The Seascape Tattoo by Larry Niven

doubt.” Neoloth regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. He just couldn’t seem to stop himself from digging at his sun-bronzed companion. He noted the easy way Aros rode his horse, more centaur than soldier. The barbarian filled his leather tunic to perfection, arms swelling out of the diagonally cut sleeves. Neoloth realized that some of what he felt was anger … but another bit was pure jealousy.
    Neoloth’s elf Fandy rescued him from his thoughts. As he had for the last three days, the elf continued to drill Aros on his new assumed identity.
    â€œWhat is your name?” he asked.
    â€œElio.”
    â€œWhat is your mother’s name?” he asked.
    â€œJade,” Aros said.
    â€œAnd your father, General Silith?”
    â€œSinjin.”
    Fandy winced at the mangled accent. “Emphasis on the first syllable, please.”
    Aros looked as if he’d sucked a lemon. “ Sin jin,” he said.
    Neoloth flinched. “And that … is not much better.”
    Aros’s smile was just a little crooked, like the Aztec blade at his side. “Well, I tell you what. Why don’t you use your magic and turn yourself into this lost waif of yours. I’m tired of your nonsense.”
    Neoloth shook his head. “That wouldn’t work. I need you for a distraction while I do the searching.”
    Aros tried again, a bit of frustration creeping into his voice. “Then use it to make me sound like this Elio.”
    Neoloth laughed, and his elf laughed. And possibly Agathodaemon, the constrictor nestled in the wicker basket on the third packhorse, laughed as well. But Neoloth wondered how convincing the mirth was. He didn’t want to make another admission that he couldn’t do things like that. Not anymore.
    â€œWe’ll try it the other way,” Neoloth said. “We’ll say that you lost your memory.”
    Aros pulled to the left, moving his mount away from the edge of a ravine. Despite the fact that the afternoon air was dry and hot enough to turn grapes into raisins, it was clear that at times water still flowed across the surface. “My memory? That seems too convenient. How would that work?”
    â€œI’m not sure.” And he wasn’t. But the more he considered the idea, born of necessity, the more he liked it. “We won’t convince them you’re General Silith’s son. We’ll do the opposite—make them convince us .”
    He watched his captive colleague carefully. Aros chewed it over and then chuckled. The barbarian was grudgingly intrigued. “I’d like to see that,” he admitted.
    Neoloth allowed himself a smile. Calculated, of course, to help Aros forget that they weren’t really an “us.” “So would I,” he said.
    *   *   *
    The sun was a hand closer to the western horizon by now, and the tension in their little group had progressed steadily. “You believe you can speak with this Chief Sky Mountain?”
    â€œI hope so,” Aros said. “I learned enough of their talk. I think.”
    The wizard kicked his mount’s flanks, increasing speed slightly to even his stride with the barbarian’s. “You’re not sure. Let’s hope we avoid them altogether or find them soon. The suspense is growing monotonous.”
    â€œYour monotony is just about over,” Aros said, and flicked his head up and to the left. And then the right. “There they are.”
    Neoloth looked south and then north, across cactus and dry gulch to the ridges of mountains. If he squinted, he could make out a line of horsemen upon each ridge, pacing them.
    Neoloth cursed quietly. “I … didn’t see them.”
    Aros chuckled. “They saw us, and that’s all that matters,” he said. “They’ve been following us for the last hour.”
    Neoloth felt the anger boiling up inside him. “Why the hell didn’t