She was wrapping her tail around him.
“Is that better?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “That’s … fine.”
Gradually, the howling died and the dust cleared. Mihanhouk seemed to feel he’d done enough. He ambled along a rudimentary trail, uphill, between eroded boulders that blocked the view, to a bluff like a wave crest. Sek
They climbed the last few meters to a viewpoint and suddenly faced a staggering gulf. Red-gold cliffs plunged, way deeper than the Grand Canyon, into the haze of a basin that stretched forever. To their left, far below the bluff, Forrest saw the trail continuing to another complex of buildings, and skeletal bridgework that reached out, over the abyss, to a rocky, conical pillar. Narrowing his eyes, he saw the sequence repeated: a string of rocky cones, rising from unseen depths, and the bridgework linking them, becoming tiny and vanishing.
Directly ahead, but far off, brilliant whiteness reflected the pale clouds.
“Is that the ocean out there?”
“Once upon a time,” said Sek
“So what’s the use of worrying? It never was worthwhile.”
“Indeed. I’d like to learn your language. From what I can tell, it has a fine turn of phrase, many interesting concepts. Thou shalt not kill. There’s another of them!”
Forrest nodded, his thoughts very far away. Out of the frying pan, into the fire … Our beautiful neighbor planet before she ran into trouble? Your calculations are slightly out, PoTolo!
“What caused the devastation? Do your scientists have an explanation?”
She thought about it, measuring her words. “Long ago, we lived in a dangerous world and didn’t know it. Everything was kind, plenty was all around. One day, we stepped on a hidden switch, we pulled the wrong lever, we unknowingly tipped a balance, and destruction was set in motion, click, clack, like a child’s toy: sly and comical and relentless. Or so I understand it. But we took that wrong step a very long time ago, Johnforrest. The damage was done before we moved to the clouds, let alone the skies. It’s nonsense to apportion blame.”
The stillness after the wind, the somber majesty of the scene held them in silence.
“I didn’t bring you up here to accuse you of anything, Mr. From-the-Sky. There’s something I wanted you to see, a trick of this landscape. Look to the east.”
He felt the chill before he saw the cause. Far away and very distinct, like a bold line on a child’s drawing, a dark ellipse appeared, stretching from horizon to horizon. It grew, like the shadow of the moon across the sun in a solar eclipse, contained, yet seeming liquid as ink. No flashes of radiance, no sunset colors heralded the change. The transition from light to shadow was perfectly abrupt, pure as a note of music.
It was the dark.
Forrest thought of a world without a visible sun. No moon, no stars. A horror ran through him; he wanted to run. At his shoulder, the Venusian sighed in delight, as perfect night, velvet night, rose to the zenith and hurried down to engulf them.
“There,” she murmured, when blackness lapped their vantage point.
“Thank you,” whispered Forrest.
They rode to the Sea Mount Station as if descending under miles of dark water. She’d fastened lights to Mihanhouk’s bridle, although he didn’t seem to need them: he was sure-footed and at ease. The Station was lit, and as deserted as the town by the sek. Their cable car, swinging from frictionless chains, black sides hung with rosy lights, reminded Forrest of an Egyptian ship of the dead, on a temple frieze. It rode silently down to their platform; they embarked.
Mihanhouk had a compartment to himself. Sek
“Here’s another sight not to be missed, Johnforrest. We’re passing over the Trench.”
In fathomless blackness, way down under them, he saw a vivid, active red line.
“What’s that?”
“A rent in the world’s hide, close to the old coastline, where the fires of renewal pour out, and worn-out flesh is devoured. It’s shrinking … My city takes pictures. All the healthy wounds, as our scientists call them, are healing. It’s not a good sign.”
“I’ve heard about that.”
“When the fire stops flowing, when the wounds are gone … then even the clouds and the skies may fail us. But that’s a long way off. Neither you nor I need worry!”
Forrest filled two tiny cups, she emptied hers and held it out for more. Like-for-like translation, he thought, turned them into a medieval knight and his lady, speaking of eldritch secret dooms known only to the wise. She tossed her cup aside, and took his hand. Four-fingered, both outer digits opposable: she gripped like a chameleon.
“This is a great favor you’re doing for me.”
“A trip to the clouds?” Forrest smiled to himself. “It’s my great pleasure!”
“Still, I feel I owe you. Let me give you some return.”
“There’s no need.”
“Myself?”
“Well, now. That would be an unexpected bonus.”
“An interlude, I mean nothing more.”
“Of course not!”
Romantic overtures would have been in poor taste, but his lust was honest, and however she squared it, her offer seemed honest too. Seeing no reason to refuse, he reached around and took the splendid root of her tail in a forthright, determined grip.
The tongue that met his when they kissed was slender, strong, active, and probing. The gulf behind her smile could have swallowed him whole. They shucked out of their clothes and embraced, her tail lashed itself around him, and he probed in turn, deeper and longer than he’d have thought possible. Blissfully spent, he fell asleep, and woke still held in her grip, a silky, powerful frottage undulating up and down his thighs, his buttocks—
He wondered if he would survive this dark journey or die happy?
Unmeasured riches followed, an engrossing, fabulous interlude, only interrupted by the briefest of briefings for Forrest, about her city. They hardly ate or drank, they slept coupled and entwined. But once, when he woke, he was alone.
Sek
But four by four is a powerful number.
The tokens are relics from your own life, he said. You’ve invested them with meaning, for telling the fortunes of your people: that I understand. Will you explain how it works?