In minutes, Telzey thought, in minutes, if she was alive minutes from now, she would have this mind—unaware, unresistant, wide open to her—under control. But she wasn’t certain she could check the spook then through Robane. He had never attempted to hold it back moments away from its kill.
Vision cleared. She stood on the slope, tight tendrils of thought still linking her to every significant section of Robane’s mind. The spook stared, hook-beak lifted above its gaping mouth, showing the thick, twisting tongue inside. Still upright, it began to move, seemed to glide across the ground towards her. One of its forelimbs came through the thick cloak of fur, four-fingered paw raised, slashing retractile claws extended, reaching out almost playfully.
Telzey backed slowly off from the advancing goblin shape. For an instant, another picture slipped through her thoughts . . . a blur of motion. She gave it no attention. There was nothing she could do there now.
The goblin dropped lightly to a crouch. Telzey saw it begin its spring as she turned and ran.
She heard the gurgling chuckle a few feet behind her, but no other sound. She ran headlong up the slope with all the strength she had left. In another world, on another level of existence, she moved quickly through Robane’s mind, tracing out the control lines, gathering them in. But her thoughts were beginning to blur with fatigue. Bushy shrubbery dotted the slope ahead. She could see nothing else.
The spook passed her like something blown by the wind through the grass. It swung around before her, twenty feet ahead; and as she turned to the right, it was suddenly behind her again, coming up quickly, went by. Something nicked the back of her calf as it passed—a scratch, not much deeper than a dozen or so she’d picked up pushing through thorny growth tonight. But this hadn’t been a thorn. She turned left, and it followed, herding her; dodged right, and it was there, going past. Its touch seemed the lightest flick again, but an instant later there was a hot, wet line of pain down her arm. She felt panic gather in her throat as it came up behind her once more. She stopped, turning to face it.
It stopped in the same instant, fifteen feet away, rose slowly to its full height, dark eyes staring, hooked beak open as if in silent laughter. Telzey watched it, gasping for breath. Streaks of foggy darkness seemed to float between them. Robane felt far away, beginning to slip from her reach. If she took another step, she thought, she would stumble and fall; then the thing would be on her.
The spook’s head swung about. Its beak closed with a clack. The horn-ears went erect.
The white shape racing silently down the slope seemed unreal for a moment, something she imagined. She knew Chomir was approaching; she hadn’t realized he was so near. She couldn’t see the aircar’s lights in the starblaze above, but it might be there. If they had followed the dog after he plunged out of the car, if they hadn’t lost . . .
Chomir could circle Robane’s beast, threaten it, perhaps draw it away from her, keep it occupied for minutes. She drove a command at him—another, quickly and anxiously, because he hadn’t checked in the least; tried to slip into his mind and knew suddenly that Chomir, coming in silent fury, wasn’t going to be checked or slowed or controlled by anything she did. The goblin uttered a monstrous, squalling scream of astounded rage as the strange white animal closed the last twenty yards between them; then it leaped aside with its horrid ease. Sick with dismay, Telzey saw the great forelimb flash from the cloak, strike with spread talons. The thudding blow caught Chomir, spun him around, sent him rolling over the ground. The spook sprang again to come down on its reckless assailant. But the dog was on his feet and away.
It was Chomir’s first serious fight. But he came of generations of ancestors who had fought one another and other animals and armed men in the arenas of Askanam. Their battle cunning was stamped into his genes. He had made one mistake, a very nearly fatal one, in hurtling in at a dead run on an unknown opponent. Almost within seconds, it became apparent that he was making no further mistakes.
Telzey saw it through a shifting blur of exhaustion. As big a dog as Chomir was, the squalling goblin must weigh nearly five times as much, looked ten times larger with its fur-mane bristling about it. Its kind had been forest horrors to the early settlers. Its forelimbs were tipped with claws longer than her hands and the curved beak could shear through muscle and bone like a sword. Its uncanny speed . . .
Now somehow it seemed slow. As it sprang, slashing down, something white and low flowed around and about it with silent purpose. Telzey understood it then. The spook was a natural killer, developed by nature to deal efficiently with its prey. Chomir’s breed were killers developed by man to deal efficiently with other killers.
He seemed locked to the beast for an instant, high on its shoulder, and she saw the wide, dark stain on his flank where the spook’s talons had struck. He shook himself savagely. There was an ugly, snapping sound. The spook screeched like a huge bird. She saw the two animals locked together again, then the spook rolling over the ground, the white shape rolling with it, slipping away, slipping back. There was another screech. The spook rolled into a cluster of bushes. Chomir followed it in.
A white circle of light settled on the thrashing vegetation, shifted over to her. She looked up, saw Rish’s car gliding down through the air, heard voices calling her name—
She followed her contact thoughts back to Robane’s mind, spread out through it, sensing at once the frantic grip of his hands on the instrument controls. For Robane, time was running out quickly. He had been trying to turn his beast away from the dog, force it to destroy the human being who could expose him. He had been unable to do it. He was in terrible fear. But he could accomplish no more through the spook. She felt his sudden decision to break mind-contact with the animal to avoid the one experience he had always shunned—going down with another mind into the shuddering agony of death.
His right hand released the control it was clutching, reached towards a switch.
“No,” Telzey said softly to the reaching hand.
It dropped to the instrument board. After a moment, it knotted, twisted about, began to lift again.
“No.”
Now it lay still. She considered. There was time enough.
Robane believed he would die with the spook if he couldn’t get away from it in time. She thought he might be right; she wouldn’t want to be in his mind when it happened, if it came to that.
There were things she needed to learn from Robane. The identity of the gang which had supplied him with human game was one; she wanted that very much. Then she should look at the telepathic level of his mind in detail, find out what was wrong in there, why he hadn’t been able to use it . . . some day, she might be able to do something with a half-psi like Gikkes. And the mind-machines—if Robane had been able to work with them, not really understanding what he did, she should be able to employ similar devices much more effectively. Yes, she had to carefully study his machines—
She released Robane’s hand. It leaped to the switch, pulled it back. He gave a great gasp of relief.
For a moment, Telzey was busy. A needle of psi energy flicked knowingly up and down channels, touching here, there, shriveling, cutting, blocking . . . Then it was done. Robane, half his mind gone in an instant, unaware of it, smiled blankly at the instrument panel in front of him. He’d live on here, dimmed and harmless, cared for by machines, unwitting custodian of other machines, of memories that had to be investigated, of a talent he’d never known he had.
“I’ll be back,” Telzey told the smiling, dull thing, and left it.
She found herself standing on the slope. It had taken only a moment, after all. Dunker and Valia were running towards her. Rish had just climbed out of the aircar settled forty feet away, its search-beam fixed on the thicket where the spook’s body jerked back and forth as Chomir, jaws locked on its crushed neck, shook the last vestiges of life from it with methodical fury.
V: Sleep No More
Three weeks passed before Telzey returned to Robane’s house.
Her encounter with the spook created very little stir. She’d asked her companions not to talk about it, on the ground that it would upset her family if they learned she’d been in danger. Some of the group felt it was a shame to keep so thrilling an adventure a secret, but they’d agreed. The park officials wanted no publicity either. The only news mention of the incident was that a spook, which somehow had found its way from one of the northern wildlife preserves into Melna Park, had been killed there by a visitor’s guard dog, and that the park was being carefully scanned to make sure no more of the dangerous animals had strayed in. Telzey’s story to her friends was that there’d been a malfunction in the Cloudsplitter. The car had settled inertly to the ground, and when she got out to do something about it, the malfunction apparently cut out again, and the Cloudsplitter floated up out of her reach before she could stop it and drifted away. She’d started walking back to Cil Canyon, and presently found the spook on her trail. The Cloudsplitter was located by a police car next day, fifty miles beyond the park borders, and restored to its owner. Before leaving the park, Telzey quietly recovered Dunker’s watch and the other articles Robane had made her discard at the house.