program recorded the correct uses of the verb, and postulated forms and suffixes for other verbs in its file, shuffling the onomatopoeic transliterations down like cards. «Certainly the only one of this bunch who understands abstract questions.»
«He's a find,» Keff agreed. «A natural linguist. It could have taken me days to elicit what he's offering freely and, I might add, intelligently. It's going to take me more time to figure out that sign language, but if anyone can put me on the right track, it's Brannel.»
Having penetrated the mystery of verbal declension, Keff and Brannel sat down together beside the fire and began a basic conversation.
«Do you see how he's trying to use my words, too?» Keff subvocalized to Carialle.
Using informal signs and the growing lexicon in the IT program, Keff asked Brannel about the below ground habitation.
». . . Heat from . . . earth,» Brannel said, patting the ground by his thigh. IT left audio gaps where it lacked sufficient glossary and grammar, but for Keff it was enough to tell him what he wanted to know.
«A geothermal heating system. Its so cold out; why can't you enter now?» Keff said, making a cave by arching his finger and thumb on the ground and walking his other hand on two fingers toward it.
«Not,» Brannel said firmly, with a deliberate sign of his left hand. The IT struggled to translate. «Not cave day. We are . . . work . . . day.»
«Oh,» Carialle said. «A cultural ban to keep the slackers out on the field during working hours. Ask him if he knows what causes the power surges I'm picking up.»
Keff relayed the question. The others who were paying attention shot sulky glances toward Brannel. The dun-colored male started to speak, then stopped when an older female let out a whimper of fear. «Not,» he said shortly.
«I guess he doesn't know,» Keff said to Carialle. «You, sir,» he said, going over to address the eldest male, Alteis, who immediately cowered. «Where comes strong heat from sky?» He pantomimed arcs overhead. «What makes strong heat?»
With a yell, one of the small boys—Keff thought it might be the same one who had defied his mothers orders—traced a jagged line in the sky. The he dove into his mothers lap for safety. An adolescent female, Nona, Keff thought her name was, glanced up at him in terror, and quickly averted her eyes to the ground. The others murmured among themselves, but no one looked or spoke.
«Lightning?» Keff asked Alteis softly. «What causes the lightning, sir?»
The oldster with white-shot black fur studied his lips carefully as he spoke, then turned for help to Brannel, who remained stoically silent. Keff repeated his question. The old male nodded solemnly, as if considering an answer, but then his gaze wandered off over Keff's head. When it returned to Keff, there was a blankness in his eyes that showed he hadn't understood a thing, or had already forgotten the question.
«He doesn't know,» Keff said with a sigh. «Well, we're back to basics. Where does the food go for storage?» he asked. He gestured at the stone square and held up one of the roots Brannel had used as an example. «Where roots go?»
Brannel shrugged and muttered something. «Not know,» IT amplified and relayed. «Roots go, food comes.»
«A culture in which food preparation is a sacred mystery?» Carialle said, with increasing interest. «Now, that's bizarre. If we take that back to Xeno, we'll deserve a bonus.»
«Aren't you curious? Didn't you ever try to find out?» Keff asked Brannel.
«Not!» Brannel exclaimed. The bold villager seemed nervous for almost the first time since Keff had arrived. «One curious, all—» He brought his hands together in a thunderclap. «All . . . all,» he said, getting up and drawing a circle in the air around an adult male, an adult female, and three children. He pantomimed beating the male, and shoved the food bowls away from the female and children with his foot. Most of the fur-faced humanoids shuddered and one of the children burst into tears.
«All punished for one person's curiosity? But why?» Keff demanded. «By whom?»
For answer Brannel aimed his three-fingered hand at the mountains, with a scornful expression that plainly said that Keff should already know that. Keff peered up at the distant heights.
«Huh?» Carialle said. «Did I miss something?»
«Punishment from the mountains? Is it a sacred tradition associated with the mountains?» Keff asked. «By his body language Brannel holds whatever comes from there in healthy respect, but he doesn't like it.»
«Typical of religions,» Carialle sniffed. She focused her cameras on the mountain peak in the direction Keff faced and zoomed in for a closer look. «Say, there are structures up there, Keff. They're blended in so well I didn't detect them on initial sweep. What are they? Temples? Shrines? Who built them?»
Keff pointed, and turned to Brannel.
«What are . . . ?» he began. His question was abruptly interrupted when a beam of hot light shot from the peak of the tallest mountain in the range to strike directly at Keff's feet. Hot light engulfed him. «Wha—?» he mouthed. His hand dropped to his side, slamming into his leg with the force of a wrecking ball. The air turned fiery in his throat, drying his mouth and turning his tongue to leather. Humming filled his ears. The image of Brannel's face, agape, swam before his eyes, faded to a black shadow on his retinas, then flew upward into a cloudless sky blacker than space.
The bright bolt of light overpowered the aperture of the tiny contact-button camera, but Carialle's external cameras recorded the whole thing. Keff stood rigid for a moment after the beam struck, then slowly, slowly keeled over and slumped to the ground in a heap. His vital-sign monitor shrieked as all activity flatlined. To all appearances he was dead.
«Keff!» Carialle screamed. Her system demanded adrenaline. She fought it, forcing serotonin and endorphins into her bloodstream for calm. It took only milliseconds until she was in control of herself again. She had to be, for Keff's sake.
In the next few milliseconds, her circuits raced through a diagnostic, checking the implants to be sure there was no system failure. All showed green.
«Keff,» she said, raising the volume in his implant. «Can you hear me?» He gave no answer.
Carialle sent her circuits through a diagnostic, checking the implants to be sure there was no system failure. All showed green except the video of the contact camera, which gradually cleared. Before Carialle could panic further, the contacts began sending again. Keff's vitals returned, thready but true. He was alive! Carialle was overjoyed. But Keff was in danger. Whatever caused that burst of power to strike at his feet like a well-aimed thunderbolt might recur. She had to get him out of there. A bolt like that couldn't be natural, but further analysis must wait. Keff was hurt and needed attention. That was her primary concern. How could she get him back?
The small servos in her ship might be able to pick him up, but were intended for transit over relatively level floors. Fully loaded they wouldn't be able to transport Keff's weight across the rough terrain. For the first time, she wished she had gotten a Moto-Prosthetic body as Keff had been nagging her to do. She longed for two legs and two strong arms.
Hold it! A body was available to her: that of the only intelligent man on the planet. When the bolt had struck, Brannel, with admirably quick reflexes, had flung himself out of the way, rolling over the stony ground to a sheltered place beneath the rise. The other villagers had run hell-for-leather back toward their cavern, but Brannel was still only a few meters away from Keff's body. Carialle read his infrared signal and heartbeat: he was ten meters from Keff's body. She opened a voice-link through IT and routed it via the contact button.
«Brannel,» she called, amplifying the small speaker as much as she could without distortion. «Brannel, pick up Keff. Bring Keff home.» The IT blanked on the word home. She spun through the vocabulary database looking for an equivalent. «Bring Keff to Keff's cave, Brannel!» Her voice rose toward hysteria. She flattened her tones and increased endorphins and proteins to her nutrients to counter the effects other agitation.
«Mage Keff?» Brannel asked. He raised his head cautiously from the shelter of his hiding place, fearing another bolt from the mountains. «Keff speaks?»
Keff lay in a heap on the ground, mouth agape, eyes half open with the white showing. Brannel, knowing that sometimes bolts continued to bum and crackle after the initial lightning, kept a respectful distance.
«Bring Keff to Keff's cave,» a disembodied voice pleaded. A females voice it was, coming from underneath
