Fire Dancer Page 9

  Behind Kirtn, coming closer, the shrill anger of Gellean children drowned whatever sounds anyone else might have made, frustrating Fssa’s attempts to scan the two groups. Kirtn made an impatient noise. He felt Rheba’s hand on his arm, lightly restraining.

  “Some cultures are violently insulted by interference, even when it’s well meant,” she said, watching the new slaves slowly approach. “And they’re not badly overmatched.”

  “And there aren’t any children at stake?” asked Kirtn, his voice lighter than the expression on his face. He understood the implication beneath her words, but he did not like to preserve his safety at the expense of others. Tension narrowed his eyes until they were almost invisible in his gold Bre’n mask.

  “I don’t like it any better than you do . . . but, yes, there aren’t any children in danger.”

  Yet even as she spoke, her hair began to whisper with gathering energy. Tiny sparks leaped where her hand rested on Kirtn’s arm, but she did not notice. He did, and was frightened that she did not.

  “No!” he whistled sharply. “You’re not recovered from yesterday. Your control is gone.”

  She withdrew her hand and said nothing. Her hair moved disturbingly. She lost almost as much energy as she gathered. 5he could accomplish nothing at this distance. If she crossed the lines she would be doing well to defend herself, much less others.

  Seven people limped closer, as though drawn by the shrill cries of Gellean children. The nine slaves who had slunk out of the bushes shifted restlessly, but waited for the new slaves to come to them.

  “The clearing,” said Kirtn angrily. “They’re waiting in the clearing so that none of the new slaves will be able to run away and hide.”

  Fssa writhed. Quills were replaced by a light-shot, steel-colored dish that was trained on the approaching slaves. He made a whistle of frustration when one of the ambushers moved, unknowingly coming between him and his targets. Kirtn snatched the snake off its knee-high boulder and held him high. Instantly the dish shifted its angle downward.

  Adult Gellean voices joined the angry children’s shrieks. The fighting children simply screamed louder. Obviously the fight was getting out of hand. Children snatched at the coveted rock, but no one child managed to hang on to it for more than a few seconds. The screams subsided as children saved their breath for chasing whoever managed to grab the colorful trophy.

  Into the relative silence came the rough voice of one of the men who was waiting. It took a moment for Rheba to realize that it was Fssa’s translation, rather than the man himself, that she was hearing.

  “—told you they were J/taals,” he said in Universal. “The men are smoothies and the women are furries. Wonder if they’re furry on the inside, too.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” said a short man. Then, nervously. “But if they’re J/taals, where are their damn clepts?”

  “What?”

  “Their war dogs.”

  “Oh. Dead, I guess.” Dryly. “This planet is hard on the new ones.”

  “Nothing’s that hard. Clepts are mean.”

  The tall man turned to the short one. “Do you see any clepts?”

  “No.”

  “Then there aren’t any.”

  “You sure the J/taals aren’t employed?” asked the short man.

  “If they were employed, they sure as sunrise wouldn’t be in the Fold, stupid. Nobody takes them alive if they’re employed. But if they aren’t,” he laughed, “they can’t fight at all.”

  The seven J/taals kept on walking toward the promised sanctuary beyond the blue lines as though no one stood between them and their goal. If they understood Universal, they gave no sign of it.

  “What do they mean about not fighting?” whispered Rheba.

  “I don’t know,” said Kirtn softly. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  They watched the J/taals reform into a wedge-shaped group with the injured woman in the center. After a moment, they began a ragged run toward the blue lines of sanctuary.

  “Watch it!” yelled the tall man. “They’re trying to run through. Grab them! Once you lay a hand on them, they can’t—”

  Enraged shrieks from Gellean children overrode Fssa’s translation.

  The J/taals rushed their ambushers, only to be peeled away from the protective wedge formation one by one. Once caught, they did not fight, no matter what their captors did to them. Ambushers who had been bruised in the first rush began methodically beating captives into unconsciousness. No J/taal retaliated. When two men dragged a furry shape down to the ground and began mauling her, hoarse sounds from her friends were the only response.

  Kirtn and Rheba watched in stunned disbelief. The J/taals were tired, injured, yet obviously strong. Why didn’t they fight?

  Another J/taal woman was tripped and dragged to the ground. The few J/taals still conscious screamed in frustration and anguish at what was happening to their women . . . and did nothing.

  A Gellean child streaked past Kirtn, holding a bright rock in her arms. She turned and called insults over her shoulder, goading her slower siblings. They howled after her in a ragged pack. The adults cuffed their way through the children, yelling at the fleet girl. She looked back over her shoulder again—and ran right over the blue lines of sanctuary. Within seconds, she was grabbed by a scavenger slave.

  Tenuous lightning flared from Rheba’s hands, but the distance was too great for a tired fire dancer. “The child!” she screamed. “Save the child!”

  IX

  Reflexively, Fssa translated Rheba’s cry into a form the J/taals could respond to. The result was incredible. Only one J/taal was still conscious, but it was enough. She killed her rapists with two blows, then leaped to her feet, moving so quickly among the scavenger slaves that she was more blur than fixed reality.

  Within moments the nine attackers were dead. The Gellean child, frightened by the J/taal’s ferocity, dropped the multicolored stone and fled back across the lines to the sanctuary of the well. The J/taal woman watched until the child reached its own kind, then she turned to face Rheba. As the J/taal spoke, Fssa translated.

  “She asks if you believe the child to be safe now.”

  “Tell her yes.”

  The woman spoke again. Again, the snake translated so quickly that his voice came to Rheba like a split-instant echo overlaying the J/taal’s hoarse voice. Very quickly, Rheba forgot that her words were being translated, as were the J/taal’s words. Fssa was like having one of the fabled Zaarain translators implanted in her skull.

  “May I have your permission to check on the other J/taal units and call in the clepts?” asked the woman.

  “My permission—” Rheba turned toward Fssa. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  “They are J/taals. Mercenaries. You hired them.”

  “I—what?” Then, before Fssa could whistle a note, she turned back to the J/taal. “Do what you can for your friends. If they need more than food, water and warmth, I’m afraid we can’t help you.” She returned her attention to Fssa. “All right, snake. Explain.”

  Fssa smoothed out his body until he shimmered metallic gold and white. Among Fssireeme, it was considered a shape of great beauty. Rheba waited, sensing that the snake was uncomfortable with something he had done.

  “When you called out for someone to help the child,” Fssa whistled in seductive Bre’n, “I . . . ah . . . phrased your request in such a way as to hire the J/taals. They can’t fight unless they’re employed, and they were the only ones close enough to save the child. Do you understand? The J/taals live to be employed, even to defend themselves. It’s built into their genes the way translation is built into mine.”

  “And the need to have and protect children is built into mine,” sighed Rheba. “Yes, snake, I understand.” She closed her eyes and saw again the lethal efficiency of the J/taal woman. “Mercenaries. But I can’t pay them. I’m a slave.”

  Fssa rippled in the Fssireeme equivalent of a blush. “Well, yes. Of course. Mo
ney isn’t any good to slaves anyway.”

  She began to understand. “Snake, what did you promise the J/taals?”

  “Freedom. A ride home.”

  Rheba said several things that Fssa would have blushed black to translate. He began to shrink in upon himself until he was as small as he had been when she plucked him out of hiding in the thicket. There was silence. Then she spoke again in a voice that trembled with the strain of being reasonable. “I can’t give them freedom.”

  The snake’s whistle was soft and very sweet, begging understanding and patience. “The J/taal woman knows that. I merely told her that if we and they survived the Fold, and found a way to be free, you would take them home if we could steal back your ship.”

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Well, of course. Ask if she needs help with her friends.” Fssa whipped into a shape that allowed him to speak J/taal. The woman looked up. She bowed her head toward Rheba and spoke in a low voice. “I thank the First and Last God for your kindness. My units would have been honored to die at your hands. Few J/taaleri—employers—are so kind. But it won’t be necessary for you to bruise your hands on J/taal flesh. I’ve freed those who could not heal or kill themselves.”

  “You’ve killed—by the Inmost Fire—snake, stop translating my words!”

  Fssa fell silent. Rheba watched as the woman caressed the face of a fallen male, stroked the dark fur of an unmoving female, and knelt by another male. Her hands moved slowly, touching his face as though to memorize it with her fingertips. With an obvious effort, she looked away from the dead man and forced herself to her feet. Her black fur was dull with blood and dirt. She swayed, then caught herself.

  “With your permission, J/taaleri, I’ll guard the living units until they can guard themselves again.”

  Rheba looked toward Fssa. The snake’s bright sensors watched her. “I don’t want to say anything that will harm the living J/taals,” she said. “Would it be all right to offer to move the wounded inside the sanctuary?”

  “Yes! Scavengers are gathering, both human and animal. Tell her to call in her clepts. Now that she’s employed, she can use the war dogs. And tell her to hurry!”

  “You tell her. You’re the Fssireeme.”

  Fssa relayed a babble of hoarse sound. Immediately the woman sent out a ululation so high it made Rheba’s head ache. The sound pulsed and swooped, then soared to an imperative that could shatter steel. Suddenly, Fssa began undergoing an astonishing metamorphosis. When he was finished, a number of bizarre listening devices were centered on the ground between himself and the J/taals. She stared, but saw nothing except the sparkling rock that had nearly cost a child’s life.

  Uneasily, Kirtn watched the bushes and trees surrounding the clearing where scavenger slaves had faced J/taals. Although he lacked the snake’s ultrasensitive hearing, the Bre’n sensed that there were unseen people in the brush, as well as animals gathering courage, waiting for an unguarded moment.

  “I’m going to help her bring them in,” he said suddenly. “She may be death on two feet, but she’s nearly dead herself right now. She can’t hold off another attack.”

  As he crossed the sanctuary lines, the agonizing clept call stopped, much to Rheba’s relief. She rubbed her aching head and started after Kirtn.

  “Woman,” said a voice suddenly. “You’ve helped us. How may we help you?” The speaker’s Universal was harsh, but understandable.

  Rheba turned and saw one of the Gellean men standing at a polite—safe—distance. “It was a small thing,” she said quickly, wanting to go with Kirtn. “I don’t need repayment.”

  “Wait!” The man’s face changed in obvious distress. He seemed to be struggling with words he could not speak. Fssa began whistling urgently in Bre’n.

  “Unless you want a Gellean child, you’d better let him repay you.”

  “What?”

  “It’s the Gellean way. You saved the child. If they can’t help you, they forfeit the child.”

  “Ice and ashes!” swore Rheba, turning to look at Kirtn, farther away now, halfway to the fallen J/taals. “Tell him to help Kirtn bring in the wounded J/taals. And make sure the J/taal woman knows they’re trying to help!”

  Fssa spoke quickly to the man in his own language. He bowed deeply and smiled. Another adult Gellean joined him, moving with a speed that would have impressed Rheba if she had not seen a J/taal woman in action. Very quickly, the four unconscious J/taals were transferred to the sanctuary. Rheba turned to thank the Gelleans, then thought better of it. “Fssa,” she said in Senyas, the language of precision. “Tell the Gelleans whatever is polite, but don’t make or break any bargains. Can you manage that?”

  The snake hissed to himself for a moment, confused. “Is there anything wrong with a simple thank you?”

  “How would I know? You’re the Gellean expert.”

  “I only know what everyone knows about Gelleans,” whistled Fssa with overtones of exasperation.

  “Snake—just don’t make any bargains that you, personally, can’t keep!”

  Whatever Fssa said seemed to satisfy both Gelleans. They bowed again and returned quickly to their grove.

  “In the future,” she said to Fssa, “when you interpret for me, don’t say anything I didn’t say first, and don’t let me say anything that will get us in trouble. Understand?”

  Fssa’s hide darkened until it was almost black. “Yes.”

  “How are they?” asked Rheba as Kirtn walked up to her.

  “Bruised. Broken bones. Knife and energy-gun wounds partly healed. They’re tough people. Their flesh is as dense as Fssa’s. One of the men is conscious. She’s working on him now.” He turned and watched the J/taal admiringly. “If they hadn’t been badly wounded to start with, those scavengers would have had to work all day to beat them to death.”

  Rheba watched the black-furred J/taal as she checked on her companions. She raced with vision-blurring speed to the white fountain, drank, then raced back. She bent over one of the men and began patiently dripping water from her mouth into his.

  “Can we help her?” asked Rheba.

  “She was uneasy when I touched them,” answered Kirtn.

  She watched for a moment longer. “The bodies,” she said to Fssa. “Should we just leave them there?”

  “J/taals always leave the dead where they fall. They burn their dead when they can.” The snake rippled with metallic colors. “They can’t, here. They won the battle, but there’s no fire.”

  She looked at the woman tending her comrades, then back at the bodies. “Do they put much value on the burning?”

  “Yes. If J/taals aren’t moved after death and if their bodies are burned, they’ll be reborn. Otherwise, they’re lost in eternity.”

  Whether or not the J/taals' beliefs were accurate, they determined how the survivors felt about their dead and about themselves. Kirtn glanced at Rheba. She tipped her head in agreement. He began gathering fragments of wood and dried leaves. When he started across the lines toward the bodies, Fssa shrilled suddenly.

  “Scavengers! It’s not safe! Once you’re beyond the lines the Fold won’t protect you!” When Kirtn ignored him, the snake turned to Rheba. “Stop him! It’s insane!”

  “The J/taal woman saved a child. That was more than we could do on Deva . . . or Loo. We’re akhenet, snake. Children are our Inmost Fire.”

  Fssa hissed in confusion, then turned toward the J/taal. Hoarse words poured out of him. Instantly the woman abandoned her comrades and went beyond the lines to protect Kirtn while he scrounged for inflammable debris. Rheba stayed within the lines, gathering strength until the last moment. Her hair whipped and sparked erratically. Slowly, she brought herself under control. By the time the bodies had symbolic pyres built on them, she was ready.

  She walked over the lines, seeing nothing but the pyres. They were barely adequate for her purpose, but it would be easier to begin with them than with flesh. Once started, the flames could be guided within the bodies until they wer
e no more than ashes lifting in the Fold’s fitful wind.

  When the air around her began to shimmer, Kirtn stepped into position behind her. His hands went to her shoulders, long fingers spread to touch points of greatest energy flow. Beneath the level of her consciousness, Bre’n savagery flowed, coiling around fire dancer’s desire.

  The pyres exploded into white flame. Rheba did not see it. She sensed only the incandescent wine of energy flowing molten in her mind, becoming lightning in her veins. She felt the eager flammability of wood, the tiny bright flashes of fur evaporating into fire, the slow deep surge of heat as the bodies sought to become ash.

  She guided the forces, holding them beneath the threshold of fire until bone and sinew alike were ready to ignite. It was a complex shaping of energies, but all fire dancers learned it. It was their duty to see that the dead envelope of human flesh received a fitting transformation. Few fire dancers enjoyed performing the ritual; but all learned how in their fifteenth year.

  She let the fire go.

  The bodies vaporized in a white flash that left no odor and very few ashes. The J/taal fell to her knees, her hands over her blinded eyes. She made small sounds Fssa translated as joy.

  “Tell her,” Rheba said in a ragged voice, “tell her I’m sorry I had to use the pyres as a crutch. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to burn my own dead.” In that, at least, Deva’s sun had not failed its children. It was small comfort but she dung to it all the more for its scarcity.

  As Kirtn guided Rheba and the J/taal back inside the lines, eerie, harmonic howls issued out of the bushes. Waist-high, muscular, lean, three clepts converged on the scorched ground where their masters had died. The J/taal ululated briefly. The silver-eyed, tiger-striped reptiloids loped over the sanctuary lines to the woman’s side. She gestured blindly toward Rheba.

  “Hold still,” said Fssa urgently. “It’s all right, but don’t move.”

  The clepts licked, sniffed and very gently tasted their way across Rheba’s and Kirtn’s bodies. When the J/taal was satisfied that the new scents were indelibly imprinted on the clepts, she made a low sound. The animals fanned outward, ringing nearby in restless circles that had the J/taaleri as its center.