Shepherd Read online

  And had Elen known about this too? Surely so. So maybe her teasing had been on another level. His discomfort was real, but not of the kind he had anticipated.

  Meanwhile the sheep forged on in up to their necks, seeming not to mind the chill. They braced against the current, their footing sure beneath it.

  There were splashes on either side as the frustrated crocs milled. They dared not touch the sheep, even here in the croc's home territory.

  In the center there was a swifter surge of water that swept Python sideways, up against Shep. “I've got you, fella,” Shep said, bracing for them both. Even one day ago he could hardly have imagined colliding with such a serpent and not being horrified.

  In a moment Python recovered and slid forward, her head weaving from side to side as she swam. She spied the far bank within range and accelerated toward it. She was clearly a decent swimmer, but these swift cold water currents were no more appealing to her than they were to Shep.

  The river became shallower as they approached the far bank. At last they were out of it. Shep was violently shivering. Then he looked at Elf, who was perhaps half his mass and more of whose body had been immersed, and saw she was worse off than he was. Her whole body was blue with cold and her teeth were chattering, yet she was not complaining.

  “Oh, Elen!” he said, and swept her into his embrace. He was cold, but far warmer than she. Then the sheep crowded close, not out of discomfort but to provide warmth for the humans. Gratefully, Shep and Elen lay down between them, soaking in the warmth of their woolly bodies. Python remained with them; she was cold bodied, but needed warmth to avoid becoming torpid. Only Vulture had escaped untouched.

  Gradually they all warmed. “Probably we'll dry and heat faster if we are moving,” Shep said. “Now that the edge is off. Thank you, sheep.”

  The sheep moved clear, and Shep and Elen quickly dried, away from their wet wool. The two of them got into their clothes, though hers was only her voluminous cloak. Then the party moved forward again.

  “You held me with no thought of using me,” Elen said as they walked.

  “True. I couldn't stand to see you suffering like that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You knew how bad it would be for you, yet you walked right on in.”

  “A girl does what she has to do. We had to cross.”

  “I could have carried you across,” he said, belatedly realizing. “So you never got wet.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe next time. There will be challenges enough ahead. Soon.”

  She wasn't fooling. Soon they came to a wide strip of what looked like desert. Here the sun bore down on black sand, and it was burning. Too fiery to stand on for any length of time. Shep was amazed at how cold the stream had been, and how hot this sand was, when the two were not far apart. But of course this was not Earth; different natural laws governed. “We'll have to wait until night,” he said. “When the sand cools.”

  “Not safe,” Elen said. “There are sandworms that come up at night, too big for the sheep to stop. We need to cross now. I had hoped there would be a cloud.”

  “I don't think now is feasible,” Shep said.

  Vulture had taken off when they came to the sand. Now she returned, squawking.

  “The worms are already stirring in the shade,” Elen said. “We don't have much time.”

  Shep considered. “Can the sheep handle the sand?”

  “Yes. Their hooves are hardened to this.”

  “I think my boots will do, if we move right along.” Shep glanced at Elen's feet. “But not your slippers. I'll carry you. But that leaves Python.”

  But Python was already crawling up on the back of a ewe, and on to a second, and a third. They were were carrying her.

  “Then let's move,” Shep said, and blew a note on his staff. The sheep moved out, three abreast, the second rank carrying Python. Obviously they had complete control of their defensive knife-bones, and did not stab anything by accident.

  Shep looked at Elen, uncertain how to carry her. “Over your shoulders,” she said. “Get down and I'll climb on.” She had already removed her cloak and put it in her knapsack.

  He squatted, and she strewed herself across his shoulders above his knapsack, her midsection behind his neck, her knees and hands in front of him to either side. “Put one hand on my shoulder,” she said. “The other on my thigh.”

  He did so, and stood. She had positioned herself well, and seemed light. He stepped out onto the sand. Only then did Vulture take wing, flying across the sand. They were all on their way, all ten members of the flock.

  The heat smote him, rising around his body like a baleful cloud. He was starting to sweat. But he was even more aware of his burden. Elen's bare thighs pressed against his right ear, and her bare breasts against his left ear, while his hands held on to her limbs farther out. This was not supposed to be a suggestive situation, but it was as if she were making masked love to him. Every step he took jogged her slightly against him, increasing the interaction. She was sweating too, moistening her contact with him.

  “Am I teasing you?” she asked.

  “Yes. But it can't be helped.”

  “I will make it up to you in due course.”

  “You have no obligation.”

  “That depends.”

  Now the heat was penetrating his boots. Shep extended his stride and sped up, needing to get on across faster.

  “Especially if you burn your feet on my account,” Elen said.

  He would have laughed, but it was too close to the truth.

  Meanwhile the sheep marched stolidly on, their pace never varying, their feet never faltering. It seemed that this was all in the day's work to them.

  Now Shep was practically running. His feet here getting uncomfortably hot, and Elen's thighs and breasts massaged his ears, generating quite another kind of sensation.

  But now the far side was near, and a few more steps took him there. Elen unwound and landed on her feet as Shep dropped to the ground and yanked off his burning boots.

  Meanwhile the sheep completed their crossing, and Python slid off their backs. Vulture was already there. They had all made it across with no serious injuries.

  “I'll find water,” Elen said, putting her cloak back on. “I know where to look.” She walked away.

  “You girls okay?” Shep inquired of the sheep, who were standing in the relatively cool foliage. “No burned hooves?”

  One actually answered him with a bleat. It seemed they were all right.

  Elen returned. “This way. There's a small pond.”

  They followed her to the pond. Vulture stood with her feet in the shallow edge and dipped her beak, scooping up water; she was hot too. Python simply slithered out into the middle. The sheep waded in a few steps, then dipped their noses to drink.

  “Not you?” Elen asked him.

  “It's the shepherd's job, as I understand it, to make sure of his flock before tending to his own needs.”

  “That is a good understanding. But they seem to be satisfied.”

  “Yes.” He threw himself down and put his mouth to the water, drinking deeply. The liquid was neither hot nor cold, which was a relief. Then he changed position and put his feet in. “How about you?”

  “My feet aren't hot, thanks to you.” She put her hands in and massaged his feet. “You did well. I knew you were hurting.”

  He smiled. “It could have been worse. I had a distraction.”

  She did not pretend confusion. “I am glad to have helped.” She glanced up impishly. “Should I kiss your hot feet to make them better?”

  “No need.”

  “Then I will kiss you instead.” She raised her body, moved over to him, and kissed him on the mouth. As before, it was no amateur effort. He remained unmoving, uncertain how to respond. “Better?” she inquired as she broke.

  “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  Elen smiled. “Shep, if I wanted to seduce you, I'd just do it. This is merely flirting.�
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  “Or teasing.”

  “Whatever. Do you wish me to stop?”

  What could he say? “No, not really.”

  “Things will clarify in due course.”

  He hoped so. She was evidently out to impress him, and was succeeding. It was time to change the subject. “We have crossed a river and a sand bar today, and it is getting late. Is there a safe place to spend the night?”

  “Yes, not far ahead, a meadow with decent grazing for the sheep.”

  “What about Vulture and Python?”

  “Python will not need to eat during the journey. Vulture can last another day.”

  “And us?” He put on his boots, which were now cool.

  “There's a pear-apple tree there too that will do for us, as well as providing a roost for Vulture.”

  “Good enough. Let's go there now.” Shep blew a note on the mirliton.

  Elen walked, and the sheep followed. Python paced them, while Vulture flew ahead. Soon they came to the meadow. The sheep immediately started grazing.

  Elen picked several of the fruits, which did indeed seem to be a cross between a pear and an apple. The two of them settled down by the trunk and ate. Vulture did find a suitable perch, and Python circled the trunk in the manner she liked.

  “One thing I should say,” Elen said. “A real oaf would have grabbed.”

  Was she about to explain her attitude? “How would you have reacted?”

  She twitched her hand and a knife appeared in it. “Like the sheep.”

  “You were testing me?”

  The knife disappeared. “Not really. Merely verifying.”

  “You have succeeded in making me desire you, but I will never try to force anything of that nature on you. It's another cultural thing.”

  “I like your culture.”

  “I don't properly understand yours. I don't know what you want of me.”

  “That is not feasible to tell yet.”

  So it seemed. “The pond is safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am grimy from that sand crossing. I need to strip and wash up. Then I will turn in for the night.”

  “I will join you.”

  He had been trying to give her a chance to absent herself. “As you wish.”

  He walked to the pond, set down his knapsack, stripped, and waded in. Elen matched him, as lovely in her nudity as in her cloak. Soon they were splashing water on each other's backs. He did not suffer any masculine reaction, fortunately. He had heard that it did not occur in nudist camps, and maybe this was similar.

  In due course they spread their sleeping bags and settled down under the tree for the night. Elen reached out to take his hand. It seemed this was just one of her ways, and not to be taken as anything more.

  “You hardly even looked,” Elen said petulantly.

  Shep had to laugh. “Did that score me a point?”

  “No. You were avoiding the issue.”

  He refrained from asking what issue, knowing her response would be as cryptic as ever. “You said you wanted me to tell you about Earth.”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “Any particular aspect?”

  “Begin with your body there, and spread out to your home and village.”

  So she wanted the homey personal details, rather than global politics. That was easy. Shep began talking about the routine of his life at home. Elen listened raptly.

  This time the sheep did not come in to protect them, and there were no odd dreams. It was a peaceful, normal night. Shep was satisfied with that.

  Chapter 4:

  Trust

  In the morning they resumed the trek. This section was nice, with easy slopes, no apparent threats, and moderate weather. “It gets more difficult,” Elen said cheerfully. “I'm sure we'll manage.”

  “More difficult? We barely made it through some sections yesterday!”

  “We'll make it. Trust the sheep.”

  “I am much impressed with the sheep. But less impressed with myself. I fear their trust in me is misplaced. The local yokel would have done better.”

  “Not with me.”

  “I mean, leading the sheep.”

  “Shep, face it: the sheep are precognitive. They know what works. There's a reason they chose you.”

  “Precognition is fantasy,” he said, troubled. “Because if the future is known, people will try to change it, which invalidates it. The mere knowledge of the future would affect the present, modifying it. So it can't logically work.”

  “Unless only the sheep know it, and they don't reveal it.”

  “If they are using it to change their own future, it's a dangerous illusion. This journey could be a death trap.”

  “We'll see.”

  Shep did not need his staff to support him in this pleasant section, so he inspected it more closely. He saw that there were several holes in addition to the one he blew into to make the mirliton sound. One was a whistle type aperture; when he blew into it he got a flutelike note. Another had an embedded reed; that made a hornlike note. There were a number of smaller holes that could be covered with the fingers. “This may be quite a musical instrument.”

  “It is,” Elen agreed.

  “I may have underestimated Brian Peterson, my host. He evidently knows more about music than I do. He's on Earth now, surely studying music.”

  “That is a worthy study.” She was no longer condemning the lout.

  Shep set his hands and played the monstrous flute. A rich series of sounds emerged. He was far from a musician, but he did know how to play a normal flute, having been subjected to training as a child. Once he got the fingering right, he settled on a favorite melody and played it as he walked.

  “That's lovely,” Elen said. “What is it?”

  “A song from my childhood, titled ‘He Who Is Noble.’ The idea is that the truly noble man needs not a weapon, needs no man to guard him, because virtue defends him. It's nonsense on today's Earth, but I always loved the sentiment.”

  “So do I.” She began to hum along with him. She had a fine clear voice and good pitch. “And it's not nonsense, any more than precognition is. Maybe you just don't have many truly noble men on Earth.”

  “That's for sure! We have greed-heads and power-corrupts and crooked politicians galore. I don't know much of Colony Jones culture, but I suspect it is cleaner than Earth's.”

  “Maybe so,” she agreed. “Yet Earth has the knowledge, the universities, and the power to accomplish things. I want to visit Earth for its knowledge, though not to stay.”

  “That would be possible via their student exchange program. That's what brought me here.”

  “But a person needs an authority to speak for her. I don't have one.”

  “Exchange spots are limited. My family has a connection, so I got one. It wasn't merit, unfortunately.”

  “You're not one of the nobles?”

  “Not a noble man in the manner of the song,” he agreed. “Just a lucky one.”

  “Yet the sheep chose you.”

  “Maybe they know something we do not,” he said.

  “They do.”

  “That was wry humor.”

  “They do know, regardless.”

  He let it drop. He liked her faith, but did not share it.

  Vulture became agitated, pausing before what appeared to be a low-lying fog bank in a small valley. Elen sniffed. “There's carrion there, but it's not safe to enter.”

  “How about Python?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Sheep, can you tell whether Python could go in there?” Shep thought she was half joking.

  A sheep bleated affirmatively.

  Python slithered into the fog and disappeared. Shortly later she reappeared with a decaying body in her jaws. She dropped it down before Vulture and moved away. Vulture happily started picking at it.

  “They have become friends,” Elen said. “They do each other favors.”

  “We'll move on,” Shep said distastefully. “You catch
up with us later, okay, Vulture?” Then the rest of the party resumed walking.

  And hour later, Vulture did catch up with them. All was well.

  They descended into a shallow valley with a rocky floor and scattered patches of sand, but very little vegetation. Hot air shimmered above it. Beyond it Shep could see the gentle green slope of a verdant meadow, surely ideal for grazing and rest. “If we move on immediately, we can reach the nice region before the heat of midday,” Shep said. “So we won't have to burn our feet again.”

  But the sheep milled about uncertainly. “Something's bothering them,” Elen said. “We'd better wait.”

  “They're hungry. We've been traveling instead of grazing. But in half an hour we can be in plush turf.”

  “They don't want to cross yet. There must be a reason.”

  “If we wait, it will soon be to hot to cross, and we'll have to wait until evening. If this is like the sand, that will be too late.”

  She considered. “What you say makes sense. But the sheep prefer to wait. I trust the sheep.”

  “Because of their precognition? I have told you what I think of that.”

  “You have,” she agreed. “But you have not spent your life on this planet, as I have, with the sheep and their legends. They must be respected.”

  “They asked me to be their shepherd. I am trying to do that. I can see what they don't: that it is better to cross now, and be in some discomfort, then to wait and get hung up for a day and maybe go hungry when it isn't necessary. We need to cross now.”

  “You will not be moved?”

  “Not by some nameless hesitancy. Why do they even need a shepherd, if not to get them past this sort of thing?”

  “Then we must settle this in the traditional way,” she said seriously. “Physical combat.”

  Shep stared at her. “What?”

  “You and I, naked. If you beat me, then your will prevails. Otherwise, we wait on the sheep.”

  “Elen, this is preposterous. I'm not in the business of fighting women, and even if I were, it would not be fair. You are only half my mass, and less of yours is muscle.”

  “Yes. I can not match you in physical strength. But I can do a holddown.”