Thirty-four days later, eighty-three days out of the Transfer Station, Shadith lay on her stomach scribbling in her notebook. She dropped the stylus and closed the book when she felt the lurch as the ship emerged from the insplit and began droning along sublight. Her hands were shaking. She rubbed them along her trousers, pressed them hard against the zippers on her thighpockets, the little pain lost in the thunder of her uncertainties. All her playacting, all her maneuvering hadn't gained a millimeter's freedom; the most she'd achieved was the illusion she had some control over her situation. Illusion, not reality. That could change now. Bossman meant to use her; to do that, he had to take her out of storage. If she couldn't manage something once she was loose, she might as well pack it in.
The vibration stopped.
Orbit.
Shadith was so familiar with the Pet now she was looking through his eyes almost as soon as the thought flitted through her head.
The huge forescreen was lit. A blue and white world turned in it, the image large enough for the Pet to make out most of the detail despite his myopia.
For the first time she saw Bossman Ginny sitting in the Captain's Chair; the Pet looked down at the skim of ash-gray ash-brown hair laid across Ginny's pale pink skull whenever he needed reassurance which he did fairly often; Ginny's mix of tension, eagerness and triumph made him nervous.
Cool man wasn't so cool any more. He drummed fingers on the chair arm, clicked his tongue as he scanned readings and peered anxiously at the image of the world they were orbiting. "Kiskai. And three months early. Ajeri tiszteh, show me Aina'iril."
"If you want a direct drop, it's over the horizon at the moment."
"How long?"
"Should be coming up round two hours twenty minutes on. I can pre-empt the Wapa-sat's recept-time, break off the collecting, or shift the ship, which means we'd have to move out of Sisipin's shadow."
"We will wait. You can use the time, Jeri tiszt, to test the functioning of the pickup/shunts for all the satellites and start recoding the EYEs onboard. Impatience is a weakness we do not need to encourage. Moving the ship could be destructive. There are too many chart readers down there with a glass on the sky. We are vulnerable in the visible spectrum and I have no means of determining what the effect of a new celestial inhabitant would be; it might even wash out the Pasepawateo Mitewastewapal. That would leave us without the centerpiece of the production."
Ajeri laughed. "What a mouthful. Only you, Ginny."
"And forty million Kiskaids. Show me the Mistiko Otcha Cicip. It should be possible to do that without disturbing anything important, the Cicip should still be deserted, just a patch of trees and some bare rock."
"One sacred playground coming up."
The POV shifted rapidly, swooping down at terrifying speed. The Pet would not look at the screen, it made him dizzy. He curled up and licked at his genitals until the scene settled down.
Even with the Pet's deficiencies of vision, Shadith could see a vast natural amphitheater, the crater of an anciently extinct volcano with grass like short green fur carpeting the interior, patches of trees scattered about, a rugged upheaval of naked stone.
A number of small figures worked diligently at the grass, mowing it, pulling weeds, planting turfs wherever the crop looked thin or there was bare ground showing. Others, wooden yokes on their shoulders, were going and coming from beneath several broad low arches at the base of the ripple-fronted cliff, carrying buckets of water and tiles and mortar in, buckets full of rubble out.
Cave under there. They're getting it ready for something.
Ginny knows what, curses on his pointed head.
Shadith yawned, blinked her surprise. Her head felt so heavy it was hard to keep focused through the Pet.
Ginny cleared his throat. "It seems it is a good thing we are here early, Jeri tiszt. The tapwit priests are already beginning to put the place in order. Hmm. The Kihcikistilik island chain is below us now. Before you start the shunt tests, run a POV along it, I want to see…"
His voice faded, the scene faded… Shadith plunged fathoms deep into sleep. Chapter 6. Hang your harp on a whisper tree
Someone was shaking her.
She came painfully awake, looked up into the liquid copper eyes of the lacertine captive. She was lying on a floor somewhere and he was kneeling beside her. She wasn't tracking too well, whatever Ginny used to put her out seemed to have pushed the slow-button in her head. She rubbed at her eyes, groped around with numb hands.
Wood. There was wood all around her-floor, walls, ceiling, it was like being inside a crate, no, not a crate, more like being inside a jewelbox, beautifully assembled rectangles of wood, grain flowing into grain, the joins so tight they were invisible. There was a band of carving up near the ceiling, she could see shadows shifting across the low relief, her eyes blurred when she tried to make out the design. No windows. But the room was filled with light, dancing light, dappled with leafshadow. Thinking about that made her head ache, so she stopped. Door. She couldn't see the door, probably it was somewhere behind it-if there was a door. The room seemed to be rocking slowly in time with groans and creaks that crept through the walls. At first she thought it was her head playing games with her, then she felt the shifting of the floor under her back, the pressure and release. "Awawashahiken wepastan." She heard what she'd just said, blinked. "Kekwa…?"
The lacertine grinned, baring a pair of curved needle fangs and the small sharp chisel teeth between them. "Yes, the room is moving, you're not off your head. And your tongue's not gone wild on you, give it a minute or two, it'll come loose from the local langue. We been imprinted. One of the more useful things our captor did us, though I hate to think what else he might've fiddled with."
"E-heh. Ahhhh." She slapped the floor, then forgot speech for the moment and pushed up onto her feet. "Shadith," she said and held out her hand. "Of nowhere in particular." She blinked again. He was right, the twist of her tongue was gone.
Eyes slitted, face contorted with silent laughter, he looked at the hand, then took it as if it were a precious object and bowed over it with exaggerated grace. "Naiyol Hanee, late of Spotchals, born and bred of DunyaDzi which you won't have heard of." He straightened and shook her hand gravely, removed his own and watched with amiable interest as she let her arm drop. "Call me Kikun."
She raised her brows, not quite sure how to take him. "Kikun it is." Hearing a groan behind her, she turned.
The other captive was sitting up, clutching at his head. "Wa!" he roared, "Misht'co mameash! Olowashish n'ta kawinosikoo! Yaiiii."
She chuckled, met a hot yellow gaze. "I know, I know," she said. "My head was sore as a boil, too, and I was ready to bark like a dog and bite anything that moved. Yeh. Kikun said we been imprinted with the local langue. My name's Shadith. Who're you?"
"Rohant vohv Voallts, Ciocan of Family Voallts, Gazgaort of Company Voallts Korlatch of Spotch-Helspar. I don't know you." He'd got his tongue untwisted faster than she did.
"No reason you should. I've never been down on Spotchals surface. Ginny scooped me up when I came round a corner minding my own business and ran into the lot of you. According to him, his Luck brought me to his hands. What I think of my Luck is too obscene for mixed company."
Rohant the Ciocan went still as a startled yool, though only for a moment. Then his ears twitched, twitched again; a translucent inner eyelid swept across his eyes, snapped down. If he'd had a tail, it would have been switching back and forth, in short, sharp jerks. "Ginny?"
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk in here."
– Your call, csecse." He came to his feet with an impressive elasticity given eighty-three days under drugs and bloodfeed. Fists on his hips, his mane brushing the ceiling, he inspected the room.