No training. Nothing. It's all its idea. I don't even pretend to control it.
As for order in the march, as for any sense of discipline— there's none.
Calibans wander when and where they like and we sit around the fire with no sentries posted.
But there are. Calibans.
She looked up. Close by her couples moved through the camp, going the way couples went these last few evenings while they had leisure, while this strange peace obtained.
Taem took Elai's hand. Looked at her. So they had passed the night before.
They rose, went off together. Paeia got up in a pique, dusted herself, found one of her own riders. So did her son.
There are pairings in the camp. It's a strange thing, as if all the barriers of Tower loyalty were down. As if there were a sense of time being short.
There's a fondness among these people— the way they've left everything behind, the way calibans that normally won't tolerate each other have gotten unnaturally patient.
But it's territory: the Cloud. Maybe they see it that way, that all of a sudden they all belong to the same territory.
Elai and Taem have paired up. I don't know why. I don't know if it portends any longer bond. If we get out of this alive—
Maybe it's only politic. Maybe it's something else. I'm sitting here alone.
They've all left, as if there were nothing else—
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A shadow fell. Dain sat down by her, just sat on his haunches as she looked up. The fire shadowed his face. His long hair hung about his leathered shoulders. He wore beads hanging from a braid at the side of his head, among the rest of his locks. He was very fine, she thought, very fine.
Any woman had to notice when Dain sat down that close to her: a lot had, so that Dain was never without partners. She had Dain in her notes, how this was; how the women courted him as he courted them, so it was a joke in the camp, one Dain liked as well as the tellers of it.
He just sat there looking at her. Nodded his head finally toward the dark.
Toward what others did. He wanted her hand, holding his out.
He's crazy, she thought. What is this? Me?
Still the outheld hand. She put her papers down, thinking she was mistaken and might embarrass herself. He took her hand— friendship, she reckoned; he just wanted to talk to her, and she was wrong.
But he pulled her to her feet and kept drawing her along, going off to the dark.
She was afraid, then, putting this together with the attack on the Base, with Elai's questions. She thought of betrayal, of factions, of Elai off with Taem.
But outside the firelight he pulled her down with him, this best of Elai's riders, this Dain Flanahan— "Why?" she asked late, "why me?"—preparing herself for wounds.
He laughed as if that question surprised him, and they stayed that way till dawn, wrapped up in each other, the way she had had the Weird in the dark, in the depths, the same terms.
For friendship, then; she reckoned how she had been by the fire night after night; and no one had asked, and finally Dain took it on himself. He was kind, this young man. She had always known that.
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li
205 CR, day 113
Cloud River
There was no coherency about it; the Cloudside patterns were confused—sudden advance and then this dawdling along the banks— "They're crazy,"
Blue said, with shaking of his head. "They're farmers," said Parm.
"Cloudsiders," Jin muttered, still anxious, scowling, be cause he saw his men making light of it, because he saw his own camp less ordered than he liked. His men grew quiet, reading his mood. They were wise, the men nearest him, at least to duck their heads. But he suspected— in the least, niggling way suspected, that he was too cautious in their eyes, that there would be whispers if they dared. "This Elai," he said, not for the first time,
"this Elai's nothing. But this isn't one tower. There's numbers. You keep thinking on that. Hear? "
They faced him across the fire, men he had won, tower by tower, themselves. He had his starman by him. Genley. Genley sat at his left hand, to do what he wanted, to tell him what he asked. The Cloud Towers… that had waited settling too long; there was MaGee; and that woman; and women worth the having; workers for the fields; these caliban-riders to deal with at his leisure, to teach the others what defying him was worth, any of them they got alive… far from the sight of the Wire. These women that played at war. There would be scores settled.
Indeed, scores settled.
"Tomorrow," he said, having thought it out, "we go by them."
"Past?" echoed Blue.
"We go out from the shore." He signed it as he spoke, frowning to himself, to no one in particular, satisfied, well-satisfied now he had mapped it out.
"We come at them from the south. Let these Cloudsiders have the water at their backs. We drive them off the shore. Caliban matter then. All caliban."
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There were grins, figuring how it would be, darts for what riders remained astride, calibans coming up from below, seizing legs, embattled calibans lashing the water to froth— it was not a way to get caught, in that kind of action. This woman, gullible, continued on the shore, going where calibans wanted to go— of course wanted to go, where the ground was soft, where they could throw up mounds to ring their camps, where there was fish abundant to satisfy caliban appetites.
Fish. On so small a thing, to lose a war.
There were voices, too loud, at the edge of the camp.
"What's that?" he asked, vexed. He stood up. Genley started off from him.
"What is that?"
"I'll see," Genley said.
Mannin. The starmen were in that direction; another matter with the starmen. Genley was running, crossing the ground. He went more slowly, overtook Genley where Genley came up against Vil and his lot: it was the starmen. Voices were raised. Genley shoved; Vil shoved back, and Vil's band had weapons.
"Where?" Jin asked directly, thrusting an arm between Vil and Genley, levering them apart. Blue moved in, got Vil's attention with a spearshaft.
" Where? "
"Don't know where," someone said.
Genley ran, riverward. The spear was quick, coming from the side.
Jin stood there a moment, seeing this, seeing Genley down, writhing on the spear. The hunter pulled it out. Jin drew a breath, just held out his hand.
Blue gave him what he asked for. The smooth wood filled his hand. He walked forward and swung the spear up; the hunter blocked it, instinct, but this was a dead man. He whirled the spear and thrust it up, under the jaw, 369
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whipped round with it ready for Vil, for the rest of them. One looked apt to try, but did nothing.
"Gen-ley," he said, not looking at him, watching kinsmen's eyes. There was no answer. He had expected none, not the way that spear had hit. He stood there the space of several breaths. "I want Mannin," he said very quietly, "I want Kim— Blue," he said, "where's Parm?" They were Parm's men, these.
Parm came. Stood quietly. Jin saw him unfocussed, to the side; his eyes were all for Vil, who had not yet said a word. All about the camp, everywhere, men were on their feet, weapons ready. He found himself shaking, voiceless in the vastness of his suspicions: Parm Tower, Parm, which had harbored a grudge of which the starmen were the center. Parm, defying him.
Parm, who was allied with Green Tower, had a Green Tower woman; Green had Parm's.
The silence went on. It was Vil's to speak. Or Parm's himself. The calibans were off at hunt. From the river came splashes, grunts. There would be one already to deal with, its rider dead, when it discovered it.
"I'll settle it," Parm said.
It would not be safe. There would be Parm to watch. Parm knew that.
They all did. But the structure was too fragile.
&n
bsp; "Want those starmen back," Jin said quietly. "Want this settled with Vil."
"He'll get them."
"You be careful," Jin said. He spared a slight shift of his eye to Parm.
"You get this man out of my way. Hear?"
There was a slow sorting-out, slow movements everywhere. Already an ariel had come to investigate the bodies. It tugged at one of Genley's fingers.
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Jin drove his spear through it, pinned it wriggling to the ground. Genley's face still had its look of shock. "River," Jin said. Burying was too much work. There was a war to fight. He flung the spear down uncleaned, walked away to the fire, took up the skin of drink and had enough to settle his belly. He took a bit more. Tears welled up in his eyes, dammed up there, unsheddable.
Men came and went around him, moving softfooted. He sat there still, with his mind busy, ignoring the rage that had him near to trembling.
There was Parm to reckon round now. This man would have to be killed.
There were the calibans. When the dead man's came in, that was to settle; kill the beast, before it spread. Let Vil make amends if he would; kill this man too, like killing infection, before it spread.
A tower had to fall over this. No, there was no stopping it. Unless Parm could die in battle. He considered this, more and more thinking of it.
"This Parm," he said to Blue, who sat close by him. "Tomorrow." He made a tiny sign.
Blue's eyes lighted with satisfaction. He closed his fingers in a circle: band.
Jin met Blue's gaze and smiled with the eyes only. Yes. Decimate the band. Blue would find a way, tomorrow, in battle: put Parm and his lads—
Vil too— where they could die.
It would save a tower. Save the unity of the towers.
Thorn came in. So other calibans came, to the scent of blood, to the rumor of ariels. Thorn swung his head, swept the ground with his tail. "Hsss," Jin said, leaning back when that great head thrust itself into his way. He grasped the soft wattle skin and pulled, distracting the caliban, but it wandered off, to walk stifflegged about the camp, just in case.
So he was whole again. Blue's came. The pattern took shape again, men shifting to his side, gathering all about his fire and not to Parm's, not joining the search that Parm and his men made.
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And when Parm brought the starmen back, he was obliged to cross the camp with his prisoners, to bring them to him, like an offering… offering it was. A placation. The starmen— muddy, wet, bedraggled— "Genley,"
Mannin kept asking, looking about. "Genley?"— with fear in his voice.
This was a nuisance, this man. To all of them. A small voice, while Parm looked at him and reckoned his chances, how much time this bought.
"Vil will pay for his mistake," Parm said, having added up, it seemed, this silence in the camp.
Jin looked elsewhere, not willing to be appeased. The bands had made their judgment, silently, ranged themselves with him. The calibans were at hand, quiet on the fringes of the light.
"I will see to it," Parm persisted, further abasement.
"Do that." Jin looked at him. There was no reprieve. The man had lost his usefulness; now he lost his threat as well. Jin breathed easier still, assumed an easier expression; but Parm knew him. This was a frightened man. And would die before he recovered from it. Jin rose and dusted off his breeches, looked at the starmen.
Mannin snuffled. Kim stared, with dark, measuring eyes.
"These caused the trouble," Jin said, snapped his fingers and pointed at Kim, "Kill that one."
Kim started to his feet. A knife was in his back before he made it. He tumbled backward, and hit the ground the while Mannin simply stared, on his knees, stared and hugged himself and trembled.
"Now you see how it is," Jin said, squatting down, face to face with Mannin. "Genley's dead. Now you're what I have." He stood up again, looked round him at the hunters. "This man's sick. Don't you see? Keep him warm, put him near the fire. He'll want something to eat. He'll know not to run again. And you'll know how to treat what's mine."
Faces met his, settled faces, things secure again, men certain they had taken the stronger side. He walked away to the other fire, to let Blue deal with smaller things, like being rid of Kim.
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A waste, that. And not a waste. They did not mistake him now. Perhaps the killing of Genley was no accident. Perhaps Parm misjudged, how important starmen were to him, or where in matters they fitted.
There was respect around him. He was sure of it again.
"In the morning," he muttered, for those who stood by to hear. " In the morning," others echoed, and it went through the camp— enough delay, enough of waiting on Elai's coyness.
In the morning, revenge, blood, promises kept: no real opposition. He would not sleep this night; he wanted to see this thing done at last. Cloud put under his feet, Parm most deftly scotched.
Genley my father.
He mourned. His mourning confounded itself with his rage. He clenched his hands and thought on killing, on killing so thorough none of Cloudside would survive. They would tell tales of him, the things that he had done.
"Jin," a man said, bringing him a thing, a sodden mass of pages. Genley's.
He had seen it often. He looked at it, the crawling marks that made no sense to him, dim in firelight and in the fading. His history.
"Give this to Mannin," he said. "Tell him it's his."
lii
205 CR, day 114
Cloudside
Calibans moved, running through the camp in the dark before the dawn, a sound of heavy tread, of whispering of scales through brush. "Hai, hey," a voice yelled.
Riders scrambled for weapons. McGee collected her spear, her kit.
"Up!" Elai was calling to them; "up!"
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They ran, confused in the dark; calibans nosed past riders. Dain doused the embers of the nightfire: the tumult ran down the shore, a murmur of voices in the night, the hisses of calibans as if some strange sea were breaking at their backs. "Hup, hai!" someone cried, near at hand, a man's voice. "Up, up, up!" There were splashes from the river— not attack: McGee had gained a sense of this— it was another sudden move. But something was close. She clutched at her clothes, hurried for the shore in the dark, skipped as ariels flowed like water about her feet, avoided stepping on one somehow.
"Brown," she called; it was all the name it had. Brown, don't leave me here! She whistled as best she could in panic. Riders were moving out, in the dark, no sense or order in it. "Hey!"
A shape came toward her, a tongue quested, found her. A head-butt followed, and that was Brown, all slick with water— had to be Brown.
McGee clambered doggedly up with a ruthless spring onto Brown's foreleg the way the riders did it, her spear in her hand and her bag of belongings slung about her with her precious notes. Brown started to move along with the others, confused as the others, shouldering others in haste—
Going where? McGee wondered, clinging in the dark, clinging to the spear, the casual way the riders carried it: she had learned to ride with it, balanced herself with it when Brown was in a hurry, with that sinuous rocking fore and back, side to side in a rhythm that had its highs and lows, its pitches into which the riders settled as if they were born to it.
But this was real. This was the last move, the last plunge into dark and war and no one was ordering this thing, except that Elai was up ahead with Taem, with Paeia by her side, no less her enemies in potential…. Dain would go to Elai's side: Dain's caliban went where Dain told it, and he would get himself to the fore, while Brown—
I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared, she told herself to the rhythm of their moving. This is no way to fight a war. There ought to be lines, generals, orders; someone ought to set this thing up. We'll all be killed.
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They climbed through brush, making noise, breaking branches, caring nothing that they were heard. Treelimbs raked her: she fended with a leathered arm, kept the spear along Brown's side.
I'm going to use this thing. She flexed her fingers on it, the smooth wood: the head was venomed; an ugly thing, to counter other weapons bound to come her way. Panic gave way to certainty, like some long, long dive which had its own logic, its own morality. Life seemed precious and trifling at once. Dain. Elai sent him. Her messenger, after all. She laid her heels to Brown, clutching the spear the tighter, half crazed, drawing great breaths and anxious only to get on with it.
Life, she kept thinking, like a talisman, to keep herself alive.
Dain— Hardly started in his life. The rest of us— all caliban-bait. The thought enraged her, and the spear was like her arm, an extension of herself. The sky was going lighter, the shapes of calibans more definite, the rhythm of Brown's strides more certain.
Kill them, kill them, kill them. That's what's left to do.
liii
Message Alliance HQ to Gehenna Station
Couriered by AS Phoenix
…inform you that pursuant to the agreement worked out in the commercial exchange treaty a limited access will be extended Union observers for several worlds of the Gehenna Reach, specifically to the reserve on Gehenna and the study program there. Gehenna is required and requested to provide such documented personnel access to quarantined areas, specific operations to be approved by the Base Director. Union observers will at all times be accompanied by Bureau personnel.
In the spirit of detente and in pursuit of mutual interests, a reciprocity has been arranged in the opening of Union records….
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liv
205 CR, day 114