Eye of Cat Part 16

blackness, dim shapes about them, snowflakes spinning in the headlight beams, changing back to rain, back to snow- flakes again.

Then, "That thing that's after him," Yellowcloud said, "you say it's as smart as a man?"

"In its way, yeah. Maybe smarter."

"Billy may still have an edge, you know. He'll probably be mad to see us."

"That beast has chased him all over the world. It's built for killing, and it hates him."

"Even Kit Carson was afraid to go into these canyons after the Navajo. Had to starve us out in the dead of winter."

"Why was he scared?"

"The place was made for ambushes. Anyone who knows his way around down there could hold off a superior force, maybe slaughter it."

"This beast can read thoughts."

"So it reads that there's someone up ahead waiting to kill it. Doesn't have to be a mind reader to know that. And if it keeps following that's what could happen."

"It can change shape."

"It's still got to move in order to make progress. That makes it a target. Billy's armed now. It won't have it as easy as you seem to think."

"Then why'd you decide to come?"

"I don't like to see any outsider chasing Navis on our land. And I couldn't let a Sioux have the first shot at the thing."

Without Yellowcloud, I wouldn't be worth much out here, Ironbear told himself. Even the little kids around here must know more than I do about getting around in this terrain, tracking, hunting, survival. I'm a d.a.m.n fool for b.u.t.ting into this at all, physically. The only things I know about being an Indian come from Alaska, and that was a long time ago. So why am I here? I keep saying I like Singer, but why?

Because he was some kind of a hero? I don't really think that's it. I think it's because he's an old-style Indian, and because my father might have been that way. At least I think of him that way. Could I be trying to pay off a debt of guilt here? It's possible, I guess. And all of my music had an Indian beat to it....

The car slowed, worked its way into the shelter of a stone outcrop, came to a halt. The snow had turned back to rain, a slow, cold drizzle here.

"Are we there?" he asked.

"Almost," Yellowcloud replied. "There's an easy way down near here. Well, relatively easy. Let me get us some lights and I'll show you."

Outside, they donned small packs and slung their weap- ons. Yellowcloud shined his light toward the canyon.

"Follow me," he said. "There was a slide here a few years ago. Made a sort of trail. We'll be more sheltered once we reach the bottom."

Ironbear fell in behind him and they made their way to the rim of the canyon. Its floor was invisible, and the rocks immediately before him looked jagged and slippery. He said nothing, and shortly they began the descent, Yellowcloud playing his light before them.

As they climbed, the force of the rainfall lessened, until about halfway down they entered the full rainshadow of the wall and it ceased entirely. The rocks were drier and the pace of their descent increased. He listened to the wind and the noises of the rain.

Moving from rock to rock, he came, after a time, to wonder whether there was indeed a bottom. It began to seem as if they had been descending forever and that the rest of time would be a simple repet.i.tion of the grasping and lower- ing. Then he heard Yellowcloud call out, "Here we are!"

and shortly thereafter he found himself standing on the canyon's floor, stony shapes distorted and flowing in the blacklight.

"Just stay put for a minute," Yellowcloud said. "I don't want any trails messed up." Then, "Can you use that trick of yours to tell whether there's anyone nearby?" he asked.

"There doesn't seem to be," Ironbear replied a few mo- ments later.

"Okay. I'm going to use a normal light for a while here.

Make yourself comfortable while I see what I can turn up."

Several minutes pa.s.sed while Ironbear watched Yellow- cloud's slowly moving light as the other man studied the ground, ranging farther and farther ahead, pa.s.sing from left to right and back again. Finally Yellowcloud halted. His figure straightened. He gestured for Ironbear to come along, and then he began walking.

"Got something?" Ironbear asked, coming up beside him.

"He's been this way," he answered. "See?"

Ironbear nodded as he regarded the ground. He saw

nothing, but he read the recognition of signs within the other's mind.

"How long ago was he by here?"

"I can't say for sure. Doesn't really matter, though. Come on."

They hiked for nearly a quarter-hour- in silence before Ironbear thought to inquire, "Have you seen any signs of his pursuer?"

"None. A few dog tracks here and there are the only other things. It couldn't be that size, from what you told me."

"No. It's got a lot more ma.s.s."

Yellowcloud ignored the false signs at Twin Trail Canyon and continued along the northeasterly route of the main gap.

There was a hypnotic quality to the steady trudging, the unrolling trail of rock, puddle, mud, shrub. The cold was not as bad as it might have been with the wind softened as it was, but the numbness Ironbear began to feel was more a mental thing. The waters splashed and gurgled past. His arms swung and his feet strode in a near mechanical fashion.

... Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes...

The wind seemed to be talking to him, seemed to have been talking to him for a long while, lulling words, restful within the routine of the movements.

... Lull, lull, lull, lull. Yes, rest, yes, rest, yest, yest, yest...

It was more than the wind and the rhythm, he suddenly knew. There was someone - Yes. Yes.

Power. Blackness. Death. It walked at his back. The thing. The beast. It was coming.

Yes. Yes.

And there was nothing he could do about it. He could not even slow his pace, let alone deviate from his course. It had him completely in its power, and so deftly had it taken control of him that he had not even felt the insinuation of its presence. Until now, when it was far too late.

Yes. Yes, son of cities. You seem different from this other one, and both of you block my way. Keep walking. I will catch up with you soon. It will not matter then.

Ironbear tried again to turn aside, but his muscles refused to obey him. He was about to probe Yellowcloud's mind to see whether the other man had yet become aware of his condition. He held back, however. The creature somewhere

to the rear was exerting a form of telepathic control over his nervous system. He could not tell whether it was also reading his thoughts. Perhaps. Perhaps not. He wanted to keep his own telepathic ability away from its awareness if he possibly could. Why, he was not certain. But he felt - He heard a sound to the rear. A dislodged stone turning over, it seemed. He knew that if he did not break free in a few moments nothing that he felt would matter anymore. It would all be over for him. Everything. The beast Singer called Cat was almost upon him.

His feet continued their slow, steady movements. He tried to visualize Cat, but he could not. A malevolent shadow with sinuous movements... a large eye drifting like a moon...

The images came and departed. None seemed adequate for the approaching beast - powerful, fearless...

Fearless?

An image leaped to mind, a question keeping it company: How strong a mental impression could he project? Fisher could create solid-seeming illusions with ease. Could he .

manage with a fraction of that verisimilitude if he backed it with everything he had? Perhaps just enough to discon- cert?

There was no real pause, though, between the idea and the effort. The speculation ran simultaneous with the attempt, habit of the reflective part of himself.

The sandy stretch across which he had just pa.s.sed... He projected the image of its eruption, with the shining triangu- lar form bursting upward, lunging forward, reaching to em- brace his pursuer....

Krel! Krel! he sent, concentrating to achieve perfection in .

its display.

He halted, feeling the panic waves from behind him, aware of controlling his own movements once more, aware, too, that Yellowcloud had halted.

Krel! But even as he reinforced the image with every feeling of menace and terror with which he found himself freshly familiar, even as he unslung the burst-gun and fitted his hand to its grip, he realized that while his movements were now his own he was afraid to execute the necessary turn to face the thing which stood behind him.

The report of Yellowcloud's weapon shattered his paraly- sis. He spun about, the burst-gun at ready.

Cat, in the light of Yellowcloud's beam, was dropping to

the ground from an erect posture, and that awful eye seemed fixed upon his own, burning; boring.

He triggered his weapon, moving it, and dirt and gravel blew backward from a line traced on the ground in front of the beast.

Yellowcloud fired again and Cat jerked as he plunged forward. Ironbear raised the muzzle of his own weapon and triggered another burst. It st.i.tched a wavering line along Cat's neck and shoulder.

And then everything went silent and black as he felt the impact of Cat's body upon his own.

They sat or lay in their rooms at the Thunderbird Lodge, not far from the mouths of the canyons. It was as if they were all together in one room, however, for the walls did not impede their conversation.

Well? Elizabeth asked. What have you learned?

I'm going to try again, Fisher answered. Wait a few minutes.

You've been at it for quite a while, Mancin said.

Sometimes there are snags - unusual states of mind that are hard to pick up. You know.

Something's wrong, Mancin said. I've been trying, too.

Maybe we're too late, Mercy put in.

Don't be ridiculous!

I'm just trying to be realistic.

I got through to Yellowcloud's house while you were trying for contact, Elizabeth said. His wife told me that he and Ironbear left together some time ago. They went over to the canyon, she said.

After Singer? Mancin asked.

She wouldn't say any more about it. But why else?

Indeed.

I'm going to try again now, Fisher said.

Wait, Elizabeth told him.

Why?

You're not getting anywhere by yourself.

You mean we should get together again and try?

Why not? That is why we're here. To work together.

Do you think Sands... ? Mancin began.

Probably, Elizabeth said.

Yes, Mercy said. But he wouldn't hurt us.

Well, you're right about why we're here, Mancin said to Elizabeth.

And if we can't locate Jimmy? Fisher said. What then?