Page 16 of Backpacking through Bedlam

A rope dropped from the side of the mantis. One of the riders—it had two, which was something of a relief, as it meant the second was remaining seated to control the mantis—slid to the ground. Sally, Thomas, and I arrayed ourselves between the rider and our people. We were a fragile line of defense, and one that would go down quickly if the mantis decided to attack, but we were better than nothing.

The rider was definitely bipedal, and could probably have passed for human under the right circumstances back at home. Their skin, however, was spotted in rosette markings, like a leopard’s hide, and covered in fine, velvety fur. Their ears were pointed, and their eyes were a bright shade of yellow-green that would have looked more natural on a cat. No tail, though. Which was almost a pity. More people should have tails.

Their clothing was made of loose brown-and-gray cloth tied around their wrists and ankles to keep it from tangling with the reins while they were mounted. Their feet were bare. They moved with an easy grace, watching us warily. They were apparently unarmed, and once close enough, they raised their hands, palms outward, and spoke.

Thomas’s translation spell caught their words. “Peace, strangers. Where do you travel?”

“We came from a world far from this one,” said Thomas. “A friend said we might find refuge here for some of our number. We were heading toward the place from which you emerged. We hope to make it there before nightfall.”

“The hunters in the dark will emerge when the sun goes down,” said the rider. “They care not what world you travel from, or where you intend to go. You must make the passage quickly, or it will not be made at all. Do you know how their forest came to burn?”

“Er,” said Thomas. “I’m afraid that was me. I was concerned for my wife’s safety, and when I get worried, things sometimes catch fire.”

The rider looked at him, then nodded. “We have seen similar things from travelers of your kind, in past. Our patriarch will welcome you.”

“Patriarch?” I asked, warily. I was getting real tired of these extra-dimensional societies that organized themselves so the men were on top of the social order by default, leaving everyone else to scramble for a place beneath them.

“The eldest among us who remembers the coming of our most recent true Incubus,” said the rider. Behind us in the crowd, a few of the Murrays gasped.

“We call them Lilu, and their presence among your kind is much of what brings us here,” said Thomas. “May we continue?”

“Yes,” said the rider. “We will send an escort, to be sure you make it to the mound in safety, and we will be grateful for your company at tonight’s tables.” They bowed, sketching a complex motion with one hand, before turning to head back to their mantis and shimmy up the rope, quick as anything.

They grasped and pulled the reins. The mantis launched itself into the air, the two behind it following, and the three began to circle overhead, escorting us toward the mound as promised. I glanced upward, unable to stop myself from feeling uneasy.

“Guess we’re off to meet the Wizard,” I muttered.

“In the jolly old land of Oz,” agreed Sally.

Thomas took my hand, and we walked on.

Five

“An ally’s an ally, no matter what they look for. Beggars can’t be choosers, and unless you’re in an absolutely superior position, neither can you.”

—Alexander Healy

Sitting down to dinner inside a giant termite mound, and other sentences I’ve never considered before

THEIR PATRIARCH TURNED OUT to be a smiling man roughly Thomas’s apparent age, with paler spots than most of the others, and who went by the unprepossessing name of “Kenneth.” That was almost reassuring. Real-life cult leaders don’t usually call themselves “Bloodfang the Consumer,” but they also aren’t generally content to go around being named “Kenneth.”

True to Helen’s notes, these people had interbred with a Lilu several years previous, and were happy to accept our genetically scrambled refugees. The Murrays and the others might not have a single dimension where they belonged without standing out, but this world was willing to have them, and most of them were glad to stay and settle, while the rest were at least ready to give it a chance. They’d been on the move long enough.

Besides, there was food here. A meaty stew I was willing to bet Sally didn’t recognize as being insect-based, and which I was equally willing to bet none of them would care about being insect-based, since it was plentiful and good. Roast vegetables that didn’t taste like anything on Earth, and even bread, which had a nutty aftertaste that told me they’d been using crickets for flour. So more livestock than agriculture, and very little of it mammalian in origin. That was fine. Our people could survive here.

Lilu genetics are unique, as far as anyone’s been able to tell. They can reproduce with virtually anything, and they don’t have allergies, making protein incompatibilities unheard of. And these people, who were coming from a similar starting tech level, would be able to assimilate into their society without making a ripple, replenishing their gene pool and answering the question of how people who no longer had a world and didn’t belong to any single dominant species were going to survive.

We’d done it. We’d pulled three hundred people out of a dying bottle dimension, and we’d managed to find them a place where they could be safe. Happiness wasn’t guaranteed, but then, happiness is never guaranteed.

Thomas and I sat together on a low cushion, watching as Sally compared spears with some of the locals, all of them very interested in one another’s weapons. People were sitting everywhere in the vast lower chamber of the termite mound, and massive glowing grubs covered the ceiling, lighting things up almost as well as fire would have. They were absolutely necessary, since there were no windows. None of the lowest chambers had windows.

“The hunters in the dark can fit through the smallest spaces,” said Kenneth, when I asked about the lack of windows. “They only dare try our walls so far, though; higher up, the steeds lie waiting, and are always willing to accept a meal which presents itself freely.”

I paused, puzzling through that statement. “So the giant spiders would come in the windows if you had any, but they won’t climb to the top of the mound or the mantises will eat them?”

Kenneth nodded. “Exactly so.”

“Huh.”