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A Weird found her, among the thousands on the move, waved her arm at her. She followed through the press of moving bodies, of calibans hissing like venting steam, of claw‑footed giants and insistent grays that could as easily knock a human down, of ariels skittering in haste. She lost her guide, but the Weird waited on the shore where she had known to go, where her caliban waited, indistinct in the dusty dawn. Hers, the only one unridden, the only one which would be waiting on the shore.
It hissed at her, swung its head. Weirds calmed it with their hands. The tail swept the sand, impatient with her, with them. She tapped the leg with her spear; it dipped its shoulder, and her knees went to water. Enough of that, McGee. She planted her foot, heaved herself up and astride, caught the collar as it surged up under her and began to move, powerful steps, a creature at once out of control, never under it–the while she got the spear across to its right side, out of the way, got the kit that was slung at her shoulder settled so it stopped swinging. Scaly hide slid loosely under her thighs, over thick muscle and bony shoulders: buttocks on the shoulder‑hollow, legs about the neck, the soft place behind the collar. They’ve learned to carry humans, she thought, to protect their necks– O God, the tails, the jaws in a fight: that’s what the spear is for. Get the rider off, Dain had said, showing her how to couch it. Go for the gut of a human, the underthroat of a caliban. O God.
The movement became a streaming outward, leisurely in the dawn. The Weird was left behind. She joined other riders of other towers, of every tower mingled. There was no order. Elai was up there somewhere, far ahead. So were Taem and Paeia, Dain and his sisters–all, all the ones she knew. As for herself, she clung, desperately, as they shouldered others on their way; she moved her legs out of the way when offended calibans swung their heads and snapped.
There were days of this to face. And war. Some horrid dawn to find themselves facing other calibans, men with spears and venomed darts. How did I get into this?
But she knew. She shivered, for none of them had had breakfast and the wind blew cold. She comforted herself with the thought of days to go, of distance between themselves and the enemy.
Time to get used to it, she thought, and the itin her mind encompassed all ma
But of course, she thought suddenly, weaving along within the press. Of course. The Patterns. It confounds the Patterns–
The Patterns could not foretell this madness of Elai’s, this sudden wild move. The news that they were coming could travel no faster than the calibans they rode, the great, long‑striding calibans; was nothing for ariel gossip, up and down the Cloud.
Elai, she thought, not without pride. Elai, you bastard. And on another level it was raw fear: This is your world, not mine. I’m going to get killed in it. She suffered a vision of battle, herself run through by some Styxside spear; or falling off, more likely, to be trampled under clawed feet, u
It was at least days remote. There was something left to see.
There was Elai up there. Friend. There was Dain. There were others that she knew.
For the Cloud, she thought. She was shocked at herself, that her blood stirred, that she came not to observe but to fight a war. For the Cloud. For Elai. For the First.
No one shouted. There were no slogans, no ba
Prettiness. She had it about her neck. For friendship’s sake.
Do they love? she had written once, naive.
xlix
205, day 107
Memo, Base Director to all staff
Orbiting survey shows the Styxside column advancing under cover of the woods headed toward the Cloud 200 km east of the Cloudside settlement. The Cloudsiders have advanced 75 km at a very leisurely pace and appear to have stopped in a place where the river offers some natural defense…
Message: Base director to Station
Negative on query regarding whereabouts of four observers. Com is inactive. We suspect the presence of observers with the columns but we are not able to confirm this without risking other perso
Request round the clock monitoring of base environs. We are presently discovering increased caliban activity on our own perimeters, both along the riverside and in burrowing. This, combined with the sudden massive aggression we are witnessing outside, is, in the consensus of the staff, a matter of some concern.
205 CR, day 109, 0233 hours
Engineering to Base Director
We have an attempt at undermining in progress, passing the fence at marker 30.
0236 hours Base Director to Security
…Stage one defense perimeter marker 30…
0340 hours Message, Base Director to Station
The defense systems were effective at primary level in turning back the intrusion. We are maintaining round the clock surveillance. We are advising agents still in the field of this move. Since caliban violence seems generally directed toward structures and not toward individuals some staff members have suggested that those agents in open country are not likely to be the objects of aggression, and may be safer where they are than attempting to approach the base. Agents are being advised to use their own discretion in this matter but to tend at once toward high stony ground where feasible.
More extensive report will follow.
l
205 CR, day 112
Cloud River
“Calibans,” Elai said, “have tried the Base.”
“Yes,” McGee said, sitting crosslegged in their camp, among others who sat near Elai and Scar, but her brown had deserted her when she dismounted. It always did, moving off alone to the river though other calibans stayed by their riders; and she was downcast, having read what she had read in the stones this morning, the small things ariels did, copying the greater Patterns current in the world. The little messengers. Mindless. Making miniature the world. They said the Base had held. They said that too.
They said that Jin was near.
“What do they do,” Elai asked, “to turn back calibans?”
McGee worked numb hands, her heart beating fast with notions of heroism, of refusing to say, but it was Elai asking, friend, First, her First, who had made her one of them.
There was a great silence about her. Elai simply waited, Gehe
“They put a thing into the ground; it smells bad; it goes in under pressure. Calibans won’t like it. But there’s worse that they could do. A lot worse. There’s ships.”
Some looked skyward. Elai did not. She looked frail in the firelight, looked gaunt, her beaded braids hanging by her face. There was Paeia by her, Paeia’s son, a man full grown. On Elai’s other side sat Taem, silent, as Taem usually was.
“They won’t,” said Elai.