Books of Barakhai - The Beasts of Barakhai Part 14

"Shake on ... it?" Vernon studied Collins' fingers dubiously.

Collins took Vernon's enormous paw of a hand into his own, flicked it vigorously, then released it. He wiped his palm on his britches, and Vernon did the same.

"Done?" the larger man asked.

"Done," Collins agreed.

Vernon muttered something of which the stone translated only, "Weird."

Unable to miss the irony, Collins hid a smile.

Chapter 10.

ZYLAS and Collins set off immediately, with the sun still high in the sky. They rode Falima, and Collins caught occasional glimpses of Ialin zipping to Zylas and hovering near his ear. The hummingbird always gave Collins a wide berth, which pleased him as well. The wind carried streamers of Zylas'

unnaturally white hair into Collins' face at intervals so irregular he forgot to protect against it. Accustomed to wearing gla.s.ses, he rarely reacted in time to rescue his eyes, and the strands whipped across them, stinging, until he wondered if he had permanent red lines across the whites. Adding a buzzing, insect-like bird to the aggravation might have driven him over the edge, from sullen irritation to rage.

Zylas carried the translation stone again, which seemed to make no difference as his other two companions would remain in their animal forms for about five more hours and the rat/ man had settled into a nearly unbreakable silence. He led them on a circuitous route that confused Collins utterly. At times, he thought he recognized landmarks they had pa.s.sed a half hour earlier. They might be traveling in an endless loop for all he knew, and he could not help recalling the Winnie-the-Pooh tale in which the silly old bear and his friend, Piglet, track themselves in a circle, worried that, at each pa.s.s, another two creatures have joined the ones they were following. Despite the warmth and humor of this childhood remembrance, Collins found his discomfort growing.

The weather seemed h.e.l.l-bent on displaying all the happy grandeur Collins' mood lacked. The sun beamed through the trees in golden bands. A breeze danced around the trunks, keeping the temperature hovering at what felt like a comfortable seventy degrees. Crystal-blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon, dotted with a few fluffy clouds that gleamed whitely in the broad expanse of azure.

The ground grew rockier. Falima stumbled. Abruptly jarred sideways, Collins found himself on the ground before he realized he was falling. Pain shot through his left shoulder. Dull aching pounded through his thighs and b.u.t.tocks, a reminder that he had spent more time riding the last two days than in all the rest of his life combined. He looked up to a hovering hummingbird and a still-mounted Zylas peering down at him, arm extended. "Are you all right?"

"Just fricking fine." Collins had no idea whether the almost-swear word would translate as the real thing or into a somewhat acceptable subst.i.tution like the one he had provided. He clambered painfully to his feet, ignoring Zylas' gesture. "Mind if I just walk for a while?"

"Not at all." Zylas peered into the distance. "In fact, we'll take to the mountains soon. Probably better if we all walk."

Ialin disappeared.

Collins ma.s.saged his aching shoulder.

"Only kept us mounted this far to make as small a scent trail as possible. Ialin's seen guards out there, though they don't seem to have located us."

"What about Vernon and Korfius?" Collins asked, worried.

Zylas dismounted, clutching Falima's lead. "No reason to think they're not safe. They've got their stories, and we just have to hope no one convinces Korfius to rat us out."Collins laughed at the play on words, which seemed to baffle Zylas.

"What's funny?"

Collins saw no harm in explaining, this time. "Rat us out. You're a rat."

Zylas continued to stare.

"Just seemed funny," Collins mumbled, withdrawing back toward his irritability.

"Is that how it translates?"

"Yeah."

Now, Zylas chuckled. "It's not the word I used. We don't have a lot of animal-based slang."

Collins nodded. "Makes sense."

"Ready to continue?"

No, Collins thought but said, "Yes."

They headed into rocky hills that soon became forested mountains. The trail continued to spiral, double back, and loop. For a time, Collins tried to trace the route. When that became impossible, he attempted conversation. "So now will you tell me about this elder?"

Zylas looked up with clear reluctance. "You'll meet soon enough."

Foiled again, Collins bit his lower lip. "How soon is soon enough?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow!" Collins complained, recalling that Zylas and Ialin had made the trip and returned in about twenty-four hours.

Zylas' eyes widened. "Did you want to take longer?"

"Shorter."

"We could arrive a little earlier," Zylas said slowly. "If you won't be uncomfortable with Falima and Ialin in switch-form."

Collins considered. He might perform better with Falima communicative. She seemed to have warmed up to him in Vernon's cabin. Ialin, he thought, might do him better as a speechless bird. "Perhaps somewhere between the two?"

Zylas tossed his tangled hair. "Of course, there's the elder's switch time to consider, too." He rubbed his forehead. "While you sleep, I'll meet with the elder and talk about that."

Surprised to have his opinion considered at all, Collins merely said, "All right." He had not thought about the details such coordination might require, but he should have. He had learned enough under dire enough circ.u.mstances. I should be thinking all the time. It bothered him to consider that he was, perhaps, not as smart as he believed. He had always done well in school, earning A's and B's with relative ease and not just in rote subjects. Yet he worried that his ability to antic.i.p.ate and react to life situations might not prove as competent. What happens when I get out in the real world where life doesn't consist solely of cla.s.ses and tests? The thought now seemed ludicrous. a.s.suming I survive Barakhai and ever make it back to the "real" world.

Zylas led Falima up the slope. "Speaking of sleep, we work best when we get half in each form.

Thought we could take a break: eat, nap."

Though Collins had slept a solid eight hours, he suffered from hunger, thirst, and physical exhaustion.

He supposed he could learn to coordinate his sleep with Zylas', in three- or four-hour blocks rather than all at once. "Sounds good to me."

Despite his suggestion, Zylas continued hauling Falima up the mountainside. "There's a cave not too far. I'd rather hole up on higher ground. Safer."

Collins followed, now aware of his growling tummy, his dry mouth, and the soreness of his legs. He wished Zylas had waited until they'd arrived at the cave to mention food and rest.

Half an hour later, Zylas waved Collins into the rock crevice he had referred to as a cave. A curtain of vines hung over the entrance, swarmed with round pink flowers; and gra.s.s softened the floor. Collins touched a wall slimy with algae and moss and immediately jerked back his hand. Warm and moist, the interior seemed stifling after the dry, cool wind that had accompanied them through the day. Falima remained outside, grazing, but Ialin swept onto a ledge and perched. Zylas went outside nearly as soonas he entered, then returned moments later dragging the pack that had rested on Falima's withers. As Collins hurried over to help, Zylas let it flop onto the floor.

"I appreciate that Vernon doesn't want us to starve, but I would have packed a bit lighter."

At the moment, Collins would have carried the pack the rest of the way if it meant a steady supply of Vernon's peanut-b.u.t.tery nut paste. He helped Zylas unpack enough food to satisfy them both: bread and nut paste, bugs and fruit, roots and berries. They ate well, then settled down to sleep on the gra.s.sy carpet.

Collins dreamed of a violent earthquake rocking him in wild, insistent motions. "What? Where?" He leaped to his feet. "Huh?" The world came into abrupt focus, despite his missing gla.s.ses. Falima stood beside him, still clutching the arm she had been shaking. Zylas stood near the pack, smiling slightly from beneath his hat brim as he watched the exchange. "Bit jumpy, are you?"

Still slightly disoriented, Collins glanced at his watch. "What time is it?" It read 6:15. Falima would have changed fifteen minutes ago, which would have just given her time to dress and wolf down some food before awakening him. He yawned.

Though Collins had found his own answer, Zylas gave him another. "Early evening. You're a good sleeper."

Collins yawned again. "Most grad students are." He stretched, the pain in his thighs and b.u.t.tocks even more p.r.o.nounced. He was glad Falima had taken human form and they would have to walk for a while.

"Now, if I could just get some coffee."

Zylas laughed. "Don't have that here. But you're welcome to eat dirt. Tastes about the same to me."

"Let me guess. Not a coffee fan?" Collins sprang forward and hefted the pack before his older and smaller companion could do so. It settled awkwardly across his neck, obviously constructed to balance across a horse's unsaddled withers without sliding. Now, he had to agree with Zylas; fewer supplies would suit his shoulders better. "It's an acquired taste."

"Apparently." Zylas did not fight Collins for the pack. "But why bother to acquire it?"

"For the caffeine." Collins trailed his companions through the viny curtain and into sunlight that, though muted by evening, still burned his unadjusted eyes. "Helps you wake up."

Zylas headed back up the slope. "Why not just take caffeine?"

Why not, indeed? Collins recalled a professor once telling the cla.s.s that, in the name of avoiding hypocrisy, No-Doz was his morning beverage. It seemed more like an admission of drug addiction than the heroically honest statement the professor had clearly intended. "I actually like the taste of coffee."

Now. When he first started drinking it, he had diluted it more than halfway with milk. Gradually, the proportion had decreased until he had come to take it with only a splash of nondairy creamer.

"All. . . right," Zylas said slowly. "If you say so."

"It's good." Collins hopped after Falima, who had darted up the hill with a dexterity her horse form could never have matched. "Really. Coffee has a great-" Struck by the ridiculousness of the argument, Collins laughed. Why am I defending coffee to a man who eats bugs and calls them a delicacy? "- flavor," he finished. "When it's made right." It seemed rude to leave Falima out of the conversation. Not wanting to lose the ground he had gained with her the previous day, he asked, "So how are things with you, Falima?"

At the sound of her name, Falima turned and shrugged.

"She can't understand you," Zylas reminded.

Oh, yeah. Disappointment flashed through Collins, gradually replaced by guarded relief. As much as he wanted to chat with her, at least, this way, he could not ruin their friends.h.i.+p by saying something stupid.

They continued through softly contoured mountains carpeted with weeds, wildflowers, and evergreen forests. Now, Zylas' diversions became clearer to Collins, as they meandered down and sideways as often as upward, and he often forgot that they traveled through mountains at all. Occasionally, the vegetation gave way to barren rock faces, especially where the walk grew steeper. These proved a minor challenge that would bore a real climber, though Collins found himself guarding every step. A fallseemed unlikely, but it might result in serious injury; and he had taken more than a few missteps in his life on flat, solid ground.

The weather remained clear. That, and a comfortable sleep, vastly improved Collins' mood. He could almost imagine himself on a youth group hike, scurrying up Mount Chockorua with a backpack, a canteen, and a bunch of rowdy boys. The fear of becoming trapped in a world that condemned him as a vicious murderer receded behind a wash of reckless hope.

Collins met Falima's gaze on several occasions, exchanging short nervous smiles whenever they did so. The strange and silent flirtation pa.s.sed time otherwise measured only by the slow downward creep of the sun. At length, it touched the far horizon, pitching up broad bands of color that blurred and mingled at the edges, cleared to vivid extremes, then dulled into the next. Bold spikes of pink interrupted the pattern at intervals, radiating in majestic lines.

Collins paused on a crest, staring. Evening breezes chilled the sweat spangling his forehead, and he could not tear his gaze from the beauty of the vast panorama stretching out in front of him. He had never seen anything so grand. The few clear sunsets of his camping days he had viewed through forests of skeletal branches that blotted the grandeur with shadows. City lights blunted the epic, almost violent, hues that now paraded before his eyes. In recent years, he had forgotten to look, his evenings gobbled up by essays and lab work, indoor dinners and rented movies.

"What's the matter?"

Zylas' now-familiar voice startled Collins. He jumped, slammed his foot down on a loose stone, twisted his ankle, and toppled. Before the rat/man could move to a.s.sist, Collins lay on the ground. His ankle throbbed, but he still managed to say, "What's the matter? The matter is some guy who calls himself a friend scaring me and dumping me on my face."

Zylas drew back, feigning affront. "I never touched you. You dumped yourself on your own face."

"With incredible grace, I might add." Collins rose gingerly and found he could already put most of his weight on his leg. He was not badly hurt. "Don't sell me short, now. I'm excellent at dumping myself on my face."

Zylas agreed, "A real professional." He offered a hand, though Collins had already stood.

"Mind telling Falima it was your fault? She already thinks I'm a clod."

Zylas glanced toward his flank. "I'd do that, but she does have . . . um . . . eyes."

Collins looked around Zylas, only then noticing Falima nearby. She had probably witnessed the entire exchange. He tried to remember which parts of the conversation he had spoken. She could not understand him, but Zylas could come across plainly to both of them. Much like listening to one end of a telephone conversation, she could surely infer much merely from what Zylas had said. But why the h.e.l.l do I care what she thinks? Collins could not explain it; but, somehow, he did. He looked back at the horizon, but the sky's exquisite light show had dulled toward flat black and the first stars had appeared.

He rounded on Zylas. "If you must know, I was enjoying that gorgeous sunset. You made me miss the last of it."

Zylas turned his attention westward, with the air of a man so accustomed to seeing radiance, he no longer notices it.

Of course, Collins surmised. They get sunsets like that every day. In that moment, he grew less fascinated by the life of a models' photographer. It seemed impossible that staring at beautiful women for a living gradually sapped it of all thrill, yet surely it must. Does a man ever tire of looking at an attractive wife? An answer popped swiftly into Collins' mind, though he had never intended to address his own unspoken question. 7 don't stare at Marlys the way I used to, and she's only grown more lovely. In fact, it surprised him to discover that, of all the things he missed most, she barely made the list.

If absence makes the heart grow fonder, then either I don't have a heart or she was never really there.

Falima followed the direction of Zylas' stare to the now-blunted sunset. She said something, the slight up-tick at the end Collins' only hint that she had asked a question.

Zylas responded in their lilting language, leaving her nodding thoughtfully.

The albino turned his attention back to Collins. "Ready?""To go on?" Collins guessed. "Sure."

Zylas adjusted his breeks. "To meet the elder."

Collins blinked. "Tonight? But I thought..."

Zylas shrugged. "You requested; I asked." He held out a hand, and the hummingbird alighted, tiny talons gripping his index finger. "Ialin says we've lost the guards. The elder thinks we've muddled the trail enough."

Though he had suspected it, Collins barely dared to believe Zylas had dragged out their journey so much that they could chop off an entire day and not even notice it. "Definitely. I'm ready." Finally, he would find out how to get home. Home to professors furious that I ruined all their experiments. He doubted anyone could believe his reason for not taking care of the animals. Each rat had enough water to last several days, and they could go without eating for weeks, if necessary. He wondered if he could get back to Daubert Laboratories before vacation ended; if he cleaned all the cages thoroughly, supplied fresh food sticks and water, no one would know he had gone. The deceit bothered him. It might change the results of some of the a.n.a.lyses, but it seemed preferable to him sacrificing the future he had gone into hock for. A bad relations.h.i.+p, a sundered family, student loans- these all seemed minor inconveniences compared to remaining always a jump ahead of a local constabulary fixated on executing him.

As Zylas headed across a ridge swarming with leafy vines, Collins finally found the argument that might have gotten him to the elder sooner. "You know, Zylas." He tried to keep his voice casual. "I'm the only one taking care of those rats back at the lab for four days."

Zylas continued walking, a stiffening of his back the only clue that he had heard the p.r.o.nouncement.

At length, he spoke. "Are they . . . are they going to . . ." It took a real effort to squeeze out the last word. "... die?"

Well, yes. After an experiment, they all die. Collins kept that realization to himself, suddenly wis.h.i.+ng he had not raised the topic at all. It seemed cruel to leave Zylas believing he had had a hand in the deaths of a roomful of creatures he considered kin. Initially planning to use the information to help speed things along, Collins suddenly found himself in the position of comforter. "I don't think so. I gave them enough water for at least three days. They might get a bit hungry before the others get back, but they should survive all right." Great. That accomplished a lot.

Zylas' movements became jerky, agitated. Falima glided up and gently placed an arm across his shoulders, speaking calmly.

Collins slammed the heel of his palm against his forehead. Blew that one big time. He tried to simultaneously rescue his point and Zylas, though the two goals seemed entirely at odds.

"They certainly won't die. Certainly not. But the sooner I get back, the sooner I can attend to them.

Clean cages, feed. You know, make them comfortable."