The Sorceress of Karres (40 page)

"And so the Megair Cannibals promptly murdered and ate all of them," said Pausert heavily.

Goth nodded sadly. "It must have been like killing babies to the Megair Cannibals."

"Yeah?" said the Leewit. "They'd just been at war. They couldn't be that soft."

"They must have really hated the mother-plant to go to war with it," said Pausert. "I can understand that."

"More like they were utterly terrified of it and disgusted by it," said Goth.

The Leewit looked suspicious still. "They still fought."

"They only did so because they had to. And they used their robots to do the actual fighting," explained Goth.

"The mother-plant made the Illtraming," said Pausert. "I know that from being part of that cursed plant. The Illtraming didn't evolve to be terribly intelligent. So the mother-plant bred them for it."

"So it didn't breed them brave," said the Leewit. "That makes sense."

Goth shrugged. "They're plant-eating prey animals. Of course they weren't brave to start with. And what did the mother-plant need that for? It wanted them clever and good at making things. So the Illtraming made proxies to fight their war. When the Megair Cannibals turned up, the Illtraming thought they'd make great proxies. Only they started on the Illtraming first."

"And then, when they'd run out of these Illtraming, they went hunting in space. Only now they can't get off-world because of the Phantoms. They could deal with the Nuris, remember."

"Yeah. Maybe the Nuris enabled them to get off-world by chasing off the Phantom ships. And it's possible that the Megair Cannibals came from some other dimension through the discontinuities. Possibly exactly why Manaret and the Lyrd-Hyrier came here to the Chaladoor. Now Moander and the Nuri globes and Manaret are gone . . . the Phantom ships are back. In huge numbers."

Goth dug into the knowledge she had gotten through the eyes of the proud commander of the people's fleet. "They have robot factories on several of the planetoids here. The robots build robots that build ships . . . but they had stood down."

"Something got them going again, at a guess," said the Leewit.

"Probably us."

"What? Why?"

"The flagship went down on the mother-plant homeworld—and its IFF returned here . . . straight to the enemy base. And the Phantom ships, whose last job was simply to patrol, now believe that they need to build up for war."

"Makes sense. But they're not quick learners, those machines. Where do they get that idea from?"

"From the Illtraming, of course," said Goth.

"They're extinct, though," said Pausert.

"No," said Goth, slowly. "I don't think so. Remember, the Cannibal lord just said the prey had gone away. They're amphibians. Great artificers. Clever but not brave. The Cannibals . . . Leewit, do they have a word for 'swim'?"

"Nope," said the Leewit, after some thought. "Got some nice cuss-words for 'wet.' And I'll bet the Illtraming are still here, Sis. Right here, in fact. Well, just out there. Remember, Captain. You said those plants had been cut. You reckoned the Megair Cannibals must come here to harvest—but it didn't have to be them, did it?"

"I suppose it could have been anyone," admitted the captain.

"So how do we do we get them to talk to us? Cook the local water with the nova guns until they boil out?" asked the Leewit.

"I somehow don't think that would be too popular with them, and might just bring us to the notice of the Megair Cannibals," said Pausert.

Goth chewed her knuckle. "You say that the mound over there is full of tunnels too. I think I'd better go and have a look. See if I can get anything out of touching those walls—now that I know what I am doing. After I have had something to eat. I'm starving."

"Have some delicious Megair 4 plant leaves," said the Leewit generously. "You'll need 'em for energy. It's cold and wet in there. The mound isn't pumped out like the Cannibals' place. The water is about ankle deep. So . . . can I offer you a leaf?"

That hadn't been quite what Goth had in mind, but it would have to do. The mother-plant hadn't reprovisioned the
Venture
very adequately. It didn't care what the host-animals liked, just as long so they kept working.

Goth found that it was actually very hard to get anything from the walls of the Illtraming mound, other than the fact that it had been a happy, small provincial place. Even the little amphitheater had mere images of complex dances. Great events leaving sharp images and powerful emotions were few and far between. There were images of the people packing up and leaving . . . but not in a panic. And not going out? Going . . . somewhere. Stones . . . 

It was not much fun exploring this place. As the Leewit had said, it was ankle deep. Water cascaded down the stairways. Dripped off the ceilings.

The odd thing was, the lowest level should have been flooded. But the water there was also just ankle deep. It must still have working pumps somewhere.

And then it came to her. She went back to the ship and called the captain and the Leewit. Ta'zara came too, because he was not very good at letting the Leewit out of his sight.

"All right. You can come out now. We're not going to hurt you," said Goth, standing at the wall where she'd seen images of the stones.

Nothing happened.

Then there was a slight creak behind them. A click.

The Illtraming was smaller than she was. Most of it was covered in sleek black fur. The face was hairless and there was a small orange crest on the broad head, which had ears like buckets. It had six limbs—two webbed feet and two sets of arms—the first with big stubby modified paddle-fingers and the second set with three slim, delicate digits.

The soft round green eyes were wary.

"Greetings, Witch-People," it said in Imperial Universum. "We were wondering how to initiate contact."

"The way you do everything, I suppose. Nervously," said Goth.

The little Illtraming seemed to twitch all over. Goth couldn't really interpret the gesture. "We have reason to be nervous."

"It's over now."

"We are not certain that it is. There were telepathic transmissions into the Imperial region. We are not capable of telepathy but we have machinery that monitors its use."

Pausert nodded. "There are still some parts of the mother-plant that survive, yes. Back in the Empire. We'd like to take some of the plant-leaves back."

"It is not the plant-leaf. It is a virus in it, a minor pest to the plants on our world. Deadly to the mother-plant. When it has no food—no plant to feed on, it sporifies and goes dormant. The plants here have a resistance. The plants on other worlds do not."

"So are we plague carriers then? Is that why we're being kept here?"

"No. The spores have a fairly short life-span. Given a few weeks, they die. And they are quite fragile. They do not survive any desiccation."

"Oh. So why can't we go? You and that vatchlet conspired, didn't you?"

The little Illtraming looked puzzled. At least, that was how Goth analyzed its expression. "We have been monitoring your subradio and some of us were designated to learn your language. That is not a word I know."

"So why can't we go?"

"We have deduced that you are some of these 'Witches of Karres,' about which there is occasional chatter."

"So do you think that means that we're infested with the mother-plant?"

"Oh, no. You have hair. Major infestation causes most of that to fall out within a short period."

"They want us to do some dirty work for them," said the Leewit. "That's how you operate, isn't it?"

The Illtraming looked at them with those soft eyes. "Yes. After the initial devastation, it was decided to leave the Megair Cannibals in place, especially as our robot ships could not defend us. It was decided that the inconvenience of having them on the surface was compensated for by the fact that they are a terrifying force. Only you have defeated them. Twice. We watch, and they are unaware of being watched. We saw your work back at that base they took from us. We have some idea of your abilities. And we have the robot ships back. There has been considerable agitation to have the creatures removed. Our robot ships have established where the rift in space-time is that they came from. We want to send them back."

"They might be as welcome there as they are here."

It's normal back there. We're watching the dream back there too.

The little Illtraming was plainly completely unaware of the vatch. That was nice to know. "Nonetheless, it has been decided that we need them off our world."

"And you want us to do it?" asked the captain.

"Yes. We will provide you with a set of coordinates for the dimensional rift," said the Illtraming.

"And just how are we supposed to do this?" asked the captain. "I mean get them to go there?"

The Illtraming looked at them with an air of faint surprise. "They are under the leadership of the greatest eater. Challenge him to single combat and win, and they will be under your direction."

The witches looked at each other and started laughing, almost simultaneously.

Pausert wasn't laughing, though. "That's the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard of," he said. "To you we may look tough, but there is no way that I'm going to let that happen. I'd have a go but I have no chance of winning."

"I think they mean us to cheat," said Goth.

She turned to the Illtraming. "We need to confer."

The little creature backed off and sat down in the water, splashing itself.

Goth clicked the Daal's spyshield on. Then she said: "We're all pretty angry with you, Little-bit."

Why, big dream thing? They're getting very worried behind the wall, by the way. They can't hear you.

"Because you've been using us to play your game. And it's not a game."

But you've used me. And anyway, I thought you said it would be good to get rid of the eater-dream things.

There was some justice in what she said, Goth had to admit. They had used vatches. Vatches had used them too, particularly the captain, before he had turned the tables on them. Now . . . 

"I will fight," said Ta'zara.

"No need . . ."

"I have a need," said Ta'zara. "I would like to get rid of the Cannibals. They killed my people. It would be good if I could free the galaxy of them." The big man flexed his muscles. "It would be worth dying for."

"It hasn't come to that," said the Leewit firmly.

There was a faraway look in the man's eyes. "No price would be too high."

"We need to extract a price from the Illtraming, though," said Goth.

"Like what?" asked the Leewit.

Pausert frowned. "Like pulling back their ships and keeping them here in the Megair cluster. They're not really conqueror material, I don't think. But we need to bargain a bit."

"They'll be longing to get back to the rain and misery most of the time," agreed Goth. "And we'll need a culture of that virus. I don't think we want it loose, but we want to have it. There are people on Karres who are really good with that sort of thing. It's like the Karres green thumb. I can't think of anything else we want."

"I have the Karres black thumb," said the Leewit cheerfully.

"Let's talk details with them, before they get too suspicious and before my feet freeze right off," said Goth, snapping the spyshield off.

The little Illtraming stood looking curiously at them. "My associates wish to know how you did that?"

"It is just one of the things Karres does," said Pausert loftily. "How can we get there?"

"We have transportation and direct access to their amphitheater. And they are in leadership challenges at the moment."

"Well, we need you to provide us with a safe, sealed culture of the virus."

"We would be glad to do that."

"And we want you to pull all your ships back from the Chaladoor, and stop making more."

There was a silence. Eventually the little Illtraming spoke. "At the moment we have pulled all our ships back here. We patrol the Chaladoor because out of the rifts in spacetime came Manaret and the things you call the Megair Cannibals."

"Doesn't seem to me that you did too well on either of those," said Pausert.

"True. But we have dealt with lesser problems. It is not a safe zone of space. So we drove all other ships out of it."

"Yeah, well, most people considered that you were part of the reason it was unsafe. Now do you agree or not?" said the Leewit. And added a word in a foreign tongue that made the little Illtraming open and close his mouth like a fish.

"We agree," said the Illtraming.

"We have ways of holding you to your word," said Pausert.

"We will honor our bargain," said the little creature. "Follow me." A door slid open in the featureless wall behind him. There was a wet passage there, lit by greenish lights. A sleek craft waited for them. Sleek, and somehow reminiscent of the Phantom ships.

"We will take you to the Cannibal arena. I assume that you will then employ the device you use to make yourselves look like the gray ones.

Goth hadn't thought that far ahead.

Ta'zara had. "I fight as myself."

"You let me do the talking," said the Leewit crossly.

"Of course. I cannot speak their language," said Ta'zara. Goth had a feeling he was deliberately misunderstanding her, but she wasn't about to point this out to the Leewit.

"But will they allow Ta'zara to fight?" asked Goth.

"We'll just have to see that they do," said Pausert. "Have you worked out what the alternative is for them? Starvation and eating each other. This place doesn't have something they need. I don't like them either, but this really will be the best solution for them."

The arena was bloody. Gwarrr the great eater stood as the body was hauled away for butchering. Yes. Many things had gone wrong. Inevitably he and his had been challenged. But no matter how many strange things had happened, he was still the greatest. The eater of foes. He was Gwarrr.

The noise in the arena was suddenly still.

All eyes looked at something, something behind him. He whipped around to face it.