Bailey
Bailey fixed a little gnosh. The campstove chuckled as it heated a stew, nothing much to challenge
his fledgling stomach. He'd gathered a native tuber, now sliced very thin, and a few just-ripened
legumes this morning. He didn't know their names yet. Then, he'd added a beefy broth that carried
the minimum-required Gë nutrients. These simple preparations had pleased him, and now the aroma
stirred a hunger this body hadn't known for a long time. A simple hunger to match the beginning of
a simple life, one close to Nature and its integrity.
Out and about this morning, he'd been careful not to stray where hunting parties might see him. If
he just kept the youngest volcano of the Seven Fathers between him and the Inn at the Laetoli
Valley, he'd probably be safe. Few gwira prowled this close since their ungulate prey didn't dare
The Edge of the World, the very thing that brought Bailey to linger here. And the regulated
flightpaths to and from the drome didn't pass over this spot, so he didn't worry about anyone
noticing his skimpily camouflaged aircraft.
Bailey didn't have much planned for the day. Some thinking, mostly about the future, a little
about the past. He realized he couldn't and shouldn't stay here. Even with his current
appreciation of life and its wonders, he'd eventually learn all he could about the denizens of this
savanna. Besides, the world held so many other wonders, so much variety in its Nature. Still, he
loved living here, on the edge of existence, much like his newly integrated personality.
A stone, a small one, thumb-sized probably, shifted high on the volcanic slope behind him, fell
against a neighbor with a click. Bailey didn't rouse. Stones did that. Even the least animate
parts of Nature moved when circumstances required it.
After a little while, another stone tumbled, larger this time, fist-sized, and stirred a brief
chain reaction of clicks. Bailey turned down the stove and stood up to watch the slope, rather
than just listen to the intruder's approach. He wouldn't douse his fire, fling meal and equipment
into hiding, but he could mitigate an inadvertent discovery — if that's what was happening.
Bis Tidhar Holong emerged cautiously — and startled to find himself watched.
I'm no threat, but he doesn't know that. All he sees is Dain.
Tidhar threw quick glances at the obvious ambush spots, then sidled to the one place where he could
manage attacks from any of them, whether fleeing or defending. A reflex-driven, first-priority
maneuver, quite unlike the wimpy sycophant Dain had observed Tidhar turn into, back in Byukan-Hamil
Direvnya. Maybe not completely skilled yet, but many long steps in the right direction. Bailey
shifted his stance to accommodate the greater threat now radiating from this young man and studied
him more closely.
Tidhar wore simple, loose but not floppy, pants and shirt of serge de Nimes. His calf-high
mocassions also showed practical simplicity, rugged, yet supple. And across his chest? Bailey
looked beyond the simple strap to see the ends of a bow-sword jutting high above Tidhar's right
shoulder and low beside his left knee. The distance between Bailey and this intruder suddenly
seemed barely enough. Bailey eased backwards so he could quickly put his equipment in the way of
any charge.
Where has this young man been to learn such lessons? Did Norma send him? Probably. Did she
intend him to change like this? No. Does she even recognize how much he has changed? Probably
not. Bailey chuckled as he pictured how Norma would react to that insight. How would she react to
my changes? He laughed aloud at that picture, a tongue-tied Norma, torn between rage and
confusion.
"What is that smell?" Tidhar blurted.
"Stew."
"No, that other smell." He wrinkled his nose with distaste.
"Sandalwood. Do you like it?"
"Not especially," Tidhar said absently, then shook himself, possibly with some reluctance, set his
face with decision, and fixed Bailey with a stare. "Norma sent me," he said by way of explanation
and reached for his bow-sword.
So Norma does know about my changes. Bailey grimaced with remorse at such rejection, then realized
that Norma had planned this end for Dain all along. She sent Tidhar after me to clean up a loose
end. He's just completing the mission given him, regardless of where it's taken him.
Bailey nodded now, to accept Tidhar's challenge, to accept this pattern of behavior as it fit
neatly into human behavior, to accept such a sudden focusing of his future. In that mode, he
assessed the threat.
Tidhar unlimbered a well-used and beautiful weapon of bone, probably taken from the jaw of one of
the enormous penta-denta-orca. His grip fell easily to the points best for his size and apparent
strength. Despite this, Bailey recognized that Tidhar had not shared most of this bow-sword's
experience.
Based on the skills he'd inherited from JDB, Bailey pictured the mistakes a bow-swordsman would
have to make for an unarmed man to overcome the weapon's fundamental advantage. An off-balance
stance easily feinted into an opening. An overlong thrust that exposed his side. A charge that
could be diverted into a stumble. And he watched Tidhar's cautious advance for those kind of
mistakes.
Tidhar eased from toe to toe, never losing his broad, confident stance. He flicked his gaze
constantly in a changing pattern that covered close and far as well as his back. He wove the
bow-sword through its own pattern, loosening his muscles, covering all approaches. So, he has
fought before, losing some, winning more.
Again, Bailey wondered where Tidhar had profited from the seconds since Norma's party where she
dissolved the Team of Partners, but that didn't help him much. He had a decision to make.
Bailey realized that he might draw out this contest, might even injure Tidhar in the process, but
he had given up all competition, especially that type. Yes, he could run, maybe even escape this
fight in his aircraft, but knowing Norma, and the amount of obligation she could dump into and on
people, Tidhar would not stop until they did fight. Look how he found me here.
Sighing, Bailey acknowledged where his thoughts were leading. I would've enjoyed trying out life
this way, with a single mind and a relaxed purpose as part of Nature, but that was not meant to
be.
A very old habit posited anger, so he quickly explored his mind, searching its pastel landscape for
that kinked worm, that atavistic excuse for human behavior — and found none of that.
Pleased with himself again, Bailey whirled and ran from Tidhar, not to avoid death, but to assert
his own choice over its style.
"Hey!" Tidhar complained, but soon followed, his journeyman feet making swift progress over the
flat ground.
Bailey ran harder, even as The Edge of the World approached. He thrilled at his capabilities,
didn't worry about exhausting them: there wasn't time for that. He did judge the distance so his
last touch with the ground would fall solid and give him the push he would need to clear the edge.
A little adjustment of two steps, then he launched himself, flinging high and far.
The Edge fell behind, taking the World with it. Bailey flew then, as best he could, for as long as
he could. He would enjoy the fall as flight.
When mindless fear blazed out of his gut, he greeted it and melted it easily away.
Dain would've been proud.
