remarked. “If you lie down, you will never rise. The sun will cook you while you sleep.”
He was right. Without water I would die soon. Even my eyeballs were dried out—I fancied my eyelids squeaked when I blinked, and I laughed long and loud at the thought. Todish would have found that funny, too, and Rilana…
I stopped in a hollow and tried digging in the clay with a stick. I found no water and almost fried my feet. I scouted for miniroo pellets, but even miniroos seemed to have vanished from the great lonely world.
“There is a hill,” my invisible companion remarked helpfully. “It is a little higher than the others. Climb that, and if you do not see water there, then give up.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said. “Thank you.”
I was almost ready to drop to hands and knees when I reached the top, and it was so wide and flat that I could not see the land beyond. Behind me, to the north, there was no sign of the family’s woollies; no sign of anything except endless gray rumpled landscape, shimmering and writing in heat haze below a cloudless sky. I must not stray east or west, or I would lose my sense of location. I wanted to keep that, so that I would be able to find Anubyl when I was ready to kill him.
“His danger does not seem very great,” Loneliness said, but I did not reply.
If Anubyl had truly found water holes in this direction, then I had missed them. Scouting was much easier on horseback than on foot.
For a while I sat on a rock and gave way to despair. Never had I been alone like this, out of sight of my family. Even our herder hunting parties had been communal affairs. The thirst and hunger were bad, but the solitude was worse. I was the only boy in the world.
Finally I managed to overcome my frightening torpor, climb onto my aching feet, and trail wearily over the flat summit. The country to the south came into view. I stood and stared blankly. It seemed just the same as the country to the north…except…
Fatigue had slowed my thinking, I suppose, and at first I thought it was only a roo. A single, solitary roo would be no great threat—and edible, if I could somehow catch it. Then a terrible recognition began. Roos traveled in packs, and this creature was alone. Roos bounded, and this one was walking. It was very far off to the southeast, two or three ridges over, and a roo would not be visible so far away Therefore it was very big. It had to be a tyrant.
At the distance it seemed white and the tiny forelimbs were invisible. The massive tail balanced the forward-sloping torso above the enormous hind legs, the gigantic melon-shaped head. The pointed ears stuck up like horns.
My mind began to race, rummaging through memory for all the stories I had heard. Tyrants were so huge that they could overturn and eat woollies. They were implacable and could outrun a horse. No arrow could penetrate them deep enough to kill. They had one weakness: their eyesight. All they could see was movement, and a man who stayed still was invisible to them. I dropped to a crouch.
But it saw me. Even at such a distance, even so small a motion, it had seen. The massive head swung around and the monster came to a halt, peering across the landscape, seeking the source of that movement. I stayed as still as a boulder, only my heart moving.
That may have been the first time in my life that I truly appreciated what time was—it crawled. Then the tyrant’s great jaws opened. And closed. And a faint roar came drifting over the ridges to me. I shivered, feeling a strange prickling down my back.
At last the tyrant decided that it had been mistaken. It started moving again, resuming its original progress, heading north.
I was enormously, intoxicatingly, relieved. All I needed to do was stay where I was, and it would go away.
Go away north. I thought of Anubyl, riding out with bow and sword to defend his ill-gotten riches. The tyrant would swallow him whole, and his horse also, and my soul rejoiced at the
He was right. Without water I would die soon. Even my eyeballs were dried out—I fancied my eyelids squeaked when I blinked, and I laughed long and loud at the thought. Todish would have found that funny, too, and Rilana…
I stopped in a hollow and tried digging in the clay with a stick. I found no water and almost fried my feet. I scouted for miniroo pellets, but even miniroos seemed to have vanished from the great lonely world.
“There is a hill,” my invisible companion remarked helpfully. “It is a little higher than the others. Climb that, and if you do not see water there, then give up.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said. “Thank you.”
I was almost ready to drop to hands and knees when I reached the top, and it was so wide and flat that I could not see the land beyond. Behind me, to the north, there was no sign of the family’s woollies; no sign of anything except endless gray rumpled landscape, shimmering and writing in heat haze below a cloudless sky. I must not stray east or west, or I would lose my sense of location. I wanted to keep that, so that I would be able to find Anubyl when I was ready to kill him.
“His danger does not seem very great,” Loneliness said, but I did not reply.
If Anubyl had truly found water holes in this direction, then I had missed them. Scouting was much easier on horseback than on foot.
For a while I sat on a rock and gave way to despair. Never had I been alone like this, out of sight of my family. Even our herder hunting parties had been communal affairs. The thirst and hunger were bad, but the solitude was worse. I was the only boy in the world.
Finally I managed to overcome my frightening torpor, climb onto my aching feet, and trail wearily over the flat summit. The country to the south came into view. I stood and stared blankly. It seemed just the same as the country to the north…except…
Fatigue had slowed my thinking, I suppose, and at first I thought it was only a roo. A single, solitary roo would be no great threat—and edible, if I could somehow catch it. Then a terrible recognition began. Roos traveled in packs, and this creature was alone. Roos bounded, and this one was walking. It was very far off to the southeast, two or three ridges over, and a roo would not be visible so far away Therefore it was very big. It had to be a tyrant.
At the distance it seemed white and the tiny forelimbs were invisible. The massive tail balanced the forward-sloping torso above the enormous hind legs, the gigantic melon-shaped head. The pointed ears stuck up like horns.
My mind began to race, rummaging through memory for all the stories I had heard. Tyrants were so huge that they could overturn and eat woollies. They were implacable and could outrun a horse. No arrow could penetrate them deep enough to kill. They had one weakness: their eyesight. All they could see was movement, and a man who stayed still was invisible to them. I dropped to a crouch.
But it saw me. Even at such a distance, even so small a motion, it had seen. The massive head swung around and the monster came to a halt, peering across the landscape, seeking the source of that movement. I stayed as still as a boulder, only my heart moving.
That may have been the first time in my life that I truly appreciated what time was—it crawled. Then the tyrant’s great jaws opened. And closed. And a faint roar came drifting over the ridges to me. I shivered, feeling a strange prickling down my back.
At last the tyrant decided that it had been mistaken. It started moving again, resuming its original progress, heading north.
I was enormously, intoxicatingly, relieved. All I needed to do was stay where I was, and it would go away.
Go away north. I thought of Anubyl, riding out with bow and sword to defend his ill-gotten riches. The tyrant would swallow him whole, and his horse also, and my soul rejoiced at the
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