Trying not to think what would happen now if the cable snapped, Limbeck leaned back against the side of the bubble, dosed his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t be sick.
Unfortunately, closing his eyes made him dizzy. He felt himself spinning round and round, about to fall into a deep black pit.
“This won’t do,” said Limbeck shakily. “I can’t pass out. I’ve got to explain to them up above what’s going on.”
The Geg opened his eyes and-to keep from looking out-set himself to studying the god. He had, he realized, thought of the creature as male. At least it looked more like a male Geg than a female Geg, which was all Limbeck had to go on. The god’s face was rough-cut: a square, cleft chin covered with a stubbly growth of beard; firm lips, tightly drawn, tightly closed, never relaxing, appearing to guard secrets that he would take with him to death. A few fine lines around the eyes seemed to indicate that the god, though not an old man, was no youngster. The hair, too, added an impression of age. It was cut short-very short-and though matted with blood and rain-soaked, Limbeck could see patches of pure white at the temples, above the forehead, and around the back where it grew at the base of the neck. The god’s body seemed made of nothing but bones and muscle and sinew. He was thin-by Geg standards, too thin.
“That’s probably why he’s wearing so many clothes,” said Limbeck to himself, trying hard not to look out the sides of the bubble, where lightning strikes were making the stormy night brighter than any day the Gegs, in their sunless world, ever knew.
The god wore a thick leather tunic over a shirt with a drawstring collar that encircled his throat. He had wrapped a strip of cloth around his neck, the ends tied in a knot at the base of his throat and thrust into the tunic. The shirt’s long, full sleeves covered his wrists; drawstrings held them fast. Soft leather trousers were tucked into knee-high boots that fastened up the sides of the legs with buttons made of what appeared to be the horn of some animal. Over all this, he wore a long collarless coat with wide sleeves that came to the elbows. The colors of his clothes were drab-browns and whites, grays and dull black. The fabric was well-worn, frayed in places. The leather tunic, trousers, and boots had softened around the body, fitting it like a second skin.
Most peculiarly, the god wore rags around his hands. Startled by this, which he must have noticed, but hadn’t thought about until now, Limbeck looked at the god’s hands more closely. The rags were skillfully applied. Wrapping around the wrist, they covered the back of the hand and the palm and were twined around the base of the fingers and thumb.
“Why?” Limbeck wondered, and reached forward to find out.
The dog’s growl was filled with such menace that Limbeck felt the hair rise on his head. The animal had jumped to its feet and was gazing at the Geg with a look that said plainly, “I’d leave my master alone, if I were you.”
“Right,” Limbeck gulped. He shrank back against the side of the bubble.
The dog gave him an approving glance. Settling itself more comfortably, it even closed its eyes, as much as to say, “I know you’ll behave now, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take a short nap.”
The dog was right. Limbeck was going to behave. He was paralyzed, afraid to move, almost scared to breathe.
The practical-minded Gegs liked cats. Cats were useful animals who earned their keep by catching mice and who took care of themselves. The Kicksey-Winsey liked cats, at least so it was supposed, since it had been the creators of the Kicksey-Winsey- the Mangers-who first brought cats down from the realms above to dwell with the Gegs. There were, however, few dogs on Drevlin. Those who kept them were generally the wealthy Gegs- such as the High Froman and members of his clan. The dogs were not pets, but were used to protect the wealth. Gegs would not take each other’s lives, but there were a few who had no aversion at all to taking each other’s property.