Damia. Part 28

I don't foresee any diminishing in either mind. As I told you, rest from any mental stress, plenty of sleep and solitude will cure them.

Relief flowed from them to her and back again.

Any idea when their cures will be complete? Jeff the Prime spoke.

I haven't a clue, Isthia blithely rea.s.sured them and felt their misgivings. Heavens, I've never treated such overextended minds before. Metamorphically, Damia buffered Afra and you two cushioned her even as she blocked and destroyed Sodan.

There was a brief pause. Does she blame herself for not saving The Rowan's voice faltered.

Yes, but that was inevitable and we cannot spare her that grief.

You will be surprised when you do see her, and Isthia was rather glad there was no-one in the Tower room to see her smile. She liked and admired her son's mate.

It was scarcely Angharad's fault that she had overcompensated her children for the vicissitudes of her early childhood.

Surprised? Jeff asked.

Agreeably, Isthia replied. She might as well predispose them.

The incident has matured the girl.

Rite of pa.s.sage? Jeff asked.

A rocky grievous one, to be sure, but considering Damia's 33i personality, only that sort of experience would produce the proper tempering.

Aren't you being hard on Damia? the Rowan began.

I'm being objective, I a.s.sure you. You should be grateful for her fort.i.tude and resilience. She could have been consumed and broken.

But she is well? She will recover?

Given time. No more headaches, Angharad, or lapses of concentration? Isthia asked, skilfully diverting the contact into a new channel.

No, because we ve cut down the traffic, Jeff replied brusquely.

Sometimes FT&T expects too much of its Primes.

Both of us, and he sent his mother a rueful grin, are letting our a.s.sistants handle inanimate stuff. Gives them a feeling of accomplishment and us a brief respite. And Aurigae got their ears bent for the sort of loads they were having Damia 'port. She's not to do that again. You did say that Afra's going to be all right?

Isthia chuckled. Oh, you'll notice a change in him, too.

All for the good. Then, before her inner amus.e.m.e.nt broke through, she hastily ended the contact. Goodbye now. Jeran wants his chair back. I'll keep you informed.

Because they were so isolated and because they had been in the habit of being wide-open in every sense to each other, Damia and Afra both experienced the first tendrils of query.

Damia censored the incident. Afra ignored it. Neither mentioned it; Damia because she wasn't going to get caught twice the same way; Afra because he didn't trust his mind.

Not only had Isthia left them a diet sheet - easily digestible foods at first, graduating to some of her more esoteric and exotic combinations - but also she had left them a work sheet. As her note reminded them, the cabin was not automated.

'Nothing to tax your energies but light ch.o.r.es to keep the place ticking over and to combat boredom.' 'I'm not sure that I like her going on about boredom,' Damia told Afra as they looked over the roster.

Afra's eyes gleamed, but his finger running down her cheek took the sting out of his words. 'We both know our quick-silver Damia, restless, curious -'I need rest,' and Damia pretended a haughty air, 'and I got an overdose of curiosity too recently to indulge in another.

I shall vegetate, right along with you, Afra Lyon!' 'We are not precisely vegetating, love,' Afra said and demonstrated.

They were, however, scrupulous about doing the various tasks Isthia had set: keeping the cabin neat and clean, tending the garden planted around it, weeding the vegetable plot, reinforcing the guard fencing to prevent forest Damia's eyes widened in protest. 'But you are respected life from browsing the young plants, and fishing. The lake was stocked with many tasty varieties.

Damia liked fishing, liked the excuse to sit beside Afra, shoulders and legs touching as they sat on the bank waiting for the sparklers to rise to the bait. The enforced idleness of angling permitted Damia to satisfy her insatiable interest in every facet of her lover's childhood and early training, though she forcefully denounced such heartlessness.

'I guess I was a lot luckier in my parents than I knew,' Damia had to admit when he had finished with his early childhood trials.

'Even being sent away as an infant to Deneb?' Afra asked, his eyes intent on her expression She grimaced with chagrin. 'Yes, I was a right wagon, wasn't I?' 'Heavy duty big daddy wagon.' 'You don't have to agree!' 'Why not? I knew what you admit to.' 'But you're not supposed to agree!' Afra chuckled. 'If it's true, why not? It's perspective that counts, love. It isn't that I don't know your faults as I have tried to admit to mine - it's that I love you more because of them.' 'Love me for my faults? How stupid!' 'Should I ignore them because I love you?' 'Well.

'Nonsense. It's those odd quirks of yours that are endearing, not your very stellar qualities which I respect and admire. That could get tedious 'You mean, boring?' Damia suggested, eyeing him speculatively 'No, tedious, because then I'd have to watch everything I said and did, trying to be equally respectable and admirable.' and admired.' 'By you?' His soft voice was entreating and his look made her melt.

'I think,' she said in a deliberate way, playing with the long fingers that held one of her hands captive, 'that I have always admired and respected you, Afra. You always listened to me, even when I was a baby. You always made me feel as if you had time for no-one else in the Tower.' 'That's true enough, love.

'Did you love me then as a baby?' Damia could not quite erase the wistfulness.

'I loved you as a baby, but as a man loves an adorable, winsome child. I love you now as a man loves a vibrant, talented, s.e.xually aware young woman.

'Love me then, do.

At first, they kept about the house. Afra taught Damia how to do complicated origami until she was almost as fast fashioning them as he was. She taught him - or tried - to ride ponies from the small herd that often drifted to the lake in the evening. He had to keep his long legs either drawn up, nearly under his knees, or straight out on either side of the pony or they would drag on the ground. Damia found either position hilarious but mastered her mirth rather than prejudice Afra against the ponies as transportation.

As physical strength returned, they ranged wider; in part in response to the list of Isthia's ch.o.r.es. She was keeping track of some Earth species which had been judiciously added to Deneb's ecology. One such species were breeding pairs of raptors which had been established in the rough hills above her cabin. Isthia wanted to check on the nests and the success rate of fledging. With her maps and backpacks of food and trail supplies, Damia and Afra took advantage of a fine bright morning to accomplish that task.

'You have the longest legs,' Damia told him, somewhat admiring them, lightly haired, well-shaped, sinewy and tanned from long sunning.

'Nice knees.' 'I can say the same of yours, love,' he responded equably.

'Can't I ever get a rise out of you?' 'Oh, you do indeed,' Afra said mischievously, 'you do indeed.

'I didn't mean that! But you never lose your temper, or is that your Methody upbringing?' 'Losing one's temper over a trifle would definitely be considered unmannerly,' he replied.

'Maybe I'm the one who should have been raised by your parents,' she said with some exasperation.

'No, love, no!' he replied so fervently that she turned to look at him over her shoulder and managed to collide with a tree. 'Are you hurt?' 'What? From that little b.u.mp?' she demanded, annoyed with herself for being so clumsy. The sapling had caught her from cheek to knee and the impact had stung. She rubbed herself fiercely, gave the tree a pat. 'I probably hurt it far worse. Look, I've taken off all its new growth!' 'Hmmm, so you have. Let's hope Isthia does not intimately know every tree she planted.' Damia watched her way after that, wondering just how the bruises would come up. But shortly she was far more interested in the beautiful landscape for they had left the sheltering belt of forestry and were out on the rough hillsides, stepping from rock to gra.s.soid clump, or cutting through a bracken-like vegetation which, bruised by their hiking boots, gave off a pungent astringent odour.

They rested often, in deference to slack muscles and their convalescent state, but by midday had reached the craggy outcroppings where the raptors had nested. Using the high-power binoculars, Afra located the right cliff and the first nest 'No birds, no egg sh.e.l.ls.

Is that good?' He pa.s.sed the gla.s.ses to her 'We might try looking at the base of the cliff,' she said after a careful sweep. 'Seems to me the raptors clear the debris from the nest.' They had to climb over uneven ground to reach their objective but found nothing beyond fragments of sh.e.l.ls and bones, many of those cracked for the marrow.

They pushed on to examine the other four nests Isthia had listed and found two more before they came across a gushing mountain stream where they decided to eat their lunch. They had appet.i.te for everything they'd thought to bring, washed down by the clear cold water of the creek.

Then they went on, still climbing up the tumbled greystone cliff.

When they finally came out on the height, Damia paused and, shielding her eyes, turned slowly, taking in the panorama below and almost all around them.

'It's breathtaking,' Afra said. 'I'd forgotten there could be so much world to see from one spot.

'It's a far cry from Callisto, that's for sure, Damia replied.

'And yet,' she added loyally, 'I'm fond of that moon!

All the world I knew until I...' she cut off, frowning.

'What's wrong?' She was turned towards the rise beyond the saddle on which they stood. She bit her underlip, puzzled, twitching her shoulders restlessly.

'There shouldn't be any more. There shouldn't be any more here.

'Any more what?' 'Well, I've got to go see, don't I?' she said enigmatically.

'See what, Damia? I can't read your mind, you know.' 'You don't really want to, Afra, but you'd best come see.' She started scrambling up the steep rock face and gestured for him to follow.

'what should! be looking for?' he asked tactfully.

'You should be sensing it,' she replied, her tone almost angry.

'Beetle stuff. Don't you feel the 'Sting-pzzzt?' he asked, half amused.

'Yes,' and she was very angry, 'the sting-pzzzt. It's very loud.' Afra paused, trying to sense what she did. 'I hear insects buzzing.' 'No, you feel Beetle metal. Look around, do you see any insects up this high?' Now that Damia had mentioned it, he didn't, but she was setting quite a pace and he had to work to keep up with her. When they reached the top of the next rise, he looked about him expectantly but Damia turned right and started purposefully up the next slope and abruptly halted, staring at a groove in the fine grey granite - a groove that was not natural and from which protruded a ragged shaft of metal.

The buzz that Afra had thought insectoid was louder, and every breath he drew had a sharp metallic taste to it.

'Sting-pzzzt is really accurate, he said, gazing down at the artifact. Then he paced it out, along the impact split in the rock.

'Fifteen metres visible.' He knelt down and, somewhat gingerly, poked his finger at the nearest surface.

'Part of a hull?' 'Looks like it,' Damia replied, beginning to take an interest in it. 'Pitted. I didn't think there'd be anything left to find. My Uncle Rhodri spent the last nine years of his life tracking pieces down.' 'This is a rather inaccessible spot,' Afra observed.

Damia sighed. 'We'd better get back and report this.' 'Why? It's been here twenty-odd year' 'One reports finds like this. And it's awfully near the fourth raptor nest.' 'There'd be a problem?' Damia shot him an irritable glance. 'Can't you taste it in the air? Feel it? Can you imagine what effect it would have on hatchlings?' 'There is one?' He curbed a growing irritation with her cryptic remarks. 'I may have helped blast Beetles out of the sky but that contact was at an exceedingly long range.' 'Well, there's nothing long range about the way this metal affects me,' she replied tersely and started to climb down. 'I can't get away from here fast enough.' 'Oh, is that what's wrong with us?' 'Yes, indeed!' She snapped that out, almost spitting the ds at him. 'Let's get away from here!' Her tone was desperate.

He bit back an angry comment about how fast she'd climbed to get to the artifact. Damia did not slow her descent until they were back at the stream, panting for breath and sweating with exertion.

'I think that's far enough,' she said in gasps and flopped down by the stream, to splash water on her face and neck and then grinning with a return of good humour, at him.

They both drank deeply, washing the metallic aftertaste out of their mouths.

'Why did you let me eat all my lunch?' Damia asked.

'I'm starving.' 'I saw some berry bushes,' Afra suggested.

'Hmm. Good idea. Sorry about the temper, Afra, but Beetle metal really agitates.' 'What I find amazing is that it retains that effect so long.' Damia grinned. 'Uncle Rhodri was determined to find out why.

He wasn't sure if it was caused by emanations of the alien ore or vibrations induced by the Beetles for defence. He suspected the latter since it would be very difficult for attackers to approach the vessel when grounded.' 'What was his final conclusion?' 'Oh, he died before he arrived at one. High Command took over the project. They're still here. They're the ones I'll call when we get back to the cabin.

C'mon.

Though Afra did not protest the brisk pace Damia set back to the cabin, they were both exhausted when they got to the clearing. Afra paused long enough to get a drink but Damia went immediately to the communit and dialled the number.

'Damia Raven-Lyon,' she said to his astonishment and delight, 'I've found an artifact, buried in the hills above Isthia Raven's cabin.' She gave them the coordinates from Isthia's map. 'Yes, it's still emanating. Couldn't leave the area fast enough. You could land a vtol on the saddle below it. Yes, about fifteen metres long, maybe more. It buried itself into the ravine. Looks like hull.' She grimaced. 'Feels like hull. Yes, of course, we'll be here.' Afra handed her a cool juice drink as she replaced the handset.

'Damia Raven-Lyon?' he asked softly as he slid an arm about her shoulders to pull her close.

She gave him a sideways glance, her blue eyes sparkling in her tired, sweaty face.

'Well, it'll be obvious!' An officer rang through, requesting permission to land at the cabin clearing. On the porch to greet him, Damia and Afra saw the giant removal unit, the jagged hull piece suspended from ma.s.sive cables, as it thumped ponderously east towards the naval research facility. One of the escort vehicles peeled off and landed.

'That was a grand find,' the lieutenant-commander said, beaming from ear to ear as he presented himself and saluted smartly. 'Thought we'd gathered up all the debris. Let us know if you find anything else, will you?' Damia felt a convulsive shudder go down her backbone.

'We certainly will. Don't want so much as a sliver of that stuff nearby.' 'How do you mitigate the effect, Commander?' Afra asked.

'What effect, sir?' The man was surprised. 'Oh, you'd be Talented then.' He gave them a slightly patronizing smile. 'Doesn't affect us types at all. But I'd heard it can be pretty potent for sensitives.' Fortunately he turned away then, and trotted back to his skycar.

'The nerve ---' Damia began. 'Potent for sensitives Indeed.' Afra chuckled. 'At least we know we're sensitive again.

Damia blinked. 'I hadn't thought of that aspect.' Then her face brightened. 'D'you think that means we're healed?' 'On our way to it, certainly.; The dreaming began that evening. And, at first, Damia did ascribe it to the alien metal. Yet these weren't nightmares: more pictures imposed on her dreaming mind, a kaleidoscope of images. She didn't wake in an uneasy state of mind, but she could vividly recall the night's fantasies.

She did get in touch with Isthia, mentioning the Beetle find and its effect on them.

'I would say that you are healing well. Don't rush it, Damia.

Too much is at stake.' 'We've been here seven weeks.' 'Bored yet?' 'Grandmother! I'm not bored. D'you want us to go back and see what effect the Beetle fragment had on the last nest on your list.

'Hmmm. Yes, there could be problems. Leave it until the next good rainstorm, let that taint wash away. You don't need alien pollution at your stage of repair.' 'Are you so eager to get back to a Tower, Damia?' Afra asked when she broke the contact.

She chuckled. 'No, I'm not. Nor am I bored. Isthia say 'I heard her-' 'Afra!' Concerned, Damia seized at his shoulder.

'I'm not deaf and Isthia was perfectly audible without any "sensitive" a.s.sistance.

After two weeks of nightly episodes, Damia was getting worried.

Her uncle had never been able to explain how the Beetle metal could continue to emanate but he had insisted that all fragments be contained in shielded bunkers with six-foot walls of the toughest plascrete. He had recommended that those with any vestige of Talent be barred from the research compound. But the substance of her nocturnal images held neither threat nor malice. In fact, they seemed to repeat in a pattern, unusual enough in itself, and gradually the pattern became so predictable that Damia could step from one sequence to the next.

as if she were turning pages.

Easing from their bed early one morning, Damia slipped to the kitchen and dialled Isthia's number. Her grandmother was an early riser. Contact came on the third ring.

'Grandmother, did Uncle Rhodri ever discover a long term contamination from Beetle metal?' 'What do you mean exactly?' To Damia, her grandmother sounded so casually alert that she felt no further reluctance in bringing the phenomenon up.

'I've had dreams for the past two weeks, ever since that hull piece was found, only they're not threatening, or evil, or particularly unnerving. They are repet.i.tions of the same images.

'What images?' And again Isthia's detached query suggested to Damia that the phenomenon might not be limited to herself.

'I get a pleasant setting, then figures - too distant and fussy to be described - coming up a long road to another group of six figures.

Both sets sit down.