“I also heard . . . answer.”
He mumbled, looking over his shoulder, “So did Melanie. She says. Well, so did I. It could have been an echo.”
“Ah. I can see why you’d rather think so. You can take us to meeting place?”
“If the sled’ll run, sure. I came out here to rescue whoever, and I guess you’re as whoever as the next one.”
“We may as well have little rest, while sled dries out.”
They climbed the slope to the cave entrance, slipping into the entrance hidden in the shadow between two stones.
“Who’s that?” demanded Jorub.
“Kamakama. Boy I rescued years ago. He’s been in city with our contingent.” She took off her hastily snatched up shawl and resumed her seat at the entrance.
“I thought you said you had a baby with you?”
“There, lying next to . . .” She rose, eyes wide. There was no Dovidi next to Kamakama. She ran to the blanket, knelt down upon it, searched the cavern with her eyes. Jorub came up behind her with his light, shining it into crevices. A slight disturbance of the water caught their eyes. There the baby was, deep in the pool, floating facedown, motionless.
“Oh, by heaven,” cried Awhero.
“I’ll get him,” said Jorub, throwing off his robes and diving into the water. As he thrashed toward the child, some errant eddy took the small body and turned it, moved it away. The little feet flipped, the little arms paddled, up he came while his would-be rescuer plunged about below, searching for him.
Jorub rose, spewing water, to see Awhero holding the child and shaking as though she had just taken death by the hand.
Jorub climbed out, panting. “How did you get hold of him?”
“He … he washed up toward me,” she said, holding the baby tightly. “When you jumped in, it must have made current.”
Dovidi made a little crowing sound, half question, half joy.
“He’s none the worse for it,” said Jorub.
“No,” she murmured, drying the baby’s neck and shoulders. “No. I guess he … held his breath. Instinctive, you know.”
“He was asleep next to me when I lay down,” said Kamakama. “I never felt him move.”
“In future, we’ll keep him away from water,” said Awhero, with a tremulous smile. “Unless we’re with him. And awake.”
Jorub settled onto the blanket. “Genevieve said the Aresians had come. Is that true?”
“It is true, my boy, they came with vengeance. Kamakama and I were afraid they’d find bodies out on sands, so we moved all we came upon.”
“There were sixty-eight, last holy days.”
“We moved twelve. Maybe Joncaster did, too.”
“It wouldn’t be good if Aresians found out, would it?”
She said, “Hand me that pack, boy. The baby’s milk is in it.” Then, after a few moments she answered him. “No. It wouldn’t be good if Aresians found out.”
The messenger bird arrived at Refuge Six shortly after Melanie and her group arrived there. They immediately unloaded four of the five sleds and sent them away, Enid and Ithil driving two of them, and two men from the shelter the other two, leaving Melanie to escort Genevieve on to the standing stone.
“We’ve been days on this trip,” said Genevieve. “How can they get back there tonight?”
“We’ve been days,” Melanie replied, “because we’ve gone slowly, the long way, not wanting to waste fuel. This matter is worth the waste of fuel. Come morning, you and I will head for the standing stone while Enid and Ithil go past Refuge Five and the other two sleds take the high route to Four. Each sled will pick up a man to help with the work.”
“Heavy, horrible work,” cried Genevieve.
“Horrible perhaps, but not heavy. The bodies will be mere husks, dried leaves. The business about bleeding on the lichen is probably unpleasant, but Joncaster says to give it only a taste. That’s why we’ll have men on every sled.”
“You’ve decided it isn’t tapu to bleed on it?”
“We’re not killing it or using it. Those would be tapu. Is this tapu? I don’t see why it would be.”
Genevieve stared at her hands, clenched to prevent the spasmodic, purposeless movement they seemed determined to make. “It seems impossible that the lichen would have such a different effect just from the hormonal content of the blood! If that’s what it is.”