The Forlorn(79)

The wind came breathing out of the night, and the stars and moon burned coldly on the little plateau. She looked at him, finding her own lower lip quivering. "He'd be proud of you, Cay."

"I've no doubt he'd kick my butt. Come on. He left me a legacy. I'm going to need a bit of it." They set off down and across the open mesa top. Shael was just beginning to wonder how much further she could go when they came to yet another ravine. This led them into an area of twisted and jumbled rock formations. Keilin found his way to a narrow spire of water-worn rock, broken halfway and leaning precariously against the next spike. There were a number of black cave maws which dribbled bats when disturbed. Keilin peered at the mouth of each in turn, and then had her scramble up the rotting tiers of sedimentary cheese-rock and into one of these dark places.

He lit a crude torch made of a pitch-pine knot with paraffin bush bound roughly around it. Then he went to the back of the cave and reached for the high shelf he knew should be there. It was. But it was also difficult to reach. "If I pick you up on my shoulders, will you look and see what's back there?" he asked.

She almost fell off her perch. Glowing out of the darkness in the flickering ruddy torchlight were hundreds and hundreds of deep-blue eyes. Some handsized. Some as big as her head. "What are they? Cay . . . there's just blue eyes . . . sort of soft glowy ones."

"Turquoise, you nit. Pass some down. Nothing too big to carry."

She handed down piece after piece. Then when Keilin thought it was enough she came down and helped him to put them into the sack he'd brought along.

"Is there much left?" he asked cheerfully.

"It just goes back and back, as far as I could see. I only passed down the pieces I could handle with one hand. This is really only the tiniest bit."

"Good," said Keilin. "Nice to know there is something left for a rainy day."

"I'd say," she said with conviction, "that there is enough for a rainy year. I don't know much about the value of this stuff, but I should think it must be worth a good few fortunes. I thought you said your `old man' only had a knife and a spear and few bits and pieces."

"Yeah, well. He said he didn't want to leave the desert. He said he had enough, and I guess he was right. Come on. We've got a long hike back, and I'd like to move off early tomorrow morning."

* * *

"Wondered whether you'd be coming back last night," Bey said calmly to Keilin as they prepared breakfast.

"You should have S'kith's level of faith in your friends, Bey. Mind you I don't know if you are a friend of mine. You won't come scorpion hunting with me, even though I've told you there's nothing quite like them for flavor."

Bey shook his head. "I'd love to, Keil. But you know how it is. You can do it, but me . . . people 'ud say the monkey genes were coming to the surface at last. Next thing they'd be feeding me bananas and presenting their heads for grooming. But if you want to go, and I don't mean scorpion hunting, youth, I owe you. I'll fail to find you after great effort."

Keilin smiled. "Give me a tin, Bey, I'll bring you a few choice fat stingy tails to try, without you having to demean yourself by squatting on the hillside, turning over rocks. Funny . . . that's the same shade of green the princess went. Look, Bey, I promised her I'd get her back to her dear papa. Then I'll run like hell. I gather he's not a very nice man. I'll rejoin you lot as soon as that is done." His face went deadly serious. "Nobody ever asked me why I've stayed. Maybe Cap believes his threats, but there's been lots of water, and lots of desert beyond it. I could have slipped off many times. The world is big and I'm small. But the truth is I'm hunting. Hunting Morkth. They killed Marou and I'm going to destroy them. The core sections will make sure they come to me and die. And I know now that getting our starship going again will hurt the Morkth worst of all."

It was Beywulf's turn to look serious. "The Tyrant is `not nice' like terminal VD is `not nice,' son. He's as cunning and vicious as a wolverine. And don't underestimate Cap. I'd rather take on the Tyrant, myself. Forget your vendetta against the Morkth. They can't breed. They lost their queen or we'd all be neck-deep in little chittering bugs by now. Another hundred to a hundred and fifty years and they'll all be dead anyhow."

"How do you know so much about them?" Keilin asked.

"Cap is the planet's Morkth expert. He's lived in Dublin Moss for hundreds of years. He doesn't give information out easily, but over the years it's sort of leaked out in dribs and drabs to our folk. He's always known he can just outlive them," said Beywulf.

"Then what persuaded him to start on this quest?" asked Keilin, suspicious.