It lacked several minutes yet before actual sunbreak, given that it was early fall already. Salli eased the front of her right shoulder into a braced position against the papery bark of the highpalm tree that sheltered her and tapped the focus on the field-glasses that she wore, frowning down in concentration at the small Wayfarers' camp below.

They would have to come out of the dormitory to reach the wash-house, and they'd have to do it soon. Morning prayers was one of the things that heterodox and orthodox — Wayfarers and Pilgrims — had in common, and no faithful child of Revelation would think of "opening the mouth to praise the Awakening" with the taint of sleep still upon him.

The door to the long low sleeping-house swung open. Salli tensed. Come on, Meeka, she whispered to herself, her breath so still it didn't so much as stir the layered mat of fallen palm-fronds on which she lay stretched out behind the tree-trunk. I know you're in there. Come out. I have things I want to say to you.

The camp below was an artifact from olden days, four hundred years old by the thatching of the steeply sloped roofs with their overhanging eaves. Not a Pilgrim camp by any means. No, this was a Wayfarer camp, built by the interlopers that had occupied the holy land in the years after the Pilgrims had left for their colonies in the sky — centuries ago.

A leftover, an anachronism, part of the heritage of Shadene and its long history of pilgrimage to the Revelation Mountains, where the Awakening had first been prophesied. Shadene, where the heterodoxy that had stolen Meeka away from her flourished.

And before the Awakened One she had a thing or two to tell him about that — just as soon as she could find him by himself, and get him away from these people . . ..

Older people first. Three men and two women, heading off in different directions. The men's wash-house was little more than an open shed, though there wasn't anything for her to see from her vantage point half-way up the slope to the hillcrest. The women's washroom was more fully enclosed. That was where the hotsprings would be, then. TOP

Where was Meeka?

The sun would clear the east ridge within moments, and yet no man of Meeka's size or shape had left the sleeping-house. In fact the younger people were hurrying out to wash, now, and no adults whatever between old folks and the young, so what was going on here?

Then even as Salli realized that she knew the answer, she heard the little friction of fabric moving against fabric behind her. Felt rather than heard the footfall in the heavy mat of fallen palm fronds that cushioned her prone body like a feather-bed. Well, of course she didn't see any able-bodied men in camp below. They were all out here, on the hillside.

Looking for her.

"Good-morning, pilgrim, and it's a beautiful morning. Even if it is only a Dream."

She heard the voice behind her: careful and wary. But a little amused. Yes, they had her, no question about it. She could have kicked the cushioning greenfall into a flurry in frustration. But she was at the disadvantage; she had to be circumspect.

"How much more beautiful the Day we Wake." And what did she have to worry about, really? Nothing. These were Wayfarer heterodox, true, or if they weren't she was very much mistaken. But there were rules of civility. She had had meant to get Meeka by himself, without betraying her presence; but she had every right to have come here on her errand. "Say, I imagine you're wondering what this is all about."

Now that she was discovered she had no further need to huddle behind the trunk of the great tree. Salli put her hands out to either side of her, carefully, moving slowly to avoid startling anybody. She didn't have any tricks up her sleeve. She wasn't going to try to pretend otherwise.

"That would actually seem, pardon the language, obvious." The tone of voice was utterly grave, but there was no missing the buried good-natured joke in it. Jelock city accent. Jelock city natives put a lot more music into their cadence than people from more barren places in Shadene. "We're accustomed to being watched. No Wayfarer's allowed into these mountains without leave, after all, even though they are our mountains." TOP

That was a little over-stated, but true enough. And gave Salli her cue. Salli rolled over onto her back and hiked herself up into a seated position, so that she could lean up against the trunk of the forest giant in which she'd spent the night; thinking all the while.

"And yet what is ever what it seems, in the land of the living illusion?"

She was angry at herself for having been found out, and her voice sounded harsh and hostile in her own ears. She had to be careful. There was no sense in provoking a confrontation.

Unstrapping her field glasses with an irritated tug at the catch at the back of her head, Salli rubbed her eyes, squinting up at the man who confronted her. Men. There were more than one of them, moving so quietly in the early dawn that Salli had heard no sound to announce their presence. "What's next?"

"Carib, it's the pilgrim police," someone called out; Salli knew he didn't mean it literally. The pilgrim police were nowhere near this camp, or her name wasn't Salli Rangarold, which it was. Wayfarers frequently lumped the avalanche soldiers together with the pilgrim police, out of hostility for both organizations. "She's probably called the dogs. Let's neutralize her and be away from here, while we still can."

But instead of responding immediately, the man who had been talking hunkered down on his heels to lock eyes with Salli. He had a square and somewhat fleshy face, with a mouth gone wrong years ago and soured there since. Clear blue eyes like so many of the Shadene. Blue eyes were cold and heartless. Salli suppressed a shudder. She'd done nothing wrong, even if she was one of the enemy. She only wanted to see Meeka, and convince him to come home.

"If she'd called any dogs we've had heard them by now, Farlu. No. Let's all go down to the meeting-house where we can talk about this. Then we'll find out —"

Someone was coming down the slope toward her as Carib spoke, though, and Salli's heart turned over in her chest. Made her sick to her stomach with longing and short of breath at one and the same time.

"No need."

Carib paused, clearly a little surprised to be interrupted. Salli knew the voice, if the face itself was strange with a beard and half-wild about the eyes with the horror that had taken him. He came up beside her, reaching down to raise her up to her feet, steadying her as she rose; she knew his hands and his strength, and the smell of his clothing. Meeka. Meeka, but so strange. TOP

"And I can't let you make any threats, Farlu, not even just talk. If she'd wanted to bring the police they'd be on us already. I can explain this, Carib, there's no problem here."

By the look on his face Carib half-believed that he knew Meeka's explanation already. Salli flushed a fierce crimson. All right, maybe it did look that way. They'd always been close. But only so close as they should be, and no closer.

"No, it's not what you think," she said firmly, before Carib could answer. She was cold and she was hungry, she was tired, and she'd been walking for days to find her Meeka. To find out what had happened to him. To shake him loose of whatever baleful Shadene influence had poisoned his mind, and make him come back. Passion and fatigue made her reckless; she shook off Meeka's steadying hand and turned down the slope to descend toward the camp. She flung one final taunt over her shoulder.

"Meeka is my brother."

Then Salli shut everything else in the world out of her mind, to focus on walking — not falling — down to the camp where the enemy lay in wait for her. Wayfarer heterodox.

And they had taken her brother away.

***

AVALANCHE SOLDIER    ISBN 0-380-80315-1
Avon Eos Science Fiction