Radix: Radix Tetrad: by A. A. Attanasio

Author:A. A. Attanasio
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction, Space Opera, General
ISBN: 9781473207981
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2014-02-27T08:00:00+00:00

The golden energy that had tufted like a tail at the bottom of his spine had diffused, and the slippery burn scar on his face seemed darker than ever. What's troubling you? Drift asked.

Sumner told it about Corby's visage and his heavy memories.

The past is a disguise, it said, inflecting its telepathic voice as much as it could with fellow-feeling.

You're not really concerned about that. It's something going on now that worries you. Your year of thralldom is more than half up—

Sumner nodded. That was it, he knew. Having someone to direct his life was what he needed. It didn't matter to him whether it was the Rangers or Bonescrolls, but he needed direction.

Do you really? Drift looked like a molting insect sitting up in the hammock it had strung between two flower-vined trees. Your life, as I see it, has been strong and solitary. But the lusk was terrible. Much better to be a slave than to have to face that alone. Drift's teeth clacked in its head as it recalled the snake-pit rasp of voor psynergy and the depth-terror, vaster than oceans, that had gulfed its mind.

Sumner sat on a lacquered tree stump and fingered a cluster of jonquils. "What can I do?"

Just what Bomescrolls has ordered. The yawps will amaze you and make you forget your fear. It lowered its gaze to meet Sumner's. And besides, it's pointless to look for a new path — unless that path is already there.

Sumner and Drift traveled upriver that day, talking about the yawps. Still clouds, waxy with their burden of rain, loomed above the green plateaus of the treetops. Drift was pleased to see that Sumner's psynergy had filled out again and was whirling tight through the lifelock in his abdomen.

I've only been with the yawps once, but that one encounter taught me the importance of keeping a clean mind.

Sumner was paddling with long, graceful strokes, his whole body swaying, urging the dugout over the amber surface. "Clean?"

Mirror-mind— simply watching. Drift was perched be-hind Sumner, also paddling, trying to match his rhythm but skipping every third or fourth stroke. The yawps are very serene. Very quiet. Loud minds make them uneasy.

"They're all telepathic?"

The ones I met were.

A sprawling tangle of leafed branches swam toward them, and Sumner signaled Drift to up paddle. He angled the dugout around the jutting driftwood and stroked again for the middle of the stream where the paddling was easier. "What kind of people are the yawps?"

Not People, really.

Sumner peered over his shoulder.

About a thousand years ago they were apes. The kro used them for labor. But then the world changed, and they've been on their own since.

"Apes?"

Once. Now they're a very spiritual tribe. You'll see.

Drift had given no clue as to how close they were, so when the moss and vine-hung buildings swung into sight Sumner was stunned. None of the usual telltale refuse had floated downstream to announce a river settlement. The cypress had simply parted and there among nodding firetrees was a mound of modular pinkstone buildings virtually overgrown with jungle.

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