Part 20 (1/2)

The Derlethans would not permit him to send aircraft low over the ice-fields, as he otherwise would have done to keep track of the young woman's progress. Since Derleth was to be absorbed and not conquered, the natives' will was law; ver Ishte couldn't take life-readings through the paniculate cloud-cover and therefore had no access to reliable information. ”She would be this far” a Derlethan would say, indicating a point on the ice-map, ”if she is still alive.”

The unpleasant thing was, he had a feeling the Director of StarControl would kill him if he were responsible for her young protegee's disappearance.

Periodically, meandering packs of local life wandered close to the western mountains. An alarm would ring inside ver Ishte's ear-clasp and he would hurry to the point of possible contact; then the local life would pa.s.s on its way south, or continue north, or turn back to the east, and ver Ishte would be left waiting. So on this night.

The alarm rang shrilly, awakening him from a restless sleep. ”All right!” he muttered, ”what is it?”

A voice came through the receiver. ”Section five, Amba.s.sador. Looks like a pack of kisunu. Major predators.”

”And our agent would be among them?”

He could almost hear the other shrug. ”You said to let you know any time a lifeform approached the mountains.”

”Yes, I know.” Already he was rising. ”I'm coming.”

Section five-halfway across the length of an unbelievably boring mountain range. When he had first come to the western mountains, he had thought them beautiful; pale white cliffs and ravines, matte here or glossy there as the snowfall dictated, but if you had seen one ice-mountain you had seen them all. And ver Ishte had been looking at them for nearly three years now.

He let the window of his transport fog over on the way to section five and didn't feel he was missing anything.

”Anything clearer?” he asked as he disembarked.

”Pack of kisunu, all right. Large ones-no young.” The agent for this section handed him a copy of the readout. ”And something that isn't a kisune.”

Ver Ishte looked up sharply at the man; it was a question.

”Could be, sir,” the other said softly. ”And it's coming right this way.”

Alive. If only she had made it across the ice-plain alive! Whatever damage had been done to her body, Azea could repair-whatever hurt her mind had suffered, psychic morale adjustment could handle. All she had to do was deliver herself to them. . . .

One of the Derlethan natives manning this post waved to him. ”Over here,” he called, in that monotonous collection of sounds that Derleth termed a language.

”One can see them.”

Ver Ishte climbed up to where the native stood, on the last high point before the flat plains began. Sure enough, something moved in the distance.

”If it's a pack of kisunu . . .” he began.

”They do not come into the mountains,” the native a.s.sured him. ”They remain on that which is flat.”

Ver Ishte took the news with a goodly proportion of skepticism. If three years on Derleth had taught him nothing else, it had given him an appreciation of how much his native guides really knew about these predators-and weren't telling.

They came swiftly, white upon white. Their approach was without shadow and from certain angles, when the light was right, they were invisible on the s.h.i.+ning plain.

”How many?” ver Ishte muttered.

”Thirty-six,” the local agent told him. And then, after double-checking: ”One of them's human.”

Praise Hasha! the Amba.s.sador thought fervently.

They were clearly visible now, and if he looked carefully ver Ishte could pick out individual animals. They were each as long as a man was tall, or more so, and carried a good deal of body weight on slender but well-muscled legs.

”Is this normal?” he asked in Derlethan. ”Some kind of escort-?”

The natives did not answer him. They had fallen to their knees.

He could pick her out now, a tiny figure staggering to match the kisune pace.

Her walk was uneven and spoke of pain-some injury, no doubt. His first instinct was to run forward to meet her. His second, that of self-preservation, kept him from doing so.

”Anzha lyu . . .” he whispered.

She had come to the foot of the first rise and laboriously began to climb. Now that he could see her face he discovered it was that of a stranger. Patches of dead white covered its surface, which had aged twenty years, it seemed, in three. Her eyes glowed with a cruel fervor which was at once more and less than human.

She felt her gaze upon him and raised her eyes to meet his. There was suffering evident in them such as he could only begin to guess at. Her cheeks were hollow with hunger and dark circles underscored her gaze; if he had imagined a manifestation of Death it could not have looked worse.

She seemed to struggle with her thoughts, as though fighting to recall the nature of human language. ”Feed them,” she whispered finally.

”Anzha lyu-”

”Feed them, d.a.m.n you!”

He waved hurredly to his own agents and they ran back to the shelter to get meat for the ice-killers.

”I ... promised them.” She seemed to be struggling for each word, as though it were an effort to think in human terms at all. She looked at the kneeling Derlethans. ”As well you should . . .”she whispered.

The men came back with meat and threw it to the kisunu. The starving animals waited until it had all been set before them and then, as was their wont, divided it into thirty-six portions. The last they left behind as they exited, each with his own rightfully earned share, seeking the silence of the ice-field and the privacy of the pack presence in which to share the joy of eating.

The young woman did not stir until they were gone. Nor did she wish to be approached. Only when the kisunu had pa.s.sed from sight did she take another step forward, weakly, as if she meant to join the human company but lacked the strength to make the climb. Ver Ishte went to her, half-running and half-sliding, and came to her as she fell.

As soon as he touched her he sensed what was so desperately wrong.

”By the Firstborn,” he murmured, and rather than lifting her as he had meant to do, he sat by her side and cradled her in his arms. She resisted, as a wild animal will do, but only for a moment. Then with a low cry she buried her face in the fur of his coat and clutched at him in terror, and in need.

He held her for some time like that, sensing that this was something she needed more than food and warmth if he was to bring her home again. And she held him tightly until she could pull herself no closer, desperately absorbing the essence of humanity from him through the closeness, fighting to reestablish her connection to their mutual species. Slowly, gradually, the frightened whine which issued from her throat became a human sobbing; tears, which the kisunu do not shed, began to squeeze frozen from her eyes.

And the world was gray once more.

Harkur: Never underestimate man's ingenuity in masterminding his own destruction.

Twelve.

To Kaim'era Lord Zatar, Zarvati, son of Vinir and K'siva From the Elders of the Holding The Elders respectfully remind you that it is required of each purebred Braxana male that he sire four registered purebred children during his lifetime.

While we recognize that you are still young in age, your involvement in the War forces us to consider the possibility that you may not enjoy the full life expectancy of the Braxana'. Therefore we urge you to deal with your reproductive responsibility as soon as possible. Attached you will find a list of purebred Braxana” women who have not yet borne their quota. We hope you will consider this request in light of your military interests and do your part in maintaining the number and thus the power of our Race.

The Braxana estate on Karviki sprawled across acres of lush territory, richly purple in the fading red sunlight. The main house was an odd mixture of traditional Braxana (or Neo-Barbaric, as some critics called it) and the local architectural styles.