They stirred within. Men peeked past windbreaks. What they saw flung them back at the bodies crowded behind. “Aryuk, dead Aryuk!”
“Tseshu,” It begged, “this is only Aryuk, your man. I have only come to bid you farewell.”
“Wait here,” said his woman in the fear-stinking darkness. “I will go to him.”
“No, that is death.” Ulungu fumbled to hold her.
She fended him off. “He wants me,” she said, and crawled out. Rising, she stood before the cloaked form. “Here I am,” she told It.
“Do not be afraid,” said Aryuk—how gently, how wearily. “I bring no harm.”
The woman stared at him in wonderment. “You are dead,” she whispered. “They killed you. We heard. Men of theirs went among Us, along the whole shore, and gave Us that news.”
“Yes. That is how Wan—that is how I learned where you are.”
“They said the Red Wolf killed you for what you did and We should all beware.”
Aryuk nodded. “Yes, I died.”
Care trembled in her voice. “You are thin. You are tired.”
“It was a long journey,” he sighed.
She reached for him. “Your poor arm—”
He smiled a little. “Soon I shall rest. It will be good to lie down.”
“Why have you come back?”
“I am not yet dead.”
“You said you are.”
“Yes. I died a moon or more ago, beneath the Ghost Birds.”
“How is this?” she asked, bewildered.
“I do not understand. What I know, I may not tell you. But when I begged leave, I was given my wish, that I could come see you this last time.”
“Aryuk, Aryuk.” She went to him and laid her head against his beard and mane. He brought his usable arm around her.
“You shiver, Tseshu,” he said. “It is cold and you have nothing on. Get back inside where it is warm. I must go now.”
“Take me with you, Aryuk,” she faltered through tears. “We were so long together.”
“I may not do that,” he answered. “Stay. Care for the young ones, for everyone of Us. Go home to our river. You will have peace. The Mammoth Slayers will trouble you no more. In spring when the snow melts, they will go away.”
She raised her face. “This … is … a great thing.”
“It is what I give you and Us.” He looked past her to the dying stars. “I am glad.”
She clung to him and wept.
“Do not cry,” he pleaded. “Let me remember you glad.”
Light strengthened. “I must leave,” he said. “Let me go, let me go.” He had to draw her arms from him before he could depart. She stood gazing after him till he had limped out of sight.
XIV
Tamberly brought her hopper across space-time and down through the snowfall to earth. She dismounted. Aryuk, who had held onto her waist on this as on other quick flights, left the rear saddle. For a span they were mute amidst the flakes and the gray morning.
“Is it done?” he asked finally.
She nodded. Her neck felt stiff. “It is done. As well as I was able.”
“That is good.” His right hand fumbled about his person. “Here, I give you back your treasures.” Piece by piece he returned them—flashlight; audiovisual pickup by which she had seen and heard what he did, earplug receiver through which she instructed him, speaker that enabled her to talk Wanayimo for him, with lowered voice frequency and some spooky feedback resonance at the transmission end. She dropped them in the carrier.
“What shall I do next?” Aryuk inquired.
“Wait. If … if only I could wait with you!”
He considered. “You are kind, but I think I would rather be alone. I have remembering to do.”
“Yes.”
“Also,” he went on earnestly, “if I may, I would rather walk than sit still. Your magic gave me some haleness back. It is ebbing, but I would like to use it.”
Feel yourself alive while you can. “Yes, do as you wish. Walk onward until—oh, Aryuk!” He stood there so patiently. Already the snow had whitened his head.
“Do not cry,” he said, troubled. “You who command life and death should never feel weak or sad.”
She covered her eyes. “I can’t help it.”
“But I am glad.” He laughed. “This is good, what I can do for Us. You helped me. Be glad of that. I am. Let me remember you glad.”
She kissed him and smiled, smiled, as she remounted her timecycle.
XV
Wind brawled. The dome shuddered. Tamberly blinked into it, got off the vehicle, turned on lights against the gloom.
After a few minutes she heard: “Let me in!”
She hung up her outer garments. “Come on,” she replied.
Corwin stalked through. The wind caught at the entry fabric. He had a moment’s fight to reseal. Tamberly posed herself at the table. She felt frozenly calm.
He opened his parka as if he disemboweled an enemy and turned about. His mouth was stretched wide and tight. “So you’re back at last,” he rasped.
“Well, that’s what I thought,” she said.
“None of your insolence.”
“Sorry. None intended.” Her gesture at the chair was as indifferent as her tone. “Won’t you sit down? I’ll make tea.”
“No! Why have you been gone all these days?”
“Busy. In the field.” I needed the terrible innocence of the Ice Age and its beasts. “Wanted to make sure I’d complete the essentials of my research, what with the season drawing to a close.”
He quivered. “And what with you due for cashiering—mind block, or even the exile planet—”
She lifted a hand. “Whoa. That’s a matter for higher authority than yours, my friend.”
“Friend? After you betrayed—ruined—Did you imagine I wouldn’t know what had to be behind those … apparitions? What your purpose was—to destroy my work—”
The blond head shook. “Why, no. You can continue with the Wanayimo if you see fit, as long as you want to. And then there are plenty of later generations waiting.”
“Causal vortex—endangerment—”
“Please. You told me yourself, the Cloud People will push on come spring. It is written. The moving Finger,’ you know. I simply gave it a little boost. And that was written too, wasn’t: it?”
“No! You dared—you played God.” His forefinger jabbed toward her like a spear. “That’s why you didn’t return here to the moment after you left on your insane jaunt. You hadn’t the nerve to face me.”
“I knew I’d have to do that. But I figured it’d be smart if the natives didn’t see me for a while. They’d have plenty else on their minds. I hope you kept well in the background.”
“Perforce. The harm you did was irreparable. I wasn’t about to make it worse.”
“When the fact is that they did decide to leave these parts.”
“Because you—”
“Something had to cause it, right? Oh, I know the rules. I’ve jumped uptime, entered a report, been summoned for a hearing. Tomorrow I’ll pack up.” And say goodbye to the land and, yes, the Cloud People, Red Wolf. Wish him well.
“I’ll be at that session,” Corwin vowed. “I’ll take pleasure in bringing the charges.”
“Not your department, I think.”
He gaped at her. “You’ve changed,” he mumbled. “You were … a promising girl. Now you’re a cold, scheming bitch.”
“If you’ve expressed your opinion, goodnight, Dr. Corwin.”
His visage contorted. His open hand cracked upon her cheek.
She staggered, caught her footing, blinked from the pain, but was able to speak quietly. “I said, ‘Goodnight, Dr. Corwin.’”
He made a noise, wheeled, groped at the entry fastener, got the dome open, and stumbled from her.
I guess I have changed, she thought. Grown some. Or so I hope. They’ll decide at the … court-martial… the hearing. Maybe they’ll break me. Maybe that’s the right thing for them to do. All I know is that I did what I must, and be damned if I’m sorry.