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let alone a toilet; how to explain disposable clothes and dialing up a meal?
Worse, how to explain that the Sioux in Council were not contemptible
subhumans and mortal enemies but rather associates who were sometimes pains in
the rear?
Once through Withdrawal, he'd always just let himself go and enjoyed his
Leaves.
Now the medicine man had placed a terrible burden on him and not totally in
ignorance, either and really spoiled things.
And yet he wanted to see her, wanted her company, wanted her. He took to
late-night brooding outside, surrounded only by the trees and the stars,
trying to sort out his own mind and his courses of action. And, one of those
nights, he had a visitor.
He heard a quiet sound behind him, one that few others would hear, and he
turned and peered into the darkness past the campfire.
He saw it after a moment and simply froze, staring at the dark form within the
lesser darkness.
It knew that he'd seen it, and it moved slowly, confidently, into the light of
the slowly dying campfire.
The thing was big two meters tall and roughly manlike in appearance, made of
permanently glistening blue-black material. Its face was a mask with two
trapezoidal openings for eyes that were the color and sheen of polished
obsidian. It moved with a catlike quiet and grace that seemed impossible for
one so huge.
"Good evening," the Val said in a pleasant middle soprano that sounded very
human indeed. It spoke in Hyiakutt, not because it had to but because by doing
so it demonstrated in two words that it could easily have overheard all that
Hawks and the old medicine man had said. It spoke, too, in an incongruous
female voice, which told him immediately that its business wasn't something to
do directly with him. The thought did little to calm him.
"Good evening to you," Hawks responded, trying to keep the dryness in his
mouth from showing in his speech or manner. "May I ask what brings you to my
fire?"
"Routine business. You are the only Outsider here at this moment or within
many days' distance. Legally, anyway. As such, you provide something of
an attraction."
"You seek one of my people?"
"No. Carmelita Mendelez Montoya is her name."
His eyebrows rose. "Espanol?"
"No. Caribbean."
That was almost as outlandish as Spanish. Most of the islands had not been
restored, but rather new societies had been created out of the cultures that
were there. There was, simply put, no native stock surviving there to restore.
"What would a Caribe be doing up here?"
The Val switched to Classical English but still maintained that woman's voice.
"Running. It is a very large, desolate land, easy to get lost in. We spotted
the wreck of her skimmer on satellite photos two weeks ago. Unfortunately, by
the time I was dispatched to the scene, it appeared that everything from
people to herds of thundering buffalo had been through there. Since then I
have picked up signs that she has been moving in this direction, but nothing
concrete. The area has been sensitized to those not keyed to it. She cannot
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get out. She has already lasted far longer than I would have thought she
could. Still, the region here is lightly populated and it is moni tored. She
has not as yet contacted anyone. Her supplies must be running out by now. She
will have to make contact with someone soon or starve."
"And you think I'm a likely candidate. Why? And what's she done?" He, too,
switched to English; although translating was something of a struggle for him,
English was more convenient for the sort of words needed to put the
conversation into less than metaphorical statements.
"What she has done is irrelevant. I only apprehend. I do not judge. As you
should well understand, it is best that you not know, in any case. As to why
you, it is simple deduction. She is physically and culturally out of place.
She speaks Espanol, some Creole, and Caribe dialects of them at that. I have
determined that she must have been close enough to see your skimmer put down
and discharge before leaving. That marks you as someone from Outside. The
civilization of your own people is so different from hers, it must look to her
like bands of savages. She will be frightened to go to them and unsure as to
what help they could offer if they didn't kill her or eat her."
Even a Val couldn't be allowed to get away with that one. "My people are a
highly cultured race. They kill only when they have to, and eating people
would be repugnant!"
"I mean no offense, and I know what you say is truth. I apologize for any slur
you might have inferred. Understand that I have her inside of me. I am going
on the way she thinks."
He nodded, somewhat mollified. If he hadn't wanted to meet this fugitive
before, he wanted to meet her even less now. The Val, however, was correct.
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