The Seascape Tattoo by Larry Niven Page B

suspected.”
    Neoloth pondered Great Elk’s last statement. “‘Its own pain.’ What did they mean by that?”
    â€œNice to know you don’t know everything,” the barbarian said.
    â€œI’ve always known that. I’ve spent my life as a student.” Neoloth frowned, watching the desert men as their horses trotted away. The little dust devils followed obediently.
    â€œThen it’s nice to know you know you don’t know.”
    Neoloth opened and closed his mouth. “I’m not sure how to answer that…”
    Neoloth was fairly certain the barbarian was smirking, damn it. In the old days, Neoloth would have rained lightning down on his head for such impudence. Perhaps before this was all over, an opportunity … and the means … would present themselves.
    *   *   *
    As night fell, Aros chose a campsite tucked comfortably into the lee of a ridge, reasonably clear of tumbleweed and scorpions.
    â€œFandy!” Neoloth called.
    The little one hopped down off his mule at once. “Yes, sir?”
    â€œTie up our horses and gather firewood.”
    Aros called out. “Wizard? I’m not certain it’s a good idea for Fandy to continue doing the work. Shouldn’t you have some practice? As a servant, I mean.”
    Neoloth thought it over, and to his displeasure realized there was good sense in that idea. “Yes, damn you, I should. Fandy, I’ll deal with the horses and gather what we can find to burn. Instruct me at need.”
    The little elf bowed elaborately. “As you wish.”
    Neoloth knew horses, and fire was easy. Presently Neoloth had a pot of pemmican and corn simmering over coals. Then he opened the basket on the second horse, extracting seven feet of sleepy serpent.
    â€œ Hungrrrry, ” Agathodaemon whispered.
    â€œFood soon.” Neoloth stroked its head. Aros eyed him suspiciously. The barbarian didn’t like snakes, especially talking ones. Neoloth enjoyed that.
    â€œNot a bad spot,” Neoloth said. “A bit of shelter from the wind.”
    â€œCity dwellers,” Aros sneered.
    Neoloth draped his snake around his neck. “I’ve traveled hard before.”
    Aros leaned back against a rock, smiling. “I saw to that, at least twice.”
    Neoloth glared at him. Memories raced, and a sudden suspicion flared. “Did you poison my eagle?”
    â€œPoison?” Aros stretched, yawning, and assumed an injured air. “Not poison. Never. Drugged, perhaps. I mean, the lockweed was right there. You may have this sense of the Great Gold Ones as mighty hunters of the sky, but they’re really just vultures with pretty wings.” He chuckled, as if with a pleasant memory. “Let’s just say the sheep was right there, and an opportunity like that was too tempting to resist.”
    â€œAs the shepherd said to the magistrate,” Fandy chimed in.
    Neoloth and Aros stared at him. Neoloth tried to repress his mirth but couldn’t help it, roaring with laughter. Aros joined in, and their echoes rang across the darkened plain.
    â€œSo…,” Neoloth said. “You killed a ram and stuffed its belly with lockweed. Then, while I was in the tomb…”
    â€œI offered your Gold One a snack,” Aros said. “Which didn’t take effect until you were cloudbound again. I had merely to follow you. Flying things tend to travel in a straight line. So do falling things, in fact. It wasn’t difficult.”
    Neoloth pondered that for a time. “Well, yes. You almost killed me. I managed to guide his fall into a snowbank. Broke Sky King’s neck, but I survived.”
    â€œYou survived the yetis, too,” Aros said.
    Neoloth chuckled. “Barely.”
    Aros felt something at his feet and jumped up, waving his sword. “That damned snake climbed into my bedroll!”
    â€œThat’s odd,” Neoloth said, his tone measured.