Crystal Heat

11

Shadith bowed. “Drummer Orros. And you may call me Shadow.”

“Yes, I do know Chiouti. Is it the island you wish to find, Shadow, or the woman who was on it.”

Shadith blinked, startled by having her question answered before she voiced it. “Thank you. It is the woman. I’ve come to find her. I need to talk to her.”

“Do you mean her harm? She is of the Bond.”

“No harm. I’ve a question to ask and an offer to make.”

“She can’t leave. Do you understand that? If you take her now, she’ll die and so will you.”

“You’re sure?”

“You come too late, Star rider.”

“Perhaps so, perhaps not. I don’t understand this Bond of yours, but there are things you don’t understand about me. In any case. I do need to talk to her.”

“She drums on a beronta these days. They make landfall next at an island called Keredel. It is on the far side of the world, six months sail from here.”

“How can I recognize Keredel?”

The Drummer snapped his fingers and a young boy ran to him with a stick, some stones, leaves, and bits of grass. He dropped to his knees on the damp sand, smoothed out a patch and, using the stick, began to carve. He labored over it for nearly half an hour, cutting bits of grass and leaves and fitting them into the sand, using the stones as rock outcroppings and to form a curving tail of small, rocky islets. When he was finished, he dusted off his knees, rubbed his palms against his menu. “That is Keredel.”

“You leave me in your debt, Drummer Orros.” She examined the small exquisite miniature, amazing in its detail, and knew she’d have no trouble locating that particular island.

“No. The woman is unhappy here and more so every day. It…” He paused, hunting for words. “It disturbs the Bond. The debt will be ours if you can find a way to make her content or to help her leave alive.”

Shadith bowed again, then went back to the lander. She had a lot to think about, but more to do before she could find the time she needed for that thinking.

14. Bargains

Lylunda took the small practice drum, left the bustling trade fair in the village belau, and went to sit on the bench, her bare feet in the foam from the retreating tide. She’d gathered cherar on the first island that the Remeydang stopped at after leaving Chiouti, but she could not make herself drink the infusion. Her throat closed up, her insides cramped, her hands shook so badly she dropped the glass. In the end she poured it out and fought the pull of the tung akar by drumming herself into exhaustion-but when morning came, she ate slices of the tuber with the rest of the Pandai. That night she curled in a knot and grieved for everything she’d lost. The Pandai understood her struggle and left her alone with it.

They knew, everyone knew everything, around the world and back all Pandai knew what one. Pandai knew as if they ate the information with the crisp yellow rounds of tung akar. No privacy of thought and feeling on Bol Mutiar. Each time she saw evidence of this, her body screamed with rage and terror, though she swallowed the words she wanted to shout at them. Rape of the soul. Taking what she didn’t want to give. Taking the last thing that was hers alone.

When she was out on the ocean, the pressure was gone, as if the brisk winds that sent the beronta scudding along blew the addiction from her head; she was happy there and it was enough respite to help her keep going. But there was always the next island, the next meal, all around her the smell of the tung and the awareness of its presence that went beyond the senses.

She touched the drum head, listened to it speak, She’d not eaten the tung yet, so she could still feel the song in her bones; it helped her push away the clamor to eat and be One in Bond with the others. Bond, the tapping of her fingers sang to her, bond, bond bondaaaage. Though the Pandai were freer within their limits than anyone she’d known, happier… real joy in them… in the games and the making of things… laughter and no fear… yet, what they gave up for this…

She felt something tweak at her. A coldness, almost anger, in the aura of the tung. She got to her feet, stood holding the drum in front of her like a shield as she watched a dark figure coming toward her. A woman. In a shipsuit. A trader? The Berotongs had never spoken of femme traders.

As the woman came closer, Lylunda watched the vigorous alertness in her body, the fierce energy of her walk; her eyes blurred with weak tears. She’d walked like that once. She’d danced that way.

The woman stopped in front of her; she was tall and slender with a tangle of gold-tipped brown curls and eyes like bitter chocolate. “Lylunda Elang?”

Lylunda sighed. Whatever the woman wanted, she had no will left to fight her. “Yes.” She felt the coldness grow, felt the peril in it. She didn’t care, she was just too tired to be afraid anymore.

The woman shivered. “I’m not here to hurt you in any way. Do you believe that?”

“Does it matter?”

“You tell me.”

“All right. I believe you.” She felt the coldness draw back; perhaps it did matter. She had no reason to wish harm on this woman.

“Thanks. I’m tired of this sand. Any place where we can sit and talk?”

“If you want to talk, talk here.”

The woman raised her brows, startled at the violence in Lylunda’s voice, but she wasn’t about to apologize. If she went away from the water, the tung’s call would grow too strong for her and she wouldn’t be able to think.

“All right. My name is Shadith. I work for Excavations Ltd., and the Kliu hired us to find you and either get the location of the Taalav array or hand you over to them so they could extract it. I don’t intend to do that, by the way. Hand you over, I mean.”

“Oh.” Lylunda sighed. “You came too late. If you take me away from here, I won’t live long enough to reach the Limit.”

“So I was told. Also that I’d be dead right beside you. Why?”

–

“To stay alive on this world for any length of time, you have to eat the tung akar. Once you’ve eaten enough of it, you can’t live without it. It’s more complicated than that in ways I wouldn’t understand unless I gave up and became part of the Tung Bond.”

“I’ve an ottodoc on board my ship. That wouldn’t flush it out of your system?”

“The Jilitera warned me about that. It won’t work. I think the tung has become part of my cell structure and the ottodoc can’t get all of it without killing me. It’s aware, the tung I mean. I can feel it.”

“Yes. So can I. Your father chose well. You’re certainly safe here. If the Kliu come after you, the Lung kills them.”

“You know about my father?”

“When I was on Hutsarte looking for you, I tangled with someone called Grinder Jiraba. He figured out what must have happened.”

“I see. I see something else, too. No ethical problems telling the Kliu where to find me. I’m safe, you’re away clean, not even any bad dreams.”

“Maybe no ethical problems, but an interesting practical one. We don’t get paid if we just give them your location. They want actual possession or a firm location for the array.”

Lylunda turned away, eased herself onto the sand, and sat staring out at the sea, her hands flattened against the sides of the drum so their shaking wouldn’t betray the surge of hope that was like fire racing through her body. She heard Shadith drop beside her, but she didn’t turn to face the woman, this too-clever hunter who’d sniffed out her hiding place.

When she had control of her voice, she said, “I’m not going to tell you.”

“Unless…”

“You are quick. Ba da, considering that you found me, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ll sell Prangarris and the Taalav for a way off this world. That’s the only coin that will buy me; there’s nothing else you’ve got that I want.”

“I know a healer; I think she can keep you alive. I’d best go have a talk with her. Travel times being what they are, could be around several months before I’m back, so hold tight, hm? And hold onto this.” A beeper landed in her lap. A warm hand closed on her shoulder in a quick squeeze, then she heard the sounds of running feet thudding on the sand.

Lylunda kept staring at the sea, trying to calm the turmoil inside her and at the same time wondering how she was going to survive the next few months.

15. Worm Trails