Chalker, Jack L. – Rings 1 – Lords Of The Middle Dark

help me up? I would like to get some air.

She tried to help him up, and he made it part way but then collapsed back on the

bed, pulling her down on top of him. He started to mumble apologies, but she

laughed them off.

So, is this a proposition or a proposal? she teased. I have been pulled by

strength into your bed.

I am—sorry…

Why? Am I so ugly, so undesirable that you would not want me?

No, now, wait a moment! I didn’t mean…

She saw his discomfort and found it satisfying, but she also knew he was still

weak and dehydrated, as well. She got up and looked at him. You stay where you

are. I will prepare some broth and herb teas that will get some strength back

into you. I want to see what you are like when you are whole and natural.

The speed with which he regained his strength and clearheadedness was in no

small part due to her help and attentiveness. He knew also that she’d been the

one to summon just the right help when he’d needed it, and even through the

delirium he had been aware that she’d been there all the time, tending him and

speaking soothingly to him.

He didn’t really understand why she did it. Certainly he was someone unusual,

both familiar and foreign at the same time, but that didn’t really explain it

all. It certainly wasn’t his virile good looks. He was, in fact, rather ordinary

looking or a bit worse, his skin mildly pockmarked with scars from a childhood

imbalance. It might be because she was looking for any way out of her

circumstances, although he didn’t think she had that much deviousness in her.

Finally he simply asked her.

She thought about it. Partly it is because I am doing something useful. Partly

it is because you treat me as a person, not a thing, and you do not judge.

That was simply something he had not considered. Oddly, he felt some anger.

Curse you, ancient one! he thought to himself. I have needed her these past

days, and now it is clear that she needs me as well.

He thought about her a lot over the next few days, even when she wasn’t there.

The trouble was, he did want her, did have a need for someone in his life, but

there was no getting around the two worlds. He could not stay, not this time.

There was simply too much important work left to do, work that meant much to the

future of the Hyiakutt as a nation. There was no rule against his marrying her,

but there were rigid rules barring her from access to the medicines and machines

that would allow her to adapt, at least somewhat, to the terribly different way

things were there. She would be isolated in a place where almost no one spoke

her language and where medicines did the only work for which she was qualified.

Yet it was impossible to explain it to her. She had never even seen plumbing,

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 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. Inside its

head was the complete readout of this Montoya’s entire record, essentially a

copy of her memories and personality up to no more than a few months ago at

best. That was the true edge the Val had and the reason why it was alleged that

no one ever escaped them. And few had.

Do what you have to do, but I do not wish to be involved, Hawks told it.

Apprehend her away from here. Unlike some people, I treasure the time I have in

my homeland. This intrusion is not welcome.

I understand, but you must understand me as well. There is only one of me.

There are only three of my kind in this whole system. I can compute

probabilities based upon all my information, but there are always unknowns,

variables beyond my ability to include. I cannot merely stand around here in the

shadows staking this area out. I can only come here and state that if you see

her or she contacts you, you will calm her and shelter her here and when

possible go down to the Four Families’ camp and use the emergency trigger.

Hawks bristled, partly in frustration. He didn’t want to turn this unknown

woman, or anyone, over to a Val or anyone else, and now he would have to. When

they finally caught her, they’d do a readout and know if she’d talked to him

and, if so, what had been said. If they didn’t like the way he had performed,

the next readout taken would be his.

I resent being placed in this position, he told the creature. This is my

land, my people, my way. My parents are buried near here. This is not the

Councils; this is not the Presidium. Neither you nor she have any right here.

And on this land, in this time, I am Hyiakutt, and I obey Hyiakutt law and

custom. If she presents no danger to my people, I will, if she comes, offer her

food and shelter as I would anyone from a strange nation passing through. If you

come, she must go with you, but I will not be your surrogate. Not here.

The great hulking form of the Val was silent for a moment. Fair enough, it

said finally. But I would not advise you to probe why she is here or why she is

wanted. If I cannot find her, I cannot control her. Every moment she is near

puts you at risk. Weigh that. I am not well versed in the details of every tribe

and nation in this area, but I am unaware that any requires suicide to protect a

stranger. Good night to you, sir.

The great creature turned and was quickly and silently lost in the darkness.

Hawks continued to stare after it long after it had left, and he did not go in

to sleep for another hour.

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