The Tower of Il Serrohe (42 page)

They shrugged.
Interesting seeing a bat trying to shrug his shoulders; not exactly a natural motion for him.

“
I mean, don’t bats have some kind of radar? Echolocation or something? Shouldn’t you be able to perceive a gnat scratching his ass under a pile of leaves?”

“
We don’t call it that,” the bat said coolly. “But I know what you mean. If I’m not within a few feet of them, they could be a grove of trees for all I’m concerned. They have to move.”

“
Breathing’s not enough?”

“
It depends. Usually, it’s not enough unless I’m close. I don’t
hunt
Soreyes, so I’m not prepared to vouch for how well I can perceive them. I prefer to hunt the Rio Grande Valley at nighttime which is during the day here. Otherwise, I hunt around here at night. Soreye is not on my menu.”

“
Fair enough. But couldn’t you learn to detect them for the sake of the Valle clans?”

“
I suppose, but no one’s asked. We aren’t universally liked here, only tolerated. The clanspeople have no idea of what we do or where we go. They don’t understand where you come from and it’s pointless to try to explain.” He looked at Nersite and Raquela and found them only mildly curious about what he was saying. “You see, even these two, who know more or less where you’re from, especially Raquela, don’t possess much curiosity. That’s a human trait.”

“
So what are you saying? The clanspeople aren’t human?”

Nightwing brought his lips together, hiding his fangs, showing a bland smile. “I’m just saying it’s different here. You saw that back in the square. What would happen under similar circumstances if that had been in Rio Luna where everyone was under threat from a gang of thugs?”

Don sighed. He looked at Raquela.
What a sweet young woman!
He felt his hormones stirring again in spite of himself. She was not as energized by this discussion as he was. It was
their
problem, but he was taking it more seriously than these two. Even Nightwing, the self-declared loner, was more motivated. Was it because the Soreyes weren’t there at the moment, staring them in the face, exhaling their foul breath in their faces?

Maybe we just get together and charge the Tower. When they catch Soreyes’ scent and feel the terror of their strength and craftiness, they will get a fire up their butts to fight.

But the thought of leading this motley pack of clanspeople into such a conflagration gripped his heart with an ice-cold fist.
Even I have more human compassion than that, although I don’t know why I should give a shit. But then there’s Raquela. How could I have let myself start to care about her? I don’t need this. She sure as hell doesn’t need me.

“
I’ve gotta think!” Don said through a grimace. “I need time alone. I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back by noon… maybe.”

Nersite looked at him as if Don had stolen his personal pouch of signascent. “But what about getting everyone together at Pot Hills?”

Don was distracted. “Yeah, yeah, good idea. You do that. Get everyone going. Raquela, you help. I’ll see you later.” He started to hug her, but she seemed afraid when he approached her. He backed off and instead reached out to squeeze her hand. She didn’t seem to understand the import of the gesture, but smiled weakly.

“
OK, Don. See you.”

Walking away, he saw a knowing look on Nightwing’s face.
That bastard thinks he knows my every thought. Well, to hell with him! I’ve got to get some space around me.

It occurred to him that getting space as he strode toward the edge of Il Mote could put him into the Soreyes’ view. He stopped and looked about. Trees hung overhead at this point, but beyond the edge of town were large open areas.

The bat glided over to him.

“
Trying to figure out how to get out of here without the Soreyes watching?”

“
Yeah, Mr. Smart Ass.” There was a long pause. Nightwing smiled at Don without showing his fangs. Don finally gave in. “Any suggestions?”

Nightwing’s fangs flashed brilliantly. “Of course.”

He pointed to a thicket of yucca plants overgrown to the size of a house. “Beyond that clump of yucca, there is trail in shadows for two miles. When you come to a stagnant pond, turn left and walk along the old Taurimin ditch until you come to an arroyo. Go no further because from there on it’s open country, enough that an observant Soreye up on the Tower could see you.”

“
Will I pass any of the clans’ homes or villages?”

“
Only a small Kastmin island, but unlike where you were attacked, this one is under the cover of old cottonwoods so thick no Soreye could possibly see you. The island where you were had open country around it, so you were probably observed.”

“
Whatever. Thanks… I’ll see you. Soon.”

But at that point Don had no intention of seeing anyone, ever again.

sixty four

Don stomped along the trail, trying to pound his frustration, doubts, and fear into the hard-packed soil. The sun had warmed the bosque and he broke a sweat. His mind reeled, going over the same sticking points again and again.

I’m not a military type. I’m no “leader of men” or of women or children, for that matter. How do you organize these loose-ended people? It would almost be better to take a small group of Nohmin, Ursimin, Taurimin, and maybe even Càhbahmin and attack—if only they were more organized. Maybe that’s it! Don’t try to take the whole damned bunch. They’ll get in each other’s way.

Then how do we get close to that Tower without being seen in advance? Will we get ambushed like the Nohmin were? Why do this?

It’s like this whole place, this whole situation is 95% a sure thing in my mind, but there’s that damned 5% I’m not so sure about. And what is this? An illusion? What is ‘real’ anyway? Was my life so good with Bess that I want
that
to be real and not this? Our marriage sucked but I’m fairly sure it was reality.

Now I don’t know if anything is real. Maybe the whole universe is a construct of my mind, and this is the first indication that I’m in my own world all the time.

Oh shit! What do I do? Does it matter what I do? It seems to matter to these people, but if they’re all wish-fulfillment for me to feel useful to someone beyond myself, then is that a bad thing?

But if this is wish fulfillment, where’s the damned beer? Any place I created in my mind would have beer. So does that make it real, or am I trying to rehabilitate myself?

At that inopportune moment, Don came upon an open place. Looking out, he saw the massive Valle Abajo version of Rio Luna Hill and realized in his rush and daze, he had headed south instead of north.

“
Shit!”

He saw the open place further to the south was the flat plain with the Barbamin pyramid-like mound,
Barbahill,
in the middle. He remembered trying to explain to the Barbamin how to brew liquor when he and Nersite visited them. Had they given it a try, he wondered, in spite of the disapproving odor they emitted as he’d explained what seemed to them a disgusting process.

Let’s see what they’ve been up to.

Don walked out in the open, incongruously feeling Soreyes watching him. He looked to the northwest. He could barely see the Tower rising in the distance.
Surely, they couldn’t see shit this far away.

Advancing cautiously, he remembered he didn’t have his “calling card,” Nersite, with him. However, a little Barbamin, standing on the top edge of the great
Barbahill
saw him and waved enthusiastically. Then, he turned and disappeared, apparently heading for the entrance to the mound in the center.

Don stopped and waited at this relatively safe distance. Sure enough, a whole swarm of little Barbamin came swooping down the steep slope to greet him. Familiar overpowering scents of burning weeds—this time mixed with pleasant fruity smells—flooded over him, causing him to swoon.

The same authoritative female, Gert, spoke. “Welcome back, friend of Nersite. To what do we owe this honor? Our representatives sent to Il Mote have not returned, and yet here you are.”

“
I’m, uh, scouting the, uh, landscape, getting ideas on how we can attack the Soreyes.”

“
Ah, that couldn’t come soon enough. You can count on us to send our young brave soldiers into battle.”

“
Good.” Don looked around, feeling uneasy out in the open. “Did you try to brew that, uh, delightful drink I was telling you about? I know it’s kind of soon, but if you’d like an opinion on how it’s coming along…”

She seemed to smile and vibrate delightfully even though Don couldn’t actually discern a smile on her thin slit of a mouth. “Ah, yes, the ‘beer’ you spoke of. It seemed against our Barbamin ways, but who are we to question one as wise as you? We have only started a ‘brew’ as you called it. I don’t think we have fermentation yet.”

Well, of course, you idiot! It would take weeks to get the sugars to convert to alcohol! Geeze, are we desperate enough yet?

“
Yes, you’re right,” Don admitted coolly. “I was curious if you had a good brew mixed up that would lead to a healthy fermentation.”

“
Be our guest.” She turned to a guy somewhat shorter than her, but bigger than the other males. “Go with our guest and let him sample our brew.”

The Barbamin led Don up the side of Barbahill, across the flat top, and then down to a low mound at the far southern edge of the plain. Under tall cool cottonwoods, the low mound turned out to be a newly built cellar. Don smelled the mash. He tasted the foamy liquid, which already was attaining the right color.

“
Of course, it’s not close to being ready, but you have a good start. It’s a bit raw tasting, might toast the grains more next time, but the smoothness will come with more aging, too.”

Not wanting to be wasteful, he emptied the full wooden mug of virgin beer.

Don was impressed which disappointed him all the more since in a few weeks, this would be a fine batch. Right now, it was a warm nonalcoholic beer. Rather like a good-looking girl in a low cut dress who wouldn’t let a guy get to first base.

Don
returned to Barbahill, made his apologies after complimenting Gert
on the quality of the brew, and left returning to the shady security of the bosque. He headed north this time, careful to remain unseen as he passed Il Mote.

He had gone another mile when, abruptly, an alcoholic buzz settled on him like a thick blanket of snow dropping off an overloaded tree branch.

Whoa! Where’d that come from? Man, I haven’t felt a good buzz in days! Wait a minute, I haven’t been drinking! Is this the next level of this hallucination?

In a pleasing haze, he had a moment of lucidity. “The Barbamin mash!” he said, out loud. “It’s already got a healthy level of alcohol. But in two days! What the hell is their method? It’s hitting me stronger than a Harvey Wall Banger!”

He sat on a log in amazement. He considered going back for more.
My God! I had less than a cup full of mash. And it’s this strong? Why did it take almost a half-hour to take effect? This will be some good shit once it’s matured. Might even have to be watered down to take the edge off.

“
So…” he said, to no one. He sat there taking in the sweet aroma of heady New Mexico sand and wildflowers. Feeling a breeze, he watched the clouds smoothly gliding through open patches of the trees. Life was good; he delighted in feeling useless with no plans.

What plans there were had evaporated. After nearly a half-hour of mindless pleasure being half-drunk, he formulated a plan: go back and sample enough brew that he couldn’t think a coherent thought for a full day and night.

And so he did.

The Barbamin were confused and distraught at his odd and rude behavior after quaffing a tall mug of what Don would have otherwise considered “green beer.” But as he said to Gert, “I don’t really give a shit what
you
think. I’m having enough of a good ol’ time to compensate for your fuddy-duddiness. Screw you if you don’t understand!”

He could have curled up to sleep in the shade outside the Barbamin cellar but, instead, he wandered off singing Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze,” heading for Il Mote. And he wasn’t particularly careful about staying under cover in the bosque.

A couple of hours past noon he stumbled into town. Il Mote was empty of the disparate clanspeople. Somehow, he managed to find the hut where he and Raquela had spent the night. She wasn’t there, but a few of her belongings were.

He left and staggered along the winding passageways between irregularly placed homes, finding the square by accident. Near the Big House he found a group that included Nersite, Raquela, Narknose, Toroth, Bernie, and a wary Loopohmin who stood aloof from the others, obviously taking note of every detail.

“
Hey, all my buddies!” Don called in a voice not entirely friendly. “How the hell are you? I hope you aren’t getting too serious about all this shit because I’m not. Let’s all have a drink and chew the fat.”