The Children of the Sky

“I don’t care,” said Amdi. “Mr. Steel was a monster, but when I was very little, he was—I thought he was —my first friend. Anyway, the whole thing worked out the way Flenser and Carenfret planned. What was left of Mr. Steel was crazy, but part of the insanity was because Steel had always wanted to prove himself to the Old Flenser, to become something truly worthy. After he stopped trying to kill the two Tyrathect puppies, they fit with him perfectly. Some of the result still looked like the original Steel, so he needed the pelt painting for disguise.”

Screwfloss’ sneakiness and killing rage had saved them all, but it was his patient caring that had brought her through the days she lay mindless. Could he really be from the pack that got Murder Meadows its name? It wasn’t a form of redemption available to humans, at least not Down Here.

No one said anything for a moment. There was just the rain and the tiny fire dying down to embers. Finally, Ravna said, “So which of him got murdered last night? Is Steel half, or three-quarters, of what’s left?”

“Ah, um.” Amdi’s voice was a little too cheery. “Don’t worry. You know personality doesn’t go by percentages. Three quarters of the remnant is from Steel, but the four is still a reformed soul.”

•  •  •

The object of their discussion did not show up for several hours, though Amdi said he could hear him patrolling around the camp. “He figures none of us make good sentries,” said Amdi. “I bet he’s going to sleep a perimeter.”

They’d made the kherhogs as comfortable as possible in the lee of the steep hillside where it was about as dry as anywhere. As for their own sleeping arrangements: there were some waterproof cloaks in one of the cabinets as well as the clothes that Jefri and Ravna had worn the day before.

They changed and Amdi and Jefri laid out the waterproofs. The two huddled together as they had on the cold nights of the trip south.

“You can lie with us, Ravna,” said Amdi, making space.

Jefri hesitated, then said, “It makes sense. We need the warmth.”

The issue hadn’t arisen the night before, when their sleep consisted of brief catnaps on top of the wagons.

“Right.” She lay down behind Jefri and let Amdi cluster all around. She hadn’t cuddled these two since they were small. Now … when she slipped her arms around Jefri, it was very different.

Chapter 26

The highlands were easier going than the climb up, even where rain had left centimeters of loose muck. The kherhogs could graze on tender meadow grass—though water lay just below the green, disguising deep holes. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the sky was densely overcast—ideal weather for making unobserved progress. Remnant Screwfloss (Remnant Steel?) behaved as he had the day before, scouting ahead of the three wagons, pointing out usable paths. His limp slowed him down, but it didn’t seriously affect his agility.

The maps were stowed, but Amdi had memorized them: “These mountains dribble off to the west more gently than to the east. There’s a steep descent up ahead.”

Ravna remembered that; “steep descent” was too kind a description. The map’s contour lines had merged into a single curve, a sheer cliff. Amdi didn’t deny that, but at the moment he was worrying about something else: “In a few more hours—two days at most—we’ll run into a village, or an inn, or just farmer packs. What are we going to say to them?”

“It depends on the situation, Amdi,” said Ravna. Poor guy. He was trying to plan for an ad lib performance. Of course, while he was doing that, he didn’t have to think about the coming descent, or the fact that they were out of food (for all values of edible that Ravna wished to consider), and were being hunted by as many as three different gangs. And now, a wind was sweeping across the meadows. Maybe it wasn’t arctic cold, but it jammed icily against her sodden jacket. And they were all tired and filthy and cold and.… Think about something else:

Screwfloss had moved to the rear and was snooping around huge boulders that were scattered in the meadow. His alertness was a comfort, though with every passing day, it seemed more likely that Chitiratifor’s gang was safely lost behind them. Amdi was not comforted. His heads snapped around to follow the foursome. “Wah! We could run into local packs even before we get to the dropoff!”

Ravna noticed that Jefri had slowed the lead wagon, and was watching Screwfloss’ investigation, too. In fact, these meadows didn’t look much different from old-style farms of the Domain. Before genetically modified fodder crops, the packs’ idea of farming was much like the human notion of a game preserve. Traditional Tinish farmers simply made the land more hospitable for prey, keeping their animals fed and protecting them against other predators. Sometimes farm “fences” could be mistaken for natural tree lines and rockfalls—though she had seen nothing really likely hereabouts.

Caterwauling erupted from behind the boulders. Something member-sized came racing out, heading away from the meadow. Three of Screwfloss outflanked it. The creature made a turn so tight it was a flip and headed into the meadow—but Screwfloss’ limper was waiting for it there. The thing had no choice. It made another hairpin turn and was sprinting along the path, straight at the wagons. Three of Screwfloss were closing fast.

It was far too big to be a weasel—and if you saw one of those, you saw a hundred, and then you were probably the weasels’ lunch. Besides, this thing had two extra limbs at its midsection! As it raced past her wagon, she realized that its “extra legs” were the torn and muddy remnants of a travel cloak.

Then lots of things happened at once. She almost lost her reins as her kherhog spooked away from the runner. Up ahead, Jefri and one of Amdi had jumped down from the front wagon.

“Gotta go!” said the one of Amdi beside her. He bailed out, just as Screwfloss stampeded through, followed by the rest of Amdi.

Jefri moved back and forth to block the creature’s escape.

Ravna rose from her bench. “Be careful—” was all she got out before the runner skittered around Jef. But the faster of Screwfloss had caught up. They circled, forcing the singleton back. And now all of Amdi was ranged in front of Ravna’s wagon. Corralling the thing was probably an accident, but it looked like a masterpiece of teamwork. The fugitive had stopped running. It was crouched low, still shrieking monstrously loud.

Nobody moved for a second. Three seconds. The hissing stopped. The creature looked back and forth at its antagonists, then focused on the least numerous: Jefri. A pack could be deadly. What about a singleton? Jefri looked very calm. He kept his eyes on the runaway, but his words were directed elsewhere.

“Ravna, sit back down. Don’t let your kherhog overrun us.” His own wagon had run forward almost fifty meters, then off a little ways into the meadow. “Amdi, you’re doing fine. Just stand up a little straighter.”

She suddenly noticed that Amdi was trembling. His members were large and there were eight of them, but he’d spent most of his life thinking like a human child, with none of the internal role models of normal Tines. But Amdi did his best, all eight rising to alert poses. And he was talking, both to the singleton and to Screwfloss behind Jefri. That pack had been edging around the human, as if planning a sudden rush on the singleton. Now it backed up a little and settled for blocking the singleton’s exit.

“You’re carrying some snacks, right, Amdi?” Jefri asked.

“Yech, if you can call them that.” He reached into one of his panniers and pulled out a big sausage, green with mold. “Not even all of me can still eat these things.” He held it gingerly in the soft tips of a muzzle.

“Why don’t you toss it to our new friend here.”

“Ah! Okay.” Amdi said something to the singleton, then lobbed the sausage toward the creature. It landed just beyond the animal’s reach.

The singleton didn’t move toward it immediately. Its head swept across Amdi, then quickly turned to check out Jefri and Screwfloss, and then sharply looked back at Amdi. It was strange to see a member working so hard just to see what was around it.

After a second more of warning watchfulness, the singleton leaped upon the sausage, flipping it into the air and biting. Big surprise: this food was rock hard. It dropped the sausage to the ground, held it in place while gnawing vigorously. As it ground away, it shuffled around, trying to keep an eye on all the threats.