to Earth—one of which was that it was a created planet.
"Does the possibility bother you?" she asked. "I know that Cass was originally very worried how people would react, but she seems to have been far from the only person to think of that explanation, and I’ve seen some heated debates on the newsnets."
"I would like to know, but it is more an abstract question for me. Rather than clinging to a preferred truth, I will accept whatever is proven—in the unlikely event that a definitive judgment is ever made. Fortunately Sight Sight is not inflicting a strong need to have an answer."
"Do you —" Laura began, but then spotted the lone, overhanging tree that had been her second symbol. "Here’s my demanding pool."
No ripples disturbed the water when they reached the rock-lined rim. It was an eerie spot, tucked away in a little hollow, and very still.
"I tried to ask it for more information, but it didn’t react any further. Admittedly, I didn’t try for very long, since, well…" She paused, turned, and met his eyes. "I stopped for a nightcap."
Even through an avatar, the doubled-intensity effect hit her. He reached for her hands, and squeezed them tightly.
"Your assignment is still due to finish in two days, right?
"Yes." One word that said a great deal, and most of it involved being naked. "After that, I will have a month primarily working with Kaoren at Kalasa, and can travel from Pandora via the teleport platforms."
"Does touching things in this game really give you vertigo?"
A small grimace. "Yes, unfortunately." But it was a moment more before he let go of her hands. Then he asked: "Would you like me to tell you the probable solution for the teszen?"
She blinked at him, saw that he was—of course—perfectly serious, and let out her breath in laughing exasperation. "Now was it your Sights that gave you the answer, or simple observation?"
"At times it is difficult to separate the two. But in this case, a thing you will be able to see."
"Well, that’s something at least. If I can’t figure it out, I’ll ask for a hint, but it’s heartening that there’s something apparently so completely obvious you spotted it straight away."
Making an effort to avoid preconceptions, Laura looked carefully around, not initially seeing anything different than before. Tree. Rocks. A few little ferns. Water that was clear, though in the shade, so it looked quite black.
A tracery of silver.
"There’s a lesson in this about looking beyond the surface," Laura said, kneeling so she could better peer into the water. The silver was not a fish, but a line, a slender chain dropping deep into the centre of the pool. Its end was fastened to a spur of rock almost at her feet.
Laura lifted the fine, chilly links. The chain was thin, but not so fragile she couldn’t begin drawing it from the water, handful after careful handful. Ten feet. Twenty. A little pile of silver began to mound beside her.
"How deep can this pool be?" she asked, leaning forward. "I think I can see something coming up."
Gidds had knelt beside her, steadying her against the possibility of impromptu baths, but there was no difficulty pulling the last of the chain from the pool, and with it a small metal cage. Inside, was a sodden ball that, as she set the cage down, partially unwound into something scrawny and distinctly feline, grey hair clumped into wet spikes.
"Now this is just cruel," Laura said. "What a place to keep a cat."
Cat? Cat? The voice was just as crotchety as the first time she’d heard it, though rather less wet. Woman is blind.
"I certainly haven’t been winning any points for observation," she agreed, examining the fastening of the small, square cage, and then trying to get a grip on the pin that was holding it in place. "What should I call you, if cat is so very wrong?"
Kirr-tut! Woman knows nothing.
"Well, I’m new around here. But learning fast."
Gidds offered Laura a small stone, and she used it to knock the pin free, then watched with fascination as the kirr-tut slithered out the moment the door opened. It was as much marten or weasel as cat—a long and snaky furred animal—but with very cat-like high pointed ears and a wedge-shaped skull. It stretched, and shook itself, and made a sound like an exasperated sneeze.