The Loafers of Refuge (13 page)

On the fifth day of the rites both Loafer girls and one boy returned, all Controllers. Carey, more worried than he cared to admit to his mother, confided his fears to Timmy.

“I would not worry yet, friend Carey. There is plenty of time. Doreen is thin, but also tough and strong. I worry more about Haskake, who was weak as a pre-initiate. The Council felt that he must take the rites, for he is past the first year already, but all feel his chances are not good.”

“Haskake is my friend, and I worry for him. But Doreen is my sister, and for her I worry more.”

When the eighth day passed and there was still no sign of Doreen Timmy became as worried as Carey. At the end of the tenth day they held a council of desperation with Nyyub.

“Haskake is not the type to starve himself to death,” said the white-haired old man slowly. “Very likely he is now across
the Whitecap Mountains, seeking for a new home among the tribes in the High Forest. But Doreen-of-the-red-hair is here, for there is no place for her to go.”

“She has stayed in her cave and tried until she has no strength left,” said Carey. “It may be that even now she lies dying of hunger and thirst. In any case, we have to find her swiftly or there will be little use in looking!”

“Doreen would not die so easily,” said Timmy, but he sounded more hopeful than certain.

“If we are agreed that she must be found then let us bring the child Micka here and see if her strong new powers will locate Doreen,” said Nyyub. “If not, we must search for her physically.”

Little Micka was hastily summoned and soon presented herself at the Head Councillor’s hut. She smiled shyly at Carey, still very much a child despite her new powers.

“Micka, we seek to locate Doreen-of-the-red-hair,” said Nyyub. “We ask that you use your new powers to the best of your ability and attempt to locate her for us.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” said the small girl obediently, and without further words closed her eyes. There were no preliminaries, no hesitation, no attempt to magnify or glorify her ability. And within thirty seconds her small child’s voice said, “I have found Doreen-of-the-red-hair … and she is dying.”

“Dying!”
All three men clustered around the child, who kept her eyes closed but otherwise seemed unchanged. “Yes, she is dying, but I will stop that.” And suddenly the sense of power was in that small home, swelling, expanding in a mounting flood, a river of strength that had its source in the child and whose vast outpour was directed out and away, beyond comprehension of their weaker faculties.

The three Controllers felt the presence of that river of” strength without being affected by it, sensed, without themselves being touched, the flood of
energy-vitality-life force
which the awakened mind was projecting.

The child’s voice sank to a whisper. “She lives, and will live for a time. But death is strong, and the cold … she is so cold …
I cannot hold her long, Grandfather!
”

“Where is she, Micka? Lead us to her,” said Carey, and his voice was hoarse and unnatural in his own ears.

“I … cannot.” The small whisper sank lower. “She is … close … that way.” One small hand lifted and pointed, and then the child sank gracefully to the floor, curled up into a ball with her head in her arms, and seemed to drift off to sleep.

The three men stepped out of the waquil-house and held a swift consultation. “Doreen is almost frozen and Micka is using all her strength to keep her warm,” said Nyyub. “The fires of her life burn low. We must find her and bring warmth.”

“Extra cloaks. We can take another cloak apiece and a bag of whampus milk to warm,” suggested Timmy. “But first we must find her.”

“Get the stuff,” said Carey. “I have an idea!” While Timmy was gone he discussed his notion with Nyyub, and the old man shook his head in bafflement.

“I do not know, Car-ree. We have never tried such before. But we shall do as you say. To search the woods would take far too long.”

Timmy was back within minutes with extra cloaks and three bags of milk. Carey hastily divided his pocket matches—they were much faster than the drawn-out process of concentration by which a Loafer produced a fire—and outlined his plan to Timmy. A moment later Timmy was off and running, heading into the woods in the direction Micka had pointed. Nyyub hastily consulted with another councillor who was nearby, leaving instructions for the entire village to be gathered and put to physical searching, and then he and Carey followed Timmy at a slower pace, each man moving off at a slight angle from the direct line of march Timmy had taken.

Carey opened his mind to reception as he trotted, seeking for a consciousness of the river of lifeforce Micka was projecting, and discovered he was still within that river. He increased the angle by which he was swinging away from Timmy’s path and ran for a few hundred yards before trying again. The river had faded.

He cut back towards Timmy, holding his mind open, and when he again encountered the stream changed his direction so that he was running parallel with it and along its outer bank. He held this direction for almost half a mile, and once his line of travel was firmly established he turned to projection instead and attempted to locate Timmy and Nyyub.

Nyyub responded and he found the old man running down the other bank opposite him. From Timmy there was no answer. He tried him again and again, switching to reception to orient himself with the stream every few moments, but could not locate the younger Loafer. Apparently Timmy was sensing the river of energy in which he ran and could not receive an outside call. Some unknown quality of Micka’ s projection was isolating him.

Carey was in excellent physical condition, but found himself gasping for air before another mile had passed. They were now almost three miles from Loafertown and Micka had said Doreen was “close”. Still, that almost visible stream of vitality he was following moved on undiminished. He slowed his pace slightly, and felt Nyyub doing the same, though whether from weariness or to match him he could not say. After a few minutes at the slower trot he recovered his wind and stepped up the pace, and Nyyub did likewise. And when he was again breathless Timmy suddenly projected, strong and clear. He was somewhere between the two of them but well ahead, and past the last point he had been able to detect the lifestream.

Nyyub had not understood the concept of triangulation, his mind not familiar with mathematical symbols, but apparently it was working. Timmy had returned and was hovering on the outer edge of the stream, somewhere within its half-mile width. Carey and Nyyub began to work their way towards each other and towards Timmy. Now if he and Nyyub could walk an approximately even distance, and meet Timmy at what he had felt to be the extreme end of the stream, Doreen should be nearby.

Within five minutes the three men caught sight of each other through the woods and met at the point of the triangle they had established. As Carey reached the other two a small
voice spoke in his mind, and the words were faint and weak.
“Friend Carey, I cannot hold her long!”

“She’s got to be here somewhere!” he said desperately as the other two came up. “Doreen!
Doreen!
” his shout went echoing and bouncing through the glades until the hanging leaves absorbed it, but there was no answer.

“Let me try,” said Timmy, and closed his eyes. He spread his consciousness, his sense of reception, to its widest possible point, and felt the lifestream beating strongly against him, but nothing more. He switched to projection and sent a ringing
Doreen! Doreen! Doreen!
moving amongst the tree trunks, spreading wider and more subtle fingers than Carey’s shouts, and there was still nothing.
Love love love!
he hurled the raw emotion with the strength of despair … and small and weak, faint beyond belief, an answering whisper came …
Love!

All three men were off at a run, aiming unerringly for the snow-covered dead-fall a hundred yards away, and in brief minutes they had found the entrance, dug away the piled snow, moved branches aside for more room, and Timmy and Carey were crouching by her side, rubbing the half-frozen limbs with hard hands, while Nyyub coaxed a small flame into being.

Carey paused long enough to take two of the extra cloaks and lay them over Doreen, to hold what little heat she still possessed, then resumed the massage. By slow degrees a trace of colour appeared in the white face, the brown freckles ceased to stand out like darkened blotches on the tanned skin, and her breathing deepened until the slow and painful inhalation could be heard. But their best indication that she was out of danger came when the stream of living vitality in which they worked weakened, slowed, and a moment later faded gently away.

Her feet and hands were already blackened and swollen, but otherwise there seemed no permanent damage. As they were lifting her to a sitting position and trying to force some warm milk between the clenched teeth the voice of Micka spoke again.
Bring her to me when she is warm and I will save her hands and feet.

Micka!
said Timmy urgently.
Take control of Doreen’s body! Open this jaw and compel her to swallow.

There was a brief silence, and then the child’s projection said,
I like this not, Cousin Timmy, but it shall be as you say. Perhaps Doreen will forgive me.

Even before the transmission was complete Doreen’s mouth had opened, and she swallowed several ounces of the warm milk. There was no coughing or spasm. She took another deep swallow, and then the two young men laid her down again and resumed their massage.

She recovered consciousness as they were bundling her up to carry her to Loafertown, and smiled drowsily at her rescuers. She attempted to speak, and could not, and Nyyub hushed her gently with a touch of his hand. As they lifted her from the ground she drifted off to sleep.

It was a long walk back to Loafertown, but Doreen’s emaciated body was a light load for two men. They used cloaks as a stretcher and to cover her, and Nyyub relieved each of the young men in turn as they grew tired.

Micka had announced to all the searching Loafers that Doreen had been found, and a crowd was waiting when they entered the village. Nyyub left to speak to them and explain how still another use had been discovered for Micka’s new powers, and Carey and Timmy carried Doreen into Tharee’s hut. Micka and Tharee were waiting for them.

Doreen was awake again, and the warm milk had stirred digestive glands long inactive. While they re-warmed the milk at the fire in the central compound Micka set to work on Doreen’s feet. By the time the milk was ready she had moved to the hands, taking each finger between her own small hands and holding it tightly for several minutes. The sense of power was strong in the room. If the ordeal of furnishing Doreen with warmth and lifeforce had weakened Micka that weakness had not lasted. When she released each hand the blackness had faded to a faint discoloration and the swelling had diminished to half its former size. Beneath the almost transparent skin on the backs of Doreen’s hands the blood could be seen, running strongly and smoothly through her body.

Carey sent word to Maud and Uncle Harvey that Doreen
had been found and was in good health, and stayed with her for the rest of the day. By dark she was sitting up on her couch and talking, though she was still very weak. She had eaten a thin stew of whampus milk and vegetables and managed to retain it.

“Why didn’t you quit and come home when you started to get weak?” asked Carey when he felt she was able to defend herself. “You’re not a Loafer and you know it. There was no need for this.”

“I didn’t mean to alarm you so, Carey, and honestly I intended to come out and return to Loafertown when I had given up. But I was so
close
, I could feel the edges of control in my mind, so near, and yet I couldn’t quite cross that final bridge and project. I couldn’t completely separate myself from my body no matter how I tried, and that small part of me that wouldn’t leave kept me from having any strength. I lay there and kept trying, and now and then I’d think I almost had it and then it would fade away and I’d try again. I wasn’t moving at all, of course, and I just didn’t realize how weak I had become.”

“Too stubborn to do the sensible thing, as usual,” Carey’s smile took all sting out of the words. “But if you were that near projecting I don’t think you have much of a problem. If they’ll let you try again next year—and I’m sure they’ll give you the second chance they give anyone else, although it may have to be with the Sweetwater Loafers—you’ll come through in a breeze.”

“There will be no need, friend Carey,” said a soft child’s voice, and Micka was standing quietly at the foot of the couch. “Doreen is a Controller now.”

The red-haired Earthgirl swung her head towards her smallest rescuer in astonishment. Micka smiled. “It is true. That was why you were able to answer Timmy. When I …
fed
you … while they were finding you I sensed the small block against which you were fighting. I removed it, and though I had not done such a thing before it was very easy. I can do this for anyone. I think there will be no more outcasts from the tribe of the Lindorn.”

Nyyub, who had entered in time to hear her last statement,
shook his head in amazement. “Will there be no end to the child’s powers? I had not thought to live to see this day, nor dreamed to be so honoured that a grandchild of mine should open the way. Micka, can you contact Haskake? He is weaker than some, but a good lad of honest intent. If you can remove the barrier that caused him to fail …”

Micka closed her eyes, and all adults in the room watched in fascination as the unaffected child exerted the forces she controlled and reached across the Whitecap Mountains. Somewhere deep in the High Forest beyond the mountains she found the miserable boy, huddling alone and cold against his solitary fire. He could project only very faintly, but such was her strength that she received him clearly.

Micka opened her eyes. “I can do nothing for him while he is awake. When he sleeps tonight he has agreed that I shall return and enter him, and see what I find. Like Doreen, he says he came close to projection on his last day. I am sure I can cure him.”