Wizards’ Worlds (63 page)

“Maybe now you’ll tell me what in the hell’s happened?” Cliff exploded as he took
the blaster out of her hand.

“Gray,” she said dazedly, “it must have been gray—or I couldn’t have seen it like
that. I’m color-blind, you see. I can see only shades of gray—my whole world is gray.
Like Bat’s—his world is gray, too—all gray. But he’s been
compensated, for he can see above and below our range of color vibrations, and apparently
so can I!”

Her voice quavered, and she raised her chin with a new air Cliff had never seen before—a
sort of proud acceptance. She pushed back her wandering hair, but she made no move
to imprison it under the heavy net again.

“That is why I saw the thing when it crossed between us. Against your spaceall it
was another shade of gray—an outline. So I put out mine and waited for it to show
against that—it was our only chance, Cliff.

“It was curious at first, I think, and it knew we couldn’t see it—which is why it
waited to attack. But when Bat’s actions gave it away, it moved. So I waited to see
that flicker against the spaceall, and then I let him have it. It’s really very simple.
. . .”

Cliff laughed a bit shakily. “But what
was
this gray thing. I don’t get it.”

“I think it was what made the
Empress
a derelict. Something out of space, maybe, or from another world somewhere.” She
waved her hands. “It’s invisible because it’s a color beyond our range of sight. It
must have stayed in here all these years. And it kills—it must—when its curiosity
is satisfied.” Swiftly she described the scene, the scene in the cabin, and the strange
behavior of the gem pile which had betrayed the creature to her.

Cliff did not return his blaster to its holder. “Any more of them aboard, d’you think?”
He didn’t look pleased at the prospect.

Steena turned to Bat. He was paying particular attention to the space between two
front toes in the process of a complete bath. “I don’t think so. But Bat will tell
us if there are. He can see them clearly, I believe.”

But there weren’t any more and two weeks later, Cliff, Steena and Bat brought the
Empress
into the lunar quarantine station. And that is the end of Steena’s story because,
as we have been told, happy marriages need no chronicles. Steena had found someone
who knew of her gray world
and did not find it too hard to share with her—someone besides Bat. It turned out
to be a real love match.

The last time I saw her, she was wrapped in a flame-red cloak from the looms of Rigel
and wore a fortune in Jovan rubies blazing on her wrists. Cliff was flipping a three-figured
credit bill to a waiter. And Bat had a row of Vernal juice glasses set up before him.
Just a little family party out on the town.

Swamp Dweller

I
am Quintka blood, no matter my mother. Shame-shorn of skull, snow-pale of skin, her
body crisscrossed by lash scarring, her leg torn by hound’s teeth, lying in a ditch,
she bore me, to hide me in leaves before death came. The Calling was mine from the
first breath I drew, as it is with all the Kin, and Lari, free ranging that day, heard,
pawing me free, giving me the breast with her own current nurseling, before loping
back to Garner himself to show her new cubling.

Quintka I plainly was by my wide yellow eyes and silver hair. Though my mother was
of no race known to Garner, and he was a far-traveled man.

The Kin paid her full death honors, for it was plain she had fought for my life. Children
are esteemed among the Kin, who breed thinly, for all our toughness of body and quickness
of mind, gifts from Anthea, All Mother.

Thus did I foster with Kin and Second-Kin, close to Ort, Lari’s cubling, though he
was quicker to find his feet and forge for himself. However, I mind-spoke all the
beast ones, and tongue-spoke the Kin; thus all accepted me fully.

Before I passed my sixth winter I had my own team of trained ones, Ort as my seconding.
I was able to meet the
high demands of Garner, for he accepted only the best performers.

Because I was able so young, the clan prospered. Those not of the blood seemed bemused
that beasts such as orzens and fal, and quare, clever after their own fashion, head-topping
me by bulk of bodies, would obey me. Many a lord paid good silver to have us entertain.

Nor had we any fears while traveling, such as troubled merchant caravans that must
hire bravos to their protection. For all men knew that the beasts who shared our covered
wagons, or tramped the roads beside us were, in themselves, more formidable weapons
than any men could hope to forge.

Once a year we came to Ithkar Fair—knowing that we would leave with well-filled pouches.
For Garner’s shows were in high demand. Lords, even the high ones of the temple, competed
in hiring us.

However, it was not alone for that profit we came. There were dealers who brought
rare and sometimes unknown beasts—strange and fearsome, or beautiful and appealing—from
the steppes of the far north or by ships plying strange seas. These we sought, adding
to our clan so.

Some we could not touch with the Calling, for they had been so mishandled in their
capture or transport as to retreat far behind fear and hate, where the silent speech
could not reach. Those were a sorrow and despair to us all. Though we ofttimes bought
them out of pity, we could not make them friends and comrades. Rather did we carry
them away from all that meant hurt and horror and sung them into peace and rest forever.
This also being one of the duties Anthea, All Mother, required of us.

I was in my seventeenth year, perhaps too young and too aware of my own powers, when
we came that memorable time to Ithkar. There was no mandate laid upon me to mate—even
though the Kin was needful of new blood—but there were two who watched me.

Feeta’s son by Garner—Wowern. Also there was Sim,
who could bend any horse to his will, and whose riding was a marvel, as if youth and
mount were of one flesh. Only to me my team was still the closer bond, and I felt
no need to have it otherwise.

The fair-wards at the entrance hailed us as they might some lord, though we scattered
no gold. From his high seat the wizard-of-the-gate, ready to make certain no dark
magic entered, broke his grave mask with a smile, waved to Feeta, who also makes magic,
but of a healing kind. Our weapons were few and Garner had them already sheathed and
bundled, as well as the purse for our fee ready, so there was no waiting at the barrier.

We would pay a courtesy visit to the temple later, but, since we were not merchants
dealing in goods, we made only a silver offering. Now we pushed on into that section
where there were beasts and hides, and all that had to do with living things. Our
yearly place was ready for us—a fair-ward waiting, having kept that free for our coming.
Him we knew, too, being Edgar, a man devoted to Feeta, who had cured his hound two
seasons back. He tossed his staff in the air to pay us homage and called eager questions.

We all had our assigned tasks, so we moved with the speed of long practice, setting
up the large tent for the showing, settling in our Second-Kin. They accepted that
here they must keep to cages and picket lines, even though this was, in a manner,
an insult to them. But they understood that outside the Kin they were not as clan
brothers and sisters, but sometimes feared. I know that some, such as Ily, the mountain
cat, and Somsa, the horned small dragon, were amused to play dangerous—giving shudders
to those who came to view them.

I had finished my part of the communal tasks when Ort padded to me, squatting back
on his powerful hindquarters, his taloned forepaws lightly clasped across his lighter
belly fur. His domed head, with its upstanding crest of stiff, dark blue fur, was
higher than mine when he reared thus.

“Sister-Kin . . .”—the thoughts of beasts do not form words, but in the mind one easily
translates—"there is wrong here. . . .”

I looked up quickly. His broad nostrils expanded, as if drawing in a scent that irked
him. Our senses are less in many ways than those of the Second-Kin, and we learn early
to depend upon what they can read by nose, eye, or ear.

“What wrong, Brother-Kin?”

Ort could not shrug as might one of my own species, but the impression of such a gesture
reached me. There was as yet only simple uneasiness in his mind; he could not pin
it to any source. Still I was alerted, knowing that if Ort had made such a judgment,
others would also be searching. Their reports would come to those among the Kin with
whom they felt the deepest bond.

The Calling we did not use except among ourselves and the Second-Kin—and that I dared
not attempt now. But as I dressed for fairing, I tried to open myself to any fleeting
impression. A vigorous combing fluffed out hair usually banded down, and I placed
on midforehead the blue gem I had bought at this same fair last year, which adhered
to one’s flesh, giving forth a subtle perfume.

Ort still companied me. Mai, Erlia, and Nadi, the other girls, were in and out of
our side tent. But there was no light chatter among us. The tree cat, that rode as
often as was possible on Nadi’s shoulder, switched its ringed tail back and forth,
a sure sign of uneasiness, and Mai looked abstracted, as if she were listening to
something afar. She was like Sim with horses, though also she had two Fos deer from
the mountain valleys in her team.

It was Erlia who turned from the mirror to face the rest of us squarely.

“There is . . .” She hesitated for a moment with her head suddenly to one side, almost
as if she had been hailed. Still facing so, she added, “There is darkness here—something
new.”

“A distress Calling?” suggested Mai, her face shadowed by concern. She faced that
portion of the fairgrounds where dealers in beasts had their stands and where we had
found those in pain and terror before. Erlia shook her head.

“No Calling—this rather would hide itself—” She brushed her hand across her face as
if pushing aside an unseen curtain that she might sense the better.

She was right. Now it reached me. There are evil odors to sicken one, and evil thoughts
like dirty fingers to claw into the mind. This was neither, yet it
was
there, a whiff of filth, an insidious threat—something I had never met before. Nor
had these, my kinswomen, for they all faced outward with a look of questing.

We pushed into the open, uneasy, needing some council from any who might know more.
Ort snarled. The red glare of awakening anger came into his large-pupiled eyes, while
the tree cat gave a yowl and flattened its ears.

Wowern, his trail clothing also changed, stood there, his hand resting on the head
of his favorite companion, the vasa hound that he had bought at this same fair last
year—then a slavering, fighting-mad thing who had needed long and patient handling
to become as it now was. That, too, was head up, sniffing, as Wowern frowned, his
hand seeking the short knife that was all fair custom allowed him as a weapon. As
we joined him he glanced around.

“There is danger.” The vasa lifted lip in such a snarl as I had not seen since Wowern
had won its trust at long last.

“Where and what?” I asked. For I could not center fully on that tinge of evil. Sorcery?
But such was forbidden, and there was every guard against it. Not only was there a
witch or wizard by every gate to test against the import of such, but those priests
who patrolled with the fair-wards of frequent intervals had their own ways of sniffing
out dire trouble.

Wowern shook his head. “Only . . . it is here.” He made answer, then added sharply,
“Let us keep together.
The Second-Kin"—once more his hand caressed the hound’s head—"must remain here. Garner
has already ordered it so, for Feeta urges caution. We may go to the dealers, but
take all heed in our going.”

I was not so pleased. All of us usually spread out and explored the fair on our own.
Within the breast pocket of my overtunic I had my purse, and I had thoughts on what
I wanted to see. Though first, of course, we would visit the dealers in beasts.

Heeding orders, we moved off as a group, Sim joining us. Nadi set the tree cat in
its own cage, and Ort returned reluctantly to the tents. I felt the growth of uneasiness
in him, his rising protest that I go without him.

There were other beast shows along the lane where our own camp had been set up. One
was manned by the people from the steppes who specialize in the training of their
small horses. Then there was a show of bright-winged birds, taught to sing in harmony,
and at the far end, the place of Trasfor’s clan—no bloodkin to us, yet of our own
race. There we were hailed by one hurrying into our path.

Color glowed on Erlia’s cheeks when he held out hands in a kinsman’s welcome.

“Thasus!” she gave him greeting. I believed that this was something she wished and
was sure would happen. By the light in his golden eyes, she was right.

“All is well?” He broke the gaze between the two of them, speaking to all of us as
if we had parted only yesterday. “The All Mother has spread her cloak above you?”