Running from the Deity (18 page)

“The fanatics who attacked you are minions of a major deity who is popular throughout Wullsakaa and elsewhere. They dishonor their teachings with this cowardly attempt on your life.”

Behind Flinx, Ebbanai and Storra listened to the words of the counselor and found themselves wishing they had chosen to remain behind and bid their otherworldly guest farewell from the reassuring confines of their own home. Now it was too late, and they found themselves involved with something that promised to be more awkward than simply seeing off disappointed would-be supplicants.

Flinx was genuinely puzzled. “Why would followers of a local divinity have anything against me?”

Though he of course did not comment on it, Treappyn marveled to himself at the navet of this supposed sophisticated visitor. “Why, they perceive you as competition for their Order. If worshippers switch their allegiance—not to mention their contributions—to another god, then their own deity and ‘his’ income suffer correspondingly.”

“Income.”
Turning, Flinx glared at his hosts, mindful of the revenue they had acquired while supervising and “facilitating” access to his charitable exertions. A new expression had consumed the alien’s visage. Ebbanai did not recognize this one, either, but decided right away that he did not like it.

“Fortunately,” the counselor continued, “the Highborn has eyes and ears in many places.” Once more he gestured in the direction taken by the majority of the stymied assassins. “We learned of this plot almost too late.”

Flinx nodded, politely grateful. “I appreciate your help.” As he spoke, another plaintive, whistling cry echoed over the foliage, indicating that yet one more unlucky servant of Rakshinn had been run to ground and summarily dealt with. “But I could have handled it. I can take care of myself.”

“Without question, without question. None who know you would dare dispute that.” Having no diplomatic alternative to agreement, Treappyn readily concurred with the alien, though he doubted even one as powerful as Flinx could have simultaneously coped with so many dedicated killers. “Still, as an honored and respected guest in our country, your well-being was of considerable concern to all of us.”

Despite the well-meaning counselor’s assurances, all Flinx could think of was that a number of natives had met untimely deaths because of his presence on this world. That they had fully intended to kill him did not alter that realization. Clearly, his continued presence here was complicating local relationships in ways he had not, and could not, have foreseen, and the sooner he was on board the
Teacher
and on his way, the better it would be for all concerned. He said as much to Treappyn. To his surprise, this declaration was met with less than enthusiastic agreement.

“Actually, friend Flinx,” the counselor responded, “I have been instructed to ask that you return with me to Metrel, as the guest of the Highborn himself. Originally, this invitation was to be extended so that you might continue your good works there, where many might hope to be the beneficiaries of your miraculous ministrations.”

“I’m done doing that.” Now that his would-be assassins had been seen to, Flinx was growing impatient to be on his way. Reflecting his eagerness, Pip fidgeted on his shoulder, partly unfurling and then collapsing her brightly colored wings. “I’ve helped as many as I thought I reasonably could and now I have obligations of my own to carry out.” To emphasize his determination, he took a step forward.

A visibly anxious Treappyn scuttled quickly to stay in front of him. Interestingly, the soldiers who had remained with him and several of those who had gone in pursuit of assassins and had now returned shifted their positions accordingly.

What now? Flinx wondered as he halted. Over the years, it had become an all-too-common thought.

“Note that in reference to this invitation I said
originally,
” the visibly uncomfortable counselor murmured. “Subsequent to that intention, events have occurred that have forced a change not only in the nature of the invitation, but in the reasoning behind it. Urgency and not wishfulness now guide the Highborn’s appeal. It is no longer a question of whether you can come back with me. You
must
come back with me.”

Hearing this, Ebbanai and Storra tried to edge their way out of the small clearing. If they could just get into the taller vegetation behind them, the net-caster thought worriedly, they could slip away without being noticed. Unfortunately, there were a couple of soldiers standing between them and welcoming obscurity. In the absence of applicable orders, the soldiers blocked the flight of the net-caster and his mate. Like it or not, they were caught up in whatever was to come.

Flinx eyed the counselor, studied the attentive, well-armed soldiers. On his shoulder, Pip shifted as if preparing to take to the sky. Reaching up, he placed a gentling hand on her body between head and wings, indicating that the time for such things was not yet.

“Must?”
he repeated. “I’m flattered, I suppose, that your leader wants to see me so badly. Why? Is he, or someone close to him, seriously ill?”

Pleading for the alien’s understanding, Treappyn spread his four forearms wide, forming an interesting X-shaped pattern in the air of the clearing. “There is an illness afoot, yes, but one that afflicts all of Wullsakaa. The realm, may I remind you, that has been your home ever since your arrival on our world.

“Wullsakaa is under attack. Even as we speak, Metrel itself is threatened with siege by the armies of not just one but two long-established rivals: Jebilisk, and Pakktrine Unified. We need your help, venerable visitor from the skies.”

It was not the explanation Flinx had expected. While he was distressed by the news, as he would have been at the announcement of any warfare, it did not change anything.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Treappyn, and I wish you and your people well in their defense of their land, but it still has nothing to do with me—and I’m still leaving. Your internal disputes have nothing to do with me.” He took another step forward.

For a second time, Treappyn and his troops moved to intercept his path. “Your pardon, friend Flinx, but in this instance, they do.”

Now he found himself confused as well as angry. “I don’t follow you, Treappyn.”

Looking thoroughly embarrassed, the counselor forced himself to meet the alien’s unblinking eyes. “
Ah-humm
—it seems that the Aceribb of Jebilisk and the Kewwyd of Pakktrine, knowing of your presence and your remarkable work among our people, are fearful of what you might do on behalf of Wullsakaa if you decide to move your base of operations from the country to the capital itself. These fears have motivated them to embark upon a ferocious and unannounced pre-emptive action.” Taking a cautious step backward, he added, “So you see, friend Flinx, through no fault of your own, it seems that you are indeed the cause of this current conflict.”

As he stood there, quietly stunned, it came home to Flinx more than ever that the minds who had promulgated those early, silly Commonwealth regulations governing contact with less advanced societies and species might after all have had some small idea of what they were doing, and good reasons for it.

“But I’m not going to Metrel, to help Wullsakaa’s government or for any other reason!” He pointed eastward. “I’m going back to my ship, and by tonight I’ll be so far away from Arrawd that even with their best telescopic instruments your people won’t be able to find me.”

Treappyn was gesturing with the patience of an experienced diplomat. “That is exactly what the despicable diseased servants of Jebilisk and Pakktrine would expect us to say, in order to put an end to their assault. All sides, you see, employ skillful deceit in the service of their goals.”

Then I’ll go to Metrel and tell them myself! Flinx mused angrily. No, wait—he couldn’t do that. It was exactly what Treappyn and his conniving Highborn wanted. Once he was in the city, they would doubtless try to use him to further their own political ends.

He did not know whether he was more appalled or disgusted.

“I’m sorry about all this,” he told the waiting Treappyn firmly. “I can see now that I never should have had any contact with your people. I should have stayed in my ship until it was ready to leave and, failing that, certainly shouldn’t have remained among you to minister to as many of your sick and ill as I did. But I wanted to
help
—and I was curious.” Not exactly the first time, he reflected, that his curiosity had gotten him into trouble.

“I’m leaving now. I’m more sorry than I can say that in only trying to do good, I seem to have ended up causing so much trouble. You’ll just have to sort it all out among yourselves as best you can.” Treappyn had told him that Wullsakaa and these other two political entities were traditional enemies. That suggested this was not the first time they had gone to war with one another, and probably would not be the last. His presence or absence among them would not change that. He felt a little better. He started forward.

Yet again, Treappyn and his soldiers moved to block the alien’s path. This time, the soldiers seemed to hold their weapons a little more tightly. The business ends of a couple of loaded barbolts were not quite, but almost, aimed in Flinx’s direction. What had started out as uncomfortable was rapidly metamorphosizing into ugly. He’d already shot and killed one native, while Pip had dispatched another. Was he going to be forced to do so again?

“All right,” he told Treappyn. “If you’d rather I travel in the direction of Metrel, so be it.”

The relief on the counselor’s face was immense. Flinx did not add that he would be traveling in the direction of Metrel because that was the general direction of departure the
Teacher
was going to take from Arrawd. But before he could supervise his vessel’s departure from this world, he had to get to it. Preferably without causing any more deaths among the locals.

“I am more pleased to hear you say that than you can begin to imagine,” Treappyn told him honestly. Turning, he gestured to the commander of troops and barked orders. A riding tethet that had belonged to one of the two fallen soldiers was brought forward and made ready for the visitor.

“As soon as the last of our avenging troops returns from his work, we will start for Metrel.” The counselor was now relaxed and at ease, feeling that he had successfully accomplished the uncertain.

“Your pardon, counselor, friend Flinx.” With Storra following close behind him, Ebbanai approached. “What of us? What are we to do?”

Treappyn glanced at Flinx, who showed no reaction. With a dismissive flick of one left flange, the counselor gestured in the direction of the distant homestead.

“You have no part in this and may return to your home. Unless,” he added, eyeing Ebbanai appraisingly, “your patriotic nature impels you to accompany us, to fight in defense of the city and your country folk.”

The alacrity with which Ebbanai and his mate vanished into the surrounding verdure was something to behold.

Flinx was fiddling with the gear on his survival belt, alternately unfastening and checking one piece of equipment after another. At first Treappyn observed this activity with interest, but when nothing unusual manifested itself as a result, his attention rapidly waned.

“What do you expect me to do when we get to Metrel?” Flinx asked the counselor.

“Your reputation for remarkable deeds is known and feared among our attackers,” Treappyn replied conversationally. “It may be that your presence alone will be enough to halt the assault. Failing that, the Highborn and his counselors presume that you have at your disposal the means to repel the invaders, or at least give them pause as to whether or not they should continue their offensive.”

“Reasonable assumptions, on their part,” Flinx agreed. As Treappyn turned to speak with his troop commander, Flinx turned away slightly, just enough so that the counselor did not notice him whispering ever so softly into the most recent piece of equipment he had removed from his belt. After speaking less than two short sentences into the com unit, he returned it to its resting place on his right hip.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

“How
would
you go about discouraging the forces of Jebilisk and Pakktrine?” a curious Treappyn inquired, turning away from his commander of troops and back to the alien. “Could you perhaps start a great fire? Or cause large stones to be dropped on advancing soldiers?” His tone indicated that nothing would please him more than to witness exactly such a demonstration.

War, Flinx mused. With him as the cause. If he got away from this world in one piece, he vowed, he would never intrude on the affairs of less advanced species ever again. Stones and fire. That was the ultimate in weaponry the otherwise good-natured Treappyn could envision. Meanwhile, as soon as he departed Arrawd’s system, Flinx’s obligations required that he resume searching for a single ancient weapon capable of destroying entire worlds. Who rested more comfortably at night? he reflected. “Advanced” species such as his own and the thranx who were aware of the existence of such terrible devices, or species like the Dwarra who dwelled in ignorance of them?

His thoughts were distracted by a soft, distant humming. As he stood listening, it grew at once louder and more familiar. Blinking at the unfamiliar sound, it was clear that Treappyn heard it, too. So did the soldiers.

Responding to his terse, whispered emergency request, the
Teacher
had dispatched the skimmer with haste. The sleek, compact vehicle came in low and fast over the waving crests of the tallest growths. As contemporary surface transport went, it was a comparatively quiet machine. The Wullsakaan soldiers, however, had never heard or seen anything like it. It was not large, but in any case it was not the skimmer’s size that impressed them. On a world where the most advanced form of aerial transport consisted of hesitant experiments with gas-filled balloons, the sight of something the size of a large freight wagon humming along with no visible means of support or propulsion several body lengths above the ground smacked more of magic than science, exactly as ancient human philosophers had predicted.