Omha abides, p.16
Omha Abides, page 16
He watched the aircars shooting southward along the Coast Flyway. Presently one dipped and swerved to come toward this restricted patch of water. It rocked once laterally as a signal, slanted down toward him, and settled lightly to the water. Its canopy slid open and Oj Liave grinned in pleasure. “Eminence!”
Oory said a trifle severely, “You know very well that’s no longer my title! But I exult at seeing you again. Did you have any trouble avoiding questions?”
“None worth remembering. Guddun is away touring other Fiefdoms—he’s trying to get agreement on lower indemnities to guests hunting Wild Folk. I think he’ll get it, too. You should see the waiting lists!”
Oory said grimly, “I’ve seen the actual hunting. A slaughter, and not entirely one-sided. There’ve been times when I’ve almost been glad of that. When bloodthirsty nincompoops pump bullets into women and children … But I have not told you my reason for coming. I was allowed to read your report of the raid on the Bluies.”
Oj Liave’s eyes membraned over for an instant. “I did not enjoy that. Guddun insisted.”
“No doubt,” Oory said. “Old Friend, I am going to burden you with a barbed secret. My particular job is not merely, as publicly announced, the pursuit of notorious Wild Folk. Confidentially, Stolm has a very hot fish in his hands—the loss of a Distorter. I will be the Offering, of course, if the word gets out. But Stolm will not be smothered in garlands, either, so he hopes to recover the thing and hush up the whole affair. That is my real job. And I need your help.”
Oj Liave nictated politely. “You know I will help in any way possible.”
Oory grinned. “That is what I rely on. You are aware that our old friend Murno has now become a badly wanted fugitive. I have strong reason to believe that his family was with the Blue Mutants. I was disappointed to note that they were not among the prisoners you took, but I am almost certain they were with the mutants who escaped to the north. I see, furthermore, that one young Normal was taken in the raid—a former neighbor of Murno.”
“That is right, Old Friend.”
“Murno,” Oory went on, “is somewhere far to the east, and trying to find him is like looking for a minnow in a tule marsh. I had hoped to use his family as bait to draw him out of the marsh. However—” Oory paused and studied the Elder Patron’s face, “if Murno can be made to believe that we have his family, that may serve quite as well.”
Oj Liave eyed him with a certain wariness. “But if he is far to the east and out of touch, how will he even know about the raid?”
Oory said, “We can arrange to let him know. I want you to allow a few of those prisoners to escape.”
Oj Liave looked as if he’d swallowed something he hadn’t intended to. “Did I hear you right? Guddun has ordered us emphatically to take the greatest care with these prisoners. After interrogating them, he intends, if he finds them innocent of any crimes against Gaddyl, to sell them as unique slaves to other Fiefdoms!”
Oory said, “Have you supplied him, then, an exact inventory?”
“No, but—”
“I want you to arrange,” Oory went on relentlessly, “for that young Normal to escape and one or two Bluies with him. If he seems particularly to fraternize with any, choose them—they will be the ones who know Murno. Use your talents on him, Elder Patron. Cozen him. Remark, casually, that he may soon be seeing some old neighbors of his. Tell him that Murno’s family has been captured and is to be taken to Ingress to be interrogated and held as hostages. Now—here is an even more devious part. Let him, and the Bluies he seems to consort with, steal an aircar and escape. Make them think they’re very clever about it.”
Oj Liave’s eyes nictated wildly. “If this is a joke, it is in singularly bad taste. Surely you cannot dream that I—”
Oory said flatly, “I can, and do; and I remind you of vows and old favors you’ve sworn never to forget. I remind you that a Distorter has been lost and that you and the rest of the Staff are as much to blame as I. And that in doing as I ask, you will be protecting not only Guddun and yourselves—and me, incidentally—but Marshal Stolm as well.”
“But … but … an aircar! Why an aircar?”
“So they can reach Murno quickly, of course.”
“But Oory, they would not know how to pilot an aircar!”
“The Gods! Let them capture one of the Volitionless mutant slaves along with it, to teach them. Or use whatever ingenuity is needed. You’ve done harder things in the past!”
Oj Liave stared at the water as if he’d like to dive into it and escape. After a while he said, “Why Ingress? Simply because you’re there now?”
Oory felt his lips draw back involuntarily. “No. A remark was made, and it bit deep. Hear, Oj Liave—Stolm is angry with the Fiefs, and will let them get themselves mired very deep before he calls for help from off-planet. Also, there is the matter of the Distorter on his mind. But he’s said that if Wild Folk made a move against Ingress, he’d call for help. And that is what I wish to bring about. Once Colonial Command is brought in, there’ll be rules laid down, and an end to this insane slaughter. We’ll be able to make peace with the Wild Folk, and—one way or another—I’ll have Murno and the Distorter.”
Oj Liave twisted his head about miserably. “God of Rain! Do you expect a net of that mesh to draw in fish?”
Oory grinned at him. “Would you care to wager?” While he waited for Oj Liave to find words, he stared eastward, seeing the familiar line of hills but thinking far beyond. After a while he said, “In the last few weeks, Old Friend, I have gained a vast respect for that simple em. Murno will move against Ingress, and his move will be vigorous and cunning. But I will be expecting it!”
CHAPTER XXIII: INTERRUPTED JOURNEY
Murno reined in his horse, watching Pel, who (as his eyes were young and keen) rode a hundred yards ahead. The young man had just pulled up at a point where the south edge of the Grove bulged out, and was looking westward. After a moment he reined around and came back at a gallop. “A single aircar, just cruising the edge!”
Murno turned his horse into the Grove. In the last couple of days, he’d learned that the horses wouldn’t shy too much if they were walked in slowly so they could get used to the dimness. This was the fifth or sixth time he and Pel had taken refuge in the fringes. “One of these times,” he said morosely, “they’re going to look closely enough to recognize horses tracks, and get curious.” He reined in and sat for a moment, listening. A bird chirped somewhere. Bird calls and other animal sounds had been noticeable all the way along this southern edge. It hadn’t been like this at all when he first entered the Grove from the west—there’d been the hush and the oppressiveness right from the start. Now, clearly, animals from outside were moving into the fringes—yesterday he’d seen cougar tracks, and this morning he’d found the partly-eaten body of a ground-squirrel. And the feel of the place was gone. Did that mean a sort of death, caused by the terrible destruction of the northern half? Did it mean that the Grove’s master—the Full Blue—was dead? Or merely gone elsewhere? Or withholding his influence from the trees, lest the Gaddyl, or human refugees, learn too much?
Certainly, the change made the Grove far less of a refuge. If, for instance, breloons were put on a trail that led into the Grove, they’d probably follow it now.
He turned his mount westward, pushing through undergrowth where necessary, staying just deep enough within the fringes to see. He was anxious to be beyond the Grove and into the dry mountains west of it. How he’d cross the flat land beyond those, and the Sierras if he reached them, were problems for the future. At least, he had Pel—a fair woodsman—with him, and two could travel more safely than one.
He turned to look at the young man; saw that Pel was staring nervously toward the light. “Something bothering you?”
“Well … this last aircar I saw was acting differently than the others. It would move a little way, slowly, then pause. And it was staying closer to the trees. The more I think about it …”
Murno reined in; looked around for a path. “Maybe we ought to go a little deeper and wait until we’re sure it’s gone by.” He edged his horse a few yards inward. It went carefully, but didn’t shy at anything. Pel came alongside and they sat listening.
The horses’ hearing proved the better. In a few minutes the two mounts began to cock their ears and turn their heads this way and that. Murno’s horse moved its feet nervously.
Then Murno heard it—or felt it; he didn’t know which was first. But suddenly his skin prickled; he felt the remembered oppressiveness. And then the trees began murmuring! Very faintly at first, then louder: “Mur-no. Mur-no.”
He saw Pel’s eyes go wide; saw the young man reach quickly for his bow. Murno restrained a similar impulse. Softly, he said, “Who calls?”
The astonishment on Pel’s face was complete when the Grove began to echo—softly—“Who calls? Who-who-who-calls-calls?”
The sound echoed away into silence. Minutes passed. Then suddenly came a voice, a human voice, from outside the Grove: “Murno! It’s Liss! Come quickly!”
Murno hesitated only a second. Then he beckoned Pel to follow and nudged his horse toward the call.
At first he thought he was dreaming, or insane. There were Liss and one of his cousins, Kenth’s boy Joe, and—most bewildering of all to find sitting in an aircar—Larkan. Finally, he managed to mutter, “How?”
Liss said, “My cousin and I and Joe were captured by Gaddyl. But we stole this aircar and escaped, and came looking for you. We knew where you’d left the Grove going east, and that led us to Larkan’s clan—though we had a little excitement introducing ourselves.” Liss grinned at the Orse leader. Then he turned serious. “But there’s bad news. Bay Fiefdom raided us and captured many. The Old One was wounded. He escaped—but his mind is cut off from us, and we don’t know where he is or whether he still lives. And your family …” Liss avoided Murno’s eyes and gestured at Joe.
Joe said, “The three of us here were hunting when the raid hit. It seemed like the whole sky was full of aircars. We tried to draw them away from camp, but they were dropping gas bombs and we didn’t get far. The next thing I knew, we were in the slave barracks west of the bay.”
Murno stared dully at the boy. He didn’t feel the shock he might have—rather, he just felt let down, beaten; as if a blow he’d expected for a long time had finally fallen. “Was Klayr hurt? Or Sis or Gaje?”
“I … didn’t see them. From the way Oj Liave talked, they were all right.”
Murno tried to remember back. “Oj Liave … He used to be a captain of guides …”
“He’s more than that now,” Joe said. “He seemed to be in charge while the Fief was away. He tried to soft-talk me, but I didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t seem to know I’d crossed the Sack Toe Valley with you.”
Murno felt a wild stirring of hope. “Then you don’t actually know that Klayr and the kids—”
“He mentioned them. He knew I’d been a neighbor. He said if I wouldn’t talk I’d probably be sent from Bay to Ingress, where I’d be interrogated with some of my neighbors. Then sold as a slave somewhere. Maybe even shipped off-planet.”
The dull pain inside Murno twinged sharply. He turned away; stared at nothing for a moment; kicked idly at a clump of dirt. At least, he thought desperately, they weren’t dead.
Rage finally came. He turned viciously on Liss. “Your people were supposed to take care of them! What was The Old One doing—out playing games, putting squirrels to sleep or something?”
The blue face quirked in anger. “Many of my people died, Freed Man! I do not know if my own mother and sisters are alive! The Old One may be dead. He fought; that much I know. I—”
Larkan broke in harshly, “When the Gaddyl take a longhorn cow for sport, do they ask how her calves may feel? That’s what we are—game animals. That’s what we’ll stay unless we change things ourselves!”
Murno turned on him, shaking. Then—before hot words poured out—he remembered the man and woman of Larkan’s clan he’d come across, slaughtered at their campsite without warning or reason.
A not-quite-sane laugh exploded violently from him. “You wanted to attack Ingress, did you? All right—gather your army! But not all in one place—disperse them in groups, in an arc around Ingress but not too close. Wherever there’s good cover and not many Gaddyl. Build up what arsenal you can of Gaddyl weapons. But don’t neglect human firearms, or arrows—we’re going to need a horde of men, armed however’s possible. And horses, there’ll have to be some fast maneuvering.” He paused to catch his breath. “Don’t underestimate the stocks of food we’ll need. Meat; cooked or made into pemmican; a lot of it!” He took a stride and faced Liss. “You’ve got this aircar, and you know how to fly it. I want Kah Let and as many more men of your tribe as you can get here in two weeks. The Old One, if he’s able to travel. And the Full Blue—there are things he can do for us, and he may as well help, for there’ll be no place for him if we’re beaten.” He glanced into the Grove. “Can you tell whether there are any Big Ears left here?”
Liss said, “I feel there are.”
“Well, you’ll have to enlist them—now, if possible; if not, when you come back. Oh—and bring your cats!” He thought swiftly. “Could you control a herd of cattle?”
Liss looked doubtful. “They have weak minds. We could soothe them, or rouse them to stampede.”
“In a direction you chose?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all we’ll require.”
Pel was tugging at Murno’s arm. “The word must get to Omha, and to my people!” He turned to Larkan. “Will you be sending messengers east at once? I’d like to ride with them!”
Larkan nodded emphatically. Murno darted a look at the young Burnie. “Are you insane? You’re a fugitive from your people!”
“I’m not a fugitive from Omha! And there are friends who’ll stand by me. In any case, my people have a right to know. And who can reach them if I can not?”
Murno hesitated briefly. “All right!” He turned to Larkan. “Listen: we’ll allow fourteen days for assembling and equipping, then five more for getting close to Ingress. On the twentieth night, counting tonight, we’ll attack. What your messengers can do, besides notifying clans close enough to join in, is arrange a diversion somewhere else early on that night. Do you know where Fiefdom Chunn is?”
“More or less.”
“There must be an attack, or a semblance of an attack, there, sufficient to draw part of the Garrison from Ingress. Can you persuade Orse east of the Rockies to handle that?”
Larkan said, “I’ll persuade somebody. Do you want it actually overrun?”
“Well … not at the cost of a lot of lives.”
“Lives,” the Orse leader said, “are cheap right now!”
Murno looked at Liss again. “What we’ll need from the Full Blue is some sentient plants—small ones, I guess—to do some spying at Ingress.”
Liss looked incredulous. “Do you expect him to grow trees in two weeks? And in a place he’s never seen?”
“Of course not! We can sneak in a few some way—put the problem up to him! Maybe you can make birds carry them in, or something.” He considered briefly. “With luck, you and Kah Let and The Old One, if he’s able to travel, and the Full Blue, can be back here tomorrow night. Then we’ll need several dozen of your men—with the strongest talents—here; or better, a hundred miles southeast, in two weeks. I suppose most of them will have to come on foot. Can they do it?”
Liss grinned. “They’ll have sore feet. But it can be done.”
Larkan made a choking sound. Murno turned to him. “You’re going to learn some surprising things about your new allies!”
CHAPTER XXIV: THE NET AND THE FISH
The mountain was one of a pair, about six miles west of the center of Ingress. That put it within good field-glass range of the closest point of the periphery fence, but much farther than Murno liked from the points chosen for attack. Like the other peaks of this range, it was ancient, eroded; with little soil left to cover the crumbling gray rock of its skeleton. But it could and did intercept rain; and, on a little plateau of its eastern flank, there was enough soil to support a few stunted pines. That meager cover was the best he’d been able to find, if he wanted any view at all of the attack. At least, the plateau was high enough to be unattractive to Gaddyl; and its security was no thinner than some he’d relied on in the last twenty days.
If he’d had even an inkling, when he’d set that time-limit, what an enormous job he was undertaking, he’d have had better sense than to try. A year would have been more reasonable.
Now, fighting off sleep, he sat slumped against a pine-trunk and stared dully at Ingress. In the captured aircar (one of seven they now possessed) that had brought them here, The Old One dozed. He said he would recover, but one leg was so badly burned it made Murno shudder. Larkan was on the other side of the aircar, enjoying the ultimate luxury of a nap. The Full Blue was somewhere up the mountain by himself, where he could concentrate. That huge blue man had supplied the only surprise on the plus side in this whole endless nightmare of organizing and scheming and assessing and puzzling and coping that was about to climax—he’d had a few leafy spies in Ingress for centuries!
Not, Murno mused wearily, that they were yielding any worthwhile information so far. That was one more frustration. He’d been stupid, he realized now, to hope for anything like the sophistication of the trees of the Grove.
The afternoon was clear—no chance, this night, of the rain he’d hoped for. With the field-glasses (captured with one of the aircars) he could see most of the major buildings. The Translocation Center loomed huge and cubical above the customs-buildings, travel agencies, shops, and hotels embraced by the southern curve of the Inner Moat. That, of course, was the vital first objective, though there’d be a feint at the north.
