What were the facts I had discovered? Oomark’s aversion to the food I carried, his change, his fear of the flowering branch.
But – 1 had begun to change also, though I had not eaten as he did. How? Why? I carefully traced memory. I had drunk! On my awakening here I had drunk at the pool. Therefore, I had taken into my body some of the natural products of this world. Then why did the flowering branch bring my skin back to normal? And what of my hair? I tugged loose at least two of my hairs to look.
They were not as green as they had been, I was sure. And some of their curl had returned. The flowers had done that. Was that why Oomark feared them? Did he know they would halt his alteration, perhaps return him to his old self? But he should want that! I shook my head and recalled the old cry from Volk’s computer – “Not enough data.”
There was no use speculating over Oomark. I had better confine myself to what I thought, felt, and knew for myself. I could well believe that eating and drinking here resulted in bodily change. The hairy creature – if my premise was correct, then he – it – she – might once have been human! That would explain (somehow I thought of the stranger as male) his frantic attempts to get off-world food, in the hope it would aid him to change back. But the flowers had worked for me – why not for him? Perhaps he had reached an alteration state that prevented their use. I could guess and guess and guess, but I could not be sure of the truth.
I started, my head up, my ears straining to hear. There was something moving in the mist. I watched that faint shadow. Too well I remembered that which had prowled around the ring when Oomark and I had refuged there and what I had encountered among the mounds.
A shape, dark, coming straight toward me! I arose, the weighted bag ready. To run blindly through the mist was useless. It was better to face danger as best I could, but I had little hope if what came for me was of the caliber I had met.
The figure came on slowly, lurching in its walk as if hurt or maimed. Then I could see it as clearly as this stage of the fog allowed. The hairy thing! I swung the bag in warning, and he halted.
There was a torn bandage about his chest that might cover a wound. But – he was changed! At least I did not remember him so manlike. His head was more erect, his shoulders less hunched. Nor did his hair covering appear so dense.
“Friend – ” The word was distinct, as audible as if Oomark or Bartare had uttered it. Once more he showed me both hands empty in a gesture of goodwill. Dare I trust him? If I could find partnership, have a guide through this nightmare countryside, then I could better reach the children, perhaps force a return to the normal world.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
He hesitated, as if not knowing whether to approach, and then shambled on a few steps. I saw that those rags he had twisted about his body bore a dark stain in one place, and I added, almost involuntarily, “You are hurt!”
He cupped one hand over his bandaged wound. “Shuck has fangs.” His voice held a tired note.
“Shuck – Shark.” I echoed the cries that had drawn the attention of the monsters, allowing my escape. “Did you call so from the mound crest?”
“They must answer to their rightful names. It is the law.” He gave me an oblique answer. “That is why they guard their names so well, that they may not be bound by the naming of them.”
Perhaps that would have made sense had I known as much as he. But at least this creature must have saved me from what prowled the mounds. So I could not believe, as he stood thus before me, that he meant me any harm.
“What do you want?” Perhaps that sounded cold and hard. Yet I was not ready to welcome so strange a fellow traveler.
“You have – food.” He licked at his lips.
“Very little now,” I was quick to answer. “And why do you want it? There seems to be plenty here.”
“If you eat that, you become part of this world,” he said slowly. “You can then have no hope of going back.”
“Is there a way back?” I seized upon that eagerly. “Where?”
“They know, the Great Ones of the Folk. And there are ways they can be tricked into telling. But that I learned too late. I was then – like this. I was tied here. But if you eat true food, then you have a chance of breaking their spells.” He pointed to the flowering branch. “You could not handle that if you were one of them. They fear the notus because it counteracts their power.” He staggered, as if he could no longer keep his feet, and went down, his arms outflung to reach to me and what I carried.
Prudence warned me to leave him alone. But in that moment sympathy outargued prudence. I knelt beside him, tugging at his heavy shoulder until I was able to roll him over on his back. His eyes were closed, and he breathed shallowly. The stain on the bandage was dry, so I did not try to shift it to examine the wound beneath, lest I do more mischief than good.
This time I was close enough to see those few rags of clothing were remnants of ordinary fabric, and one scrap had insignia worked upon it. I knew that mark. This scarcely human creature wore a Survey badge!
Survey! To touch that link with the past was a prod into action, strengthening my determination to stand against the menaces of this land. It was a link, indeed, with sane and normal living, though it would appear he who wore it had had little luck in remaining himself.
He stirred, and his deeply sunken eyes opened. I was not even sure he could understand me, but I must know.
“You are Survey – who?” And I think I would have shaken it out of him had he not answered slowly.
“Jorth Kosgro, First-In Scout, Twenty-fifth Division, Argol Sector – ”
Only one thing meant much to me now – Argol Sector. If he had operated out of there, he could have come to Dylan. But why? Dylan had been on star maps now for more than a hundred years. And the scouts penetrated far out into the unknown. Unless he had been sent here for some administrative reason, he was very far from where he should be. “I came from Dylan. How did you reach here?” If he could answer that, perhaps I would have some clue for our return. His talk of those among the Folk who might be tricked into revealing a way did not mean much. I wanted solid facts.
“Jorth Kosgro, First-In Scout, Twenty-fifth Division, Argol Sector – ” His mechanical repetition was exasperating.
I leaned closer. “Jorth Kosgro!”
He stared back up at me, and I had the feeling he did not see me at all. Frustrated, I sat back on my heels. Perhaps it was the effects of his wound, or perhaps he was so changed that his memory of the past was clouded. I wished I had water – perhaps that flung in his face might- But what had he said? He wanted the food I carried. I opened my supply bag. I had three blocks of choc left and the rest of the package of wafers. And something else – a tube of dewberry jam meant to be squeezed out on the wafers, and one of a meat extract for the same purpose. I chose the meat now as the most sustaining.
Yet I hesitated for a moment before loosing its cap. The supplies were so limited. I would have to take care, or I could not keep normal or help the children. The children – they were my first duty. On the other hand, this- stranger knew the dangers here. He had already saved me once, and he might provide our way out. I gave myself such reasons, but among them was also the fact that I could not turn my back upon one who had come to me so, who was basically of my own kind.
I slipped my arm under his shaggy head, lifted him up a little so he rested against my shoulder, and put the end of the tube between his half-open Ups, squeezing the soft paste into his mouth. I did not give him much, knowing that it had to be guarded.
I saw him swallow, though that seemed to be a difficult and painful process. Then he moved as one striving to sit up, and I steadied him. He leaned so far forward that I thought him about to fall on his face, but he was holding his middle and his mouth twisted in pain.