Their ship sped across the pleasure quarter to the outskirts of the city, passing above Beelshi. I shuddered.
“What is it?” asked Mr. Weathereye.
“I saw them…” I began, stopping, gulping, my throat blocked by swallowed tears.
“Tell us,” Lady Badness said firmly.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I wrote it all down.”
“Which is why you must! We haven’t time for documents.”
I started haltingly, finally letting it all spew out: the little creatures, the little boy, the creation of the ghyrm, the pools of light and dark I had seen in the mausoleum, the strange machine. Gasping, my face wet, I concluded, “The K’Famir worship the Eater of the Dead. Torturing living things turns them into what you killed back there.”
Ella May cursed under her breath. “Lady Badness! Look there, ahead. They’ve found our ship!”
“How could they?” demanded Lady Badness. “It was shielded. No one comes out here!”
Below us the K’Famir swarmed over the ship like ants.
“They can’t get into it,” said Weathereye.
“Unfortunately, neither can we,” said the old woman.
“They have shield detectors,” I said, coming out of the spell of my narrative to realize what was going on. “One of the customers at House Mouselline was talking about its patron being honored for inventing it. The K’Famira laughed a great deal. He hadn’t invented it, only bought it from the Omnionts.”
“Now the woman remembers!” grated Weathereye. “We don’t dare go down there. If we do the correct thing, we blow the ship right now and let them think we’re in it.”
“Too late,” cried the pilot. “They’ve detected us!”
“Do the correct thing, then,” cried Weathereye. “At least take some of them with it.”
The ship below us went up in an enormous billow of smoke and fire that threw some hundreds of the uniformed K’Famir through the air like windblown leaves. “That should distract them for a time,” growled Ella May.
“How does it work?” Weathereye demanded. “Their sensor. Does it detect the veiling system, or does it penetrate the system to detect the ship?”
I gaped, trying to remember what else they had said. “It detects the system,” I said at last.
“Turn the system off in this ship, Ella May,” Weathereye ordered.
“Get down as close to the ground as you can. Night is coming. Set us down in the shadows somewhere, among these hillocks. We’re trapped here now. Have to figure out something…”
“The gates,” said Lady Badness. “She told us about the gates on the Hill of Beelshi.”
“She didn’t tell us where the hell they go,” snapped Weathereye.
“They don’t both go,” the old woman snarled in return. “One goes, one comes. Remember!”
“What I remember is the genetic work the Siblinghood has done on the ghyrm,” Ella May said as she searched for a place to set down. “And what you told me of the armaments research they’re doing on Thairy. Whatever they came up with to kill ghyrm also killed humans. It finally makes sense!”
“It’s true the closest tissue match to ghyrm is human,” said Lady Badness, turning toward me. “Weathereye and I belong to a small group of interested bystanders, well, not always just bystanders, obviously, since here we are, not just standing.”
“What do you mean, the ghyrm are human?” I cried.
“No, no, dear. Not human. Humans are the closest genetic match. What you saw there on the Hill of Beelshi makes it clear the ghyrm are manufactured from humans.”
“But the little creatures I saw weren’t human. I could hold one of them in my hands!
“They must have once been human, genetically speaking. The human genetic dictionary contains many words, perhaps whole paragraphs, that are not usually expressed. Under certain conditions, however, the genetic vocabulary changes. If the environment is impoverished, much of what is thought of as human is simply repressed, letting simple, earlier processes take over. Language is reduced, then lost. Argument is replaced with violence. Symbols and repetitive chants replace art and music. Minds are reduced in complexity, reactions are simplified. Reproduction may be limited to certain castes. So with the little ones you saw. Genetically, they must still be human, however. Torture simply removes the remnants of humanity—pain does that, you know. It destroys the higher centers of the mind, leaving only the screaming hunger that lies at the center of all ancient life.”
“Leaving, also, genetics sufficiently like yours that your immune system does not react to them,” said Weathereye. “Your bodies do not reject them, as they would anything foreign. Which means they can take their time to feed on you quite nicely.”
“You say, genetics like ours,’” said I. “Your genetics aren’t human?”
“Like, but unlike.” Lady Badness laughed. “We’re mere meddlers, my dear. Doing what we can for those we depend upon.”
“There,” said Ella Mae, indicating a fold of land now dark in shadow. The ship descended soundlessly into its depths.
I offered tentatively. “We are not far from the outskirts of the city, and we’re on the Beelshi side. I can lead you to the mausoleum and the gates.”
“I would feel better about that if I knew where the gates go,” said Weathereye. “I should have asked. Still, since we have no way to get you and Ella May off this planet otherwise…”
“I have my own disguise,” I said. “I don’t have enough for all of us…”
“Quite all right, my dear,” said Lady Badness. “Take your shape, and we two will copy you. We’re quite good at that. We make our living at it, one might say.”
I opened the case and took out my Hrassian garb, the nose, the paint, the wig, the dirty robes, the little mirror that let me see myself as I changed. “Now,” I murmured as I worked, “the Hrass keep a solid wall to their backs whenever possible. Crossing open ground, they hurry, frequently glancing behind them. They mutter constantly. I think the real Hrass utter prayers, but I have had good experience with the phrase ‘Old rhinoceros my brother will you have some bread and butter.’ This phrase has in it many of the Hrass phonemes, and
