uplift4.brightnessreef-第41节

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　　our　rings　quiver；　surprised；　when　Lester　expresses　satisfaction。
　　〃They　must　think　they've　uncovered　our　most　valued　secrets。〃
　　〃Have　they　not？〃　plains　Knife…Bright　Insight；　snapping　a　claw。　〃Are　not　our　greatest　treasures　those　who　depend　on　us？〃
　　Lester　nods。　〃True。　But　we　could　never　have　hidden　them　for　long。　Not　when　higher　life…forms　are　the　very　thing　the　invaders　desire。　It's　what　they　expect　us　to　conceal。
　　〃But　now；　if　they　are　smug；　even　satiated　for　a　while；　we　may　distract　them　from　learning　about　other　things；　possible　advantages　that　offer　us…and　our　dependents…a　slim　ray　of　hope。〃
　　〃How　can　that　ve？〃　demanded　Ur…Jah；　grizzled　and　careworn；　shaking　her　black…streaked　mane。　〃As　you　said…what　can　we　conceal？　They　need　only　pose　their　foul　questions；　and　those　profane　rovots　gallop　forth；　piercing　any　secret　to　its　hoof　and　heart。〃
　　〃Exactly；〃　Lester　said。　〃So　the　important　thing　is　to　keep　them　from　asking　the　right　questions。〃
　　
　　Dwer
　　HIS　FIRST　WAKING　THOUGHT　WAS　THAT　HE　MUST　be　buried　alive。　That　he　lay…alternately　shivering　and　sweltering…in　some　forgotten　sunless　crypt。　A　place　for　the　dying　or　the　dead。
　　But　then；　he　wondered　muzzily；　what　stony　place　ever　felt　like　this？　So　sweaty。　Threaded　by　a　regular；　thudding　rhythm　that　made　the　padded　floor　seem　to　tremble　beneath　him。
　　Still　semi…incoherent…with　eyelids　stubbornly　stuck　closed…he　recalled　how　some　river　hoons　sang　of　an　afterlife　spent　languishing　within　a　narrow　fetid　space；　listening　endlessly　to　a　tidal　growl；　the　pulse…beat　of　the　universe。　That　fate　seemed　all　too　plausible　in　Dwer's　fading　delirium；　while　he　struggled　to　shake　off　the　wrappers　of　sleep。　It　felt　as　if　fiendish　imps　were　poking　away　with　sharp　utensils；　taking　special　pains　with　his　fingers　and　toes。
　　As　more　roiling　thoughts　swam　into　focus；　he　realized　the　clammy　warmth　was　not　the　rank　breath　of　devils。　It　carried　an　aroma　much　more　familiar。
　　So　was　the　incessant　vibration；　though　it　seemed　higher…pitched；　more　uneven　than　the　throaty　version　he'd　grown　up　with；　resounding　through　each　night's　slumber；　when　he　was　a　boy。
　　It's　a　water　wheel。　I'm　inside　a　dam！
　　The　chalky　smell　stung　his　sinuses　with　memory。　A　qheuen　dam。
　　His　rousing　mind　pictured　a　hive　of　twisty　chambers；　packed　with　spike…clawed；　razor…tooth　creatures；　scrambling　over　each　other's　armored　backs；　separated　by　just　one　thin　wall　from　a　murky　lake。　In　other　words；　he　was　in　one　of　the　safest；　most　heartening　places　he　could　ask。
　　But。。。　how？　The　last　thing　I　recall　was　lying　naked　in　a　snowstorm；　halfway　gone；　with　no　help　in　sight。
　　Not　that　Dwer　was　astonished　to　be　alive。　I've　always　been　lucky；　he　thought；　though　it　dared　fate　to　muse　on　it。　Anyway；　Ifni　clearly　wasn't　finished　with　him　quite　yet；　not　when　there　were　still　more　ways　to　lure　him　down　trails　of　surprise　and　fate。
　　It　took　several　tries　to　open　his　heavy；　reluctant　eyelids；　and　at　first　the　chamber　seemed　a　dim　blur。　Tardy　tears　washed　and　diffused　the　sole　light…a　flame…flicker　ing　from　his　left。
　　〃Uh！〃　Dwer　jerked　back　as　a　dark　shape　loomed。　The　shadow　resolved　into　a　stubby　face；　black　eyes　glittering；　tongue　lolling　between　keen　white　teeth。　The　rest　of　the　creature　reared　into　view；　a　lithe　small　form；　black　pelted；　with　agile　brown　paws。
　　〃Oh。。。　it's　you；〃　Dwer　sighed　in　a　voice　that　tasted　scratchy　and　stale。　Sudden　movements　wakened　flooding　sensations；　mostly　unpleasant；　swarming　now　from　countless　scratches；　burns；　and　bruises；　each　yammering　a　tale　of　abuse　and　woe。　He　stared　back　at　the　grinning　noor　beast；　amending　an　earlier　thought。
　　I　was　always　lucky；　till　I　met　you。
　　Gingerly；　Dwer　pushed　back　to　sit　up　a　bit　and　saw　that　he　lay　amid　a　pile　of　furs；　spread　across　a　sandy　floor　strewn　with　bits　of　bone　and　shell。　That　untidy　clutter　contrasted　with　the　rest　of　the　small　chamber…beams；　posts；　and　paneling；　all　gleaming　in　the　wan　light　from　a　candle　that　flickered　on　a　richly　carved　table。　Each　wooden　surface　bore　the　fine　marks　of　qheuen　tooth…work；　all　the　way　down　to　angle　brackets　sculpted　in　lacy；　deceptively　strong　filigrees。
　　Dwer　held　up　his　hands。　White　bandages　covered　the　fingers；　too　well　wrapped　to　be　qheuen　work。　He　felt　hesitant　relief　on　counting　to　ten　and　gauging　their　length　to　be　roughly　unchanged…though　he　knew　sometimes　frostbite　stole　the　tips　even　when　doctors　saved　the　rest。　He　quashed　an　urge　to　tear　the　dressings　with　his　teeth　and　find　out　right　away。
　　Patience。　Nothing　you　do　now　will　change　what's　happened。　Stabbing　pins…and…needles　told　him　that　he　was　alive　and　his　body　was　struggling　to　heal。　It　made　the　pain　easier　to　handle。
　　Dwer　kicked　aside　more　furs　to　see　his　feet…which　were　still　there；　thank　the　Egg；　though　his　toes　also　lay　under　white　wrappings；　if　there　were　still　any　toes　down　there。　Old　Fallon　had　gone　on　hunting　for　many　years；　wearing　special　shoes；　after　one　close　call　on　the　ice　turned　his　feet　into　featureless　stumps。　Still；　Dwer　bit　his　lip　and　concentrated；　sending　signals；　meeting　resistance；　nevertheless　manding　movement。　Tingling　pangs　answered　his　efforts；　making　him　wince　and　hiss；　but　he　kept　at　it　till　both　legs　threatened　cramps。　At　last；　he　sagged　back；　satisfied。　He　could　wriggle　the　critical　toes；　the　smallest　and　largest　on　each　foot。　They　might　be　damaged；　but　he　would　walk　or　run　normally。
　　Relief　was　like　a　jolt　of　strong　liquor　that　went　to　his　head。　He　even　laughed　aloud…four　short；　sharp　barks　that　made　Mudfoot　stare。　〃So；　do　I　owe　you　my　life？　Did　you　dash　back　to　the　Glade；　yapping　for　help？〃　he　crooned。
　　For　once；　Mudfoot　seemed　set　aback；　as　if　the　noor　knew　it　was　being　mocked。
　　Aw；　cut　it　out；　Dwer　told　himself。　For　all　you　know；　it　might　even　be　true。
　　Most　of　his　other　hurts　were　the　sort　he　had　survived　many　times　before。　Several　were　sewn　shut　with　needle　and　thread；　cross…stitched　by　a　fine；　meticulous　hand。　Dwer　stared　at　the　seam…work；　abruptly　recognizing　it　from　past　experience。　He　laughed　again；　knowing　his　rescuer　from　tracks　laid　across　his　own　body。
　　Lark。　How　in　the　world　did　he　know？
　　Clearly；　his　brother　had　managed　to　find　the　shivering　group　amid　the　snowdrifts；　dragging　him　all　the　way　to　one　of　the　qheuen　freeholds　of　the　upper　hills。　And　if　I　made　it；　Rety　surely　did。　She's　young　and　would　chew　off　Death's　arm；　if　He　ever　came　for　her。
　　Dwer　puzzled　for　a　while　over　blotchy；　pale　stains　on　his　arms　and　hands。　Then　he　recalled。　The　mule…spider's　golden　fluid…someone　must　have　peeled　it　off；　where　it　stuck。
　　Those　places　still　felt　strange。　Not　exactly　numb　so　much　as　preserved…somehow　offset　in　time。　Dwer　had　a　bizarre　inkling　that　bits　of　his　flesh　were　younger　now　than　they　had　been　before。　Perhaps　those　patches　would　even　outlive　his　body　for　a　while；　after　the　rest　of　him　died。
　　But　not　yet；　One…of…a…Kind；　he　mused。
　　It's　the　mule…spider　who's　gone。　Never　got　to　finish　her　collection。
　　He　recalled　flames；　explosions。　I　better　make　sure　Rety　and　the　glaver　are　all　right。
　　〃I　don't　guess　you'd　run　and　fetch　my　brother　for　me；　would　you？〃　he　asked　the　noor；　who　just　stared　back　at　him。
　　With　a　sigh；　Dwer　draped　a　fur　over　his　shoulders；　then　gingerly　pushed　up　to　his　knees；　overruling　waves　of　agony。　Lark　would　resent　him　popping　any　of　those　fine　stitches；　so　he　took　it　easy；　standing　with　one　hand　pressed　against　the　nearest　wall。　When　the　dizziness　passed；　he　shuffled　on　his　heels　to　the　ornate　table；　retrieving　the　candle　in　its　clay　holder。　The　doorway　came　next；　a　low；　broad　opening　covered　by　a　curtain　of　hanging　wooden　slats。　He　had　to　stoop；　pushing　through　the　qheuen…shaped　portal。
　　A　pitch…black　tunnel　slanted　left　and　right。　He　chose　the　leftward　shaft；　since　it　angled　upward　a　bit。　Of　course；　blue　qheuens　built　their　submerged　homes　to　a　logic　all　their　own。　Dwer　used　to　get　lost　even　in　familiar　Dolo　Dam；　playing　hide…and…seek　with　Blade's　creche…mates。
　　It　was　painful　and　awkward　keeping　most　of　his　weight　gingerly　on　the　heels。　Soon　he　regretted　the　stubborn　impulse　that　sent　him　wandering　like　this；　away　from　his　convalescent　bed。　But　a　few　duras　later；　his　stubbornness　was　rewarded　by　sounds　of　anxious　conversation；　echoing　from　somewhere　ahead。　Two　speakers　were　clearly　human…male　and　female…while　a　third　was　qheuen。　None　were　Lark　or　Rety；　though　mumbled　snatches　rang　familiar。　And　tense。　Dwer's　hunter…sensitivity　to　strong　feelings　tingled　like　his　frostbitten　fingers　and　toes。
　　〃。。。　our　peoples　are　natural　allies。　Always　have　been。　Recall　how　our　ancestors　helped　yours　throw　off　the　tyranny　of　the　grays？〃
　　〃As　my　folk　succored　yours　when　urrish　packs　stalked　humans　everywhere　outside　Biblos　Fortress？　Back　when　our　burrows　sheltered　your　harried　farmers　and　their　families；　till　your　numbers　grew　large　enough　to　let　you　fight　back？〃
　　The　second　voice；　aspirated　from　two　or　more　leg…vents；　came　from　a　qheuen　matron；　Dwer　could　tell。　Probably　lord　of　this　snug　mountain　dam。　He　didn't　like　the　snatches　of　conversation　he　had　heard　so　far。　He　blew　out　the　candle；　shuffling　toward　the　soft　glow　of　a　doorway　up　ahead。
　　〃Is　that　what　you　are　aski