The Children of the Sky

Vendacious replied in Interpack. Ravna only recognized the name “Johanna,” superposed on a connection marker.

Jefri must have understood: “Yes, I’m Johanna’s brother,” he said.

Tycoon leaned forward, all of his eyes on Jefri. He stared for a full ten seconds while Vendacious gobbled on, urging Tycoon to do … something. Finally, Tycoon shook his heads, an irritable negation. Some of him looked at Ravna; one of him was watching Ritl. “You two humans should have been here seven tendays ago. Instead you murdered Vendacious’ best assistant. You murdered most of Remasritlfeer. Then you managed to trek almost all the way back to your precious starship. Was this magic technology, or are you simply much deadlier than even my friend Vendacious has always claimed?”

Jefri’s face clouded. “Neither, and you are full of lies. We—”

Ravna interrupted: “What does Ritl say happened?”

The singleton in question was glaring at Vendacious, a low-level faceoff. A strangely large percentage of Vendacious was glaring right back. It occurred to Ravna that Ritl might be one of the few creatures with whom Vendacious had no leverage.

Tycoon reached down and focused a soft hooting sound on the singleton. As Ritl twisted to look up at him, he said, “Poor Ritl. I tried to question her before this meeting. She is a talker, but not very smart. It’s quite possible that she doesn’t remember exactly how the rest of her pack died.”

Vendacious gobbled something.

“Speak human,” said Tycoon. “I want these two to understand what we’re saying.”

“Yes sir. I just said, we’ll eventually figure out what these two humans did. After all, I still have their servants to question.”

The eightsome waved dismissively. “However you humans escaped, you only hurt your cause by doing so. Events have passed you by.”

Jefri: “We’d be dead now if we hadn’t escaped.”

“Nonsense!” said Vendacious. “My lord Tycoon’s purpose in this expedition was to show Ravna that cooperation was her only choice.”

Ravna had the feeling that murder and conspiracy were piled in very deep layers here. She touched Jefri’s arm. Put the Olsndot temper in a bottle, okay? After a moment, he settled back on the bench, seeming to get the unspoken message.

She looked up at Tycoon. “You say events have passed us by. What is it that you want from us now?”

“I want nothing from the Johanna sibling.” Perhaps Tycoon didn’t notice that he was clawing the thrones as he said that. “But from you … I want to convince you that opposing my wishes and those of”—he glanced at Vendacious—“what’s the stooge’s name?”

“Nevil Storherte, my lord.”

“Yes. Opposing me and Nevil is suicide. You and Woodcarver must accept the coming alliance—ah, but you don’t know about that either, do you?”

Ravna tried to smile. “As you say, we’ve been out of touch. Why would my opposition matter?”

“You still have the loyalty of many of the two-legs. You may have technical knowledge that will help us manage two-legs machines. And you may have influence with Woodcarver.”

I bet Woodcarver is still the Queen, and Nevil has his back to the wall. Nevil is so desperate he’s finally gone public with his foreign allies. She tried sit up a little straighter, act like she had some kind of power in the world. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but how did you intend to convince me?”

Tycoon looked back and forth at himself, nonplussed. “Didn’t you look out the windows as you flew here?”

“Yes. We saw hundreds of kilometers of chaos, and then this reservation you’ve built in the middle of it all. Is there some secret weapon that we missed?”

“I suppose I’m the secret weapon.” The voice came from the other side of room, from the harlequin-cloaked Tropical. “Or in proper terminology, I should say that I represent the secret weapon. I am the Choir’s gift.”

“Godsgift?” said Ravna. “We ran into another of you up North.”

“You murdered another of him up North,” said Tycoon.

Next to her, Jefri was all but shaking with outrage. Lies and truth, how to untangle them?

The local version of Godsgift was watching them intently. “Don’t bother to deny the murder,” it said smoothly. “Some of that godsgift escaped, enough to tell us how it left part of itself behind to attempt negotiating. We know what happened.” It waved the issue away. “It’s not a great matter. We gifts come and go, rather like a feeding clump in a city square, though we are rarer and globally significant.” The pack slid off its seats and strolled around the other packs to come closer to the humans. The gunpack had to retreat to make room.