Children of God

But even as he spoke, Carlo’s color pinked and the gasping breaths started to come again without Joseba’s aid. Suspended in time, they all watched silently as the hit of epinephrine took hold. "Jesus," John whispered. "He was dead."

"All right," Emilio said, coming to life himself, "get him into the lander and lock it down—he’s still exposed out here."

"Nico," Sean said evenly, "be a good boy and clear a space for Don Carlo on the deck, please."

Bleary-eyed and scared but always ready to obey a direct order, Nico ran ahead to open the cargo-bay door while John, Sean and Joseba carried Carlo to shelter. "If he stabilizes, that may be all he needs," Emilio was telling Da

By the time they had the lander systems reactivated and the filters began cleaning the interior air, Carlo was coming around. " — ole atmosphere must be drenched in pollens and danders and God knows what else," he could hear Joseba point out. But Sandoz said, "No, it must be yasapa. Anaphylaxis takes at least two exposures, and he recognized the scent—" Throat still constricted and eyes puffed shut, Carlo struggled to sit up; someone took him under the arms and pulled him to his feet, maneuvering him into a flight seat. Drained and disoriented, he whispered, "That was certainly exciting."

"Yes, indeed," he heard Sandoz agree. He could not see the man, but Carlo could picture the head shaking in wonder, silver hair falling over black eyes. "Of all the lives on two planets that I might have chosen to save," Sandoz told him, "yours, Don Carlo, would have been at the very bottom of my list. How do you feel?"

"Inglorious but better, thank you." Carlo tried to smile and was startled by how odd his swollen face felt. I must look like Frans, he thought as his vision cleared and breathing became easier. Then it struck him: "Your dream, Sandoz! You said I wasn’t in the city of the dead—"

"Yes, and I am afraid you won’t be going to the city of Gayjur either," said Sandoz dryly. "I’m sending you back to the Bruno. Da

"Sandoz, I didn’t come all this way—"

"To die of anaphylaxis," Emilio finished for him, "which is exactly what you did a short while ago. Yasapa blooms year-round. You can try the surface again later, if you like—maybe John can reconfigure a pressure suit for you. For now, I recommend that you return to the mother ship. The decision is yours, of course."

"Right," said Carlo, not one to argue with facts for very long. "Radio the change of plans to Signora Mendes and put Frans on remote as backup pilot. Do you suppose yasapa brandy would affect people as the blossom did me?" he asked. "We’ll have to put warning labels on anything we export— drink at your own risk. That will probably increase the appeal! An element of danger—"

"You’ll still get sued, ace," Da

NOT FAR TO THE NORTHWEST, IN THE SHADOW OF A LIMESTONE ESCARPMENT, a small mixed party of awestruck travelers listened for the second time to a shrieking roar that reached them from the darkening flatlands. This time the wedge-shaped mechanical object rose slowly into their sightline on gouts of flame, its blackened carapace absorbing the dying light of the second sun. They watched, mute, as the lander reached an altitude that allowed for straightforward propulsion and readjusted the attitude of its engine bells, shooting forward and upward, then banking and climbing. Soon there was no sound but the slap of the water against the hull of their boat as they stared at the rapidly dwindling sight.

"Sti’s feet dancing," Shetri Laaks swore in the gloom, as a blast of burnt fuel reached them. "What a stench! Those people must be dead in the nose."

"Why did they go back so soon?" Kajpin wondered. "I thought their plans were to wait here for the escort from Gayjur."

"Now what shall we do?" Tiyat asked. "Go back to—"

"Quiet!" Rukuei whispered, ears cocked toward the landing site. "Listen!" At first there was only the usual tumult of the prairie reasserting itself, now that the reek and noise of the foreign machine was gone: the stridulation and whining buzz of the grasslands once again undisturbed. "There! Hear it?" Rukuei asked. "They haven’t all gone!"

"They sing!" Tiyat whispered. "Isaac will be pleased."

"Sipaj, Kajpin, tie off," Shetri said urgently. "We’re upwind! Rukuei, can they taste scent at all?"

"Not so well as we, but they’re not oblivious. Perhaps we should circle around to get downwind of them." He couldn’t see a thing anymore. "Or wait until morning."

There was a splash and a rocking shudder as Kajpin began pulling the shallow-drafted boat onto the sloping east bank, not waiting for anyone else’s opinion. "The water’s warm down here!" Tiyat exclaimed when she hopped out to help Kajpin haul the boat close enough to a marhlar stump to make it fast.

"You two monitor the radio," Kajpin told Rukuei and Shetri. "We’ll go up and see what we can find out."

A few scrambling moments later, they heard Tiyat call quietly, "There are three of them!"

"Go sit in the boat!" Kajpin sneered good-humoredly, lying on her belly next to Tiyat. "There’re four! See? There’s a child sitting by that shelter."

"A translator?" Shetri speculated, face turned up toward their voices.

"No, they don’t bring children to learn to be interpreters," Rukuei informed the others. "At least, they didn’t last time. Some of their adults are small." He turned his attention to the radio monitor, but was distracted when a few notes of song reached him. "That’s the one for Isaac. Can you see who’s singing?"

Another small dispute broke out. "Sipaj, Kajpin, did your grandmother screw djanada? You’re the one who’s blind!" Tiyat teased. "It’s the one doing the cooking. Watch the mouths! The others are just jabbering. The cook—do you see? His mouth stays open longer, while the song comes out." There was the sound of sliding as the Runa skidded down the bank, still arguing. Rukuei, listening to the radio, motioned for silence.

"One of their party got sick, so they took him back up," he reported, when the transmission ended. "The others are still waiting for an escort to Gayjur."

"So. There are three adults and one child—or whatever that little one is," Kajpin said, brushing debris from her knees and climbing back into the boat. "There’s black rain east of here, but the VaGayjuri could show up any time, once the weather clears. I say we wait for the foreigners to fall asleep tonight, take the singer for Isaac, and go home."

"The others will wake up!" Tiyat objected. "Isaac can see at night, you know. They’re not like djanada."

"Then grab all four! They don’t look like much for a fight—"

"No," Rukuei said firmly. "Ha’anala was right—you don’t make allies by sneaking up and grabbing people."

"Just invite them to breakfast!" Shetri insisted again. "Sipaj, foreigners, such a long journey you’ve had!" he whispered in a piping Runa falsetto that made Tiyat smother a laugh. "Won’t you join us?" This had been Shetri’s plan from the start, and he was convinced it would work. "Roast some betrin root—Isaac likes betrin," he’d argued back in the valley. "Mix a few grains of othrat into the seasoning, and they’ll sleep all the way to the N’Jarr!"

"Listen to that song," Rukuei breathed. The wind was shifting as the smallest sun dropped below the horizon, and "Che gelida manina" floated toward them on the breeze. "Sipaj, Tiyat, what do you think?" Rukuei asked. "Any ideas?"

"I say wait until morning, so you can see them, too," Tiyat declared. "Two kinds of mind are better than one for making plans."