uplift4.brightnessreef-第7章

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　　Sounds　of　hissing　confrontation　spilled　from　a　narrow　side　canyon；　forcing　Dwer　to　leave　the　old　road　again；　dodging　amid　vine…crusted　trees。　Finally　he　saw　them；　just　beyond　a　screen　of　shrubs…two　creatures；　poised　in　a　showdown　of　sable　and　iridescent　pale。
　　Cornered　in　a　slit　ravine；　the　glaver　was　obviously　female；　possibly　pregnant。　She　had　climbed　a　long　way　and　was　pulling　deep　breaths。　Globelike　eyes　rotated　independently；　one　tracking　the　dark　noor　while　the　other　scanned　for　dangers　yet　unseen。
　　Dwer　cursed　both　of　them…the　glaver　for　drawing　him　on　a　profitless　chase　when　he　had　been　looking　forward　to　festival；　and　the　meddlesome　noor　for　daring　to　interfere！
　　Doubly　cursed；　because　now　he　was　in　its　debt。　If　the　glaver　had　reached　the　plains　beyond　the　Rimmer　Range；　it　would　have　been　no　end　of　trouble。
　　Neither　creature　seemed　to　notice　Dwer…though　he　wouldn't　bet　against　the　noor's　keen　senses。　What　is　the　little　devil　doing　up　here？　What's　it　trying　to　prove？
　　Dwer　had　named　it　Mudfoot；　for　the　brown　forepaws　marring　an　ebony　pelt；　from　a　flattish　tail　to　whiskers　that　twitched　all　around　a　stubby　snout。　The　black…furred　creature　kept　still；　its　gaze　riveted　on　the　flighty　glaver；　but　Dwer　wasn't　fooled。　You　know　I'm　watching；　show…off。　Of　all　species　left　on　Jijo　when　the　ancient　Buyur　departed；　Dwer　found　noor　the　least　fathomable；　and　fathoming　other　creatures　was　a　hunter's　art。
　　Quietly；　he　lowered　the　bow　and　unfastened　a　buckskin　thong；　taking　up　his　coiled　lariat。　Using　patient；　stealthy　care；　he　edged　forward。
　　Grinning　with　jagged；　angular　teeth；　Mudfoot　reared　almost　to　the　glaver's　height…roughly　as　tall　as　Dwer's　thigh。　The　glaver　retreated　with　a　snarl；　till　her　bony　back　plates　brushed　rock；　causing　a　rain　of　pebbles。　In　her　forked　tail　she　brandished　a　stick…some　branchlet　or　sapling　with　the　twigs　removed。　A　sophisticated　tool；　given　the　present　state　of　glaverdom。
　　Dwer　took　another　step　and　this　time　could　not　avoid　crushing　some　leaves。　Behind　the　noor's　pointy　ears；　gray　spines　jutted　from　the　fur；　waving　independently。　Mudfoot　kept　facing　the　glaver；　but　something　in　its　stance　said…〃Be　quiet；　fool！〃
　　Dwer　didn't　like　being　told　what　to　do。　Especially　by　a　noor。　Still；　a　hunt　is　judged　only　by　success；　and　Dwer　wanted　a　clean　capture。　Shooting　the　glaver　now　would　be　to　admit　failure。
　　Her　loose　skin　had　lost　some　opal　luster　since　leaving　familiar　haunts；　scavenging　near　some　village　of　the　Six；　as　glavers　had　done　for　centuries；　ever　since　their　innocence　was　new。
　　Why　do　they　do　this？　Why　do　a　few　try　for　the　passes；　every　year？
　　One　might　as　well　guess　the　motives　of　a　noor。　Among　the　Six；　only　the　patient　hoon　had　a　knack　for　working　with　the　puckish；　disruptive　beasts。
　　Maybe　the　Buyur　resented　having　to　quit　Jijo　and　left　noor　as　a　joke　on　whoever　came　next。
　　A　buzzing　lion…fly　cruised　by；　under　filmy；　rotating　wings。　The　panting　glaver　tracked　it　with　one　eye；　while　the　other　watched　the　swaying　noor。　Hunger　gradually　prevailed　over　fear　as　she　realized　Mudfoot　was　too　small　to　murder　her。　As　if　to　enhance　that　impression；　the　noor　sat　back　on　its　haunches；　nonchalantly　licking　a　shoulder。
　　Very　clever；　Dwer　thought；　shifting　his　weight　as　the　glaver　swung　both　eyes　toward　the　hovering　meal。
　　A　jet　of　sputum　shot　from　her　mouth；　striking　the　fly's　tail。
　　In　a　flash；　Mudfoot　bounded　left。　The　glaver　squealed；　struck　out　with　the　stick；　then　whirled　to　flee　the　other　way。　Cursing；　Dwer　sprang　from　the　undergrowth。　Moccasins　skidded　on　spoiled　granite；　and　he　tumbled；　passing　just　under　the　flailing　club。　Desperately；　Dwer　cast　the　lariat…which　tautened　with　a　savage　yank　that　slammed　his　chin　to　the　ground。　Though　starving　and　weak；　the　glaver　had　enough　panicky　strength　to　drag　Dwer　for　a　dozen　meters；　till　her　will　finally　gave　out。
　　Shivering；　with　waves　of　color　coursing　under　her　pale　skin；　she　dropped　the　makeshift　club　and　sank　to　all　four　knees。　Dwer　got　up　warily；　coiling　the　rope。
　　〃Easy　does　it。　No　one's　gonna　hurt　you。〃
　　The　glaver　scanned　him　with　one　dull　eye。　〃Pain　exists。　Marginally；〃　she　crooned；　in　thickly　slurred　Galactic　Eight。
　　Dwer　rocked　back。　Only　once　before　had　a　captured　glaver　spoken　to　him。　Usually　they　kept　up　their　insentient　to　the　last。　He　wet　his　lips　and　tried　answering　in　the　same　obscure　dialect。
　　〃Regrettable。　Endurance　suggested。　Better　than　death。〃
　　〃Better？〃　The　weary　eye　squinted　as　if　vaguely　puzzled　and　unsure　it　mattered。
　　Dwer　shrugged。　〃Sorry　about　the　pain。〃
　　The　faint　light　drifted　out　of　focus。
　　〃Not　blamed。　Dour　melody。　Now　ready　to　eat。〃
　　The　flicker　of　intellect　vanished　once　more　under　a　bolus　of　animal　density。
　　Both　amazed　and　drained；　Dwer　tethered　the　creature　to　a　nearby　tree。　Only　then　did　he　take　account　of　his　own　wincing　cuts　and　bruises　while　Mudfoot　lay　on　a　rock；　basking　in　the　last　rays　of　the　setting　sun。
　　The　noor　couldn't　talk。　Unlike　the　glaver；　its　ancestors　had　never　been　given　the　knack。　Still；　its　open…mouth　grin　seemed　to　say…〃That　was　fun。　Let's　do　it　again！〃
　　Dwer　recovered　his　bow；　started　a　fire；　and　spent　the　day's　last　half…midura　feeding　the　captive　from　his　meager　rations。　Tomorrow　he'd　find　it　a　rotten　log　to　root　under　for　grubs…a　favorite；　if　undignified　pastime　for　members　of　what　had　once　been　a　mighty　starfaring　race。
　　Mudfoot　sidled　close　when　Dwer　unwrapped　some　hard　bread　and　jerky。　Dwer　sighed　and　tossed　some　to　the　noor；　who　snatched　chunks　out　of　midair　and　ate　with　dainty　care。　Then　Mudfoot　sniffed　at　Dwer's　gourd　canteen。
　　He　had　seen　the　beasts　use　gourds　aboard　hoon…crewed　riverboats。　So　after　a　dubious　pause；　he　pulled　the　cork　stopper　and　handed　it　over。　The　creature　used　both　six…fingered　forepaws…nearly　as　deft　as　true　hands…to　adroitly　slosh　quick　dollops　over　its　tongue；　smacking　loudly。
　　Then　it　poured　the　remainder　over　its　head。
　　Dwer　shot　to　his　feet；　cursing。　But　Mudfoot　blithely　tossed　the　empty　vessel　aside。　Rivulets　ran　down　its　glossy　back；　dribbling　dark　splatters　in　the　dust。　The　noor　chirped　happily　and　began　to　groom。
　　Dwer　shook　the　canteen；　winning　a　few　drops。　〃Of　all　the　selfish；　ungrateful…〃
　　It　was　already　too　late　to　hike　to　the　nearest　stream；　down　a　narrow；　treacherous　trail。　A　waterfall　growled；　close　enough　to　hear　but　over　a　midura　away　by　foot。　This　was　no　crisis；　he'd　done　without　before。　Still；　the　sound　would　give　him　dry…mouth；　all　night　long。
　　Never　stop　learning；　said　the　sage　Ur…Ruhols。　Tonight；　Dwer　had　learned　one　more　thing　about　noor。　All　told；　the　price　of　the　lesson　was　pretty　cheap。
　　He　decided　to　arrange　for　a　wakeup　call。　For　that；　he　would　need　a　clock　teet。
　　There　were　good　reasons　to　get　an　early　start。　He　might　still　make　it　back　to　the　yearly　Gathering　of　the　Six；　before　all　the　unpledged　human　boys　and　girls　chose　partners　for　jubilee　dancing。　Then　there　was　his　annual　report　to　Danel　Ozawa；　and　Lena　Strong's　ridiculous　〃tourism〃　idea　to　oppose。　Also；　if　he　led　the　glaver　away　before　dawn；　he　just　might　manage　to　leave　Mudfoot　snoring　by　the　coals。　Noor　loved　sleep　almost　as　much　as　upsetting　the　routines　of　villagers；　and　this　one　had　had　a　long　day。
　　So　after　supper　Dwer　brought　forth　a　sheaf　of　paper　folders；　his　cache　of　practical　things。　Many　of　the　wrappers　had　e　from　his　brother's　wastebasket；　or　Sara's。
　　Lark's　handwriting；　graceful　and　controlled；　usually　traced　some　living　species　on　Jijo's　plex　order　of　life。　Dwer　used　Lark's　castoff　notes　to　store　seeds；　herbs；　and　feathers…things　useful　in　the　hunt。
　　Sara's　hand　was　expansive　yet　tense；　as　if　imagination　and　order　held　each　other　in　check。　Her　discards　swarmed　with　baffling　mathematics。　（Some　failed　equations　weren't　just　scratched　out　but　stabbed　to　death　in　fits　of　frustration。）　Dwer　used　his　sister's　work…sheets　to　hold　medicines；　condiments；　and　the　powders　that　made　many　Jijoan　foods　edible　to　humans。
　　From　one　folded　page　he　drew　six　tobar　seeds…plump；　hard；　and　fragrant…which　he　spread　across　a　rock　some　way　downwind。　Holding　his　breath；　he　used　his　knife　to　split　one　open；　then　fled　a　rising；　pungent　cloud。　The　glaver　mewed　unhappily；　and　the　noor　glared　at　him　until　the　breeze　swept　most　of　the　intense　aroma　away。
　　Back　in　his　sleeping　roll；　Dwer　waited　as　the　stars　came　out。　Kalunuti　was　a　hot　reddish　pinpoint；　set　high　on　the　leering　face　of　Sargon；　pitiless　enforcer　of　laws。　More　starry　patterns　followed；　eagle；　horse；　dragon…and　dolphin；　beloved　cousin；　grinning　with　her　jaw　thrust　in　a　direction　some　said　might　lead　to　Earth。
　　If　we　exiles　are　ever　caught；　Dwer　pondered；　will　the　Great　Galactic　Library　make　a　file　about　our　culture？　Our　myths？　Will　aliens　read　our　constellation　myths　and　laugh？
　　If　all　went　as　planned；　no　one　would　ever　hear　of　this　lonely　colony　or　recall　its　tales。　Our　descendants；　if　any；　will　be　like　glavers…simple；　and　innocent　as　the　beasts　of　the　field。
　　Fluttering　wings　grazed　the　firelight。　A　squat　form　landed　near　the　tobar　seeds；　with　wings　of　grayish　plates　that　slid　like　overlapping　petals。　The　birdling's　yellow　beak　quickly　devoured　the　nut　Dwer　had　cracked。
　　Mudfoot　sat　up；　eyes　glinting。
　　Dwer　warned　the　noor；　half…dozing…〃You　bother　it；　an'　I'll　have　yer　hide　fer　a　hat。〃
　　Mudfoot　sniffed　and　lay　down　again。　Soon　there　came　a　rhythmic　tapping　as　the　teet　started　pecking　at　the　next　nut。　It　would　take　its　time；　consuming　one　kernel　each　midura…roughly　seventy　minutes…until　the　last　was　gone。　Then；　with　a　chattering　screech；　it　would　fly　off。　One　didn't　need　a　printout　from　the　Great　Library　to　know　what　function　the　Buyur　had　designed　this　creature　to　fill。　The　living　alarm　clock　still　worked　as　programmed。
　　Lark　is　wrong　about　our　place　on　this　world；　Dwer　thought；　lulled　by　the　unvaried　tapping。　We　do　a　service。　Jijo　would　be　a　sad　place　without　people　to　use　its　gifts。
　　There　were　dreams。　Dwer　always　had　dreams。　Shapeless　foes　lurked　beyond　sight　as　he　wandered　a　land　covered　with　colors；　like　a　rainbow　that　had　melted；　flowed　across　the　ground；　then　frozen　in　place。　The　harsh　hues　hurt　his　eyes。　Moreover；　his　throat　felt　parched；　and　he　was　unarmed。
　　The　dream　shifted。　All　of　a　sudden；　he　found　himself　alone　in　a　forest　of　trees　that　seemed　to　stretch　up　past　the　moons。　For　some　reason；　the　trees　were　even　more　threatening　than　the　colored　landscape。　He　fled；　but　could　find　no　exit　from　the　forest　as　their　trunks　glowed；　burst　into　flame；　then　started　to　explode。
　　The　furious　intensity　of　the　nightmare　yanked　him　awake；　sitting　up　with　a　racing　heart。　Dwer　stared　wide…eyed；　glad　to　find　the　real　woods　intact；　though　dark　and　threaded　by　a　chill　breeze。　There　was　no　raging　firestorm。　He　had　dreamed　the　whole　thing。
　　Still；　uneasiness　gnawed。　Something　felt　wrong。
　　He　rubbed　his　eyes。　Different　constellations　swarmed　the　sky；　fading　in　the　east　under　a　wash　of　predawn　gray。　The　biggest　moon；　Loocen；　hovered　over　silhouetted　peaks；　its　sunlit　face　spangled　with　bright　pinpoints…the　domes　of　long…abandoned　cities。
　　So　what's　wrong？
　　It　wasn't　just　intuition。　The　clock　teet　had　stopped。　Something　must　have　distur