Maggy added that bit of information to stores and ran extrapolation on it. The results wouldn't have appealed to Tocohl, and they did not appeal to Maggy on the same grounds.

"I hear what you will not say," said layli-layli calulan.

Sweat beaded swift-Kalat's forehead. "Can you speak it without adding to the risk?"

"I can." Layli-layli calulan twisted the bluestone ring from her right forefinger. "With this hand, I will." She rose from the mat in a single smooth motion, gathered up the jievnal sticks. A rumble of distant thunder made her face suddenly pa.s.sionate. "Hurry! We may already be too late!"

She sprang for the door and darted across the compound at so light and quick a pace that even swift-Kalat found it hard to match.

By the time the arachne caught up with them in Kejesli's quarters, Maggy found layli-layli calulan in the midst of an elaborate lie. Like Maggy, layli-layli took advantage of Kejesli's lack of knowledge of her culture, a lack Maggy did not share.

Nothing new in technique, Maggy noted, but she recorded it for her growing file on lying, for its style and for its purpose, which she hoped might become clear.

"The G.o.ds Hibok Hibok and Juffure," layli-layli was saying, "have sworn vengeance against our enterprise. The jievnal sticks"-she thrust them, smoking, before Kejesli's face-"tell me that only a red-haired woman can prevent disaster to us all."

Y herself was the only Yn G.o.d, and the jievnal sticks were not used for divination. Swift-Kalat was no likelier than Kejesli to be aware of that but for her to speak of disaster...! Didn't layli-layli calulan know what effect that would have on a Jenji? Maggy searched the files, looking for a way to mitigate the damage, as, gasping, swift-Kalat flinched from layli-layli calulan to cradle his braceleted forearm as if he were in pain. Nothing, Maggy could find no precedent- Hearing the gasp, layli-layli calulan glanced his way. Still holding the jievnal sticks inches from Kejesli's face, she stretched out her bare right hand to clasp it about swift-Kalat's wrist. "I speak a dream, swift-Kalat," she told him, in a tone that commanded. "A dream can be turned."

Whether her words or her espabilities did the trick, Maggy couldn't tell, but swift-Kalat took a deep breath and said, "Do what you must."

Without releasing swift-Kalat's wrist, layli-layli calulan fixed her eyes once again on Kejesli. In the same tone of command, she said, "I invoke taboo."

Now Maggy understood the purpose of the lie. Only by claiming a taboo situation could layli-layli calulan force Kejesli to an action he had forbidden.

Kejesli, coughing from the smoke, braced a hand against the ceiling. "What is it you need?"

"A daisy-clipper and permission to take it out despite the broken transceiver," layli-layli calulan said, "nothing more."Kejesli lowered his hand; halfway down, it bobbed once in a Sheveschkem shrug. Relief, Maggy decided, as Kejesli crossed to his computer console. He tapped a code and, even before a face appeared, demanded, "John, what are the weather conditions?"

It was Dyxte's face that sprang into view. "Captain, that storm is going to be nasty-and we can't reach Buntec's party to let them know it's coming because-"

"The transceiver is out of commission," Kejesli finished for him. "Could we send a party in person?"

"If we do, they'll be caught in full storm on their return." Dyxte scrubbed his forehead as if to erase the deep lines etched above his brows."We've got about ten minutes before the storm hits camp."

Kejesli broke contact without a further word and turned, his hand still clamped to the console's edge.

"I can't let you go, layli-layli, no matter what your G.o.ds say." Shoulders gone taut, he stared past her.

"They'll be all right, you know. Buntec will ground the daisy-clipper. As long as they stay inside, they'll be fine."

Layli-layli calulan held up a forefinger bare of its ring. "They had better be," she said quietly. On the roof above, rain began to drum.

Chapter Twelve.

YOU COULDN'T SEE the ship from here anyway," Buntec said, "much less tell if anything were wrong."

Tocohl brought her hand down, saw that it was shaking. "If it were dark..."

"You said geosynchronous...o...b..t. Even in the dark, you couldn't get a glimmer. Besides, this is Flashfever-stupid planet doesn't believe in dark any more than the Port of Delights." She thrust out a hand. "Let me have a look at that thing."

Tocohl pa.s.sed her Maggy's hand-held. Buntec laid it on her knee while she prodded pockets; eventually she found what she had been looking for, some small implement adequate to open the back of the device. She glanced up in mid-examination to say, "Don't worry, h.e.l.lspark, I don't have the faintest intention of going after your implant. That could have been damaged when we got battered around. Are you hurtin' from it?"

"No," Tocohl said, rubbing the area. There was nothing to feel, neither bruise nor swelling. (Maggy?) she said; there was still no response. "No," Tocohl said again, "I lost contact with her before the crash-I'm sure of it. She's very protective. If she'd been in contact, I wouldn't have bruises."

Buntec snapped the hand-held shut. "Nothing wrong I can see but even locking's a b.i.t.c.h without the right tools. Well, even if the problem's at the source, the ship's in geosynchronous...o...b..t..."

Meaning, Tocohl thought, the ship will be fine. She bit down hard on her anger, said only, "You mean a problem at the source can be repaired... yes. But, Buntec-the result might no longer be Maggy."

Her urgency was lost on Buntec. Tocohl should have expected as much. Buntec hadn't had the hour by hour contact with Maggy she'd had for so many years. Unable to explain, Tocohl lapsed into silence-and shivered at the depth of that silence.

Out of habit born of precaution, she manually ran spectacles and 2nd skin through their test modes: warmth, yes; heightened vision, yes; infrared vision, yes.

It was thornproof still and tougher in fact than the 2nd skins the rest of the party wore. The sensors on its surface made tiny patterns against the skin of her back and shoulders. Buntec was up and pacing, she realized, and realized as well that she could not have interpreted the patterns without hearing Buntec's actions.

(Oh, Maggy,) she said and then, into the silence, in Sheveschkem she added, (Veschke guide thee!) She took a deep breath. First things first: that meant Alfvaen. It might well be necessary to walk back to base camp. If only she had some better idea of Alfvaen's condition.

Alfvaen scratched furiously.

A sharp curse from Om im distracted them both, jerked them about to face the river.A surge of water swelled the river and Buntec jumped back to avoid it. The swell splashed noisily against the hull of the daisy-clipper. With a hideous squeal of metal, the craft tore loose from the bank and rushed downstream like some ponderous underwater beast. Buntec howled with rage and stamped her foot obscenely after it.

Startled, the sprookje jumped to its feet and backed a dozen steps so quickly that the moss cloak closed, as if protectively, about it. Then its head snapped from the swollen river to the horizon. Its feathers bristled. Its beak jerked open, revealing a tongue that glowed the ominous red of a warning telltale.

It turned its head slowly and carefully, as if to display the tongue at its human companions. Like a deer flagging the white of its tail for danger, Tocohl thought. When Sunchild looked again to the horizon, she looked too.

"Eight-footed and bare-toed." That was the first understandable thing Buntec had said. "We'll have to follow that eight-footed-follow the daisy-clipper," Buntec went on, "Old Rattlebrain'll never find us unless we're sittin' right on top of it, twiddlin' our toes."

There was a grunt of firm a.s.sent from Om im, a "Yes" from Alfvaen.

But Tocohl did not take her eyes from the lowering line of sooty black clouds that moved toward them. More than the dramatic loss of the daisy-clipper, the approaching storm frightened the sprookje.

And with good cause.

Now the thunderheads crackled with light. Tocohl shook off the hand Buntec laid on her arm, ignored Buntec's query-to count softly to herself.

At the low rumble of thunder, Tocohl turned to the rest and said, "There won't be a rescue team.

That's over the camp now, and it's headed our direction. Rattle-brained Kejesli may be, but not rattle-brained enough to send anybody out in that."

Buntec said, "We're dead then, h.e.l.lspark. We might have made it in the daisy-clipper but-" Like reflected lightning, fear brightened her eyes; her voice was flat.

"John the Smith!" said Om im suddenly. Buntec stamped her foot at his apparent irrelevancy, but he went on, "Ish shan, John the Smith said to look for a stand of lightning rods. Theoretically we'd be safe in a stand of lightning rods."

"Theoretically," said Buntec; she stamped her foot again.

"Unless you've got a better idea," Om im told her.

A flash of warning red caught Tocohl's eye, brought the sprookje to her notice. She saw that it had walked some twenty feet in the direction of the flashwood. Now it stopped-facing them, displaying its tongue.

Feathers puffed with fear, it retraced its steps until it stood a pace or two from Tocohl. Again it displayed its tongue. Then it held out the edge of the moss cloak to her.

"Where do they go in thunderstorms?" Tocohl demanded suddenly. "Somewhere safe!"

"There's your better idea, Buntec," Om im said.

"Yes-s," Alfvaen agreed.

Buntec grumbled, "Better than sittin' in the wide open waitin' to be fried."

"Follow the native guide then," Tocohl said; she took the proffered edge of the cloak. The sprookje closed its mouth, turned about, and set off across the flashfield at a trot, the rest of the party close behind.

Within a few yards, Tocohl loosed the end of the moss cloak. Sunchild cast a brief glance backward to a.s.sure itself they were still following, then plunged on. A sudden gust of wind whipped alight the flashgra.s.s, surrounding them with patterns now made ominous. With it came the first spatter of rain. The sprookje quickened its pace.

Thunder rumbled ever closer.

Flashfield gave way to flashwood. On its outer fringes stubby chuckling and ticking curiosities competed unsuccessfully with the sound of thunder. A head-high frostwillow, tossed by ever-stronger rain-laden gusts, shattered the air with the sound of a thousand crystal gla.s.ses breaking simultaneously.

Om im shouted over it, "Heads up, Ish shan. Some of these plants are as deadly as the lightning we hopeto avoid."

The sprookje glanced back again and, displaying a red tongue, made a wide path around a slender tree, notable only because it seemed p.r.o.nged rather than branched.

Om im grasped Tocohl's wrist. "Eilo's-kiss," he supplied, "that's one of the nasty ones. Remember what it looks like-even the little ones can stun a human. The big ones can kill. Sprookjes too, it would seem." Before releasing her wrist he hopped a step forward to precede her. "Blade right," he said, then added without turning, "Buntec, you'd better guide Alfvaen."

Buntec reached for Alfvaen's hand. Tocohl acknowledged Om im's blade right with a raised and curled hand. She knew he saw neither-his attention was fully on the path the sprookje broke.

They were headed away from the river, but Tocohl knew she'd be able to locate it again. Even without Maggy's a.s.sistance-Tocohl shivered at the harshness of the thought-Tocohl had a good sense of direction. a.s.suming they survived the storm, they could follow the river back to camp.

The thunder was closer now, and the sprookje quickened its step still faster. Om im, whose shorter legs needed three steps to her two, was forced into a run but did not appear wearied by the pace.

Glancing up, the small man said, "Practice," and grinned as if he'd read her mind.

The sprookje wove through a thick wall of arabesque vine. Tocohl, following close behind Om im and the sprookje, did not look up until she had negotiated the fine but wiry barrier. "Lots of zap-mes,"

Om im warned as she freed Alfvaen and herself from the last of the tangle. They spent the next few moments avoiding a lashing from zap-mes of every conceivable size.

At last, the zap-mes seemed to subside to ankle-height new growth and Tocohl looked ahead. She drew in her breath involuntarily. Before her was the embodiment of the "blasted forest" of so many Zoveelian fairy tales.

Gaunt black spikes, trees unrelieved by branch or leaf, jabbed high into the blackened sky. Beneath them, and for a short distance beyond, nothing grew-but here and there the remains of something that looked charred. This was the stand of lightning rods. The sprookje stood before them, welcoming.

Well, she thought wryly, it's a suitable setting for a sprookje, I suppose. I hope it's as suitable for humans. The rain had turned earnest.

To Om im, she said aloud, "Looks like the native guide had the same idea you did. We didn't see this from the daisy-clipper. Sunchild must know the territory very well."

The sprookje picked its way warily into the recesses of the lightning rod stand.

"You couldn't have chosen a better guide," Om im said. "Now watch where I put my feet. Whatever energy the lightning rods don't need, they bleed off into the ground-once in a while there's a surface node that can give you a dangerous shock."

In cautious silence, the party continued its way to the heart of the shelter, where the sprookje sat waiting. Tocohl and the others followed suit as a gust of wind dashed water in their faces.

"Too bad we haven't time to build a shelter," Tocohl said.

"Oh, well, can't have everything," said Om im.

"Why not?" said Tocohl, and drew a grin from him.

Buntec settled Alfvaen, then herself. Curling up on her side, she threw an arm over her head and announced, "Nothing to do but sleep."

Lightning struck the tallest spikes of their shelter with an ear-splitting crack that brought Buntec bolt upright, staring wide-eyed and openmouthed. When the sound died away and their numbed ears could once again hear the shattering of frostwillows in the distance, Buntec said grimly, "Sleep, my foot."

Tocohl blinked away red Catherine wheels, turned her face into the rain to clear her eyes of the stinging tears the lightning flash had startled from them. The air seemed too full of rain to breathe, but she did not draw up the mask of her 2nd skin. It would only serve to remind her how much Maggy would have enjoyed this experience; few had ever sat amid lightning and lived to tell the tale.

She twisted her hair into a single ma.s.s to channel the water down her back, pocketed her spectacles.

Enhanced vision was the last thing she needed at the moment, she thought, squeezing her eyes tight against a bolt of lightning so intense that even through closed lids it reddened her sight.

Wind tore through the empty s.p.a.ces between the lightning rods, flinging leaves and bits of branch atthem. Here and there a wet leaf struck one of the nodes Om im had warned her of-struck and struck sparks.

Thunder deafened and deadened their ears until they could no longer distinguish a silence from the thunder in their heads.

And through it all the sprookje, wrapped tightly in the moss cloak, left its own afterimage in Tocohl's eyes: a ghostly glowing image of regal unconcern.

After an eternity, the storm pa.s.sed on...

Alfvaen, exhausted, had fallen into a fitful sleep. Wordlessly, for the words might not have been heard through still-ringing ears, the others agreed to rest; the run to shelter had exhausted their bodies, but the storm had exhausted their spirits as well. Buntec jerked in violent dreams.

Without knowing she had fallen asleep, Tocohl started awake at a tickling touch-Sunchild stroking her wrist. "I'm okay," she told it and was surprised to find that she could hear her own voice.

"That's good to hear, Ish shan," Om im said. He pounded the heel of his hand beside his ear, setting earpips a-jingle, and added, grinning, "In more ways than one."

"I know exactly what you mean," Tocohl a.s.sured him. Then she looked again at the sprookje. "From the way Sunchild's acting, I think it's safe to leave now. We'll have to make some decisions."

"Before we wake the others," he began-but a jerk of his thumb specified Alfvaen.

"You're worried about that scratching," Tocohl said. "So am I. Even if it's just a reaction to stress, I want to get her to layli-layli calulan as soon as possible."

"Yes," said Om im and woke the others gently. Buntec stretched luxuriously. "I think I'm alive," she said, taking obvious pleasure in the sound of each syllable. Alfvaen came to with a gasping sound, held her head.

"How do you feel?" Tocohl asked.

Alfvaen turned her head from side to side, gingerly testing the result. "Strange," she said, "so strange.

Giddy, and"-she stood cautiously, as if unsure of the ground beneath her feet-"uncoordinated. I-"

She took a deep breath and stared at Tocohl.