Power Play - Anne McCaffrey [103]
“I’m listening, I’m listening,” Framer said, dropping to his knees, bringing his hands up together, probably for the first time in his life, into a prayerful position.
Dott just sat down, hard, licking his lips. He kept his head straight, but he rolled his eyes around in his head as if he didn’t quite dare look at who, or what, was speaking back at them.
Megenda began to gibber more wildly, writhing in and out of the fetal position as if his limbs and torso were attached to invisible strings.
For the first time in her adult life, since the time she had turned a weapon on a man who had threatened her with vicious and sadistic treatment, Dinah O’Neill knew fear. She forced herself to remain standing, clenching her fists at her sides as the mist crept up, over her knees, so dense now that she couldn’t see her boots. It engulfed her, a moist, permeating blanket, traveling quickly up her body until it covered her face and she could see nothing. And the sounds seemed to emanate from the vapor that enveloped her: sound that cut her skin to her blood and bones; sound that was warm and vibrated through her, and filled with darkening colors, until she heard herself scream in protest at such an invasion. There were screams around her; with an almost superhuman effort of will, she bit her lips, determined that she, unlike the crewmen, would not cry mercy. Her resolve ended when she felt the hard thwack of stone against her face and her body as she fell down. Then she whimpered and wept, as much the lonely, confused, tormented five-year-old girl who had been abandoned by all the adults who had managed her life up until that moment.
“The planet has been speaking?” the boy whispered to ’Cita, his hands moving restlessly on the cub’s fur as if that motion were all that protected him.
In one sense, ’Cita would tell Yo Chang much later, petting the cub had protected him as he had valiantly protected the cub when in danger from Zing Chi.
“Yes, Petaybee does in these places,” ’Cita said in a very grown-up voice.
“And it keeps this place warm for us?” Yo Chang asked because he had to be sure. Though this girl was not much older than himself, he felt she had exhibited commendable authority and certainly bravery in walking the gauntlet of those great animals.
“The Home is always warm.”
“How? It was so cold on the surface. Why would it be warm down here? I could feel my ears adjusting to the air pressure, so I know we are down.” He gestured to the ground on which they were seated.
“The Home protects us, Coaxtl says. It takes care of us . . . if”—’Cita paused to permit Yo Chang to see how important her next phrase was—“we take care of it.”
“It isn’t taking care of them,” Yo Chang said, rolling his eyes and pointing to one side where the despoilers were writhing in agony and shrieking great anguish.
“I know,” ’Cita said soberly. “I used to live with people who called it the Great Monster and feared it only. Because it can be cruel to those who take without respect and give no thanks. The Shepherd Howling was the kind of man who did that all the time, so he stayed out of these caves and taught us all to fear them. But I am disobedient and selfish, and when I ran away from the flock, because they would have taken from me what I was too proud to freely give, I met Coaxtl, who called the Great Monster ‘Home.’ I decided that if I could, I would rather be like the Great Monster than like Shepherd Howling. The Home is proud, too, and it obeys no one. And it, too, begrudges what is taken from it against its will.” ’Cita patted his hand. “Your people have angered the Home and it has become the Great Monster. They”—she waved her hand at the writhing bodies; she was having to shout over the noise they made—“need to be shown how it feels to be stripped and cut, slashed and dug, prodded and pulled and flayed.”
To demonstrate her point—and having had a great deal of experience with such torments—’Cita got a flap of skin from Yo Chang’s neck and twisted and pinched it as hard as she was able.
“Hey, don’t do that!” Yo Chang scrambled