Leely had returned to a point opposite the peek hole. Now he stood facing the rock pile, looking up, his bare little body mottled with chill.
Not mottled. Colored. On his smooth chest and belly a patch of bright scarlet bloomed, bordered on one side in violet and on the other side by deep wine and yellow.
The enormous being above him made a roaring sound, so thunderous and terrible that those who were watching cringed. Colors fled across its underside. Pictures of Rottens, pictures of Leely being grabbed, drawn in, his bones falling from the sky.
And on Leely’s belly, nothing but the colored pattern. No pictures.
“Tell it back,” cried Snark out the peek hole. “Oh, little boy, tell it back! Tell it you’ll kill it dead!”
But Leely made no pictures. Just the pattern, then another Rotten’s
pattern, then another’s. Lutha pressed her face into her hands, not to see, oh, not to see. Leely had never made pictures that moved. To send a message, he would need motion, but his art was a static art.
It wasn’t even art, blared a voice in her mind. It’s no more art than an echo is art. Or a reflection in a mirror. It’s reproduction, not interpretation. Leelson’s voice, too well remembered.
“He can’t,” she said brokenly. “He can’t answer it.”
“What’s happening?” demanded Leelson from behind them.
Lutha stood aside to let him see.
“They’re hurt!” exclaimed Leelson. “Or they’re scared! By my lineage!”
He plunged off among the stones with Lutha at his heels. They erupted into the open inside that monstrous, fleshy chimney where all the tentacles were raised, all the bellies smooth, all showing pictures of Leely dying, of Lutha being devoured, of Leelson’s violent demise.
Unaware they were doing so, they cringed at the sight. Farther up the hill, Leely stood unmoved, staring up at all the colors, waving his hands and singing, “Dananana, Dananana.”
Then the great circle fell apart. Rottens sluggishly sagged away toward the sea, pieces of themselves bulging, almost detaching, then being tugged back with lurching effort. These were the ones Leely had touched, now barely coherent as they hobbled awkwardly down the valley. Some barely made it past the beach; some went a little farther out before they fell and floated, amorphous balloons, black bulges against the bright sky and brighter sea. The shaggies took no notice as the Rottens moved out like sinking ships, wallowing out under their own erratic power, out and down, lower and lower, the waves breaking over them at last.
Those few Rottens that had severed their tentacles moved in quite another direction, straight up, dwindling in distance, vanishing at the zenith …
And beneath the watching humans, the world trembled, shivered, rang like a gigantic bell, the vibration dying away to leave them sprawled, deafened, only half-conscious.
Silence, then. A long, disapproving silence.
Who? What? They could not tell. Over the sea, the grid of shaggies remained quiet, all tentacles withdrawn. All around, the moor was soundless, no branch quivering in even the slightest breeze. No sea-bird cried. No fish splashed. They looked at one another, themselves silent, mouths open, eyes wide. Nothing.
“Dananana.” A fretful cry.
Lutha staggered toward Leely where he spun on his bare feet, staring at the sky, still calling, “Dananana.” His mouth pushed out, pouting. He had liked all those pretty colors. He had been having fun. Lutha watched him, possessed by a sudden and terrible disorientation. Who was he? What was he?
And she stumbled to a halt, hand to mouth to muffle the sound she felt boiling from her throat. She knew what he was! She knew who he was!
Snark stumbled past her, knife in hand, single-mindedly set on taking samples of dropped tentacles. Lutha saw her sawing away at the great, lumpy coils while beyond her Leely danced in and out of the furze, waving, giggling. Lutha didn’t follow him. She was incapable of motion. After a few moments he tired of playing hide-and-seek by himself and came to put his hand in hers. She made herself close her hand, turning like an automaton to follow Snark as she rejoined the others.
They approached Leelson where he stood leaning against a stone, the glasses at his eyes, searching the land around them.