Duun spun round again. Headed downslope. "I'll hurt you this time, Thorn!"
"Duun!"
* * *
Fire crackled, there in the clearing. They made peace. Thorn nursed bruises. It was Duun's catch Duun divided with him, meat which Thorn took gingerly, dancing it from one hand to the next while it cooled down.
"You do well," Duun said.
"For someone who can't smell," Thorn said hoarsely. "Who falls into traps."
Duun flicked his ears. "Good, you worry about your lacks. You'll think of them. You won't forget again."
" Duun, what's wrong with me? "
The question stopped him. The meat burned Duun's fingers and he shifted it in haste, back and forth again, and laid it on a rock. "Wrong. Who said wrong?"
Silence from the other side of the fire. Grievous silence.
"You're different," Duun said. "Or maybe I am. Does that occur to you?"
28
Cuckoo's Egg
It had not. Thorn blinked in shock. Then disbelief crept in. There were the meds. There was Ellud. Thorn was not diverted. Duun was pleased with that, too.
"You're smart," Duun said. "You're quick, you're clever. Brave. All those things. You're Thorn. What if you were the only one? What if? What if I were the only Duun? Would that make a difference? You're all you can be.
You don't need anything else. I don't."
"Make sense, Duun!"
"The world's wide, boy. Wide. There's nine seas. There's cities. There's roads and highways. People in a hurry. Cities are full of noise. Sheon's best. That's this place, Sheon. The gods made this whole world and they made Sheon first. You talk to the winds, Thorn. You hear the gods talk back? Do you?"
"I don't know."
"You can't hear that in a city. Cityfolk are scent-deaf. Too many smells.
Gives you a headache." Duun tore off a bit of meat and swallowed. "The gods made the world and they made shonunin last, out of the leftovers; and they were missing some. And they were sorry, so one of them gave up a bit and another gave another bit and they filled up the gaps till there were parts enough. That's what we are, all scraps and a bit of the gods'
own selves. All patchwork. With good parts and bad. So you can't smell.
I've got just six fingers. And you've got five on just one hand."
"How did you—?"
Ah. The fish bit. Duun had thought that bait would lead him astray. Duun shrugged. "I made a mistake. See? Even I make mistakes. And I'm good, Thorn, I'm very good. You don't know how good."
Thorn choked down a bite. He had to chew more than Duun did.
Sometimes in his haste he forgot this. He struggled. Stayed silent after.
"What happened?" Thorn asked finally. "Duun— what did happen to your—?"
29
Cuckoo's Egg
"Ah. Well. I hunted something that bit back, you see?" He held up the maimed hand. "You put your hand into things, young Thorn, you may not get back what you want."
"What was it?"
Duun took another bite. Swallowed. "Eat. It's getting cold."
"Duun."
"Maybe I'll tell you. When you can beat me, fair or foul."
"I never will!"
"Ah. Maybe you won't. But you're several fingers ahead of me. You're younger than I am. My knee aches when it rains."
"Couldn't the meds—?"
"Maybe I didn't want them to."
Thorn's mouth was open. He closed it and stopped asking. His eyes were muddled with unasked questions and too many answers. He had become too wary a hunter to go down a trail that likely to have snares. Thorn took another bite and ate in silence.
"I'll teach you to shoot," Duun said. "You almost hit me with that stone."
Thorn looked up. Distracted again, lured on and promised. (O young fool.
Fool who loves me. Thorn.)
* * *
"Another sequence," Duun said. "Base ten this time. The numbers are sixteen, forty-nine, fifty-two, ninety-seven, eight and two."
30
Cuckoo's Egg
Thorn sat on the back porch of the house. The hiyi flowers bloomed. The insects hummed and made pink petals fall in delirium. Thorn shut his eyes.
His brow knit. "Two hundred twenty four."
"Divide by the third in sequence."
Thorn put his hands against his eyes.
"Duun!"
* * *
Fire crackled, there in the clearing. They made peace. Thorn nursed bruises. It was Duun's catch Duun divided with him, meat which Thorn took gingerly, dancing it from one hand to the next while it cooled down.
"You do well," Duun said.
"For someone who can't smell," Thorn said hoarsely. "Who falls into traps."
Duun flicked his ears. "Good, you worry about your lacks. You'll think of them. You won't forget again."
" Duun, what's wrong with me? "
The question stopped him. The meat burned Duun's fingers and he shifted it in haste, back and forth again, and laid it on a rock. "Wrong. Who said wrong?"
Silence from the other side of the fire. Grievous silence.
"You're different," Duun said. "Or maybe I am. Does that occur to you?"
28
Cuckoo's Egg
It had not. Thorn blinked in shock. Then disbelief crept in. There were the meds. There was Ellud. Thorn was not diverted. Duun was pleased with that, too.
"You're smart," Duun said. "You're quick, you're clever. Brave. All those things. You're Thorn. What if you were the only one? What if? What if I were the only Duun? Would that make a difference? You're all you can be.
You don't need anything else. I don't."
"Make sense, Duun!"
"The world's wide, boy. Wide. There's nine seas. There's cities. There's roads and highways. People in a hurry. Cities are full of noise. Sheon's best. That's this place, Sheon. The gods made this whole world and they made Sheon first. You talk to the winds, Thorn. You hear the gods talk back? Do you?"
"I don't know."
"You can't hear that in a city. Cityfolk are scent-deaf. Too many smells.
Gives you a headache." Duun tore off a bit of meat and swallowed. "The gods made the world and they made shonunin last, out of the leftovers; and they were missing some. And they were sorry, so one of them gave up a bit and another gave another bit and they filled up the gaps till there were parts enough. That's what we are, all scraps and a bit of the gods'
own selves. All patchwork. With good parts and bad. So you can't smell.
I've got just six fingers. And you've got five on just one hand."
"How did you—?"
Ah. The fish bit. Duun had thought that bait would lead him astray. Duun shrugged. "I made a mistake. See? Even I make mistakes. And I'm good, Thorn, I'm very good. You don't know how good."
Thorn choked down a bite. He had to chew more than Duun did.
Sometimes in his haste he forgot this. He struggled. Stayed silent after.
"What happened?" Thorn asked finally. "Duun— what did happen to your—?"
29
Cuckoo's Egg
"Ah. Well. I hunted something that bit back, you see?" He held up the maimed hand. "You put your hand into things, young Thorn, you may not get back what you want."
"What was it?"
Duun took another bite. Swallowed. "Eat. It's getting cold."
"Duun."
"Maybe I'll tell you. When you can beat me, fair or foul."
"I never will!"
"Ah. Maybe you won't. But you're several fingers ahead of me. You're younger than I am. My knee aches when it rains."
"Couldn't the meds—?"
"Maybe I didn't want them to."
Thorn's mouth was open. He closed it and stopped asking. His eyes were muddled with unasked questions and too many answers. He had become too wary a hunter to go down a trail that likely to have snares. Thorn took another bite and ate in silence.
"I'll teach you to shoot," Duun said. "You almost hit me with that stone."
Thorn looked up. Distracted again, lured on and promised. (O young fool.
Fool who loves me. Thorn.)
* * *
"Another sequence," Duun said. "Base ten this time. The numbers are sixteen, forty-nine, fifty-two, ninety-seven, eight and two."
30
Cuckoo's Egg
Thorn sat on the back porch of the house. The hiyi flowers bloomed. The insects hummed and made pink petals fall in delirium. Thorn shut his eyes.
His brow knit. "Two hundred twenty four."
"Divide by the third in sequence."
Thorn put his hands against his eyes.
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