stared. Ahead, the trail beckoned:a slender, rutted, dirt-and-mud track leading to one pavedwith gold.
With luck and if the trail held he'd be down bynightfall and in Sintuya the following evening. He felt
good,and as he went lower, the increasing amount of oxygen gave an additional boost to his spirits.
He took a couple of steps down the trail, turning to lookback over a shoulder. "Come on. We can't stop
here if wewant to get out of the mountains by nightfall."
"A moment, just a moment," the thranx pleaded. Its voicewas even wispier than usual.
Cheelo Montoya waited irritably as he gazed at the im-penetrable, eternal clouds crawling up the
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green-clad slopes."Ah, hell." Turning, he walked back to where the alien hadslumped to the ground, all
blue-green glaze and crumpledlegs. Swinging his pack around so that it rested not againsthis spine and
shoulders but across his chest, he turned hisback to the poet, crouched, and bent forward.
"Come on. Get up and walk. It's downhill. Let one leg fallin front of the other."
"Fall?" The barely perceptible, protective transparent eyemembrane trembled. "I do not follow your
meaning."
"Hurry up!" Annoyed, impatient, and angry at himself, Cheelo had no time for stupid questions. "Put your
upperlimbs over my shoulders, here." He tapped himself. "Hang ontight. I'll carry you for a while. It'll
warm up quick as we godown, and soon you'll be able to walk on your own again.You'll see."
"You you would carry me?"
"Not if you squat there clicking and hissing! Stand up, dammit, before I have any more time to think
about howdumb this is and change my mind."
It was an eerie, chilling sensation, the touch of hard, coldlimbs against his shoulders, as if a gigantic crab
were scram-bling up his back. By utilizing all four front limbs the thranx was able to obtain a secure grip
on the human's upper torso. Glancing down, Cheelo could see the gripping digits lockedtogether across
his chest beneath pack and straps. All sixteenof them. The embrace was secure without being
constricting.The thranx was solidly built, but not unbearably heavy. Hedecided he could manage it for a
while, especially since itwas downhill all the way. The biggest danger would comefrom stumbling or
tripping, not from collapsing beneath themoderate alien weight.
Twisting to look around and down, he saw the other fouralien limbs hanging loose, two on either side of
his legs andhips. Exquisite alien body scent filled his nostrils. Envelopedby perfume, he resumed the
descent.
"Just hang on," he snapped irritably at his motionless bur-den. "You'll feel better as soon as it's warmer."
"Yes." Sensing the four alien mandibles moving againstthe flesh of his shoulder, Cheelo tried not to
shudder. "Assoon as it is warmer. I do not know how to thank you." The ex-otic alien syllables echoed
eerily against his ear.
"Try shutting up for a while," his human bearer suggested. The poet obediently lapsed into silence.
The more relaxed beneath the extra weight he became, the faster Cheelo found he could move. By
afternoon the pace oftheir descent had increased markedly. True to his word, thethranx maintained a
merciful muteness, not even request-ing that they stop for a meal. The alien's silent acquiescencesuited
Cheelo just fine.
By the time the shrouded sun had commenced its swiftplunge behind the Andes in search of the distant
Pacific,Cheelo estimated that they had descended almost halfway tothe rain forest below. Tomorrow
noontime would see thementer the outskirts of the lowlands, where the temperature andthe humidity
would reach levels uncomfortable to Cheelo butcomplaisant for the thranx.
"Time to get off," he told his passenger. Reacting slowlyand with deliberation, the thranx released its hold
on thehuman's torso and dropped to the ground.
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"I could not have come this far without your aid." Clutch-ing tightly at the blankets with both tru- and
foothands, the poet singled out a log on which to spend the coming night,painfully straddling it with all
four trulegs. The dead woodwas damp and chilly against his exposed abdomen.
"Ay, you have to be feeling better." Without knowing whyhe bothered, Cheelo tried to cheer his
companion. "It's warmerhere, so you ought to be more comfortable."
"It is warmer," the thranx admitted. "But not so warm that Iam comfortable."
"Tomorrow," Cheelo promised him. Kneeling beside hisown pack, he searched for one of the smokeless
fire sticks hehad appropriated from the poacher outpost. The stick was in-tended to help start a blaze,
but in the absence of any dry fuelhe would just have to burn one stick after another until theymade their
own tiny campfire. They were as likely to find drywood lying on the floor of a cloud forest as orchids
sproutingon tundra.
As he prepared his simple meal Cheelo noticed that thethranx was not moving. "Aren't you going to
eat?"
"Not hungry. Too cold." Antennae uncurled halfway but nofurther.
Shaking his head, Cheelo rose and walked over to examinethe contents of the alien's pack. "For a
space-traversing spe-cies you're not very adaptable."
"We evolved and still prefer to live underground." Eventhe thranx's usually elegant, graceful gestures
were subdued."It is difficult to adjust to extremes of climate when you donot experience them."
Cheelo shrugged as he rehydrated an assortment of driedfruit. At least water for food rehydration was
not a problem in the cloud forest. With the onset of evening it was already be-ginning to precipitate out
on his skin and clothing. Blankets or not, they would be compelled to endure at least one chill,moist night
on the steep mountainside. Hot food and drinkwould help to minimize its effects.
Despite its obvious disinterest in the food, the thranxate, albeit slowly and with care. Scarfing down his
own meal,Cheelo watched the alien closely.
"Feel better?" he asked when both had finished. As always,it was fascinating to watch the bug clean its
mandibles withits truhands. It put Cheelo in mind of a praying mantis glean-ing the last bits of prey from
its razor-sharp jaws.
"Yes, I do." A foothand traced a discreet pattern in theair while the two truhands continued their
hygiene, causingCheelo to reflect on the usefulness of possessing two sets ofhands. "This gesture I am
making is one of more than mod-erate thanks."
"Like this?" Cheelo's arm and hand contorted in an un-gainly try at mimicry.
The alien did not laugh at or criticize the clumsy attempt."You have the upper portion of the movement
correct, but thelower should go this way." He demonstrated. Once again,Cheelo did his best to imitate
the comparatively simplegesture.
"Better," declared Desvendapur. "Try it again."
"I'm doing the best I can." Muttering, Cheelo adjusted hisarm. "Between shoulder and wrist I've only got
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three joints toyour four."
"Near enough." The foothand extended and pulled back ata particular angle. "This is the gesture for
agreement."
"So now I'm supposed to learn how to nod with my arm?"Cheelo smiled thinly.
The lesson was an improvement over charades. In thismanner they passed the time until total darkness.
They had tokeep the lesson simple. Not because Cheelo was insuffi-ciently flexible to approximate the
thranx's gestures, but be-cause there was no getting around the fact that the moreelaborate ones required
the use of two pairs of upper ap-pendages. Despite his desire to learn, the thief could not seehimself lying [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]