F. Wilson - The Tery

There had been doubters among the Talents, of course. Those who claimed that it went against all existing laws to order their deaths merely because they possessed the Talent. These few stayed behind while Komak, Adriel, and the others packed whatever they could and fled into the woods. If they were wrong in trusting Rab, Komak had told them, all it would cost them was a few days of inconvenience and perhaps a little embarrassment. If they were right…

The wisdom of their choice became horrifyingly evident on their third night in the woods when the anguish, pain, and terror of the other Talents left behind in the keep leaped through the darkness to wake them from their sleep. The agonized emotions winked out bit by bit as those trusting Talents were systematically captured in their homes and dragged to the burning pit outside town. Only Adriel had slept on, oblivious to it all.

"I still say it's not fair to call us teries," she said. "We're not! We're people!"

He smiled at her sadly. "My poor little Adriel. I indulged you and spoiled you, and now I've had to tear you away from all the luxuries I worked so hard to give you. I'd give anything to make things right for you again."

Adriel fought the tears. She missed her house, her clothes, her room, her bed, her friends, the shops, the marketplace in the square, people who talked.

Her father sighed and changed the subject. "I don't think Rab is coming."

"Maybe Rab is right here in this camp and we don't know it," she said, hoping to buoy his spirits.

Komak opened his eyes and raised himself up on one elbow. "Not possible. I don't know how to explain it to you but…but once you've communicated with someone via the Talent, you'll always recognize him again. Rab isn't here."

"Maybe he's Tlad, then. We don't know anything about him."

"But Tlad doesn't have the Talent. You said so yourself. And you should know — you're the Finder."

Yes, she was the Finder, all right. Sometimes she wished she weren't.

"Still, there's something about that man I don't like, don't trust."

"Don't trust? He's never harmed you or any of us. As a matter of fact, he's been a good friend to us."

"Perhaps ‘don't trust' isn't exactly what I mean. I don't know. He's sneaky. He always seems to be watching us. Maybe he's working for Kitru, spying on us."

"If that was his plan, my dear, he could have led the troops here long ago. And don't forget how he acted on behalf of the tery here — no man of Kitru's would do that."

But Adriel would not allow her suspicions to be put to rest.

"I can't explain what he did today, but —"

"Don't try to explain Tlad," her father cut in. "He's not like us. He lives alone out here, makes his pottery, and doesn't bother anyone. Doesn't seem to be much afraid of anyone, either. But forget about him now. We have more pressing matters at hand."

"Oh?"

She finished up the last dressing on the tery and looked at him.

"Yes. It's rumored that Overlord Mekk is planning a personal inspection of all the districts soon and that's probably why Kitru is sending his men out into the bush to kill off the teries: He wants to make a good impression on the Overlord." He paused for a moment, then: "This creature was found much too near the camp for comfort. Kitru's men might stumble on us next. We must move on. And soon."

Adriel watched him rise to his feet and stand with hands on hips, letting his eyes rove the oppressively silent camp. All motion ceased as everyone turned to face her father. After a short pause, he turned back to her. The camp dissolved into a flurry of activity.

"As soon as you finish with him, start gathering your things. We move at daybreak tomorrow."

They numbered near fifty, these strange, silent folk. As the predawn glow lightened the western sky, the tery watched their wordless coordination in fascination. They broke camp swiftly, loaded their pack animals, and prepared to start off through the forest toward a new and safer location.

Still weak from his wounds, the tery suffered blurred vision and nausea every time he tried to raise himself upright. He had passed the night in a deep, exhausted, untroubled sleep to awaken alert and chilled in the dawn.

Adriel, however, was up before him and ready.

"There, now," she said softly, pressing his shoulders back against the drag on which he had spent the night. "You don't have to go anywhere and you shouldn't." Her voice was soft and reassuring, its tone meant to convey the meaning of the words she didn't know he could understand. "See if you like this."

She placed a shallow earthen bowl filled with milk and bits of raw meat before him. With two or three brisk movements, he shoveled all the meat into his mouth, swallowed convulsively, then drained the milk.

Adriel's mouth hung open.

"You must be famished. But that's all for now — you'll get sick if I let you eat as much as you want." She poured some cool water into the empty bowl. "Drink this and that'll be all until later."

When they were all set to go, the tery's drag was bound again to one of the mounts. Adriel covered him with a blanket and walked beside him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder as they began to move.

The tery considered his benefactrix. She had a clear, open face in which he could read little. She appeared neither happy nor unhappy, neither contented nor frustrated. Lonely, perhaps? He would not have expected the daughter of a chief — at least her father seemed to be the chief — to be lonely. Perhaps she wasn't pretty by human standards.

As they moved through the trees a young man came up and matched his step to hers. He was well built with curly brown hair and an easy smile. A wispy attempt at a beard mottled his cheeks.

"How's the Finder today?" he said.

She sighed. "How do you think, Dennel?"

"Same old problem?"

Adriel nodded.

He grinned. "Won't you ever understand? Speech is such a burden for us: Thoughts flash as entities between us, whole concepts transfer from one to another as a unit, in an instant. We converse in colors and emotions and mixtures I can't even begin to describe. We don't leave you out on purpose. It's just…well, why walk when you can fly?"

"I know all that, Dennel. We've been over this before, but it doesn't help. It doesn't keep me from feeling left out. Back at the keep I could at least go and find some regular folks to talk to. But here…here I'm the only one who was born without the Talent."

"But the Talent came out in you in a different way. You're a Finder."

"I can find possessors of the Talent, sure. But I can't communicate with them. I'm cut off."

"But your ability to find makes you the most valuable member of the group. Through you we can find new members to add to our ranks. And we need every Talent we can find." He glanced up and down the column of travelers. "Every single one."

"That still doesn't keep me from feeling like a cripple." She didn’t want to sulk, but couldn’t help it. "And according to Overlord Mekk I'm still just as much a tery as you are. So he wants to kill me, too. I get all the danger but none of the benefits."

In the silence that followed, the tery had time to ponder what he had just heard. He now understood why these humans were fleeing Kitru. They, like the teries, were now on Mekk's extermination list. His mother had told him that humans had always enjoyed killing each other. This was just another excuse to do more of it. His mother also had spoken of these people once: Talents, or psi-people . That explained the eerie silence of the camp — they spoke with their minds. All except Adriel.

"Teries." Dennel said, his eyes flashing. "This whole situation is so foolish! We're not teries! Everyone knows that teries are a product of the Great Sickness — dumb, misshapen animals, like this brute here."