place. Hisa there hurt. Human hurt.”
“We’ve got to go there,” Miliko said, touching her heart “All my humans, go
there, sit on hills, watch. You understand? Hear good?”
“Hear,” Quickfoot said, and seemed to translate.
The others started walking, leading the way; and what they should all do when
they got there she did not know. Ito’s madness and that of the others frightened
her. Six pistols could not take a shuttle, nor the rest of them when they should
come… unarmed and by no means able to go against armored, heavy-armed troops.
They could only watch, and be there, and hope.
They walked throughout the day, with rain sifting cold through the leaves and
the wind shaking drops down on them when it was not actually raining. Streams
were up, bubbling freely; they passed into wilder and wilder thicket.
“Human place,” she reminded them finally, despairing. “We have to go to the
human camp.”
“Go human place,” Whisper confirmed, and in the next moment she was gone,
slipping through the brush with such speed she tricked the eyes.
“Run good,” Quickfoot assured her. “Make Bounder walk far get she. Many he fall,
she walk.”
Miliko frowned, perplexed, as much of hisa chatter was perplexing. But Whisper
was off about sober business, that much seemed likely, and she struggled to keep
moving.
At long last she saw a break in the trees, staggered toward it with the last of
her strength, for there was smoke, the smoke of the mills, and soon after that
she could make out the twilit glimmer of a dome. She sank to her knees at the
edge of the woods, took a moment to realize where she was. She had never seen
the camp from this angle before, high in the hills. She leaned there with
Quickfoot patting her shoulder, for she was gasping and her vision kept
clouding. She felt after the three spare cylinders she had in her left pocket
and hoped she had not ruined the one in the mask. She had reckoned they could
live out here for weeks; they could not be using them up like that.
The sun was going. She saw the lights go on in the camp, and as she worked out
on the edge of an eroded overhang, she could see figures moving out there under
the lights, a burdened line toiling back and forth, back and forth between the
mill and the road.
“She come,” Quickfoot told her suddenly; Miliko looked back, suddenly missed the
others, who had been behind them in the trees and now were nowhere in sight;
blinked again as the brush parted and Whisper dropped to her haunches panting.
“Bounder,” Whisper breathed, rocking with her breaths. “He hurt, he hurt work
hard. Konstantin-man hurt. Give, give you.”
She had a bit of paper clenched in her wet, furry fist. Miliko took it, smoothed
out the sodden scrap very carefully, with the drizzle soaking it afresh and
making it fragile as tissue. She had to bend very close and angle it to read it
in the twilight… crabbed words and twisted.
“It’s pretty… bad here. Won’t pretend not. Stay out. Stay away. Please. I told
you what to do. Scatter and keep out of their hands… fear… they… maybe won’t…
maybe want… want more workers… I’m all right. Please… go back… stay out of
trouble.”
The two hisa looked at her, dark eyes perplexed. Marks on paper—it was confusing
to them. “Did anyone see you?” she asked. “Man see you?”
Whisper pursed her lips. “I Downer,” she said scornfully. “Many Downer come
here. Carry sack, Downer. Bring mill, Downer. Bounder there, human see I, don’t
see. Who I? I Downer. Bounder say you friend hurt work hard; mans kill mans; he
say love you.”
“Love him too.” She tucked the precious note within her jacket, crouched within
the leaves with her hood pulled over her head and her hand within her pocket on
the butt of the pistol.
There was no action they could take that might not make things worse… that might
not mean the lives of everyone down there. Even if they could take one of the
ships… it would only bring reprisals down on them. Massive strike. Here. Back at