The Metal Maiden Collection (19 page)

“It is.” She looked at him seriously. “I think I underestimated you. I was ready to play at marriage, for the sake of appearances. Now I may get serious. Fair warning.”

“You—like me?”

“Yes. And if this goes the way it may, I may marry you, and the next baby will be yours.”

He stood there, awed.

“Too fast for you?” she asked. “I’m a lawyer. I’m accustomed to rapidly assessing situations and making fast decisions. Bear with it. You are free to say no at any time; this is not intended to be coercive.”

“I’m the no-count son of a turnip farmer!” he protested.

“I think not any more. You’re a serious musician. After this exchange is over, I may take you back to Earth with me, and show you my real body.”

He looked a bit like a kid in a candy store, not quite believing it. “Is—is it as good as this one?”

“Larger. All around. Not pregnant. You’ll like it.”

“Are you joshing me?”

“No. On Earth, as I said, I’m a lawyer, and I love it. But I also want to be a housewife. With you, here on Colony Jones, I believe I can have it all.”

He shook his head. “I think I’m dreaming.”

“I have six months to persuade you otherwise.” Because sudden as her interest was, she knew this was what she wanted. It would be in six month intervals, but that was probably about her limit before her hunger for legalistic combat became too strong. It was a perfect compromise between the two facets of her ambition.

The cottage was well supplied, and there was a little garden behind it. Mona rummaged in the supplies and made them a dinner of spiced turnips, with the greens farmed into a salad, while Brian split kindling for the stove. It wasn’t any gourmet delight, but he had the wit to praise it. After the meal she washed the dishes in a basin of hot water. Primitive, yes, but comfortable.

“This—with you—I don’t know what to make of it,” he said.

She knew how to deal with his natural doubt. “I’m going to make love to you, my way, including kissing. Are you saying no?”

“No! I mean--”

“I know what you mean. Relax and enjoy it.”

He did, and she did. This time he participated more fully.

“I understand that Shep and Elen did a music tour to pay their way,” she said. “We should carry on with that, but I’m not sure I can do my part. I’m not a trained singer.”

“Maybe Elen’s folks can help you,” he said diplomatically.

“I hope so.”

When darkness came, they shared the bed, sleeping together without awkwardness.

Next day Mona got serious about her agenda. “I need to get close to the sheep. Maybe Elen’s folks will help with that too.”

“Maybe,” Brian agreed. “I know the way to their village.”

The Vulture and Python accompanied them. Word must have gone ahead, because Elen’s family was expecting them. Erasmus and his wife Elsa stood at their door. She had dark waist-length hair, like her daughter. They were not friendly, and made no indication that the visitors should enter the house. “We know you are not them,” Erasmus said gruffly.

“We are not,” Mona agreed. “I am Mona Maverick, of Earth. This is Brian Peterson, of Colony Jones. We are maintaining the relationship that Shep and Elen had, to the extent we are able. I would like to have your help.”

“We do not approve,” Elsa said.

“For the sake of appearances, and for the baby. It is better to have its genetic parents together throughout.”

“The baby,” Elsa repeated, softening. But her husband remained unyielding.

“I am here to study the precognition of the sheep,” Mona said doggedly. “I believe that you understand them better than Brian’s folks do. Please--”

“Please depart,” Erasmus said.

Mona met his gaze, applying her lawyer mode. “If something should happen, such as the shutdown of the student exchange program, your daughter will be left with this man, though she does not love him. He is nevertheless worthy. You need to get to know him. His body will be in your future as your grandchild grows.”

Elsa wavered visibly, then glanced at her husband, and remained silent.

This was difficult. Mona decided to play her trump card. “Brian, play for them.”

“They don’t want music!” he protested. “We are being offensive. We should go.”

“Sheep May Safely Graze.”

He did not try to oppose her further. He lifted the mirliton and played. Mona saw that both parents were impressed by the way Brian obeyed her wish. They knew she had control, and that their daughter would retain it.

The melody took hold and transformed the very atmosphere as its competence manifested. Mona saw that other elf villagers within hearing were pausing to listen. No one with even the faintest appreciation of music could fail to respond. How well she understood! It had made her love Brian.

The older elves were visibly impressed. The lovely music held them speechless until the end.

“You are better than Shep,” Erasmus said, amazed.

“Brian is the musician,” Mona said. “Shep merely borrowed some of his talent. As I hope to borrow some of your daughter’s talent for singing. With your help. I’m untrained in that respect.”

“Come in,” Elsa said, fading back into her house.

They entered. The Vulture and Python elected politely to remain outside.

Inside they were more comfortable. “Please help me get in touch with the sheep,” Mona said.

“We can’t directly help you,” Erasmus said, no longer aloof. “If the sheep want to know you, they will arrange it. It is their initiative, not yours. This is the way it is.”

“Trust the sheep,” Elsa agreed.

“But--”

“It is the only way,” Erasmus said. “No one governs the sheep.”

“It is their birthing season,” Elsa said. “They are busy. But if they want you, they will let you know.”

That, it seemed, was that. Mona was disappointed, but determined to find some way regardless.

“It is true that Elen can sing,” Elsa said, changing the subject. “She sang with Shep. You can do it if you let her body govern your effort. Try it with me.” Then she hummed the “Sheep” melody.

Mona joined her, thus guided, and discovered that she could indeed do it. That resolved her doubt about doing the tour. She hugged Elsa in gratitude when their session finished. Erasmus shook hands with Brian, similarly thawing. It seemed the parents were no longer hostile to the two of them living in sin.

But what about the sheep?

Chapter 2:

Lamb

In the morning, after a day and night of exploration of the local terrain, Mona woke to the sound of a bleat. “The sheep!” she exclaimed, astonished. She scrambled out of bed, naked, and flung open the door.

There was a solid Ewe. Mona knew immediately that she was special, deserving of the capital; it seemed to be the telepathy in operation. The Vulture and Python were at attention, watching her. There was blood on her hind section: she had recently given birth.

Mona stood silent, uncertain why the sheep had come, when she had her lamb to take care of. If these animals were as dangerous as reputed to be, surely they were even more so when protecting their offspring.

The sheep bleated. It was a brief, authoritative sound. Then she walked away.

“That’s the summons,” Brian said. “Follow her.”

Mona didn’t hesitate. She wanted contact with the precognitive sheep and one had come to her. She followed. So did the Vulture and Python. And Brian, respectfully behind, as he had not been invited.

The Ewe led them to a copse just beyond the village. There, lying in leaves, was a spindly newborn Lamb also instantly special. The Ewe had evidently come here to birth it. Why, so close to the village?

The Ewe went to stand beside, almost over, the Lamb. Then the Lamb scrambled up and tried to nurse. And failed, because one leg would not properly support it. It fell to the ground, with a little bleat of despair.

“He’s lame,” Brian said behind her. Being a farm boy, he knew the gender.

Mona’s heart went out to the little creature. “Maybe I can help,” she said, stepping toward the Lamb.

“Watch it,” Brian said, alarmed. “She can kill you!”

But the Ewe made no motion. She simply stood there, waiting.

“She knows I mean no harm,” Mona said. “She led me here.” She dropped to her knees beside the Lamb and put her arms around him. She lifted his upper body so that it was firmly in place. “Now try it.”

Immediately the lamb went for the teat again. This time he got it, and eagerly sucked in the milk. Mona held him while he drank.

“I’ll be damned,” Brian said. “She’s letting you!”

“She knew I would do this,” Mona said in a flash of understanding. “That telepathy or precognition, whatever. She brought me here so I could help him nurse.”

Indeed he was nursing, getting his first full meal. She held him until he had finished both teats. Then, carefully, she let him go.

He sank to the ground, unable to stand.

“Oh!” Mona said, putting her arms around him again. She picked him up and held him to her naked bosom. He nuzzled her face. She kissed his furry nose, instantly loving him.

The Vulture and the Python came up to stiff noses with the Lamb. Mona let them, by this time knowing that they were minions of the sheep.

And the Ewe was gone.

“Uh-oh,” Brian said. “Now he’s yours.”

“But I don’t know the first thing about caring for a sheep,” Mona said.

“Yes you do. You’re doing it.”

“Loving him,” she agreed, realizing it was true. She stood, holding the Lamb, and walked back to the house. “Make a box for him,” she told Brian. “With bedding. So he’ll be comfortable.”

Brian put together a bed for the Lamb. Mona tried to set the animal down in it, but he bleated sadly. “Okay, for now,” she said, sitting on the bed holding him. “But you’ll soon have to learn how to sleep by yourself.”

He laid his head against her breast and slept.

“We’ll have to get milk for him,” she told Brian as she held the lamb. “And see about making a splint for his leg so he can walk.”

“Cow’s milk won’t do,” Brian said. “Sheep need sheep’s milk. There have been foundlings, and they always died, because nobody can milk a sheep.”

“Well, we’ll have to try. We can’t just let him starve.”

He shrugged, not knowing what to do.

Mona held the Lamb, and nodded off to sleep herself. She was awakened by a bleat outside. She understood immediately. “The Ewe returned!”

She got up, still holding the Lamb, and carried him to the door. There was the Ewe, stolidly standing. Mona went to her, kneeled, and braced the Lamb beneath her so he could nurse. He did so with enthusiasm. However long they had slept, it had been enough for the Lamb to get hungry again, and for the Ewe to refill her udder.

Was this the way it was to be? The Ewe going out to graze and recharge, while Mona babysat the Lamb? This was not the kind of interaction with the sheep Mona had had in mind.

After the Lamb had been suckled, the Ewe did something odd: she made a kind of stiff-legged bow to Mona. Then she departed. Mona watched her go, puzzled. Then she took the Lamb back inside. She tried again to set him in the box, and again he protested. But this time the Vulture and Python followed her in. They looked sternly at the lamb. He halted his protest and accepted his bed. The Python curled around it while the Vulture perched nearby.

“They gave him the word,” Brian said. “They serve the sheep. They’re babysitting. You have a break.”

“I need it,” Mona said, not questioning the reliability of the animals. She went to the toilet, heedless of Brian’s gaze, then washed and dressed for the first time that day. Then she saw about breakfast, which had been blotted out by the event of the morning.

Refreshed, she looked at Brian, silently offering him sex. He shook his head, now having the confidence to know that it would be there for him when he needed it.

“Did you see what the Ewe did?” she asked Brian.

“I saw. I don’t know what it means.”

The Lamb woke. She picked him up, kissing his little ear. “You need a name,” she said. “How about Ram Bunctious? Or maybe Lamb Bunctious.”

Brian shook his head, bemused.

“Let’s go out for a walk,” Mona said. “We’ll show you off to the neighbors.” Because it was clear that the Lamb was staying.

They took a walk through the village: Brian, Mona, Vulture, Python, and the Lamb in Mona’s arms. They didn’t need to say anything; this was merely the public announcement. All the villagers knew she was adopting a little sheep. They might doubt that it would survive long, but they were now aware of the event. Just as they were aware of the Vulture and Python, and tolerated them in their midst. It was the will of the sheep.

“The village elder,” Brian said. “Maybe he would know. About the bow.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, remembering. “Take us there.”

He led her to a central house. The elder sat on his deck chair in front. He stood when Mona approached. “Salutation, madam,” he said formally.

“I am Mona, of Earth,” she said, though he surely knew. “Holding the fort for Elen Elf during her stay on Earth. The sheep brought me this Lamb. I’ll handle it. But I am perplexed about one thing: his mother, the Ewe, made a sort of bow to me. What does it mean?”

“She did that,” he said, amazed. “I heard of something similar, maybe thirty years ago. A ewe made it to the village elder of the time. Then he designated the sheep a protected species, never to be hunted or molested. It was as though she recognized him for it, before it happened. That precognition. You must be going to do something of similar magnitude for the sheep.”

“I’m taking care of her Lamb,” Mona said. “Does that count?”

“I don’t think so. That’s just one animal. More likely it affects all the sheep, significantly.”

“I have no idea how. I’m here to study them, though I haven’t yet had much chance.”

“Study the lamb,” he said.

Surprised, she looked at the Lamb in her arms. “That’s it! I can study him! I never thought of that.”

“Or of whatever it is you will do to affect all the sheep,” the Elder said. “But it will occur. Trust the sheep.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling awkward.

He smiled. “You’re new here. You’ll learn.”

“I hope so.” She moved on.

“Now I’m curious too,” Brian said. “What do the sheep have in mind?”

“We’ll both learn,” she said, laughing a trifle uneasily.

They returned to the house. The routine quickly was established: the Ewe returned often to nurse the Lamb, and Mona cared for him the rest of the time.

Brian made a padded splint and carefully fastened it to the lamb’s foreleg. After a few tries Bunctious caught on, and was able to stand alone. Then when the Ewe came again, Mona carefully set the Lamb on his feet beside her. He took several small steps and reached her udder, where he nursed. Victory!

The Lamb slept in his box, but Mona cuddled him often. After a few days she became aware of something else: his mind. She could almost feel what it was like to be a newborn lamb. In fact she
was
feeling it; this was beyond empathy. It was the telepathy beginning to manifest in him, as it already existed in the Ewe. She was getting to study it in the best possible way: as it manifested in a young creature. She communed with him daily, strengthening the rapport. She wasn’t ready to write a paper about it; it was just a feeling, but she was sure it was real. For one thing, with each passing day she could connect from farther away. She realized that her mature mind was lending power to his immature one, so that the phenomenon expanded rapidly. Soon she could tune into him when she was lying on the bed, knowing when he needed to go out to defecate; he had become housebroken when he picked up the preference for it from her mind.

Then there came something else. Not a connection so much as a premonition. There was danger approaching, not directly to the Lamb or to her or her household, but to their environment.

She questioned Brian. “I’m picking up on a threat, I think to the village. What could it be?”

“Sometimes predators raid, rabid wolves. They’re big, and hunt in packs.”

“No. It’s not like that. I’m feeling hot and cold.”

“The HiLo!” he exclaimed.

“The what?”

“It’s a weather event that comes erratically; there’s no predicting it and we don’t know what causes it. But it’s devastating. First it gets super hot, something like a hundred and thirty degrees F. Then it gets cold, maybe twenty degrees under freezing. It wipes out the turnip crop, and others, in a single day and night. Then its gone, and maybe won’t come again for ten years. Been six years since the last.”

“That’s it,” she agreed. “One is coming soon.”

“Can you find out when?”

“I’ll try.” She communed with Bunctious, and zeroed in on it. “Maybe four-five days hence.”

“Times a wasting! I’ll tell my folks.”

“But do you have any way to abate the menace? It sounds ferocious.”

“Sure. Tuff stones. Volcanic rock that readily absorbs heat, and radiates it back out when the cold comes. Put a stone by each plant, and it makes it so that the high is only about ninety, and the low about forty. The plants can handle that. But it’s a lot of work to place all the stones.”

“But better than losing the crop.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Tell your folks.”

He was off. Mona hugged Bunctious. “If this proves out, we’ve got precognition. My dream.”

But there was a complication. The farmers didn’t believe it. They rejected the idea that a newborn lamb could predict such an event. Grown sheep yes, but not such a young one. They were not about to struggle to place all the stones, probably wasting their time and effort, on such a tenuous prediction. Only Brian’s own family and a few friends accepted it, probably as much in support of him as actual belief.

Mona appreciated the villagers’ caution. It was hard for her to believe, herself. Could it be a product of her imagination amplified to seeming reality by her communion with the Lamb? Yet she had not known about the HiLo.

They joined the Peterson family putting out the stones. There were a lot of turnip plants to cover, and every stone had to be placed precisely, because the radius of their effect was small. Too far away and it was useless; too near and the air circulation could be impeded and spoil the leveling effect. Mona got sore knees and a backache from the hunched labor, but felt she had to do her part. They were trusting her insight. The sheep were to be trusted, yes, but she was no sheep, and the Lamb was as yet unproven.

The timing became more certain as the event approached. “Tomorrow,” Mona said. “That’s when it happens.” Though there was no indication from the weather.

The Petersons were busy all day putting out tuff stones, but it was apparent they would not finish on time. So Brian and Mona worked late with them, despite their fatigue, taking the corner of the field near the forest. It was tedious labor, carrying irregular fragments from the wagon and setting a stone beside each turnip plant. The tuff was light, but still solid enough to make Mona sweat, and her back ached from the constant bending over. But the extra effort was paying off; they would complete this section by nightfall.

Lamb Bunctious—or Bunky as she was coming to call him—was a little apart, nibbling experimentally on weeds. He knew already not to touch the turnips; Mona had mind-warned him, and that had been gratifyingly effective. He was not really eating anyway, still dependent on the Ewe’s milk, but the more plant roughage he took in, the more his digestive system would learn the way of it, until he could be weaned. The Vulture and Python paced him, standing guard. They were nervous about the proximity of the forest, where danger always lurked, and tried to encourage the Lamb to move farther away from it, but he was still somewhat uncertain on his feet, especially the foreleg with the splint, and stayed where he was. Mona realized belatedly that she should have set him down farther inside the field; she hadn’t been thinking of the risk of the edge of it.

Then trouble erupted from the forest, confirming the Vulture and Python’s concern. Six pony-sized wolves charged out, rapidly orienting on the people and creatures on the field.

“Dire wolves!” Brian exclaimed. He ran protectively toward Mona. But before he got there, one wolf charged him. Brian swung his massive staff, viciously, cracking it into the wolf’s head so hard that the animal was knocked off its feet, blood welling from its ear, for the moment unconscious.

But two wolves were coming for Mona. Petrified, she had no notion what to do, and just stood there with a large chunk of tuff in her hands.