There was no trouble that night, from the mercenaries or anything else. Alison got everyone up at dawn, then sat around in obvious irritation for another hour and a half while Hren and the other Erassvas insisted on picking themselves a breakfast of berries and watching the Phookas perform their ritual morning dance. After that, the group finally got under way.
The day turned out to be a much calmer version of the previous one. Once the morning mists burned off, the air began to warm up, though it never got above chilly in the perpetual twilight beneath the trees. Still, the cool made for good travel weather. Moreover, the night’s sleep had worked wonders with the Erassvas’ mood, and though the aliens walked mostly in silence, they no longer seemed angry or resentful.
As before, Alison and the green Phooka led the way. Jack brought up the rear, moving back and forth to either side as he watched for Phooka strays. Draycos, for his part, traveled in a wide-ranging circle around the rest of them, alert for signs of enemy activity.
But for this day, at least, the Malison Ring seemed uninterested in starting any fresh trouble. The result was a quiet, uneventful, almost pleasant journey.
And it gave Jack the chance to make some unexpected discoveries.
All through his childhood, he’d tried numerous times to talk Uncle Virgil into letting him have a pet. But the other had always turned him down, insisting he didn’t want any animals underfoot on his ship. As a result, Jack’s only contact with pets had been with those of other people, usually during the course of some scam.
Most of those contacts had been very brief, with Jack unable to spare much time or attention from the job at hand. He’d thus come away with the vague impression that, aside from superficial things like color of fur or feathers, all animals were pretty much the same.
Now, to his mild surprise, he discovered that nothing could be further from the truth. Though yesterday’s travels had hinted at it, it was only during this second day that he began to realize just how different the Phookas were from one another.
They had markedly different personalities, for one thing. Some were very obedient, even docile, while others were stubbornly independent. Some seemed to plod along with little interest in their surroundings, while others could be distracted by the slightest hint of something new or interesting.
The curious ones, he found, were relatively easy to bring back to the main group. All he had to do was let them get their fill of the latest plant or bug, at which point they could be led back to the fold. The fiercely independent ones, the ones who wandered off simply because they felt like it, required a firmer hand or a more diplomatic approach if Jack didn’t want to get a warning snap of tooth-filled jaws for his trouble.
Fortunately, none of them actually bit him. With a little trial and error, he eventually worked out ways to handle even the most stubborn ones.
Jack had grown up among the thieves and con artists and killers of the Orion Arm’s criminal underworld. His adventures with Draycos over the past three and a half months had added soldiers and slaves to that list of acquaintances. The laidback Erassvas and their Phooka companions made for a welcome change of pace.
“I could get used to this,” he commented to Alison during one of their brief rest breaks. “Maybe when this is all over I’ll buy a flock or herd of something and go into business for myself.”
She snorted. “You’d last two weeks,” she said. “After that, it would drive you crazy. You’re not the herdsman type.”
“You might be surprised,” Jack said, annoyed in spite of himself that she would dismiss the idea so quickly.
“Oh, I’m surprised all the time,” she countered calmly. “But not about something like this. Trust me.”
The day continued uneventfully, and as the forest’s twilight began to darken Alison found a slightly protected hollow for them to camp in for the night. Again Jack volunteered to check the perimeter; and as he did so, he related his earlier conversation with Alison to Draycos.
“She’s right,” Draycos said when he’d finished. “There are people who have the skill and patience to spend their lives taking care of animals. But you are not one of them.”
“Yeah, but I’m good at it,” Jack insisted. “You’ve seen me. I could do this.”
The K’da lifted his head slightly from Jack’s shoulder. “I do not understand your attitude,” he said. “Are you saying you would want this sort of job?”
Jack hesitated. “Well … no, probably not,” he had to admit. “I just don’t like everyone taking for granted that I couldn’t do it.”
“Of course you could handle the job, at least for a short time,” Draycos said. “Indeed, as you just pointed out, you are doing it. The average intelligent being can perform an amazingly wide range of activities when it is necessary. What I meant—and I presume what Alison meant, as well—was that a herdsman’s job is not what you are best suited for.”
“No, I’m best suited to be a thief and con man,” Jack said, grimacing. “That’s what Uncle Virgil always told me, anyway.”
“Uncle Virgil had his own reasons for saying such things,” Draycos said. “You have many talents, Jack. When the time comes, you will find the job that best fits you.”
Jack sighed. “Maybe.”
“There is no ‘maybe’ about it,” Draycos said firmly. “Why do you doubt?”
“Because I’m already fourteen years old and I still haven’t figured it out,” Jack said. “I’ll bet you knew you were a poet long before that.”
“There were some indications, yes,” Draycos conceded. “Even before I could compose poems of my own, I very much loved the poetry of others.”
“See, that’s the thing,” Jack said. “I like poetry, too, especially stuff like yours that actually rhymes. But I still couldn’t write a poem to save my life.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Once, back when I was ten,” Jack said. “It was pathetic. Nothing like yours or the songs my mother used to sing to me.”
Draycos lifted his head from Jack’s shoulder. “Your mother used to write songs?”
“I don’t know whether she wrote them or just sang them,” Jack said. “And I can’t sing, either.”
“I would like to hear one of them,” Draycos said. “Do you remember any?”
Jack pursed his lips. He hadn’t counted on having to give a recital. “There’s one I remember pretty well,” he said. “I’m not a hundred percent sure of the tune, but here are the words:
“We stand before; we stand behind;
We seek the drue with heart and mind.
From sun to sun the dross refined,
Lest any soul be cast adrift.
“We are the few who stand between
The darkness and the noontime sheen.
Our eyes and vision clear and keen:
To find the drue, we seek and sift.
“We toil alone, we bear the cost,
To soothe all those in turmoil tossed,
And give back hope, where hope was lost:
Our lives, for them, shall be our gift.”
Jack stopped, his eyes unexpectedly filling with tears. “There were a lot of other songs,” he said. “That’s the only one I really remember.”
“It’s beautiful,” Draycos said quietly. “Tell me, what is drue?”
“I asked Uncle Virgil once, and he said it was a valuable mineral,” Jack said. “I’ve never been able to find it in any dictionary, though. It must have been the local slang name for something.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me your parents had been miners,” Draycos said. “Odd, though. The tone of that song seemed more noble and dignified than I would expect from miners. It is certainly unlike anything I have heard from K’da and Shontine miners.”
“Maybe it’s from one of the nonhuman races,” Jack said. “There are a couple out there who get lofty and dignified about pretty much everything. No sense of humor at all.”
“Perhaps,” Draycos said. “At any rate, thank you for sharing it with me. I will ponder its meaning. Perhaps I will even try to translate it into my language.”
“Whatever you want,” Jack said. “Me, I think I’ll just have a ration bar and get some sleep.”
“Of course,” Draycos said. His head rose briefly from Jack’s shoulder, and then with a surge of weight he leaped out of the boy’s shirt. “While you do, I will make a perimeter check.”
“Okay,” Jack said, fastening his shirt all the way up. It wouldn’t do for Alison to notice that his full-body dragon tattoo had suddenly disappeared. “Watch yourself.”
“I will.” Silently, Draycos moved off into the growing gloom.
With a sigh, Jack headed back to where Alison had settled the Erassvas and Phookas. Bringing up that old poem had stirred up feelings of pain and loss and loneliness that he’d thought he’d buried long ago.
But at least he’d accomplished the goal he’d set for himself tonight. He’d given Draycos something to think about besides whether or not he was doing an adequate job of protecting his host. There was enough danger and trouble out here without the dragon having to deal with those kinds of doubts.
It had been easy. But then, distracting people with words or thoughts or ideas was what Jack had always been best at.
It was, after all, what being a con man was all about.
Frost’s men again made no trouble during the night, and after the usual morning ritual they were off.
Once again Jack found himself settling easily into his role as herdsman. By now he could almost anticipate how each of the various Phookas would behave, and several times that morning was able to head off one of the strays almost before he got going.
It was working in the other direction, too. Not only were the Phookas becoming accustomed to his presence, but they also seemed to be learning to recognize his voice. He found himself talking to them as the troop traveled, and not just to give them orders or warnings. While it was clear they didn’t really understand his words, they did seem to pick up on his tone of voice and respond accordingly.
It brought to mind one of the sayings Uncle Virgil had often quoted to him: My sheep hear my voice, and they follow me.
What the saying actually meant Jack didn’t really know. Uncle Virgil had used it to illustrate that if he and Jack could con the leader of some group, the rest of his people would usually follow blindly along with him.
Still, somehow it seemed to apply here as well. Perhaps even more accurately.
They continued on, making their way steadily toward the distant river. If Alison was right, they would be at or even past the halfway point by nightfall. If the Essenay had survived, they might pull this off yet.
It was just after noon when the whole thing suddenly fell apart.
“There,” Alison said, pointing down a low ridge toward a wide patch of yellow-orange plants. “See all that orange stuff?”
“I see it,” Jack said. “And?”
“And I think we’d better give it a wide berth,” Alison said. “The last time we passed plants that color they were surrounded by some very large and very nasty-looking insects.”
Jack pursed his lips. He couldn’t remember even seeing any such plants before, let alone any insects around them. But then, he’d probably been chasing down a Phooka at the time. “Did you ask Hren about them?”
“He thinks they’re pretty,” she said. “About the insects, he has no clue. I get the feeling his expertise ends about a quarter mile in from the edge of the forest. But I sure didn’t like the look of the bugs.”
“Then let’s go with that,” Jack agreed, casually opening the front of his shirt a little. Beneath his clothing, he felt Draycos shift around to get a better look. “You want to veer east, or wrest?”
“East, I think,” she said. “The terrain looks a little easier that direction.”
“Fine by me,” Jack said. Up to now Alison had proved herself a competent leader, and he saw no reason to start questioning her instincts. “We’ll get Greenie—”
And then, from behind them came a terrified scream.
“Hren!” Jack shouted, spinning around and fumbling for his tangler.
“Out of the way,” Alison snapped, elbowing him in the ribs as she darted past, her Corvine already in her hand. She disappeared around a stand of tall reeds as another scream sliced through the air. Cursing under his breath, Jack dashed after her.
He came around the reeds to a horrifying sight. A huge brown-and-gray creature the size and general shape of a Kodiak bear was lumbering through the group of Erassvas, his huge forepaws flailing away at the fat aliens as they tried desperately to get out of his way. Two of them were already sprawled unconscious on the ground behind him.
The Phookas, far nimbler than their hosts, so far seemed to have avoided the beast’s claws. But for all their extra maneuverability, they seemed equally bewildered and helpless before the fury of the attack.
Alison skidded to a halt in the mat of dead leaves and raised her gun. “Don’t shoot,” Jack snapped. “You’ll hit one of the Erassvas.”
“We have to risk it,” she snapped back.
“No, we don’t,” Jack said, grabbing her gun arm and pulling it down. “Draycos—go!”
And with the banshee wail of a K’da battle cry, Draycos leaped from beneath Jack’s shirt.
Even over the rest of the noise Jack heard Alison’s strangled yelp. Draycos’s leap landed him against the side of a tree; grabbing the trunk with all four paws, he shoved off it, hurling himself like a self-guided missile at the attacker.
The Kodiak paused in his rush, lifting his head toward this new threat. But it was already too late. Draycos’s forelegs caught the beast solidly in the throat, the claws digging into the thick fur. The rest of the K’da’s body whipped around that pivot point, and a split second later Draycos was dug in on the creature’s back.
The Kodiak roared, a deep throbbing that seemed to cut straight through Jack’s stomach. The beast reared up on his hind legs to tower above the Erassvas and Phookas, his huge forepaws reaching back over his shoulders to try to dislodge this insolent Phooka that had dared to fight back.
But while he might have tangled with an occasional Phooka, he had never before faced a K’da. Draycos dodged the long claws with ease, ducking or slipping sideways on the creature’s broad back. Twice Draycos met the incoming paw with a counterslash of his own claws, eliciting more of the lowpitched bellows. Through it all his sharp teeth continued to dig into the creature’s back, and his tail whipped with stinging force against the Kodiak’s sides and the back of his hind legs. The beast continued to roar, but to Jack’s ears the bellows seemed to be taking on an edge of desperation.
And then, suddenly, it was over. Rearing up one final time, the Kodiak swiveled on his hind legs and dropped to the ground. On all fours again, he loped back the way he had come.
Draycos stayed with the Kodiak for perhaps twenty feet, apparently making sure he was really serious about leaving. Then, with a powerful four-footed spring, Draycos shoved off backward from his grip on the Kodiak’s fur, looking for all the world like a fighter pilot ejecting from a damaged aircraft. He landed on the ground and paused, watching and listening until the crashes of the creature’s exit were lost in the forest murmurs.
Only then did Draycos turn around and walk back to the group.
“Mother of God,” Alison murmured, her voice as tight as Jack had ever heard it.
Jack looked at her profile, suddenly aware that he was still holding her gun arm. “It’s all right,” he said. “He’s a friend.”
With a clear effort, Alison dragged her gaze away from Draycos. For a moment her eyes held Jack’s; then they dropped to his open shirt. “Yes, he was riding my skin,” Jack confirmed, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Now, with the danger past, the full implications of revealing Draycos’s secret to this girl were starting to hit him.
“What—?” She swallowed hard, looking back at Draycos. “What is it?”
“You asked me once what a K’da was.” Jack nodded to Draycos. “This is Draycos, poet-warrior of the K’da.”
Alison took a deep breath. “I see,” she said. To Jack’s mild surprise, her voice was almost back to normal. “Well.”
Reaching down, she pried his hand off her arm. With only a slight hesitation, she dropped the Corvine back into its holster. “Well,” she said again. “We’d better check the Erassvas. See who needs patching up.”
She turned a cool gaze onto Jack. “And after that,” she added, “we’re going to sit down and have a long talk.”