He’d been forgetting too much, too often, these past years.
Nevertheless, she didn’t have to take such offense, did she? He’d backed off, apologized, hadn’t he?
He and Dzesi needed her goodwill. What did she want for restoring it?
Maybe she’d be in a forgiving mood. Maybe she wouldn’t. If not, what could he say to soothe her?
While he brooded, he rose, cleansed, and dressed. Dzesi had already left. When Hebo returned from the river, the anthropard had said wryly, “I wondered whether you would prefer I rest elsewhere,” which hadn’t helped.
Outside, the sun had shifted less than a degree across the sky. Cloud cover hazed it. The wind blew stronger and cooler, with a salty tang. It sent russet waves over the crowns of the forest on the hills.
Lissa’s puffball tent lay shut, near the storage dome. Was she sleeping late? Because anger had kept her awake late? Hebo entered the dome for cooking and dining, almost afraid to find her there. Karl and Dzesi sat conversing. “Greeting,” said the Gargantuan politely. Had she told him?
“Coffee is ready,” the Rikhan said.
In spite of everything, Hebo chuckled. “God bless you.” He strode to the pot and drew a large mugful.
“What are your plans for the immediate future, if I may inquire?” asked Karl. “Or would you prefer to postpone talk until after breakfast? I have observed that many humans do.”
“Don’t want breakfast.” Hebo gulped the hot brew. “A trail bar will be plenty. We’ve got to get started, Dzesi.”
“To the relic?” Karl’s question was not entirely ridiculous, for he added, “The tide is flowing up the river. Do you know how far it will come or how high it will crest? A sun close to a planet raises large tides.”
Dzesi’s whiskers bristled. “That is obvious,” she said, miffed.
“In this case, the force is eleven or twelve times Terran maximum,” Hebo added. “Anybody can calculate that.”
“But topography causes great variations,” Karl said.
“We know that too,” the Rikhan snapped.
“I beg your pardon. No condescension was intended. I have learned that humans like to make—small talk, do you call it in Anglay?—but have found it virtually impossible to formulate what the appropriate occasions and subjects are.”
Dzesi relaxed. “Honor is mutually satisfied,” she said.
Hard enough for humans to please each other, Hebo thought.
His spirits lifted the least bit. Maybe he could cultivate this being, who could then put in a kindly word with Lissa. Or, for that matter, with those influential people she’d spoken of.
“We haven’t been here for a tidal cycle,” he said. “But, plainly, the object will be submerged. We’ll take what further measurements we can, then retrieve the instruments out there. While we wait for ebb, we can try reducing some more of the data.
“We’d be glad of your help and milady Windfall’s in that,” he added, “and I guess you’ll be interested.”
“Indeed. I will tell her when she rises.” Did Karl sound anxious? “I do recommend alertness.”
Impatience took over. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?” Hebo emptied the mug and pocketed his ration. “Ready to go, Dzesi?”
The anthropard came lithely erect. Now her whiskers quivered. “For these past three hours.” Her species slept too, but ordinarily in brief naps around the clock. Which made it a lot easier for them to adapt to other planets than it was for humans with their long circadian rhythms, Hebo thought for perhaps the thousandth time.
In spite of which, he also thought, humans had done pretty damn well, and they weren’t the very first local race who set forth to the stars.
Therefore let’s get on with the job at hand.
Which was to collect as much further information as possible before the tide covered the relic, and prepare an arrangement that would keep on probing while it was underwater—increase what he and Dzesi would have to bargain with—and afterward make up with the woman. He’d think of some way to do that. Right now he was too busy.
Karl stayed by the tent. He himself didn’t bother with shelters. His gaze followed them till they had gone from sight down the canyonside. Maybe it still did when their boat came into his purview.
Already the river roiled within thirty centimeters of the top of the artifact. The wind from the darkling west raised choppy, chaotic waves. Spray blew off them, sea-bitter where it struck lips.
Having debarked, Dzesi leaped to the crystallometer. Like the other instruments in place, it had been sending its input to the computer ashore, but this hadn’t lately been analyzed and she wanted to adjust it. The array of atoms here was evidently different from any other that was known. What kind of potential did that imply?
When races sundered by space and time finally got together, what marvels they discovered!
Hebo sought the far side to inspect a vibration analyzer. Water gurgled around the attachment of its cable and lapped at its geckofoot stand. Damn, but the river was rising fast.
Unease struck. “Dzesi,” he called into the wind, “I think we’d better load our stuff on the boat right away.”
“There is not that much haste,” answered his partner, absorbed.
“Well, soon,” Hebo yielded. Currents set even this material slightly ashiver, which provided clues—
And then waves lifted, to wash over metal and ankles. Noise rolled, crashed, and deafened. Eastward up the river, glinting green and foam-white, raced a wall of water.
VI
The thunder shocked Lissa out of sleep. She squirmed from her bag, crawled from the tent, and jumped to her feet. In horror and instant understanding, she knew.
Karl was headed for the gorge. His legs scissored. She ran after him, unable to match that stride. He stopped on the rim, wheeled around, gestured and shrilled at her. The translator lay amidst other gear, but there was no mistaking what he cried.
She recoiled. He turned again to the river. Over the brink he went.
“No, Karl!” she yelled. “You can’t either! Don’t do it! Please!”
He didn’t heed. Nor could he have heard through the roar. She looked, helpless.
Hebo and Dzesi were in their boat. The flood engulfed it. Water swept onto the ground above. Lissa stood fast. It swirled about her feet and drained away. The surge sped on. Behind it, the river level fell, with a hollow sucking sound. She saw the wave damp down too, as it climbed to higher levels. But that mass must pour back here from a narrower channel upstream. The bottom of the canyon went aboil.
The boat bobbed into sight, down again, up again, tossed to and fro. It had capsized. Through the foam she glimpsed Dzesi. The Rikhan must have clung to a thwart, then gotten hold of the rudder. She clasped herself to it, catching breath at every moment her face was in the air.
Where was Torben?
Karl hove into view. His legs kicked, his tail threshed. Crosscurrents raged around him. He battled through them. His head stayed well aloft. Thus he spied Hebo when Lissa did. Torn loose, the man was, somehow, desperately swimming. She could barely make out the distance-dwarfed form amidst the violence. He vanished, drawn down. He emerged, he went back under. No human, however strong, could live.
No human.
Karl reached him, caught him, started for shore. The man kept his wits, didn’t struggle, let his rescuer carry him along. Well, he was a natural survivor, Lissa thought crazily.
They vanished under the canyonside. Karl doubtless left him on the boulders, for in a minute or two the Gargantuan reappeared, bound for Dzesi.
The water and the turmoil were slowly, raggedly dropping. Lissa ran back to the tent and slipped on shoes. Otherwise still in pajamas, she returned and picked her way down the steepness.
She found that Hebo had begun to crawl up. “Thanks,” he gasped when she came to help. By the time they reached the top, Karl was bringing Dzesi ashore.
Hebo collapsed. Lissa slumped beside him and panted. It had been a tough climb.
