Haydn of Mars (7 page)

The Mighty surveyed the scene and laughed.
 
When the woman had withdrawn, he turned to me and said, “I had a little chat with Myra this morning, about her plans to slit your throat.
 
I'm sure you may have sensed her displeasure with you.
 
Suffice it to say there will be no further offence to you.
 
Besides, you will have your own tent tonight.”

“Thank you,” I said, letting some of the sarcasm in my voice reach him.

The dog had crept to within a foot of me, and put out a paw as if to shake my own.

Tentatively, I took it.

“Friends for life!” the Mighty roared, laughing.
 
He turned away, and the dog instantly left me to trot along behind him.
 
“And now, breakfast!”

He looked back at me and smiled.
 
“Or not?”

“I'm hungry,” I replied.

“Good.
 
I will see you at the fire, then.”
 
He looked down at the dog.
 
“No more need to share a bed with Ransom, Little One!”

The morning had dawned cloudy.
 
In the distant west I could see a building dust storm.
 
Overhead there were water clouds, but not heavy enough to drop rain.
 
The air smelled tart and moist.

“You said we would be heading north?” I asked as I sat down to dine with the Mighty.

He nodded.
 
“It is our season to spend in Terra Meridiani.
 
I have family there, many cousins and uncles and nieces.
 
You will like it, though it is mostly infertile and inhospitable.
 
Especially to one like yourself, used to the lushness of the south.”

“I have seen pictures of the region.
 
Does much grow there?”

“Very little.”
 
He smiled.
 
“It is a good place to be left alone by the F'rar and other bothersome clans.”

I said nothing, but ate, dipping my paw into the pot which was this time suspended between us, over the smouldering fire from the night before.

“You are already very good,” he said admiring my eating technique.

“Hunger is a good teacher,” I said.
 
“I held a bit of the flavorful mass up for his inspection.
 
“F'rar?” I asked, sarcastically.

He chuckled.
 
“No, dog.”

I hesitated, and then waited for him to confirm his joke.

“It really is dog,” he explained.
 
“We breed them, as cattle.
 
Little One is an exception.
 
He is the best breeder among them, and so has escaped the knife.
 
And once he found his way into my affections...”

He shrugged, and smiled at me.

“Dog...” I said, losing part of my appetite.
 
“I had heard there were some clans that ate dog...”

“We are not the only ones.
 
The Ferals, of the extreme north, are known to dine on nothing else.
 
And of course the Baldies, who will eat anything...”

At the mention of that other childhood ogre I must have shivered.

“You have never seen a Baldie?” he asked.

“No.”

“They are interesting creatures.
 
Insane, but interesting.”

“So I've heard.”

He laughed.
 
“Where
have
you been in your life, Ransom?”

“Wells City, and Lowell City, and a few summers at Hellas, at one of the lakes.”

“Playpens all!” he scoffed.
 
“You have never been anywhere outside these comfortable places?”

“No.”

“A pity!
 
My mother used to call city people ‘bum wipers.'”

“Without civilization, what do you have?”

“Me!” he laughed.
 
“The rest of the world!
 
Oh, there is much for you to see in this world, Ransom.
 
The great Northern volcanoes, the Ocean of Utopia.
 
Perhaps you will see some wonderful things with me!”

I nodded absently.
 
Despite my distaste, I had finished my meal.

The Mighty belched.
 
“That was fine!
 
And now we go!”

As we had talked, the camp had been breaking up around us.
 
I saw now that there were more than just the three male companions and the two women I had seen before.
 
Other tents dotted the near hillsides, and these were falling like deflated balloons as I watched.
 
The sky overhead had darkened.
 
The dust storm that had been at the western horizon looked ominously closer, curlicues of pink sand touching ground and sky.

“We will have interesting weather before the day is out,” the Mighty said.
 
He rose and clapped his hands.

Two men came running; one of them took the pot and ran off while the other smoothed out the remains of the fire until there were no signs that it had ever been there.

Wagons were being loaded, and a tribesman had already climbed into the cab of Xarr's wine wagon.
 
Its horses snuffled impatiently, no doubt sensing the coming storm.

I briefly thought of the ravaged-faced general, who had vowed to die for me, and wondered what had happened to him.

“Do you wish to travel in your hiding place, or with me?” the Mighty said, standing beside me.
 
He indicated two bridled horses nearby.

“I don't ride well,” I said.

“And I have no time to teach you now.
 
Ride in the wine wagon, then, but up top, with Horn.”

Horn, one of the three figures I had first met the night before, appeared and bowed.
 
He held out his paw and I took it.

“My
lady
,” he said.

The Mighty laughed at the sarcasm, and made as if to swat Horn, who cringed away from the feigned blow.

“He mocks you,” the Mighty said.
 
“Her name is Ransom,” he instructed Horn, who nodded.

“Come then,” Horn said, turning away.
 
When I reached the wagon he was already mounted, and let me climb up by myself.

Without a word he snapped the reins, and the wagon began to roll.

Soon we were a caravan, and the day darkened.

At what I judged to be noon by the light of the sun, which shone like a sour shadow through the thickening clouds, our kilo-long line of carts and horses came to an abrupt halt.

Without a word, Horn, who had been less than communicative since we set out, threw the reins aside and climbed down.

He joined the others, including the Mighty, flanked by the two women, who walked a good distance from the caravan and formed an impromptu circle.

I had heard of this ritual of the Noon, but had never witnessed it.

Soon, on all fours, heads bowed to the ground and, eyes closed, they began to chant, a rhythmic mewling that was nearly borne away by the wind before it reached me.

It was very dark now, and the wind had begun to pick up.
 
Tickles of sand swirled around the wheels of the wagon.
 
Dust devils played up from the ground before vanishing like ghosts.
 
The highlands were behind us.
 
We were heading into more desolate territory, with only cactus and an occasional plot of tall yellow grass to break the dusty terrain.

I looked back the way we had come.
 
It was still brighter there.
 
I might be able to out-walk the storm.

Stealthily, I climbed down from the wagon and crept off.

Not thirty paces later, the dust storm closed in around me, and I was instantly lost.

Knowing that the winds had been coming from the west, I headed east, with their back to me.

With any luck, I might find my way to the highlands, or at least to another, more hospitable clan.

I walked, on two legs and then on four, and then, after what seemed hours, I could walk no more, and thought to rest for a moment, my face to the ground–

 
“She has courage, I'll give her that.
 
It is the most foolish sort of courage, of course, but I do admire it.”

Someone laughed, a woman's voice, and I opened my eyes to find myself in my tent, with bright sun blazing through the opening.

“Did I dream?” I said, trying to get up and then wincing in pain.

I was wearing a loose garment.
 
My own clothes were gone.

One of the women, Myra, the younger of the harem, was standing beside me.
 
She had not lost the look of burning hatred in her eyes.

The Mighty bent down over me and smiled.
 
“You have very little pelt left on your back,” he explained.
 
“The wind shredded your garments, and then began to shred you.
 
Luckily we found you as soon as the storm lifted.”
 
His grin widened.
 
“Two days ago!”

“Two days...”
 
I tried not to move, but sought to return the Mighty's look of defiance.
 
“How far did I get?”

“Not very.
 
A few kilometers.
 
And I have very little understanding of why you were heading west.”

“I was walking east, with the wind at my back.”

He barked a laugh.
 
“The winds in these storms can change in a moment!
 
Not like those baby storms you have in your playpens in the south!
 
I imagine you were headed to each of the compass points for an equal time.”

I groaned.
 
I suddenly very much wanted a cigarette.

“Do you have any tobacco?” I asked.

“No.
 
It is against our faith.
 
And it was very bad of you to sneak away during the Noon ritual,” he scolded, mildly.
 
“There are many gods you may have angered.”

“Who exactly do you worship?”

“Why, the sun, of course!
 
At least during the day.
 
And the Two Moons at night.
 
And then there is the Blue Lady, of course.”

“Blue lady...”

“In the night sky.
 
The wanderer among the stars.”

“Earth.”

He scoffed.
 
“I don't know this name.
 
To us, she is the Blue Lady.
 
There are many tales...”

He noticed my discomfort, and turned to Myra. “Bathe her,” he ordered.
 
“And apply ointment.
 
And see that she is well fed.”
 
To me he said, “Where were you going, Ransom, that you wanted to head east?”

I was silent.

“Ah,” he said.
 
He bowed.
 
“Until later, then.”

After he left Myra turned to me, holding a wet cloth and said, with smiling malice, “This will hurt.
 
Turn over.”

It did hurt.

When the sun was sinking the Mighty came to see me again.
 
We were now alone.
 
He pulled up a stool to my bedside and looked at me seriously.

“I am beginning to understand you a little, Ransom,” he said.
 
“But you must not try to run away again.
 
It will only bring you grief.
 
And not from me.

“We must travel tomorrow, which will bring pain to you, I'm afraid.
 
We will travel through some interesting, and dangerous, places.
 
Others would not treat you as I have.”

“The equator?”

“Eventually.”
 
He stroked his whiskers thoughtfully.
 
“The fact that you tried to get away does not bother me.
 
It was to be expected, and showed courage.
 
But the foolish nature of the act does bother me.
 
That and something else...”

I waited for him to continue, but he stood up.

“We will speak of these things later.
 
Suffice it to say that we are being pursued.”

My heart leaped.
 

“They are not your people,” he added, “so do not rejoice.
 
They are F'rar.
 
They want you very badly, Ransom.
 
Another might give you to them, to protect his own.
 
Honor, of course, does not allow me to do that.
 
Also, I hate the F'rar.
 
But their ardor troubles me.
 
We have already assassinated two of their sentries, and still they come.”