Chapter 35

 

Jared

 

 

Sofi was sitting on the grass, meditating upon pregnancy and the ma/hifez tournament in which she would not be participating, regretfully coming to grips with the fact that she was going to lose a year, at least, of competition. "Right after your daughter is born," said Ollie, from the nearest lawn chair, "you can go back to conditioning. You will find that you quickly return to your proper form."

"I will be taking care of a baby," said Sofi. "I will be too busy."

Phyllis, in the lounger, laughed. "Sofi, dear, there's Mimi and Clyde, and there's Cara and Jared, and there's Lillian and me – that's three households where you could drop off your baby at any hour of the day or night and know she will be taken care of. And Gina is plenty old enough for baby sitting, and you Bahtan sisters, one of you at a time, at least –"

"There is always one free," said Wundra. "It would be very good; we have no infants of our own, and we wish very much to have one, even to borrow yours, Sofi."

Ann, sitting on the grass at the end of the table, gave them a troubled look. "I don't know about babies," she said, "but when she's older and I can take her shopping, maybe . . ." She did know about babies, according to Cara; she had several times mentioned that they were noisy and dirty and she didn't like them. She had looked after her younger cousins before she was old enough to look after herself; she had had enough of babies to last a lifetime.

A door banged down the block and Dural appeared, all by himself, waving his arms as he ran down the street, a silver ax in one hand and a butterfly net in the other. "The It!" he shouted, and Terry dropped his bike on the street and the gathering on the lawn surged to their feet at once; Mimi and Cara ran for their houses to find their nets and Gina dropped the Tolkien and grabbed nets from the Hardesty porch table and Sofi let out a whistle that could have pierced steel; Issio thundered out of their house with two nets in his hand. Sofi snatched one and this time he did not object, although he looked unhappy.

Mutai, leaving Clena on guard in their house, ran to meet her sisters and pass out their nets and Terry grabbed a net from Gina and led the way, right after Dural.

The D'ubian house was close and hot, the early summer heat not being considered sufficient. Jared noticed all the heaters still operating on "high" and the humidifiers steaming away; he wondered what problems they had with mildew and mold. They had to be doing something about it; the walls were damp but clean, and he couldn't smell anything unhealthy in the air.

But he could hear what he was beginning to consider the signature cry of the It as it swooped up and down the hall, just out of reach of the small people in pursuit, leaping and waving their nets and yelling in D'ubian. The It was using Trade; the Progenitorvoice had almost as extensive a vocabulary as the Mothervoice. "Close the door," Clyde said, behind the Bahtans, and Ann shut it firmly. At least the thing was stuck inside the house, although it obviously had hiding places in here.

The smallest of the D'ubians made a remarkable leap and came within half a meter of reaching the It, who screamed gleefully and swept toward Jared; he nearly got his net over it before it saw the danger it was in and backpedaled in the air, wing membranes and arms waving furiously; it hit the ceiling, eyed the reinforcements Dural had brought, and then headed off over Jared's head for the kitchen before he could swing his net.

Ann and the Bahtans had the living room area under control; they converged on the flying creature with nets at the ready, and it ducked toward the side and paused, clinging to the thick drapes over the very small basement window, and let out another fine shriek and rocketed past Ollie and Wundra and out into the kitchen, where Sofi sprang into action, trying to drive it back toward the living room with great swipes of her net. "Be careful!" Issio shouted from the bathroom, which he and the second tallest D'ubian were guarding with nets and the D'ubian's silver ax.

The It drew back into the living room and lit on the ceiling, clinging to the tile with its front feet. Misborn mongrels! it spat at the assembled company, and then turned its head and came off the ceiling tile heading at high speed right for Jared, aiming at his chest, that Celtic knot pendant; he swung his net, and it ducked and sailed off down the hall with three D'ubians and Terry right behind it; Cara and Mimi warded it away from the laundry room and it vanished into the bedroom and sudden silence.

It had disappeared again.

"It's bigger than a fly," said Cara. "It can't hide as easily." She and Mimi and Jared and Terry and the two smaller D'ubians followed it into the bedroom and slammed the door shut, trapping it inside, unless it knew of some vent or flue or crack or tunnel that would lead it outside. There didn't seem to be any such thing, and in the course of the next hour Jared felt they had definitely looked everywhere, moving cushions and drapes and bedspreads and blankets and quilts and humidifiers and heaters and piles of brown robes on the floor and stacks of brown robes at the end of the closet and nicely-carved Bahtan wood boxes containing various unidentified garments in shades of brown and tan and gray and cream and white, and more boxes containing small brown shoes in sizes from small to smaller, and even more boxes with data chips and cubes and old-fashioned sheets of music –

Mimi and Cara went over the baseboards on hands and knees, searching for any sort of vent, and Terry and the second smallest D'ubian tried all three small basement windows, outsides coated with years of dust and spider webs, insides reasonably clean. All were tightly closed.

"It's got a hole somewhere," said Mimi, "but I'll be darned if I can figure out where."

"You guys find anything yet?" Lillian called from outside the bedroom.

In the end, the D'ubians gathered up blankets in arm loads and Cara and Terry picked up the stacked robes, which seemed to be the clean ones, and they left the bedroom, carefully, everyone watching to be sure no ugly winged It sneaked out with them. The D'ubians spread out their bedding in the living room, and Dural assured the neighbors that they would manage there at least for one day's sleep. "It is much better than the warehouse," he assured them, which Jared thought was very likely.

"Remember you can come over to our place," Clyde said. "We can fix you up in the basement."

"So can we," said Jared, and Lillian and Phyllis said they had a fine space just past the shelves with the canned goods and Wundra said they had a very secure place at the back of their basement with a locking door, which caused a brief silence as everyone contemplated the uses the Bahtans had for a secure place with a locking door.

"My basement isn't in great shape," said Al, "but you're more than welcome to it, any time."

"I do not invite you," said Issio, "because you would not like the company in my basement, but I am available at any time to capture this thing."

By way of thanks for the offers, the D'ubians gathered instruments and led the way up to the street, where the air was light and pleasantly cool and all non-D'ubians breathed deeply and gratefully, and they began, with Terry, an impromptu concert. Their audience, with great pleasure, gathered about on blankets and cushions. The bigger moon rose and the stars shimmered above the rooftops and the trees and the music circled in the air as it reached for the sky.

 

The next morning, rounding the D'ubian corner on his way to the Institute, Jared saw five small brown-hooded persons at the south end of their house, swinging hammers and handing nails and tape and rolls of plastic back and forth. He stopped the car and got out, and the three smaller D'ubians spotted him and waved hammers and arms at him, and the second tallest seized Dural, who was on hands and knees in the weeds and brush, and thrust him at the fence, whispering urgent instructions.

"We are grateful for your very good help," said Dural. "We are happy to be in this neighborhood. At any time we offer such help to all of you."

"We're glad to help," said Jared, "but we wish we could have caught the It. Is that –"

"Yes, the It escapes," said Dural, "through the window. We hear it, as we go to bed." The middle-sized D'ubian parted the overgrown grass at the end of the half-a-house; one of the small windows, Jared saw, had a fist-sized hole in the glass, and shards of glass twinkled in the morning sunlight from what was intended to be a flower bed.

"We fix," said Dural cheerfully, "and cover other windows, then go to bed. Perhaps the It is trapped outside, no longer bothers us."

Over the far side of the fence, Clyde's head appeared. "What's up?" he inquired, and bent his head to peer at the broken window. 'Well, damn," he said, and turned back to his house, shouting at Mimi to call Al and Lillian and get some more nails.

Feeling that the D'ubians had all the help they needed for the moment, Jared went on to the Institute.

There were only a few people in the Institute building that morning, footsteps echoing in the halls, voices now and then, a keyboarder pounding away beyond an open office door. Sandra Ott was taking her children to the carnival, and Weston was sleeping in the conference room, snoring lightly, with his feet up on the table and one hand on the projector switch. Patterson was in court demanding a restraining order against his not-yet-ex-wife, who had ambushed him in the parking lot night before last. Claiming that he had been attempting to steal the affections of their three-year-old French poodle Yvonne Marie by the vile method of bribery, she had clobbered him with a five-kilogram package of dog food.

Jared sat at his desk, going through the images again on his screen, devoid of ideas or brilliant revelations. These might come as he and his team recorded more of the glyphs on the inner curve of the arches, but the first arch wasn't doing anything for him. The most he could say was that the glyphs on the inside of the arches were different from the ones on the outside, possibly a different dialect, possibly a different language.

And this wasn't very useful, and his thoughts wandered, wondering what Cara was doing, wondering if his time wouldn't be better used at home today. When he heard the tap on his open door he looked up, willing to be interrupted, and there was Cara, with Sofi and Gina right behind her, as if his thoughts had conjured them up. "Ladies," he said, pleased, and pushed the noters and the data chips aside.

"Dr. Ramirez," said Cara, "we wondered if we could have a moment of your time."

"Well, do you have an appointment?" he inquired. "I'm very busy, you know. You'd better check with my secretary."

"She's out at the carnival," said Cara. "We have been running errands and talking, and we've decided that we should be at the carnival too. Phyllis and Lillian are taking Terry this afternoon, but Gina would rather go with us, and we wondered if you could make room in your schedule to join us."

"Issio will be home after lunch," said Sofi, "and he will wish to come, to protect me from stress, you understand. Supposing there should be great dangers at the carnival, kidnappers or pickpockets, or people in large numbers having fun."

"Terry," said Jared. "Escaping from Phyllis and Lillian."

"Yes," said Sofi, "a great stress, so perhaps you also should come and help."

"Yes, Issio can protect Sofi," said Gina, "and you can protect Cara and me."

It sounded like the best idea he had heard for awhile, eating cotton candy and riding the Space Bender with Cara and Gina. It was much better than trying to make sense of these glyphs, which seemed at their most resistant today. "It might be my duty," he agreed, and Cara nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh, yes, I don't see how you could make it right with your conscience," she said, "if you let us go all alone."

He consulted the clock. "Suppose," he said, "we go out to lunch, the four of us, and then we can drop off your shopping bags and collect Issio and go."

The four of them sent Sofi's car home by itself and went to Common Cuisine, just missing the big lunch rush, the secretaries and assistants, but in time to let Gina enjoy the sight of the stagehands and lesser actors, showing off in costumes and makeup during early rehearsal breaks; the theater district was only a few blocks away.

"Does Issio know he's going to the carnival?" Jared asked Sofi as they got back into his car. "Does he know you are? Does he approve?"

She twirled her tail. "I do not intend to go on carnival rides," she said. "This is surely precaution enough. And I do not ask my husband's permission for what I do. Remember that in the future for yourself," she said to Cara, who blushed.

"Hush," said Jared, unable to resist, "don't scare her off!" Gina giggled and Cara darted him a quick glance, shy, laughing, not protesting. Sofi sighed and shook her head at both of them.

"It has been two months," she murmured. "I do not see why you are waiting."

The D'ubians and their neighbors had completed the window repairs, Jared saw, having covered all the windows in plastic, taped and securely nailed into place. It would probably be very draft-free in the winter. He hated to think what it would be like inside in the middle of the summer.

They rounded the corner into a full gathering of neighbors. All the D'ubians, up in front of the Hardesty house in the full afternoon sunshine, were clustered around Terry, touching him, patting his arm; the smallest one and the middle one were actually embracing him. Mimi and Clyde, holding hands, were by the porch, talking with Lillian, and Al was discussing something with three of the Bahtans, all of them very serious. Ollie and Mutai were standing by the steps with Ann, where Issio, already at home, leaned against the railing and listened to them; Phyllis was on the phone by the door. As soon as she spotted Jared's car she put the phone down and Issio led the general surge toward the street to meet them.

"Oh," said Sofi, and she got quickly out of the car and put a hand back for Gina; Issio, reaching them, took Gina's other hand. Jared, hit by a sense of disaster, destruction, death, clasped Cara's hand and they got out of the car together.

"I was trying to call you; you must have your phones off," said Phyllis, coming down from the porch. She stopped in front of Gina, looking as if she were trying to find the right words, and Gina stared at her and turned pale.

"Willis?" she whispered.

"No, no," said Issio. "Not Willis."

"He said to call him," said Lillian. "We should use the screen. He'll still be at the Academy. Come on, honey, we'll call Willis."

Gina glanced quickly at Issio and then at Sofi, holding her hand, looking at her husband, getting the details from him. Hanging on tightly to both of them, Gina allowed Phyllis and Lillian to take her into the house. Jared opened himself, just for a second, and had the vision of a red-faced alcohol-soaked farm master on a distant world; it came from Issio, very strongly, and from somewhere else, too; he wasn't sure where. He looked toward Terry, who had never shown the least sign of any such ability, but Terry, engulfed in D'ubians, wasn't paying attention to anyone else.

"Their father," said Sofi softly. "On Linden's World."

Mimi and Clyde, still holding hands, joined them. "Willis called from the Academy not half an hour ago," said Mimi. "He'd just heard the news himself. The farm supervisor found McIntosh's body in the field. He died last night or early this morning, they say. They'll need to go back to Linden's World right away, all three of them