Now that was strange.
Her powers of identification might have failed but there was nothing wrong with her imagination. It didn’t resemble anything she knew and it moved much too naturally to be someone in a suit, acting out a role. Half an hour’s close scrutiny was sufficient to convince her that her brother’s companion wasn’t from around there, and she didn’t mean Idaho. It looked exactly like something from another world, though rather more cuddly than she would have designed it. The fact that it spoke excellent English and dressed like a refugee from a Carnaby Street fashion closeout only added intrigue.
They were still chatting amiably but she was too far off to overhear the actual conversation. If the creature carried a weapon it was inconspicuous and her brother seemed completely relaxed. She felt safe in assuming it could not be too dangerous.
She had to get closer if she was going to hear anything.
“Make no mistake about it,” Runs-red-Talking was saying. “That’s why the Books are so important to us.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Hundreds. You could not begin to master them in several lifetimes. The best one can hope for is a respectable sampling. They cover every aspect of Quozl life and more are being added all the time. The Samizene is not static: it is an evolving organism imbued with self-regenerating immortality. You do not study it. It breathes into you through your mind, you inhale the spirit with your eyes.” He broke off abruptly, staring past his friend.
Chad turned, saw nothing, looked back. “Something on your mind? You see something?”
“No, Chad, I do not see anything. But I can hear something. It moves clumsily, and it exhales tension.”
Chad turned and concentrated. “I don’t hear a thing. But of course with those ears you can hear a lot better than I.”
“I can also see better and smell more intensely. These things I have learned over the years. Among the Quozl, the most sensitive human would be considered sensory-deprived.”
“Yeah, but you guys can’t swim worth a damn.” Frustrated, he climbed to his feet. “I swear I can’t see anything moving in there.”
“Some large animal: bigger than a squirrel, smaller than a deer.”
Suddenly color flashed between two bushes, enough for Chad to recognize. He cursed himself silently. “That’s no large animal. That’s my sister.” He took a step in her direction, hesitated. “You’d better hide in the tent.”
Runs’s ears bobbed negatively. “She has been here long enough to have noticed me, I fear. If she had not been watching there would be no reason for her to continue hiding. Yet if there is any chance …” He bounded into the depths of the tent.
Chad let the rain flap flop against the opening, walking toward the line of trees. “All right, Mindy, you can come out now.” When she made no move to emerge he added, “I saw you. You’ve got that stupid green shirt on, the one with the red stripes. At least if you’re going to try and hide in the woods you should pick something without bright red stripes.”
There was a long pause, then she rose from behind another bush, slightly to the right of the place he’d guessed. “I wasn’t hiding.” She was smiling at him, unable to eliminate the slightly superior tone she always used when they talked. As she advanced toward him he saw that her attention was focused on the tent. His heart sank. Runs-red-talking was right.
“What is it, little brother?”
“What’s what?” He spoke irritably. “And don’t call me that.”
Ignoring his request she nodded at the tent. “Your friend with the big feet and the oversized ears.”
“Why’d you follow me?” he asked her, attempting to postpone the inevitable.
“I got curious. You know me and my curiosity. You kept talking about all the exploring you were doing, all the wonderful new places you were visiting, but every time you left the cabin you went off in the same direction. Every summer.
“For a while I thought you had a secret camp where you’d found some gold. As you got older I found myself wondering if you’d run into some pretty backpacker like yourself and the two of you were making a regular yearly rendezvous you wanted to keep secret from Mom and Dad.” She indicated the tent. “Is it a girl?”
“No. Runs-red-Talking is a he, not an it.” He let out the heaviest sigh of his life. “Come on. I guess I might as well introduce you.”
He led her back to the tent, pulled the rain flap aside. “Might as well come on out, Runs. You were right. She saw us.” Something stirred inside the shelter. Mindy was bent over, trying to restrain herself.
“His name is Runs-red-Talking?”
“As near as he can approximate it in English. I can say it properly but my Quozl’s not too good. Too high-pitched and too soft for my palate. He says I just sound like I’m grunting, a lot of the time. But I’m getting better.”
“You can speak its—pardon me, his, language?”
“We’ve been friends for a long time.”
He heard his sister’s sharp intake of breath as Runs emerged from the tent and straightened. To Mindy, Runs would seem expressionless and solemn. She didn’t know how to interpret the subtle movements of hand and eye, ear and fur.
For his part Runs studied her with open interest. “You are the first female of your species I have encountered in person, so I suppose some good will come of this.”
“His English is as good as yours, Chad. How did you learn our language?”
The Quozl turned questioningly to his friend. “You might as well tell her what you feel she can handle,” Chad said tiredly. “She’ll badger me to death if you don’t tell her.”
“I will tell her, and freely, but,” Runs turned back to Mindy, “you must swear to tell no one else of this meeting or of my existence. Your brother has kept such a promise for many years. Can you do no less? If not, this encounter must end now and forever.”
“No, no,” Mindy assured him quickly, “I swear. I swear it. Why should I tell anyone? It’s a big secret, right? Our secret.” Her eyes swept over the Quozl. “I like your jewelry.”
Runs-red-Talking tilted his head to one side, staring at her. “And I have observed in my studies which I can now confirm that despite the insignificance of your own organs of hearing, you decorate them as much as you are able, though among humans this civilized habit is largely confined to the females.”
“Maybe we can trade earrings. No, we can’t do that. It might risk your secret, right?”
Runs-red-Talking made no secret of his relief. “I am glad to see you may be counted upon to help preserve our privacy.”
“Why would I want to share you? This is too good.” She chose a place and sat down, crossing her legs and locking them together with her arms. “Now take your time and tell me all about yourself and the rest of the—what did you call them, brother?”
“Quozl. The Quozl.” He didn’t know whether to be furious with his sister for having followed him or relieved that she so readily accepted the need for continued secrecy.
“What do you want to know?” Runs asked her.
“Everything!” She smiled reassuringly at him.
“I do not have the time in this life to tell you everything, but I will endeavor to satisfy your immediate curiosity. We will begin with the business of smiling.” Chad hunted for the thermos of cold fruit juice while Runs lectured Mindy.
While he spoke, Runs-red-Talking was considering alternatives. Short of slaying the female there was little he could do. The inherent logic of it notwithstanding, he doubted his human friend would understand such a course of action. The next step involved killing them both. That held dangers of its own. Their parents would miss them and come searching, possibly along with others of their kind much better equipped for tracking. They might find more than evidence of assassination: they might begin to learn who was responsible. Under no circumstances could he expose the colony to such a danger.
It really mattered not because he didn’t want to kill Chad and he was morally and
spiritually incapable of harming either of them. He could not even intrude on their Sama without first asking permission. He had no choice but to discard the thought, which he never broached to his human friend.
Chad had to admit that his sister handled the return home perfectly. She did nothing to suggest that anything out of the ordinary had transpired during her absence.
Their parents did express surprise when she told them that instead of spending her days writing on the porch or in her room she was hencefoth going to accompany her brother on his week-long forest forays. At the same time they were delighted to see brother and sister, who had fought for so long, getting along so well. Mindy allowed as how she was learning things about the forest she’d never imagined while Chad reluctantly admitted it was good to have some company on his long trips.
Everything went smoothly from then on until the last week of the summer. Chad set up camp and waited with his sister by the side of the river, but when three days had gone by without Runs-red-Talking emerging from the woods he found himself growing uneasy.
He was splashing cold water on his face when Mindy came up next to him.
“Has he ever been this late before?”
“No.” Chad fumbled for the towel, wiped his eyes. “Never. Never more than a couple of days.”
“Maybe something happened to delay him longer.”
“Not by choice. One of the things the Quozl make a fetish of is punctuality. He told me that several times.”
“Okay, so he’s late. It’s too early to panic. He can’t exactly let us know what’s going on by letter. It’s probably something so ordinary it’s dumb, like locking himself in the bathroom. Or maybe he just got busy with something else important and forgot.”
“For a few hours, possibly. Not for three days. It’s not like him at all. You’re right, though, when you say something might have happened to him. Something involuntary. What if he ran into a cougar, or a sow bear with cubs? Both of us always worried about that.”
Mindy’s reaction showed she hadn’t considered those possibilities. “God, I hope not.”
Chad looked back at her in some surprise. “I didn’t think you cared about him, personally.”
“There you go again,” she said in exasperation, “putting words in my mouth, thinking for me. Did I ever say anything like that?”
“No. You just always struck me as a lot less interested in him than in the stories he told you.”
“You’re crazy. I like him as much as you do.”
Finding the discussion suddenly distasteful, Chad turned to stare upstream. “Something’s happened to him, I know it.”
“He could be sick. Quozl do get sick, don’t they?”
“I suppose. Funny, that’s something we never talked about.” He relaxed slightly. “Maybe that’s all it is. But this still isn’t like him.”
“Nobody plans on illness. He’s probably more worried than you are. He can’t have his doctor or whatever they use send us a telegram.” She settled a pan over the small propane stove. “Nothing we can do except wait and hope he shows up. If he doesn’t we’ll leave and come back in a week. That’s the pattern, isn’t it?”
Chad nodded. “That’s the way it’s been set up.”
Runs-red-Talking did not appear the following day, or the next, or the one after that when they were packing for the hike back to the lake. Chad tried not to worry too much. His friend’s absence might be due to something as ordinary as a sprained ankle. That would seriously incapacitate a Quozl. Or he might be having problems on the job, or with his family. They would find out in a week when they returned to the meeting site.
Not for an instant did he consider the possibility that he might never see Runs-red-Talking again. With a start he realized how fond he’d become of the long-eared alien. That wasn’t normal but, then, his sister had known that her brother was something other than normal for years.
XII.
THERE HAD BEEN no mistakes in planning, neither had he grown careless. Instead he’d been caught out by that most dangerous trap of all: coincidence. Had he arrived earlier they would not have seen his shaft hatch opening. Had they been working instead of taking a group meditation pause he would have heard them and waited until they’d departed. He decided that the physicists were wrong. The universe was held together not by gravity, but by ifs.
Passing Quozl turned to stare, which was extremely discourteous and only added to the extent of his humiliation. He was in no position to stop and chide them. They couldn’t really be blamed for the breach of etiquette, he knew. No one was ever escorted anywhere by an armed guard. There was no need for armed guards in the colony since an offender had nowhere to run to.
Only Runs-red-Talking had found that.
So startled passersby stumbled as they encountered the unprecedented spectacle of a single quiet Quozl being hustled along by four Shamers hefting side arms. They did not understand because Runs-red-Talking did not look dangerous. They had no idea how wrong they were.
None of them said anything, and the instant they realized what they were doing they turned away in embarrassment. But Runs could feel their furtive glances following his progress, could imagine many ears straining to pick up the least bit of conversation from his escort. The Shamers said nothing, however. Not because they had nothing to say, but because they were genuinely afraid of talking in his presence. The exact nature of the technician’s offense was unknown to them, but its seriousness was not. On a scale of severity, they had been told, what he had done existed high above in a rarefied region of illegality all its own.
The escort did not accompany him into the chamber. Obviously they believe I am sane enough not to commit suicide, Runs mused as he entered. In that they’re correct. I have neither reason nor desire to kill myself. He was less certain of his elders’ feelings on the subject.
The room was small and informal. They were in Burrow Seven and everything was new: the wall decorations, the bells that hung in a corner and tinkled with imitation wind, the beautifully rendered false toki wood paneling, the seats and cushions and mats of elaborate design.
These were fully occupied. Some of the faces he recognized, others were new to him. They were talking among themselves, pointedly ignoring his arrival. One directed him with utmost indifference to a backless cushion set on the floor in the center of the room. The soft, indirect lighting shifted to focus on him. He did not cower under the attention but kept his ears and back straight, his posture attentive.
If his inquisitors were pleased they kept the opinion to themselves. There was an air of exhaustion about them, as though they’d been engaged in strenuous debate prior to his arrival. He had time to identify each of the Burrow Masters as well as five of the seven members of the Elder Council. There were also scattered representatives from several scientific departments. All this pomp and status just for him. He was not flattered.
A few had trouble concealing their anger. That did not bother him because it was expected. He had forfeited any right to consideration or understanding. When the conversation quieted and they began to turn to face him he launched into a short speech in which he effectively renounced any claim on their mercy or sympathy. A few sighing whistles were his only response. Now, he knew, would come the questions.
“How long has this been going on?” That from the Master of Burrow Four. It was not necessary to explain what he meant by the question.
How easily this could have been avoided, Runs thought. He remembered making his usual hike, enjoying questions and a multi-day visit with his human friends, and then returning. Remembered opening his concealed hatch and firing his harness line across the shaft, climbing out and preparing to close the hatch prior to swinging across the gap.
Only to look down and see an entire shaft cleaning crew staring back up at him, dangling from their own harnesses. They’d been engaged in a silent meditation break, until the noise of his activity made them look up. A human would never have heard or sensed his presence, but four s
ets of Quozl ears had detected him immediately.
He could not flee multiple witnesses. As he hung helplessly in harness, several powerful work lights caught his face, locking his features in the crew’s memory. After that there was nothing for him to do but cooperate.
He harbored no delusions about his future as he replied to the question.
“For a while.”
“Don’t hedge with me!” The others present eyed the Master of Burrow Four approvingly. In the privacy of the chamber they could be as impolite as they felt. “Generalities will not save you. I want details.”
Runs kept his head down. “I do not mean to evade.”
“Anger I could deal with,” said the Burrow Master. “Hatred I could understand. I could cope with frustration or even simple insanity. But for one to endanger all the Burrows through sheer stupidity and greed, that I have difficulty comprehending.” Though he spoke calmly he could not entirely mask his suppressed rage.
“I apologize for everything, inconsequential though that may be.” Runs looked up at the Burrow Master. “I have visited the surface each warm season for the past four cycles.”
He was ready for the guarded inhalations, the involuntary whistles of astonishment his revelation produced. They’d suspected, from study of his handiwork, but they could not be certain of the time frame. Now he had quietly confirmed their worst fears.
No, he told himself. Confirmation of those was yet to come.
“For so long.” The Master of Burrow Two looked resigned. “You must have learned a great deal about the surface world.” Instead of replying verbally, Runs-red-Talking acknowledged with subtle adjustments of both ears. “You must have acquired much knowledge. Not to mention these.”
He held out a handful of small objects. Given their easy disposability, Runs had felt fairly safe in bringing them back with him. But his room had been searched before he’d been allowed to return to it, following his apprehension, and they had been discovered. The items in question were not of Quozl manufacture.