Mute by Piers Anthony
No. Thea is part of our escape. We must do right by her.
That doesn’t sound like weasel ethics.
I am learning from you, complicated man. But Mit agrees. He says she will yet help us greatly.
So it was practical as well as ethical. That was comforting. Knot lifted a hand to stroke the cool, wet, sleekly full breast of the sleeping mermaid. Yes—it was necessary to do right by this fine woman. They had shared an evening that was well worth remembering, and that memory was part of what he owed her.
That reminded him. The gross one—he never told me his message. When I asked, he just answered “soon.”
He will tell you tomorrow, Mit says. Now squeeze your woman some more, while you have opportunity.
With these reassurances, Knot pressed himself against Thea’s fine warm bosom, and slept.
• • •
They moved well again, in the morning, after introductions—until Finesse cut in with an anguished transmission. It’s Lydia! They’re going to do something to Lydia!
Lydia—the fat woman who could boil water slowly. Knot did not care about her so much as about Finesse’s distress. “Thea,” he said to the mermaid swimming nearby. “Hermine is relaying information to me, and I must receive. Fish me out of the river if I fall in.” He was serious; he wanted to keep moving, but could not spare much attention for his personal activity at the moment.
Then Finesse came through again, compellingly. Piebald has locked her in cage with a tigodile!
Now the full scene came, as it had when Knot had merged minds with Hermine to fight the rats. He was looking through Finesse’s horrified eyes at an arena in which sat a double cage about twelve meters in diameter. In one section was the frightened fat woman; in the other, the tigodile. This was one of a number of semi-mutant species developed in recent generations, not true crossbreeds between diverse species, but suggestive of it. The tigodile’s front portion resembled a huge cat, and the rear was like that of a crocodile. It looked deadly and ravenous, and this was surely an accurate impression. It pawed at the bars that separated them, salivating copiously.
Piebald spoke. Knot saw him as Finesse’s eyes oriented involuntarily on him. He was actually a min-mute, physically, with splotches of discolor on his hair and skin. Knot wondered what his psi power had been, before it was taken from him.
“Now the rules of this little exercise are marvelously simple. The intent is to evoke the psi power within you. You have the ringside seat, Finesse, and shall not be permitted to leave before the denouement. Very shortly I shall arrange to have the barrier between the party of the first part, the mutant Lydia, and the party of the second part, the tigodile, removed. The fat will encounter hunger, and there will follow what will follow. I dare say the two parties will quickly become one. Only you can avert the otherwise inevitable—by acting psionically to alleviate the maiden’s likely distress at the denouement. I dare say you could stun the animal with a mental blast, or kill it by telekinetically disrupting the action of its heart, or use clairvoyance to fathom the combination of the lock to the gate, so that the maiden might open it to escape. There are a multitude of things you might do—and I hope you will do one of them soon, because otherwise the lady could suffer a certain inconvenience.”
“I have no psi!” Finesse cried. “This is impossible!”
Piebald shook his head sagely. “I certainly hope you are wrong. The lady in the cage really is innocent of any wrongdoing, apart perhaps from overeating, and her psi talent is meager. It would be a shame to see her become the overeaten.”
“What do you want?” Finesse screamed, her voice breaking.
“I want your psi,” Piebald replied calmly.
“Then put me in the cage!”
“I think not. You might suffer grievously.”
“I might suffer! What about Lydia?”
“She is not a CC agent. Her psi is known. She is valueless to us. You, on the other hand, surely have a psi talent of the first magnitude. One readily capable of dealing with a simple situation like this.”
“If I had, I would use it on you!”
“That is a risk I take. My employment is regarded as hazardous because of it. Of course, my demise would trigger the release of stungas throughout this villa, and an alarm would summon others to collect the bodies. But don’t let that deter you, my dear; I want you to manifest your talent, believe me.”
Finesse looked at him stonily. What argument could prevail against insanity?
“Shall we now proceed?” Piebald asked softly. He lifted his mottled hand.
The barred gate that separated monster from maiden slowly elevated. The tigodile was instantly aware of the motion. It flung itself against the bars, trying to push on through. Lydia screamed.
“Stop it!” Finesse cried. “This is barbaric!”
“No, my dear. Necessary. You must stop it.”
The bars cleared the cage. The tigodile paused a moment, hardly believing its fortune, then bounded into the opposite cage. Its armored tail struck the bars in passing, making them clang. Lydia screamed again.
Finesse leaped from her seat, trying to get to the cage—and banged into a glass barrier, invisible until now. Bruised, she settled back; she was blocked from participating.
There was no subtlety about the tigodile’s approach. It simply pounced and chomped. Lydia screamed again, this time in agony, but Finesse could not hear her over her own scream.
Finesse tried to turn her face away, but knew this would not stop it. Yet to look was worse. She did look—and saw the blood, as the beast chewed into Lydia’s neck, opening the jugular vein and buried carotid arteries, releasing the body’s internal pressure. Then Finesse’s head cracked into the glass, and she realized she was fainting.
Knot came out of it, dazed. The lobos had deliberately sacrificed a woman, to put pressure on Finesse. To make her show a psi talent she lacked. It was horrible—yet perhaps true to the nature of the lobos. Obviously lobotomy did affect a person’s judgment.
What would they do when they discovered that Finesse really was normal? How hard would they squeeze the stone? How many maidens would have to be fed to monsters before the lobos gave up the futile effort?
“I can tell it was bad,” Thea murmured.
“They are torturing and killing her friends, to coerce her into the impossible,” Knot said. “They gave her time and opportunity to develop attachments in the villa, and now they are using those attachments as leverage against her. It—it’s like our battle with the villagers yesterday. Needless, pointless mayhem, useless killing. Eventually they’ll do the same to her. I’ve got to get there first.”
“Do you think they are doing this to make you come to her?” Thea asked. “To lure you into their trap? She is not psi, but you are.”
“I’m the psi they are trying to evoke!” he exclaimed. “Yes, it’s quite possible. I did escape their clutches before, and they chased me right into the enclave, using written notes, so they certainly know of me and remember my exploits. After the damage I did to their solar power station, and the way I got through their seemingly tight search-net, they must be very angry. They have to realize that telepathy, clairvoyance and precognition were involved, but they don’t know about the animals with me. So they must assume that all those psi talents are mine. Their original questioning of me did not reveal that, but they would know that some of my powers could have been suppressed until I really needed them. Oh, yes—they must want me extremely badly. Since they didn’t dare pursue me into the enclave, lest the freaks take them for normals and tear them to pieces, they were balked. So they would naturally try to lure me to them instead, assuming there is any way to escape the enclave.”
“Multiple psi-talents are very rare, aren’t they?” Thea asked. “Maybe they think you have others with you—other men who are hidden, who watched you, and helped you escape the power station, and might also help you escape the enclave. So they would be very careful about how they tackle you the next
“Could be.” But as he said it, doubts developed, like clouds in a turbulent sky. “But that would mean they know I’m aware of what they’re doing to Finesse—and I don’t see how they could know that. Distance telepathy is a specialized thing, and it generally requires both a sender and a receiver. They would be taking quite long odds to gamble on that, even though in this case I do happen to be in touch. Also, there would be simpler ways to do it; they wouldn’t need to go to the trouble of setting her up in the villa. Why should they torture her friends, whom I don’t know, to put pressure on me? It is her they are pressuring! So I guess the reasonable answer is no; they can’t be doing this just to get at me.” He shook his head. “But who knows what they’re up to, crazy as they seem to be? I’ve simply got to get Finesse out of their clutches.”
Thea didn’t argue, but Knot sensed that she believed the lobos were indeed summoning him—successfully. What could she say, that would not sound jealous?
They continued on, following the broadening river. Knot thought about what he would like to do to Piebald—and realized that his own standards had been mutilated by recent events. Was he now to simulate his enemies, callously destroying the lives of others? It seemed he was well on the way to that already.
Mit says there is another male for the mermaid, in the development ahead.
Knot relayed the news to Thea. But she did not react with the pleasure he had expected. “I’ve learned too much about land-life in the enclave,” she said. “I’m not sure, now, that I want to bring a baby into that.”
“You could bring your baby into your life,” Knot argued. “A normal could learn to swim as well as you, and could also go on land in an emergency. Don’t give up your fulfillment because of the problems of the enclave. Work to improve the enclave.”
She smiled, swayed by his encouragement. “Yes. I must hold on to my dream. It is the only important thing for me.”
“We’ll see that you accomplish it,” he said, feeling better himself.
The settlement at the mouth of the river was huge. It was a veritable city, teeming with mutants. They were out in the river, fishing with hooks, nets and spears. They lined the shore. They thronged in the crooked streets between shacks built one against another. They packed the crannies and niches and irregularities of the town. The ocean, Knot decided, must be a phenomenal provider.
That should in turn mean that these mutants were not as desperate for food, and would not be as vicious as the ones in the sterner territory upstream. Perhaps some facsimile of civilization existed here. That would be a great comfort.
Still, there would be no point in taking too much on faith. Knot consulted with his friends, then put his hand on the gross one’s arm. CANNOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN, IN THE COMPLEXITIES OF THIS MUTE TOWN, THOUGH MIT BELIEVES WE WILL ALL SURVIVE IT. IT IS TIME TO EXCHANGE INFORMATION ABOUT OUR MISSIONS, SO THAT IF ONLY ONE OF US SURVIVES, HE CAN ACCOMPLISH THEM ALL. MY MISSION IS TO RESCUE THE NORMAL WOMAN FINESSE FROM THE CRATER VILLA AND THE LOBOS.
Now the gross one answered him. MY BROTHER IS NORMAL. HE PROTECTED ME AND TAUGHT ME SQUEEZETALK AND EDUCATED ME UNTIL I WAS STRONG ENOUGH AND SMART ENOUGH TO SURVIVE. I OWE HIM EVERYTHING.
I WOULD LIKE TO MEET THIS MAN, Knot squeezed.
HIS NAME IS BOAL, OF THE VILLAGE OF BRAND X. WHEN I CAME TO THE ENCLAVE A CRAZY DISTANCE PRECOG WAS BEING EATEN. I HAD NOT YET ACCLIMATIZED TO THE WAYS OF THE RIVER. I DESTROYED THE CANNIBALS AND RESCUED HER. IT WAS TOO LATE; SHE WAS DYING. BUT SHE MOVED HER LIPS AGAINST ME, AND I READ HER MESSAGE AS MY BROTHER HAD ALSO TAUGHT ME TO DO, AND SHE TOLD ME THREE THINGS. SHE WAS CRAZY, AND I DID NOT BELIEVE THEM, FOR THE FUTURE IS MUTABLE. BUT I THANKED HER AND SHE DIED, AND I DID AS SHE HAD ASKED AND ATE HER, AND THEREAFTER I ATE ANY PERSON I CAUGHT.
An insane distance-precog! There was a problematical psi! How could anyone afford to believe her predictions? Yet the moment of death was considered to be also a moment of truth. THE THINGS MIGHT HAVE BEEN TRUE, DESPITE MUTABILITY, IF NO ACTION WAS TAKEN TO VOID THEM, Knot squeezed. WHAT WERE THEY?
THE FIRST WAS THAT MY BROTHER WOULD GO ON A BUSINESS TRIP TO THE TOWN OF HUSTLE AND THERE BE KILLED BY A RAMPAGING BRONCO-WOLF. THE SECOND WAS THAT AN ANONYMOUS MIN-MUTE WOULD HELP ME ESCAPE THE ENCLAVE. THE THIRD WAS THAT I WOULD MARRY A RICH NORMAL WOMAN.
Crazy, indeed! Yet the second prediction had been eerily on target. It explained why the gross one had trusted Knot so readily. Only a psi-precog could have anticipated Knot’s arrival in the enclave, so many years in the future, and his contact with the gross one. Yet the third prediction—what rich normal woman would marry a monster like the gross one? It was insane—and of course the precog had been insane anyway.
However, this at last identified the sex of the gross one. It had to be male, or the gross one would not even contemplate marrying a woman, even in a fantasy speculation.
IF THE PREDICTIONS ARE WRONG, Knot squeezed, THEY ARE WRONG, AND YOUR BROTHER IS SAFE AND YOU DO NOT NEED TO WARN HIM. IF THEY ARE RIGHT—AND ONE SEEMS TO BE—YOU MUST ACT TO WARN YOUR BROTHER.
THAT IS MY MESSAGE. I DO NOT BELIEVE THE THIRD PREDICTION, AND NO LONGER WISH TO ESCAPE THE ENCLAVE. BUT MY BROTHER MUST BE SAVED.
IF WE ASSUME THAT ALL THREE PREDICTIONS ARE RIGHT, OR ALL WRONG, IF YOU ESCAPE THE ENCLAVE YOU CAN WARN YOUR BROTHER. IF YOU FAIL TO ESCAPE, IT COULD MEAN THE THREAT TO YOUR BROTHER IS NOT TRUE EITHER, SO—
WE CAN MAKE NO ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT UNITY, the gross one responded. It/he had a good mind hidden away there. ANY ONE PREDICTION CAN BE RIGHT OR WRONG.
YES, Knot agreed. IF I ALONE SURVIVE, I WILL WARN YOUR BROTHER. BUT I MAY NOT SUCCEED ALONE. YOU MUST TRY FOR THE ESCAPE YOURSELF; YOU MUST COME WITH ME. IF YOU SURVIVE ALONE, YOU MUST TRY TO RESCUE FINESSE FROM THE LOBOS. AGREED?
SUPPOSE FINESSE SHOULD BE RICH?
That rocked Knot. Finesse—the rich normal the gross one would marry? No, impossible, for many reasons. Knot recovered quickly. FINESSE MAY MARRY WHOM SHE CHOOSES, OR RETURN TO HER FORMER HUSBAND. IF SHE SHOULD GET RICH AND CHOOSE YOU, IT WILL SURELY BE A GOOD CHOICE.
The gross one broke contact with a shudder of humor. They proceeded warily on into the city.
This settlement was different. The mutants did not attack. In fact, they ignored the new arrivals. In moments, Knot and the gross one were amidst the crowd, and Thea was swimming amidst the throng in the water. No one noticed or cared. This must, Knot surmised, come from overcrowding and adequate food. The mutants had no motive either to fight or to relate to their neighbors.
This way, Hermine thought, forming a mental picture of a section ahead and to the left.
Knot followed her directions. They came to a shack in the middle of a stilt-village in the heart of the city: dwellings perched on the water, supported by insubstantial rods of wood, metal or plastic. Any rising of the water would be awkward for these, and a flood would demolish them. But this precarious existence was what offered, and the residents seemed satisfied. Presumably they lived one day at a time.
Thea’s man, Hermine thought.
Not homosexual?
Mit says not.
Thea arrived in the water. “This is it?”
“Yes,” Knot said. “This is a, uh, normally inclined, interfertile mutant.”
She hauled herself up on the sodden planking. “What’s his name?”
Gurias—the wanderer.
Knot relayed the information, and Thea lifted her chin and breathed deeply. “For better or worse,” she said, and Knot saw that she was trembling. But she made her own introduction: “Gurias!” she called. “I have come to be your woman!”
Well, that was one way of doing it. Knot stood back and watched. They didn’t even know what this man looked like; he might be worse than the gross one.
A shape appeared in the crooked doorway. Gurias had discolored fleshy fins projecting from his limbs and torso and parts of his face, but his basic configuration was normal. He could probably have been rendered passably normal by appropriate surgery, but of cou
Gurias stood and looked down at Thea. From that vantage she proffered an excellent view of her really fine breasts, and her leg deformity was largely concealed by the lapping water. The man was visibly impressed. “Where’s the catch?” he demanded.
“You must help my friends to escape the enclave,” she replied.
Gurias’ eyes moved to Knot and the gross one. “I do know a route—but it is hazardous.”
“It will do,” Knot said, realizing that this was what Mit had meant by suggesting that the mermaid would help them greatly, one more time. Instead of giving herself away, she was selling herself—and thereby making her offer seem more valuable. Would it work?
“What is your mutancy?” Gurias asked.
Thea lifted up her tail.
“Then you are not handicapped in the water?”
Thea bounced into the water and swam rapidly around the shack, returning to flip back onto the platform.
“Agreed,” Gurias said. Suddenly the way was opening up.
Gurias jumped into the water, which was about chest deep here. Without pause or scruple he took Thea into his arms and indulged in a swift, efficient sexual act. There might have been a hundred other people in sight, and a number of them turned to watch enviously, but this did not slow Gurias at all. In fact, he seemed to revel in the display. And Thea obliged him gladly.
As Finesse had obliged Knot, in her dream. Knot thought of that, and was unsure of the significance of the parallel.
When Gurias was through, he drew back slightly and cuffed her across the shoulder. Thea fell back with a cry, obviously hurt by the blow. Knot stepped forward, rage exploding.