“No, Lord. She came to me freely and chose her own name.”
“Did she.” Coransee’s attention seemed to wander. He had relaxed slightly, thinning his total shield down to a more comfortable heavy screen. For a moment, something flickered so close to the surface of his thoughts that Teray almost had it. He could have had it if he had dared to be obvious about his probing. But he let it pass. Abruptly, Coransee changed the subject.
“Joachim, I have an artist for you.”
The sudden switch obviously surprised Joachim as much as it did Teray. But Joachim was cautiously enthusiastic. “An artist? I’ve been around the sector looking for a good one to work with some of my outsiders.”
“I know.” For the first time, Coransee smiled. “And this one is special. Sensitive. Fantastically sensitive.”
Joachim began to draw in even his cautious
enthusiasm. “They’re usually more than a little crazy when they’re too sensitive. They don’t have enough control of their ability to receive selectively.”
“Oh, this boy has all the control he needs. Picks up latent images from anybody?Patternists, mutes, animals, even Clayarks. How many artists do you know who can lay their hands on a boulder that a Clayark has leaned against and read you the story of that Clayark’s life?”
“Clayarks?”
“Test him.”
“I’ve never had an artist who could pick up Clayark images. Call him.”
Coransee turned toward the group of women and outsiders near the fireplace and called, “Laro!”
One of the outsiders in the group got up at once and came over to Coransee. He was a young man, probably only a few years older than Teray. Short and small-boned, he moved with quick, fluid grace. The Pattern betrayed him as a man of little mental strength. However competent he was at his art, he could never be anything more than an outsider. If he was lucky, his talent would buy him a comfortable place in someone else’s House, and he would be troubled by none of the competitive spirit that sent stronger people out to found Houses of their own. If he was unlucky and did have such spirit, it would soon get him killed.
Coransee introduced the artist. “Laro, this is
Lord Joachim and some members of his House. His people are artists and craftsmen.”
Laro lowered his head and spoke respectfully. “My Lord.” He was close to Joachim in the Pattern, Teray realized. That meant Joachim would probably buy him. Joachim’s people were able to form themselves into the deadly fighting machine that Clayarks avoided only because Joachim chose them so carefully. He chose them not only for their skill and strength, but for their compatibility within the Pattern. The Pattern was a vast network of mental links that joined every Patternist with the Patternmaster. Its first purpose was supposed to be to give the Patternmaster the strength he needed?strength drawn through the links from the Patternists?to combat large-scale Clayark attacks. Actually, though, the Pattern was more often used as Joachim used it, as Teray was using it now. To judge, roughly, the mental strength of other Patternists, and to judge, more precisely, their compatibility.
Teray brought his attention back to the two Housemasters and realized that Coransee was listing the artist’s accomplishments? doubtless to make the young man look as attractive as possible before they began talking about a price. Neither Housemaster was paying any attention to Teray, and Teray had no interest in the bargaining to come. He touched Iray lightly and started to go over to the group that Laro had left. Iray, evidently remembering Joachim’s instructions, started to follow. Coransee stopped them.
“Teray, Iray, wait.” He smiled again. He had an open, friendly smile that Teray would have trusted on anyone else. “View Lara’s work with us.” A command disguised as an invitation.
Caught, Teray and Iray came back slowly and sat down. Teray watched as the artist went past him and crossed the huge room to the group of women and outsiders that he had just left. From them he took three ceramic figurines and a small painting. Teray realized now why the group had seemed so absorbed. The artist had been entertaining them. Now Joachim’s party was to sample his work.
Laro handed the painting to Joachim. The figurines went to Teray, Iray, and Jer. Teray first thought his was a wild animal. Not until he held it did he realize that the well-muscled four-legged body was human-headed. The thing was a Clayark.
Teray stared at it with interest. He had seen pictures of Clayarks at the school, but nothing as lifelike as this. His hands could almost feel warmth and a texture of flesh.
He folded his hands around the figurine, closed his eyes, and opened his mind to whatever experience awaited him. He expected a jolt. He had prepared himself for it?but not nearly enough.
Abruptly, shockingly, Teray was the Clayark. There was no time for anticipation, no disorientation. He felt himself seized and possessed by the artist-implanted
“consciousness” of the figurine. Fortunately, by the time Teray recovered enough to struggle, he had also recovered enough to know that he should not struggle. He was still the Clayark.
He was within a torch-lit cave in the mountains far to the east of Redhill. He could see the rough gray-rock walls and the fire of the torches. He was a member of a munitions clan. His people made the rifles with which other Clayarks hunted food and fought Patternists. Now, though, his mind was not on gun-making. Now he had been challenged.
The sleek young female who stood apart from other onlookers, watching and holding her head so high?she was his. She was the daughter of his mother’s brother, and long promised to him. Only he had a right to her. Not this other, this dog with his long jowly muzzle of a face. The other, the challenger, was big both with fat and with muscle. Years of handling heavy metal weights had given him great strength. And years of stuffing his belly like a pig had made him slow and clumsy. Savagely, the Clayark who was Teray lunged at him.
As the Clayark, Teray bit and punched with heavily calloused hands?or forefeet. He seized and tore and gouged, all the while leaping about with speed and agility that his opponent could not match. All his opponent’s power was in his massive arms. Or forelegs. As long as the Clayark Teray could avoid those arms, he was safe.
Then the Clayark Teray stumbled, and almost fell over a loose rock as he dodged one of his
opponent’s clumsy swipes. His hand closed around the rock as he leaped away.
He wheeled and charged again. This time he reared back on hind legs, which were more catlike than human. As his opponent reared eagerly to meet him and finally lay hands on him, Teray smashed the rock against the side of the creature’s head. Then he stood back in triumph and watched while his opponent died.
