Shadowplay

Chapter 10. Myth before breakfast

With chill dawn drafts eddying around her like scalpels probing the places where they'd hurt the most despite the dry clothes and the blanket she'd pulled around her, Shadith sat shuddering with depression and fatigue in the corner of the shack; she hated her feebleness, she felt like some fainting miss falling out at hide 'n seek, but she just couldn't go any more. Much of the time she stared at the dead smelling dirt of the shack floor, dirt she could barely see, and wallowed in uselessness, but when she was at her most morose, she flagellated herself by watching Rohant, Kikun, and the Fanatic (that epithet didn't fit any longer, but she had no other label for him) bustling about, collecting wood for a fire and castoff tree fronds to drape across the rafters and stuff into wall cracks so fliers passing along the river wouldn't spot light leaking through the rotted out places in the roof and walls. The Fanatic had put his gun away somewhere inside his clothes, as if he were embarrassed by it, and was toting fronds into the shack with an amiable determination that amazed her; it would have amused her if she'd had any humor left in her.

They finished with the fronds and went out, pulling the ragged door shut after them, leaving her in there with the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls and a young fire in the far corner that flickered and threatened to go out but never did. She watched the feeble, uncertain flames shiver in the drafts and thought if fires could feel, that one had to feel about like her.

Left behind with her, Sassa perched in the rafters, waiting for Rohant's permission to hunt while the hungry, fractious cats stalked about the shack like shadows snatched from the fire.

Rohant brought in an armload of boards torn off the other shacks, knelt beside the fire, breaking them over his knees and coughing, stopping now and then to wipe his nose; coming into the river after her had finished off his immunities, looked like he was in for a long hard cold. She ground her teeth and wallowed in guilt.

Kikun came in with his arms full of fat tubers. He used a knife, a hefty baynet that he'd acquired from somewhere, not one of hers, to loosen the dirt, then he scraped out a hole with a piece of board until it was big enough to hold the tubers. He covered them over, built a smaller fire on top of them and went trotting out again, resilient as a length of gray-green rubber. Water, weariness, hunger, cold, they rolled off his back and left him untouched. It was more than depressing, it was disgusting.

The Fanatic brought in a dripping can of river water, left it by Rohant, then went to squat in the other corner on Shadith's end of the shack, looking from her to the Dyslaeror with a bemused, faintly amused expression on his square face. His forearms rested on his knees, his hands hung empty before them; he seemed tired but content.

"You asked me why we're here," she said, driven by an impulse born out of a growing distaste for her own mentations. "I think you know more about that than we do."

Rohant sneezed, grumped under his breath as he got to his feet; he called Sassa, held the door open for him, whistled to the cats, and went out with them prowling at his heels.

The Fanatic rose, stretched, then went to the door and stood looking at the sky. "I wonder if it's blown yet."

"The flit? I don't know. You said twenty iskals. You know interlingue. How long's an iskal?"

"Little over a kilometer. Say one and a half."

"Thirty kilometers." She flattened her hand on her leg, scowled at the ringchron. "And more than an hour since I went in the river. Even if it wasn't shot down, it shouldn't 'ye lasted this long."

"Odd we didn't see anything."

"I didn't know, maybe it hit ground first." She yawned, rubbed at her forehead. "Maybe it missed the Estate altogether and it's still going. Whatever, it's not something we have to worry about any more. Talking about worry, why are a clutch of outsiders so important you'd kill them before letting them out of your hands?"

He didn't say anything for several minutes, then he sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. Still saying nothing he turned from the door, moved across to the fires and laid wood on each. Finally he stood with his back to them, his face in shadow, his hands clasped behind him. "You ask a difficult question."

"Seems simple to me."

"That, my dear girl, is because you don't know anything about us. Ignorance is a great simplifier."

"I had a master said that once. I poured peppersauce in his tea." She giggled, sobered. "So?"

Kikun came in with a battered pot he'd collected somewhere, some heavy wire and an armload of smooth stones which he arranged in a cee-shape at the edge of the larger fire; he scraped part of the coals from the fire into the cee and laid the wire across the stones, filled the pot from the can and balanced it on the improvised grid, setting the water to boil. After adding wood and reshaping both fires so they burned more evenly, he moved a short distance away, dropped to the dirt and sat watching the other two, the firelight turning his eyes to orange lava.

Shadith raised the harpcase on end, tipped it over so it was leaning against the wall; she rearranged herself, curling up with her back against the case. Despite the drafts the fires were beginning to warm the shack-and her-and she'd turned the curve on fatigue, passing the point when the need to sleep was overwhelming; if she didn't move much or try to push her thoughts too fast, she was all right for the next hour or so. She yawned, blinked at the door Kikun had left open a crack. The darkness outside had lightened to a steely gray and the sounds of dawn were coming in to her, bird twitters, a honking bray, a motor coughing, its sputter muted by distance. Maybe Rohant would be back soon with meat to add to Kikun's tubers and brew. She'd stopped feeling hungry, but she knew her lassitude came partly from lack of fuel in her system. You should sleep, Shadow. You can eat later. I don't want to sleep, T m too tired to sleep. Tired! Huh! I'm tired of scratching and scrabbling and it making no difference. I plan and do and it turns out a waste of time. Like with the guard and then those bars. Well, you couldn't know that ahead of time. And if things hadn't turned out like they did, what you did would've got you out of a mess. I suppose so. You can't read the future, take a cue from Ginny and trust your luck. All right, all right. So, see what you can squeeze out of our resident local. He can probably tell you something about why Ginny's doing this to you and Rohant and Kikun.

"You're good at not answering questions," she said. "I suppose you don't want to tell me your name, but give me something to call you; I dislike very much having to say hey you when I want your attention, even if it's only implied. My name is Shadith."

He walked to the door, pulled it shut, came back and settled onto the dirt beside her. "Shadith," he said. "Does it have a meaning?"

"It's the name my mother gave me, it doesn't need a meaning. Very good at avoiding answers."

"In this place, answers kill people. Side-stepping becomes a habit which one means to keep well honed." His eyes drooped half-shut. "Need one say, Kwantawiyal knew one not." A quick flowing gesture, his hand sweeping from head level toward the floor. "I am not so memorable a man as to make recognition immediate. However…" With a wry twist to his mouth, he spread his hands, dropped them on his knees. "One is called Asteplikota, Aste for those who prefer less of a mouthful. It is one's personal name. Since one's family has cast one out, it is the only name I own."

"Aste it is." She blinked sleepily at him. "I did notice that you didn't seem to fit very well with Silvercreep and his collection of sweepings."

"I'm flattered. Silvercreep?"

"He was loaded with it."

Asteplikota chuckled. "In every sense."

"True. Well?"

"Doing it again, eh?" He shook his head. "Ah, habit. Someone I owe a favor wanted an agent he could trust to act for him; he said he'd heard rumors something important was going to happen and he'd bought rights to be in on it from Kwantawiyal… urn… Silvercreep. One does like that name, it catches so nicely the essence of the man." A brief smile, charming, shy. His voice was quiet, musing, a pleasant gravelly tenor, its roughness comfortable like a worn-out old shirt. "No one sane and with a modicum of intelligence would trust him to stay bought; one was along to keep him honest, though he's a lot more frightened of the Na-priests than he is of us. We'd only kill him. The holy screws, well… He didn't want one along, but he was too greedy to refuse the sponsor's gold. There you are."

Shadith moved uneasily. Tsoukbaraim, I'm starting to like the man. That's a complication, it was easier when all I had to do was lie up a storm and get the hell out. It's obvious, what happened was Ginny pulling the strings and making the puppets dance. That someone he's talking about, he's either Ginny's man or in Ginny's net somehow. What do I tell this Aste? Him knowing about Ginny won't change anything. Ginny's watching us now, bastard! Watching me twist in the wind. Somebody has to do something about him. Killing a world to titillate… gaah! Admit it, Shadow, moral indignation isn't in it, you want to put the boot where it'll hurt because the d'dab's leading you around like his pet simi and it kills your pride. I HATE being helpless. I LOATHE being helpless. All right, all right, all that's given. Settle down, woman. Information-you need information. Can't make a plan till you know the parameters.

She shifted her legs, they were going to sleep on her.

A hiss came from the fire, the water was boiling. Kikun reached under his tunic, brought out a handful of herbs and dropped them into the pot. He contemplated them a moment, fetched out a dry stick, and began stirring them. A faint herbal smell drifted over to her. She sighed, folded her hands across her stomach. "All right, we're important. Why?"

"Because you mean hope to people who have none and where there is hope, there is a will to change present evils for future goods. Which means those now in power will do anything they can to co-opt or kill you."

"But why us? We're alien, even different species. What've we got to do with you and your people?"

"One said it was a hard thing to explain."

"Try…"

"You were jabbing at one about this being a Lost World. Back there at the cage. When you sang that song. By the way, when there's a moment you'll have to translate it for one."

"Yes, yes. So?"

"We know we were born as a species on this world. That we came here as fugitives…" He looked down, pulled a finger along the dirt beside his buttocks. "Funny, once upon a time, it was a lifetime ago almost, one was a teacher, a historian and a writer of histories. A dangerous occupation these days." He straightened his back, a distant look came into his eyes. "This is how it was…"

Across the shack, Kikun took the pot off the grid and set it on the ground. He pressed his palms together and leaned forward, a matching distance in his gaze as if he followed Asteplikota past time into myth.

In the time before time, there was only Oppalatin dreaming that he was. There was no beginning and no end, no time, no shape, no life. Only Oppalatin, dreaming. In his dreams he conceived himself and brought himself into being. And when it was so, he knew that he was alone, and being alone, conceived The Other.

He contemplated The Other, then he spoke: You are Kotakin, I have created you.

And Kotakin said: You have created me. I am Not-You. And Kotakin wept because he was separate and greatly alone.

Oppalatin saw and was grieved.

Oppalatin said: I am your Uncle. You are my Nephew. Go now and lay out worlds for Me and make creatures to dwell on those worlds and I will give you the Lifebreath to breathe into them. Let there be a world where I may contemplate Myself and dream without disturbance, let that world be called Yahwihakai which is My Glory. Let there be a world where You, Kotakin, may contemplate my Greatness without disturbance, where You, Kotakin, may bring such as may please you to make on that world a garden of tranquillity and joy, let that world be called Nahelikai which is Garden of the Blessed. Let there be four lesser worlds for the life to come.

Kotakin went and did this and he returned to Oppalatin and said: Thus and so have I done. Is this according to your plan?

Oppalatin contemplated the work of Kotakin and was pleased. He said: It is good. You have done a great work, Nephew. But your work is not finished. Go upon the first of the lesser worlds and make a Woman and I will put life into her.

Kotakin stood upon the face of the lesser world. He said: I name you Pitamaskai.

Earth drew apart from water, sky from ground and the world was solid around him. He took clay from the bank of a river and shaped a Woman from it. When he fin ished, he took Breath from Oppalatin and blew it into her mouth. He said: I name you Ni-tahwaikis, She-WhoPlants.

Kotakin gave the Woman a Blanket, a white Blanket with a thread of black woven through it. He told Nitahwaikis: You will do thus and so.

Ni-tahwaikis took two lumps of clay from the river bank and lay them upon the land and lay the Blanket over them. She sang the Creation Song over them and took the Blanket away.

When she uncovered them, two beings, twins, sat up. They sang: Who are we? Why are we?

To the one on her left, She-Who-Plants said: You are Tahnokipo Waposh. You sing the world into steadiness, it is your duty to see that order and extension remain. Go now about the world and put your hands on it so it will have substance and shape.

Tahnokipo Waposh left her and traveled through the world and through it again, singing it into order and extension. He sang the mountains into shape, sang the courses of the rivers, sang the rock into long slow being.

To the one on her right, She-Who-Plants said: You are Shapostim Mayah. You sing the world into movement and change, it is your duty to see that the winds blow when it is time and water flows. Go now about the world and sing without ceasing to wind and water and all things that change.

Shapostim Mayah left her and traveled through the world and through it again, singing into movement all things that by nature moved. From pole to pole Pitamaskai resonated to his song, wind and water moved and sang the Greatness of Oppalatin the Creator.

Then Ni-tahwaikis moved about-Pitamaskai, creating trees and bushes, plants and flowers, all kinds of seed-bearers and nut-bearers to clothe the earth, giving to each from the Breath of Oppalatin. In the same manner she created all kinds of birds and animals-molding them out of earth and spittle, covering them with the Blanket of Oppalatin, singing the Song of Creation over them and sharing with them the Breath of Oppalatin.

Kotakin went to Oppalatin and said: Behold, Pitamaskai lives.

Oppalatin saw how beautiful it was, the land, the plants, the birds and animals, and he was pleased. He heard the quick bright song of Shapostim Mayah, the slow dark song of Tahnokipo Waposh and he was pleased. He saw the Woman Ni-tahwaikis laid on her face before him, worshiping him, and he was pleased.-He said: It is good. It is very good.

Oppalatin said: It is time, Kotakin. Lie with the Woman and make children with her that they may grow and tend the world and be Companions for You and Worship Me.

Kotakin went unto the woman and put his seed in her.

On the first day, the day called Payatanwahash or the day of the earth, she bore Nataminaho the Hunter. He dropped from her womb fully formed. When she put him to her breast to suckle him, his teeth tore her flesh and she cast him away, crying out in pain.

He landed in soft warm mud and crawled beneath a shakan bush and slept for two days.

When he woke, he was hungry. He-called out for Ni-tahwaikis, but she was not there. He stamped the earth in his anger and Tahnokipo Waposh cried out: Who is moving what should not be moved?

Nataminaho stopped stamping. He considered himself. Standing without moving for a day and a night, he brooded over who it was that stamped.

Hare came hopping past. Nataminaho smelled the blood in him and remembered his hunger. He seized a stone and killed Hare and ate him. When the bones were bare he looked at them. He looked at the stone. He cried out: I am Nataminaho the Hunter.

On the fifth day, the day called Niyotansahash or day of the winds, Ni-tahvvaikis bore Opalekis-Mimo the Holy Dancer. He dropped from her womb eyeless and unformed. She lifted him and tried to make him suck, but he had no mouth. He wriggled against her and wept with his body from a hunger he could neither endure nor end. Day melted into night and night into day and still he wept and still his voiceless hunger grew. Ni-tahwaikis laid him on the Sacred Blanket, but he wriggled off. She wrapped the Blanket about and about him and rocked him in her arms and called out to Oppalatin to give him ease.

Kotakin came to her. In his left hand he had white clay, in his right hand he had black ash.

Ni-tahwaikis took the Blanket from Opalekis-Mimo and held him still upon the earth.

Kotakin smoothed white clay over the blindworm baby, covering him from end to end. With the black ash he drew broad bands around Opalekis-Nino so he was striped black and white. Where his face should be, he drew eyes and a nose, a mouth and ears. He drew arms and legs, fingers and toes.

Ni-tahwaikis spread the Blanket over Opalekis-Mimo and sang the Creation Song. When she took the Blanket away again, Opalekis-Mimo jumped to his feet and went dancing and dancing and dancing until the wind shook with his dancing. Shapostim Mayah cried out: My winds are shaking out of their courses. Who is shaking my winds?

Opalekis-Mimo stopped dancing. He considered himself. He looked at his feet and his hands, he touched his mouth and his eyes. He flung out his arms and laughed. I am Opalekis-Mimo and I dance. After that he went back to Ni-tahwaikis and suckled like any ordinary baby.

On the thirteenth day, the day called Milawehtansahash or day of blessings and coming together, Nitahwaikis bore Nikamo-Oskinin. The girl baby dropped from the womb small and neat and fully formed. When she touched the earth, she tore up fistfuls of it and ate it like it was porridge and when she could eat no more, she sang and sang and sang. Her song resonated with the earth and the earth sang in her, her song raptured the winds and they came from the Four Directions to spin about her and sing their descants with her.

Tahnokipo Waposh cried: Who shakes the stones and the earth, who makes the mountains dance when they should be still and seemly?

Shapostim Mayah cried: Who tears my winds from their proper courses and sings them dizzy…

Asteplikota stopped talking when Rohant came in, carrying a bloody piece of hide with a lump of meat wrapped in it, the cats following him looking sleepy and content. Sassa swept down and landed in the doorway with a small rodent in one talon; he shivered his feathers, settled his wings, and began tearing at his catch. Rohant sneezed, sputtered, dropped his burden by the fire, and began unwrapping the hide; over his shoulder he growled, "Flits going past like swarming blackflies. Why it took so long to get back, we had to duck for cover every second step."

Asteplikota rubbed at the tip of his nose. "Swarming?"

"Looks like someone wants us a lot:" Rohant began cutting the meat into small chunks and threading them on pointed sticks, leaning the sticks against Kikun's stones when he finished loading them. "How come they know it's us? Or do they?"

"Oh, yes. How? Kwantawiyal. All he had to do was get into a treelodge and make a conical Once he finished describing you, whoever he called would be as hungry for you as your cats were a couple hours ago for anything with blood in it."

"Mm." Rohant finished with the meat, began scooping coals into the cee and feeding more wood to the fire, broken pieces too dry to smoke. "What kind of detection equipment do your kanaweh use?" He laid the sticks across the coals, scooped water from the tin and washed the blood off his hands. "Bodyheat? Motionsensors? Visuals? A combination of some or all of those? We need to know." He wiped his hands on his trousers, straightened up.

Asteplikota scraped his hand across the dirt beside his thigh, frowning. "Depends on what they've been able to buy from offworld traders and that's classified information. There isn't much leaks out of the Kasta-that's Security Headquarters. Last month I heard they hung some poor sotch for talking out of turn. We try, but it's rind squeezings and sludge, nothing worth trusting to."

Kikun dug into his pouch, brought out collapsed cups, memorplas compressed into a dense rod. He broke off a section, twisted it open, dipped the cup into the infusion and carried it across to Shadith.

She looked at the murky liquid, looked up at him. "Just what is this supposed to be?"

"Good for you. Energy. You'll need it. We moving. Tastes all right, you'll see."

"I was still a babe when I learned what good-for-you meant." She grinned at him. "Oh all right, medicine works best when it tastes bad, give it here." She sipped at the warm drink, grimaced, it was about as foul as she'd expected, but it slithered down her throat and warmed her and swept away the clinging fatigue that weighed her down, mind and body. The meat was bub bling and charring, sending out smells to tempt the dreaming Oppalatin and she was suddenly very very hungry. "Ro, what he said…"

"Well, think about it, Shadow. Standard search, grid over the target area, sweep along obvious go-routes, what's more obvious than a river? It shouldn't take Kikun's visions to tell us we need to move."

"Fine time to be bringing that up now. Why'nt you say something before we hit ground?"

"One, I didn't hear you making any objections, girl. Two, you told me and Kikun shit-all about what you and Aste here were planning to do with the flit."

"Had all I could do to fly the damn thing and keep my eyes open same time." She set the cup down, brushed her hand across her face, depressed again. "I don't know why I'm fussing, we can turn and twist all we want, but Ginny's pulling our strings, we can't get away from that. He takes a notion, he can bring all hell down on us."

Roh ant stretched, growled, "That's your bones talking, Shadow. Get some sleep, kit-cat."

Shadith snapped thumb against finger. "My bones are just fine, thank you. You'd better see to that meat before it burns."

"Meat's all right." He coughed, turned his head, spat. "Hmp. With a pinch of luck, we can flip this around. Sooner or later someone's going to take a look at these buildings. Unless it's a circle of beaters moving out from the Estate…" He glanced at Asteplikota; the local shook his head. "Glad to hear it. Makes things easier. Probably a squad in a flit, then. Or a boat. Four, five, six men. We can handle that if we work it right. And we get transport out of it." He took the cup Kikun handed him, scowled at it, then drained it in one long gulp. "Dio, that's slop." He sniffed, rumbled with satisfaction as his nose began to clear and the fatigue washed out of his body. "Works, though. Thanks, Kikun."

Shadith sat up. "Ante, this is your world, is the Ciocan right? We have a chance of breaking loose?"

Asteplikota smiled at Rohant, his eyes sinking into a web of wrinkles. "You think like my brother, Ciocan. Yes, Singer. The kanaweh aren't all that bright, you know. Intelligence is a handicap in a headbuster." He looked up as Kikun came across to him with a third cup; he took it without comment, drank it and set the cup down.

His attention drawn from the meat he was tending, Rohant looked over his shoulder, showing his teeth in a sketch of a challenge grin. "Your brother, huh. We get a minute, I want to know about him. Kikun, those tubers about done? We'd better eat now, time's running out on us too damn fast to be fussy."

The powerboat came down the river, buzzing like a swarm of elephantine mosquitoes, the noise announcing it several minutes before it appeared, a squat black bug crouching close to the water. It curved over to the sagging wharf, dumped out four half-armored kanaweh, who yelled and swore as the rotten, waterlogged timbers gave under them and threatened to drop them into the muck below. Their leader leaned back, put his feet up, pulled his helmet visor down and prepared to doze until the search was finished.

Stretched along a wide flat branch in the thickly fronded tree growing close to the shack they'd sheltered in, part of the dense tangle of trees, vines, and thornbrush behind the abandoned landing, Rohant worked his mouth, the drooping tails of his mustache twitching in derision as he watched the men blundering about, visors carelessly pushed up. They were just going through the motions, convinced this search was a waste of time. The Ciocan winked at Shadith who was perched on the next branch over, dragged his sleeve across his dripping nose, then darted two of the kanaweh as they rounded a corner and moved out of sight of the others-a dart in each face, inch-long translucent slivers that drove through flesh and bone and exploded poison deep into the brain. When the men dropped without a sound, he looked at the tiny weapon, raised his brows. He gave Shadith a tight-mouthed grin and rubbed his thumb across the polished wood inset in the grip, a small silent accolade. Shadith eased her finger away from the trigger sensor of the stunner, tucked the tube into the fan of frondlets before her on the branch. Rohant went back to watching and waiting for another shot at the kanaweh.

Stripped to his dry rough hide, Kikun strolled away from the cluster of buildings and walked along the ruts to the wharf. Shadith looked at him, found herself looking away, forgetting him, looking back, startled each time she saw him. His hands were empty, he had no weapon, nothing visible anyway. She looked away again, forgetting him again as she heard yells of anger and disgust, then a rattle of shots from the largest of the crumbling warehouses. One of the searchers came out, kicking vermin from around his boots, cursing them. He shoved his pelletpistol into its holster, gave a mangy lump a last kick. "Dyesh, Mikka, Tank, where the hell are you? Nobody in this dump but cha-sakin' mitsish."

The second kana came out of a shack, brushing cobwebs off his arms. "E-heh." He glanced toward the wharf, saw Kikun step into the boat. "Kekwa?" Shouting as he ran, he lunged toward the wharf.

Shadith lifted the stunner, waited.

Not trusting his aim at that distance with the unfamiliar weapon, Rohant tapped the darter to spray and swung the line of darts across the face of one runner then the other, dropping them in mid-stride.

In the boat Kikun was behind the driver; as the kana jerked awake, the lacertine took his helmeted head into an enveloping embrace, twisted sharply. Shadith winced. She was too far away to hear the CRACK, but she felt it in her own neck. With a continuation of the neck whip, Kikun flipped the local into the river on the shoreside, used a boathook to shove the body under the wharf where it got hung up among the rotting piles.

Shadith and Rohant swung down from the tree and started toward the boat as Asteplikota came hurrying out of the tangle behind them, carrying their pouches and Shadith's harpcase, the two cats loping beside him, watching him with the amiable speculation of sated carnivores. Sassa spiraled into the sky and circled overhead, waiting to be summoned.

Asteplikota joined the other two as they stopped beside one of the bodies. "That was the last easy thing," he said as he shrugged out of the tangle of strapping. "When they find these dead, there will be no more lazing on the job."

"No doubt. Shadow, you and Kikun load up the boat, get the cats settled, get it ready to go. Aste, you and me, we'll clear up this refuse." He strolled to the corpse, coughed and spat, landing a gob of clotted mucus on the turtle armor bulging over the dead man's chest. "We'll put these bodies under the wharf with the, other one. Give us a bit of luck, they won't be noticed for a while, long enough for some lead time. I take it, it wouldn't be a good idea to be found with kana equipment on us."

"Right. On the other hand, we don't want anyone wondering who's that in a kana boat. The cats can go under a blanket, but we better have those helmets; we can leave them with the boat when we leave the boat.

We can't ride it all the way to Aina'iril, there's too much traffic. Go through their pockets for their money, it's anonymous enough and we could need it."

"Mmh. Grab his feet, will you. Let's move."

Twenty minutes later, they were on their way, going full out down the river, riding the edge of disaster. Since Shadith didn't dare explore the instrument board, she didn't know what the riverbottom was like. Asteplikota lay back in the seat beside her, his eyes on the cloudless sky, scanning for the flits Rohant had seen earlier. Kikun sat in the back with the brewpot between his feet; it was sending out wisps of steam and a thickening green smell. Eyes glassy, faced flushed to a dark copper as his cold took a deeper hold on him, Rohant sprawled beside Kikun, the cats leaning heavily against him; he was coughing and sneezing between sips at the brew. After a while he slept.

She turned bend after bend, the boat droning through a bluesky morning and an increasingly busy countryside. Hundreds of flits zipped back and forth like lie blackfly swarms Rohant had called them; they ignored the boat, but Shadith could see grounded flits and men stopping trucks on the levee road, other flits dipping down at what looked like random intervals so kana could search groves and farms, factories and anything else that caught their attention; at first, the search was disorganized, chaotic, but as time passed it tightened up and she began to wonder just how long they could go on unmolested.

The river was wide and muddy, the current was frighteningly powerful, a giant hand grasping the keel; as the traffic thickened, she slowed and as she slowed, that current took on a demonic perversity and seemed bound to smash her into something. There were barge strings around every curve; there were freighters and tankets, fishets, sailers, even rowboats. There were snags and shoals, bridges and wharves. Trouble and trouble and trouble.

On and on… Kikun fed her more of his brew; the taste didn't improve as it cooled, but it kept her going… on and on… Rohant woke briefly several times, grumped under his breath, cleared his throat and spat overside into water, went back to sleep… on and on .. there was an air of desperation about the flits swooping overhead, but none of them seemed interested in the kana boat, no matter how erratically it raced down the river… on and on…

"Turn soon," Kikun said.

"Yes," Asteplikota said, "We'd better get off the river."

"Where? What side?"

"Left. Into the Wetlands. There's a branch should appear soon… There. Now."