The Children of the Sky

your parts would ever reassemble into that unitary self you value so much. On the other, um, hand,” he waved a paw in an artificial flourish, “these two humans could ascend with the crowds. They could witness the highest pinnacle of the Choir, where myriads stand within the diameter of a single song, where even such as I would dissolve. Their minds would survive—by the fact that, alas, they can never be more—and they could report back on the experience!”

Vendacious perked up. “I think that is a capital idea!”

Tycoon had his heads together, apparently giving the suggestion serious thought. “I don’t think it is as simple as you say. A few years ago, I had Remasritlfeer build a closed and padded rickshaw wagon, one that he could propel from the inside. The idea was similar to what you’re suggesting but without the humans—and of course the rickshaw couldn’t have climbed any pyramids. Even so, the project was a failure. Remasritlfeer wasn’t more than twenty meters outside the Reservation when the mobs attacked his rickshaw and tipped it over.” Tycoon was watching Ritl, but the singleton just continued grooming its claws, oblivious. “He would have died in the experiment, except that we had a cable attached to the wagon and were able to drag it back before the mob could get to him.”

“Ah, but consider the ecstasy lost!” said the godsgift, carried away by an ecstasy of its own salesmanship. “I think it’s likely the Choir was simply trying to free what it regarded as imprisoned members. I know you Northerners have all sorts of terrible myths about the Choir, but in fact, except for boundary fights and occasional pyramid sacrifices, individual foreign Tines are rarely killed by the Choir. For humans it should be even safer, since the creatures have no mindsounds to provoke aggression.”

“Hmm,” said Tycoon. His technical curiosity reminded Ravna a little of Scrupilo: nothing was too gross if it had an experiment in it somewhere. “But wouldn’t the two-legs be dealt with as corpses or invading animals?”

“Oh, no, I doubt that would happen.” The godsgift waved breezily. “In fact, I’d wager that no human would ever be harmed at the heart of the Choir.”

Ravna glanced at Vendacious. She saw a smile flicker across the members Tycoon couldn’t see. So Vendacious knew this claim was false. The godsgift and Vendacious were doing a good job of maneuvering herself and Jefri into a front row seat at the Tropical sacrifices. The godsgift didn’t have Vendacious’ air of palpable menace, but maybe that just meant that he was the more dangerous of the two.

The godsgift rattled on enthusiastically, ignorant of or ignoring Vendacious’ sly smile. “I tell you, I almost wish I could be human. You could go to the very top. You could see everything there is to see—and still exist afterwards to remember it! Maybe there is something beyond the sounds of mind there. Either way, you would know!”

Ravna raised a hand. “No. I think we’ll pass.” She noticed Jefri nod emphatically. “Perhaps another time.” When we’re not being held prisoners under threats of torture and death. “In any case, I thought your point was that the Choir was Tycoon’s secret weapon.”

“Oh! You want the crass details.” The pack sounded hurt that it had failed to sell them on a hike up sacrifice hill.

“Enough of this religious talk,” said Tycoon. “The crass details are the important part. Here we’re sitting cool and comfortable in the middle of endless mind death. From the safety of the Reservation, I do business with the Choir. The combination of their multitudes and my genius makes me the greatest power in the world.” He waved at the radio-cloaked Tines that sat silently on a nearby stool. “With my radio network, I am watching across a market domain that is ten times wider than your royal Domain. My factories create more goods than all the other businesses in the world put together. I’ll wager you’ve seen some of them yourselves. My presence simply can’t be disguised anymore. My inventions are changing the entire—”

Ritl had been uncharacteristically quiet. Now she let loose a chittering complaint.

Jefri leaned close to Ravna’s ear. “Ritl says Tycoon brags too much!”

Tycoon gave the singleton a couple of heads of attention, and gobbled a rather mellow form of “Keep quiet.” Ritl grumbled almost the way she used to around the campfire, but settled back on her seat.

For a brief moment, Tycoon looked a little embarrassed. “The whole of that one was a good employee,” he said. He looked back and forth at himself, as if recovering his train of thought “Nevil Storherte understands the situation. In less than a tenday, he and I will reveal our alliance. But even now, if I can convince you of my power, there could be a place for you in the new order of things.”

“I’m eager to be convinced, sir,” said Ravna. Can it be? I actually have some leverage with this guy? Okay, then: “We’ve always been impressed by your successes, even though we had no idea how you managed them.”

The pack actually preened. “Heh. Be prepared to learn then. This afternoon I’ll show you one of my factories. Multiply that by a thousand and you’ll know what you’re up against Today. Multiply by a million and you’ll know for Tomorrow. You could be a valued junior partner.”

“I’m grateful.” She wondered who had provided the job recommendation. “There is a matter of trust, however—”

“You are not in a position to set conditions, human.”

“Nevertheless, there is the matter of the three young humans that you took.”

From across the room, Vendacious said, “Both humans will be returned unharmed.”

Jefri burst out with, “Both? You fucking murderer! And what about the Tines killed in the kidnappings?”

“There were no killings,” Vendacious replied flatly, “not by our packs. Of course, we can’t know all that Nevil Storherte may have done.”

Tycoon’s heads were turning unnecessarily back and forth between Jefri and Vendacious. “Yes,” he said, “humans don’t really care about the lives of packs. Despicable maggots.… Understand: I dislike you two-legs as a race, but I’ve found that business can bring cooperation between anyone.” Heads flicked in Jefri’s direction. “Almost anyone.”

Jef shook his head. “Hei! At least tell us the names of the surviving—”

Tycoon shifted forward, all heads weaving in Jefri’s direction. “You dare make demands of me, Jefri- brother-of-Johanna?” His Geri voice climbed in pitch, stretching into an inhuman hiss. “Jefri-brother-of-Johanna- who-killed-my-brother.”

Jefri came up off the bench, but his anger seemed swept away by shocked understanding. “Brother? Powers above, you’re Scriber Jaqueramaphan’s brother?”

Tycoon swarmed down upon Jefri. Maybe what saved Jef was the fact that godsgift was still sitting close around him. That pack emitted a surprised squeal and exploded in all directions, incidentally getting in the attackers’ way and knocking Jef backwards over his bench.

Ravna dove sideways along the bench, trying to block the surge. She felt two of Tycoon slam into her, then had a glimpse of his members lunging under the bench, claws reaching. At the edge of the fray the gunpack was maneuvering around in confusion—trying for a safe shot?

“Wait! Stop it! Stop!” she shouted, but in fact the madness had ended. It couldn’t have lasted more than a second or two or she wouldn’t have been around to shout. Tycoon was all around her, but his jaws weren’t snapping. Four of him were on the other side of the bench now. They dragged Jefri Olsndot off the floor, set him on the bench behind Ravna’s. Their claws made little spots of blood where their grip sank through his clothes, and two of them had jaws right by Jef’s throat.

For his part, Jefri was sitting very still. Ravna remembered when he was little, how Jef and Amdi would mock fight. Sometimes that would get out of hand, and Jefri had learned the safest thing to do was just become still and submissive. It was certainly the right strategy now.

Tycoon held him tightly for several seconds. The eightsome’s voice boomed around the room, hissing and screaming that certainly wasn’t Samnorsk, and wasn’t Interpack either. Finally he gave Jef a hard push and backed away from him. All eight stared at Jefri for a moment more, then dabbed at the froth that dribbled from various jaws. Finally, he turned a couple of heads toward the uncertain gunpack and gobbled at him. Ravna recognized an imperative and the word “dungeon.”

So maybe no factory tour today.