Mute

  He kept looking for ways to climb on up out of the water and the canyon, but saw it was hopeless. As always, he had to follow the crab’s advice.

  A head poked from the river’s surface. The mermaid had arrived.

  Knot stared. He had been bracing himself for the worst, casting about for ways to slip out from under the precognition. But he had not been prepared for this.

  Thea was not a deformed, fishlike grotesquerie. She was very like a normal girl, with rather attractive facial features, flowing fair hair, and a rather remarkable set of breasts. He could not see her feet, but the upper part of her torso was sleek and feminine.

  “You called me?” she inquired, clearing the moisture from her eyes with two swipes of a normal hand, five delicate digits thereon, each with a long but well contoured nail. “You are a telepath?”

  “Close enough.” Knot said. He found it harder to lie to a pretty girl. “My name is Knot. I am a mutant who must escape the enclave. I believe you can help me, for you alone know the byways of the water. I wish to make a deal for your assistance.”

  She studied him, frowning prettily. “Your body is almost normal. Do you think your seed would—?” She broke off, forming a faint flush.

  Damn that attractiveness! Knot found himself flushing too. Would it? he demanded gruffly of Hermine. Mit should now be close enough to tell.

  Mit says no. Your seed would not sprout in her. You are not quite close enough to her.

  Again, it would be so easy to lie. But Knot just did not like to lie to decent people. Enemies were fair game, but Thea was obviously no enemy. “You are mutant; I am mutant. I doubt we could, ah, crossbreed.”

  “Would you be willing to try?” Her color became her. The prospect of trying was much more appealing, now that he had met her.

  Yet there was Finesse (albeit married), and Mit’s assurance that it could not take. “I need your help. I would rather not obtain it on a false premise. Nothing would come of our, ah, liaison.”

  “Are you an honest man?”

  “Not really. But—”

  “I would be lying to you if I said I could get you out of here. There is no way out. Shall we exchange lies?”

  Knot smiled. “I will get out regardless of your view. All I want is your cooperation, not your belief.”

  “That will do nicely,” she said.

  Touché! Hermine thought. A male can’t debate with a female.

  “You don’t understand,” Knot said, perversely determined to clarify the objectionable point. “I am not lying to you. I have information that indicates—”

  “So do I. I can show you the way to the salt ocean, into which I cannot swim. Not for any length of time. But there is no escape for you that route, either, that I know of. So you might as well go back the way you came.”

  Knot recalled the river monster and the inhospitable mutants and the canyon cliffs and the current he would have to buck. Even taking the easy route downstream had exhausted him. Only now were his arms recovering. “All right. Let’s settle for the lies.”

  She smiled. She had been pretty before; now she was beautiful. “Follow me.”

  She spun in the water, and her fluke showed momentarily.

  “Wait!” Knot cried. “We can’t keep pace with you! My arms are tired already, and we are hungry—”

  “We?” she inquired, turning about with a certain flare so that one breast flashed momentarily out of the water. That could not have been accidental; she knew as well as Finesse did how and when to show what. It seemed to be a highly honed skill all pretty women had.

  Is it all right to tell her?

  Mit says yes. She is a good girl, and she likes you.

  “I am not alone,” Knot said. “I have two animals with me. One of them is the telepath who summoned you.”

  “Female? I thought the call was that of a woman, and was surprised to discover you.”

  “Yes. A lady weasel. Hermine.” Say hello, Hermine.

  I did. She’s nice. She likes raw fish.

  “I will take you to my cave and fetch you fish, and you can rest,” Thea said.

  “That would be ideal,” Knot agreed. Raw fish?

  Delicious, the weasel agreed.

  Thea spun around again, this time hefting both breasts up for a glimpse, and swam downstream more slowly. Knot followed, encouraged except for the fish. He did not like delay, but his fatigue and hunger had convinced him that there was no way he could escape quickly. He would need sleep too, to restore himself. So it made sense to yield to the situation, even at the further expense of time.

  If only Finesse did not get tortured or killed, in that interim!

  Thea halted. “Here you must descend one body length, and enter the hole in the wall. It leads to a cavern with air.”

  True, Hermine assured him.

  Knot took a breath and dived—but could not descend low enough until he let out half his air to reduce buoyancy. He simply wasn’t swimming strongly enough. His hands scratched against the rock wall. To your right, Hermine directed. Knot moved right and found the opening. He swam in. Already he was desperate for air.

  He rose—and abruptly his head broke water in darkness. The twin moons were gone, of course; this was underground.

  There was commotion beside him as Thea joined him. Her body felt even sleeker and more feminine than before as she moved in closer than necessary to guide him. “There is a ledge this way,” she murmured in his ear, her lips actually touching the lobe. The effect was sensual: that light, intimate touch.

  Knot suffered himself to be half-towed, afraid that if he tried to swim with any vigor his hands might crack into hard stone in the blackness. He was in her power; he would be unable to find his way out without Hermine’s help. Yet it was a pleasant sensation, being drawn through the water invisibly by her action. Her breasts touched him every so often, perhaps not by accident, and he found himself being aroused sexually despite the chill of the water.

  Then the ledge was there, and he was clambering out. The air here was warm, which was another blessing.

  “Will you eat fish raw, or do you need fire?” Thea inquired.

  Knot was gratified by the question. He had a choice! “My friends like it raw; I would prefer the fire. But can it be done in an enclosed place like this?”

  “Oh, yes. There are air-channels to the surface of the land, too long and narrow for any man to pass, but excellent for ventilation. In cold weather I need a fire, so I made sure it could be done here.”

  She did something—and a spark flew and something blazed up, and there was light and heat. As Knot’s sight adjusted, he discerned the limits of the cave. It was a fairly long, narrow one, with convoluted and evidently porous walls vaguely reminiscent of old fungus. The ledge sloped down into the black water.

  The fire was fashioned of rock also, that burned with a mild aroma and very little smoke. There was a small pile of it nearby; evidently the mermaid gathered it when she had need. There were also little collections of pretty stones, colored sands, and delicate bones. Thea seemed to have an artistic bent, though there were no pictures in evidence at the moment.

  Meanwhile, the mermaid was gone. She will return soon, Hermine thought. I will keep in touch, so that she will not forget you. She has discovered that she is lonely. She wants you to stay.

  “So I gather,” Knot responded. “Yet this is not my life.” He lay down on the ledge, resting, letting the fire warm him, while Hermine and Mit explored the crevices in their own fashion,

  He was getting sleepy when Thea returned. She had a netful of small fish. The fire was now well established; she had arranged it well, so that the flame expanded smoothly through the mound of rocks. She brought two sticks from a niche and spitted two fish, handing one to Knot. They held the fish over the fire, slowly cooking them.

  Thea sat with her feet in the water, Knot saw now that they were deformed, incompletely separated, merged from the knees down. Her heels were fused, her toes pointing out. The web of ski
n where legs and feet were separating was not pretty; it was more like scar tissue. But it seemed effective for her swimming. Her upper legs were separate, though they could not move independently. She had made the best of her deformity, and survived well.

  How, Knot wondered, would she be able to birth a baby, should she manage to conceive? She couldn’t get her legs apart! But then he realized that she didn’t need to; for thousands of years women had given birth by squatting, and she could squat.

  “Yes, I’m not really a mermaid,” she said, noting his glance. Knot hastily slid his gaze down her legs; he had been looking at the other end of them, and did not care to reveal the nature of his speculations. “Merely one of the mutilated. But I should be able to breed true-human—if only I can conceive. I’ve tried it with several males, but—” She shrugged. That brought Knot’s gaze up to another location.

  Hermine appeared. “This is Hermine in person,” Knot said gravely. “The weasel you have met mentally.”

  “Yes. Can she tell what I’m thinking now?”

  She’s wondering whether you’ll renege on your part of the bargain, Hermine thought obligingly.

  “No, I won’t renege,” Knot said. “But I’d rather eat first. If you will give a raw fish to Hermine, she’ll share it with Mit the crab.”

  “So Hermine’s a full telepath!” Thea said. “Not a part telepath like so many others. She can read and send. I thought maybe she could only send.” She set a fish down before the weasel, who hauled it off to a niche. Mit was not in sight, but Knot was sure Hermine would be in touch with him.

  “Why do you want—what you want?” Knot asked. “Are you able to raise a normal baby?”

  “I’ve got to.” She stared pensively into the water. “I mean—well, what is the point in life? I mean if you just die, accomplishing nothing? What’s the point in your life, for example?”

  “I want to accomplish some good for mankind—such as saving galactic civilization,” he said. “I think that if I did that, and then died, my life would not have been wasted.”

  “What about those of us who can’t get out to save the galaxy? How do we prevent our lives from being wasted?”

  “You—make new people,” Knot said, grasping her point. “People can who go abroad, and perhaps do what you can’t.”

  “You understand very quickly,” she said, flashing him a smile. “What good will your civilization be, if there are no people to fill it? If I dedicate my half-life to making a whole person, and I succeed, then haven’t I redeemed my existence?”

  She had succeeded in convincing him. “It’s a good thing you contemplate,” he agreed. “I hope it works out.” And he felt guilty, knowing that unless Mit were wrong this time, he, Knot, could not help Thea to realize her dream.

  The fish were ready. Knot consumed his with some difficulty. Thea saved hers for him also. She preferred a raw one for herself. Knot marveled that such a perfect figure of a woman (from the knees up) could come from such inedible food, and knew he was being silly, since of course it was edible. It was merely that he retained so-called civilized restraints, while she had adapted nicely to her situation.

  “Something you should know about me,” Knot said reluctantly. “I’m a psi too. The nature of my psi is this: people forget me. If you leave me more than an hour, you will forget me. Hermine maintained mental contact with you while you fished, reminding you of me, so you would not forget I was here, and fail to return. If you sleep, you will wake without remembering me. When we part company, you will forget we ever associated, unless special precautions are taken. So if you should conceive a baby—which is prohibitively unlikely, as far as my participation goes—you will not know how it happened.”

  “That’s too bad; I’d like to remember you.” She shrugged. She did that well, seeming to enjoy the heft of her own bosom out of water. She had more avoirdupois about her body than Finesse did; no doubt it protected her from the chill of the water. “But you are only passing, you say. A baby would be real.”

  He could not argue with that. They finished their meal. The fire died down. Knot found himself nodding again. It was now late at night, and he had had a most active day, and was tired. But a deal was a deal. “I think it’s time,” he said.

  “Yes,” she agreed, as if this were routine. But she looked just embarrassed enough to heighten her appeal.

  “Do you—in the water?”

  “I prefer it.”

  Because in the water she was not clumsy or handicapped. It made sense. He would have preferred it on the ledge, but it really was not his choice. He got into the water.

  She moved into his arms as he lay on a shallowly submerged ledge. She was lithe and soft and interesting, especially in the darkness of the water. He was cold, but she was warm, and the closer he got to her the more comfortable he was. He—

  Finesse is sending, Hermine thought. Her impulse came through with less force than usual, because she was a small distance removed from him. Do you wish to receive?

  What a time! Yes.

  “I am certain you have psi talent,” Piebald said. “But now it seems you are not yourself aware of it. So we shall have to force it out. The trick will be to accomplish this without destroying your sanity.”

  This crazed lobo was going to torture a normal to force manifestation of a nonexistent talent? Why? If he wanted to eliminate a CC agent, all he had to do was lobotomize her any way. Why try to evoke psi that was only going to be abolished?

  “I have no psi!” Finesse exclaimed. “You can rape me, you can kill me, you can make me suffer, but you can’t squeeze psi from a normal!”

  Piebald smiled—and the irony was, it was not overtly sadistic. On a city street or in a mutant enclave he would have appeared quite innocent. “Relax, woman. I have ascertained that physical torture will not avail, and I fear my wife would object to raping you, delightful as the experience might otherwise prove.”

  Piebald was married? Knot found this difficult to assimilate. A man that evil—

  But the lobo was talking again. “No, Finesse. What we now have to do is establish an imperative for you to manifest your psi. It will be hard to evoke, after a lifetime’s inactivity. So this will not be comfortable for either of us. But it shall be accomplished.”

  “What do you want with a psi?” she cried. “You’re only going to lobotomize—”

  Finesse had caught on—and her thoughts were parallel to Knot’s own. She now knew what she was up against—and that might be the worst torture of all.

  Piebald smiled enigmatically. The discolorations of his face and hair seemed to change with his facial expression: a sinister effect. Perhaps sending accentuated it; this was, really, her impression of the man, rather than the actuality. “All shall be known in due course.”

  The sending ended. “Are you well?” Thea inquired solicitously. “You’re shivering. I can warm you, if you like.”

  “I—received a message,” Knot said.

  “From your girlfriend?”

  He looked at her with alarm, seeing only the glint that the waning fire reflected from her eyes. “You’re clairvoyant?”

  She laughed against him. “Merely female. I know when another woman cuts in on me, and I guess she has first call. Shall we let it wait until morning?”

  “Maybe that’s best.” He felt considerable relief at the postponement, and knew she was aware of that, and he was sorry. But she accepted it graciously, drawing him against her, keeping him warm, relaxing.

  Knot felt there was more to be said, but he was so tired he fell asleep before he could organize his thoughts.

  • • •

  He woke disoriented, after a melange of partial dreams. He was half in water, and it was dark, and there was a woman-body in his arms. What—oh. Thea, in the cave. Yes.

  As he stirred, she woke too. And flipped out of his embrace and into deep water. “Who are you?” she demanded, frightened and angry. “How did you get in my home?”

  She did not remember, of
course. Knot was used to this. He drew on his expertise and experience in interviewing to reassure her and clarify their situation succinctly, and soon she was reassured and began to remember.

  “It is strange,” she said. “But it must be true, for I remember the telepathic weasel, and of course you were with her. It’s coming back now. Odd how selectively I forgot.”

  “Your mind bridges and interpolates and rationalizes to cover the gaps,” he explained. “But prompt reminders do serve to bring it back, and the fact that you were close to me diminishes the effect. My psi is strong but subtle; you don’t feel it or perceive it. If you really want to remember me, write out a complete summary of the experiences we share, to remind you when I’m gone. Read it as soon as I depart, and keep rereading at brief intervals for several hours. That will fix it in your memory, and then you will be able to retain it with only an occasional reminder, as with any other memory. I doubt it is worth your effort, though.”

  “I have no materials for writing,” she said. “Except perhaps my coal-chalk, and the walls of the cave—which wouldn’t be very good for that. Anyway, we have no formal education here in the enclave; I know only a few words. I live for the present—and the future as represented by my offspring.”

  “I tried to explain last night—it is morning now?—that I cannot actually give you offspring. So I fear my part of our deal is invalid.”

  “How do you know—yes, it is morning, the cave remains dark all day—that you can’t?”

  “My friend the clairvoyant crab assures me, and he is always correct.”

  “But your friend the crab can tell me which man could give me a baby?”

  Knot’s mouth fell open. He asked Hermine.

  Yes, she agreed, as surprised as he at the insight.