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TREY

by Anne Marie Talbott

© 1999 Anne Marie Talbott; Draka are © 1997 S.M. Stirling

Legal bits : Let the story begin... : Editor's note
**

Legal bits:

Disclaimer: Drakon, its characters, situations and places are copyright S. M. Stirling. The use of these characters, situations and places is not to be construed as a challenge to said copyright. Permission is granted to reproduce this story in any way, shape, or form, provided that this disclaimer is kept intact, and no one except S. M. Stirling receives financial remuneration.

Let the story begin...

The children gather round, knee-deep, ruddy faces lit by the Spring-Night Fire. "Tell us, tell us, tell us the story of how the Eaters died..."

I sigh, brushing back a thick mane of white hair. "That story is long, and I am old, Bright-Eyes, liluns..."

"Tell us, please..."

The hunger is in their eyes, wanting to hear the words again, even though these can now read. I cannot, myself, but these can, taught by the Outlanders. One child, an older she-one, sits cross-legged by the fire, scribe in hand, the silent flickering of the write-pad waiting for my words. I sigh again, but sit down, wrapping my ermine robe about my old bones. "The story, then, liluns. Listen and I will tell a story. It is true; it happened to me. It is about the Outlanders, and the one who vanquished the Eaters. Listen, and remember."

"The tunnels were where we lived. We stayed safe in them, mostly, under the ground, shielded by the Mother Ground. Still, now, there are many tunnels, some safe, some not so safe. We knew them, then, and still we find them now, even as you grow into she-ones and he-ones, my Bright-Eyes. We lived there, and were safe, as long as we were careful.

"Upper-level, now, that was danger. It was death, usually, to one or many of us. Brave, we'd go out hunting for Greens, Herbs; things for our teeth and health. Sometimes we'd find meat, too. But listen carefully: we never ate others like us. Never. That was unclean, forbidden. That was what the Eaters did. They ate us.

"I was a Bright-Eye, about your age, when I first began exploring. I had a need, like an itch, to find new things. Many of the elder ones said it would be my death I found, but I explored anyway. I loved it. With a band of friends, from the Tribe of Joizee, I would climb, dig, wriggle my way through places no one had ever seen. We would find treasures; we would find danger. But we found... Well, what I found will be seen.

"The Tribe of Joizee lived in the Mid-Levels. There were not as many of us then as there are now; we have become more and more like the People of Oldtimes. More Bright-Eyes live to become she-ones and he-ones, and they have more like you. Yes, you! Jarul, pay attention, or I will send you away!

"I was born in the Mid-Levels, but I do not remember the she-one who bore me. She died. So did the he-one who helped make me. I was raised by Mala, an old she-one without any liluns. We lived in a locker, a box by the great metal stairs near the center of the camp. It was a good place, warm, but not too warm. Early on, I played with other Bright-Eyes but felt—different. Something called me, and I had to follow.

"Mala tried to frighten me with stories of the Eaters, and even stories worse than that! Oh, yes, there was worse in the world than even the Eaters. One such thing was the Boogieman. I didn't believe her when she told me of that race, but—I learned. In fact, because I saw one of the Boogiemen, I entered into the chain of events that led to the Outlanders, and how the Eaters were killed or made to go away.

"She had given me, when I was very little, a yellow square thing made of something called papah. It had pictures in it, like things captured by other eyes and painted in the papah. One was of people like the Tribe, but they were so different-looking. They all had all their teeth, for one, and no one was scarred, or mutie. No one seemed to have extra fingers, for one thing... They all looked fat, too, but happy. They all smiled. I wanted to go to where they were, but Mala told me they were all gone; ashes now, grey like the ones from a dead fire.

"They had lived Upper-Level, up in the sunlight, all the time. 'No wonder they died', I told Mala. She just smiled and corrected me. 'Once,' she said, 'we all lived up there. All of us, and there were many more of the Tribe than there is now. We were... numerous,' she murmured, rolling the word over her tongue in remembrance. 'Many. We lived in beautiful houses. Huge lockers, with windows to see the sun, and the moon, and the sky. But it all burned. Burned away in the light of the Killing Times, and it is no more.' She sounded sad, then, and I waited, respectfully, for her to go on.

"'Once, many many time-cycles ago, we even lived on the Moon,' Mala told me. I laughed, thinking perhaps she had been in the flasks of slammer again, but she shook her head. 'Young one,' Mala thundered, 'listen to me and learn. We were great once. But we reached too far. We lost everything except this,' she waved her arms at the tunnels by us, 'and our will to live. But will is everything. You must understand, Trey, you must.'

"I calmed her down, and asked her about the papah again. She told me that those people had lived Upper-Level, and had many treasures. More than we found down below, I knew; but she told me that these people had more magic than any of our Seers. They could cure illness. They could make light come on inside their great houses by saying a word. No Watchers of the Fire were needed; the fire they used for light came inside wires.

"'Yes, I know', I said. 'Sometimes we find those wires when we explore. Sometimes it can make you jump; sometimes it can kill you without marking you. That's why we learned to touch things like that with wood, until we could trace them back to where they came from. Then, we'd use one of the magic things—a meter—to find out if it was the kind of wire that bit you or not.'

"'Ah...', Mala sighed. 'Magic.' Then she seemed to get very angry with me for no reason, and took the papah out of my hands. 'It's all burned,' she said, 'burned and gone. You mustn't think about those times. It's gone. And the places they lived—all these people fat like tunnel rats, with their smiles and teeth and bright clothes—they're forbidden. You find them, we'll never see you again, Trey. You'll die of the Rads. Your gums will bleed, then all your openings. Your hair will fall out in clumps. You'll grow weak, and blind, and you'll turn brown. Then you'll die.'

"'But why?' I asked. 'What bit me?' She grinned in the firelight. 'Nothing you can see, lilun, nothing you can see... Only the Boogiemen can live where the Rads are. And if they find you, it's worse than if the Eaters catch you Upper-Level. You'll not be allowed to die if the Boogiemen find you. At least the Eaters kill you outright, and don't mess about.'

"'Oh, Mala', I chided her. 'You're always telling stories about the boogiemen, and I don't think they're real. It's like the stories you tell the liluns about Sanclaw, and her bag of toys. It's silly!' Mala just looked at me and didn't say anything else. I walked away, and decided to go exploring. I was doing more of that on my own, now, since I was a Bright-Eye, not a lilun. It seemed odd, when my body started changing, and my friends—mostly he-ones—started looking at me under their eyelids. It made me feel... funny, so I began going out on my own, away from the others.

"Why? I don't know. It was that itch to find things. I didn't want to become a she-one and have lots of liluns right away, either. Most of the she-ones I knew then would have lots of liluns, but then the she-ones, they wouldn't live very long. They always looked so tired, and sometimes they'd get the coughing illness that has no cure. Then, the elders and the he-ones who were Gatherers would take the sick ones to Upper-Level, all wrapped up in a sheet. They'd come back alone. Some said it was an offering to the Eaters, that the Eaters were gods, but I didn't believe in gods. I'd never seen one.

"Never saw a boogieman, either, until that day I went away from Mala. I found a new section of tunnel no one had explored, and it interested me. Fascinated me. I dug my way through the fallen square rocks with my pick, and dragged my satchel along behind me. I had, of course, some scratchers to make fire with, and carried one in my mouth. It's always best to be prepared, Mala had taught me, with one in your mouth (not lit, of course). Then, if a tunnel rat, or a mutie beast comes up on you sudden-like, you can flick the scratcher along the wall, and it will light; the rat or beast will run away.

"I dug, and scrambled, and climbed, until I worked my way into the new tunnel. Some of the lights on the roof of the tunnel still flickered; that meant I had to be careful of wires. If the lights flicker, there's still a chance there's bite in the wires. Remember that. Anyway, it was quiet; I waited by the opening for a long time, listening. I looked at the dust laying finger-lengths deep along the walkways, and saw no tracks. I did see something, though, in one of the metal bins that have treasure sometimes...

"It was papah, like the one Mala took away from me. I knew it had a story on it, painted on with little black rat tracks. I didn't know how to read it, understand it, like you Bright-Eyes do now, thanks to the Outlanders. But I knew it was important. I stuffed it in my satchel, and found some more treasure—little boxes made of a squishy stuff, like wood that's wet. But these can hold lots of things—money, weed, pretties, food, even water—so I was really happy to find them. These had the BigEm on it, too, so the elders would like them. I'd get extra bread, and maybe a flask of slammer for one, easy.

"I was busy digging in the metal bin, when I heard a sound. A mutie, a rat with huge ears and extra feet, ran past me, chittering madly. I scurried backwards, hiding myself in shadow. I didn't have long to wait to see why the mutie rat was running. The silence was broken next by a steady footfall, with the sound of one foot dragging behind the other, like someone with a broken leg. I peered out from the shadow, fingering my cutter, which I had drawn in defense. The lights above flickered off and on, and then I saw the boogieman.

"He was walking slowly, following the tracks of the mutie rat, apparently. He had no clothes on, and I could see that he was, indeed, a he-one, but I didn't want to look at him very much at all. Our skin is white, or brown, or yellow; his was grey and wrinkled. He was bald—no hair anywhere—and his chest was covered with lumps of oozing sores. I swallowed, hard, trying not to get sick or scream. He was slowly moving his head from side to side, looking down... Or I thought he was looking, until he raised his face. His eyes were huge, and glowed a dull red, like the dying embers of a fire.

"He wasn't looking at anything, I don't think; he was sniffing. As he lurched closer, and closer, I knew he'd find me. If he could follow the mutie rat, by scent, he'd soon enough smell me. I wash three times a week, because of the Teachings, but still... I trembled, wishing I could fly like the birds I've seen Upper-Level. The boogieman paused, and then turned his head toward me. His mouth opened—a black cavern—and he licked his blubbery lips with a long, black tongue. A sigh came from him, and I felt the wind of it.

"Frantically, I flicked the scratcher on the wall, praying to the Teacher that it would light the first scratch. It did, flittering into yellow fire. I waved it out at the boogieman, and screamed. I screamed at the top of my lungs, and the thing shrieked back, it seemed. It cowered from the light, and hissed, waving his long-nailed fingers in pain over his face. I yelled again, and bolted from my shadowed hiding place, toward the opening I made in the slide of squares.

"The boogieman lurched toward me, but pulled back when I brandished the now-growing-short scratcher at him; dropping it, I dragged my satchel with its treasures into the hole, and pulled myself as fast as I could toward safety. I heard scrabbling behind me, and felt something tug once at my ankle... I almost fainted then, but kicked out in reflex, and heard a sickening snapping noise behind me. The thing's shriek turned into a piercing, grinding noise—it made my head hurt—and I pushed debris into the little tunnel I'd made as fast as I could.

"Once on my side of the tunnel, I pushed more square stones onto the hole, and then ran to tell the Elders. They'd post a guard to make sure nothing came through... As I ran, in my fear I took the wrong ramp, and before I knew it, I was on the Upper-Level. It was night, almost, so I wasn't as blinded as I would have been if it had been day, with the sun. But I was frozen with fear, which wasn't much better. Finally coming to my senses, I ducked for cover inside a building. We called them Big Lockers then, you know; we didn't know the word 'building.' It was quiet inside, and I lay on the ground and cried for a few moments.

"I knew to be Upper-Level without a Gathering Party was almost certain death, but death from the Eaters was vastly preferable to what I'd just seen, heard, smelt and felt. At least it would be fast... But being a practical she-one, I finally sat up, wiped my face off with my tunic, and took stock of where I was and what I had with me. Three more scratchers, my cutter—a blade the length of both my hands, my satchel—with treasure inside, my clothes, and a flask of water. I sniffed the air. From what I remembered, having tagged along with some Gathering Parties, it smelled like water would be falling from the roof soon. Fine. It's usually safe to drink it, as long as it doesn't smell bad, I thought.

"Hurriedly, I set about storing my treasures so they wouldn't make noise when I moved, and began scouting out the inside of the building. Not much treasure here; it was old, and had been open to the water and wind for a long time. I found a piece of metal worth saving, and some shards of glass, always worth picking up, and I found some Greens. I ate some, testing them with a little nibble first, but these were good, so I ate more. They were hard to come by, sometimes, so I enjoyed myself. Since I didn't hear the sound of the Eaters' Rides coming, I covered myself with straw and fell asleep.

"Asleep? Asleep, you ask? Well, my Bright-Eyes, if you'd been through the scare I'd been through, you'd want to rest, too. I was tired; I was also weak, since the last few Gathering Parties hadn't found the wheat or the berries they usually find for us. The bread had been rationed, and I had been hungry for awhile. But you get used to that, you know, in time; it just makes you tired more often. I slept, with my ears tuned to any change outside the building.

"Several time-clicks had gone by—about four or five by my reckoning—and then a sound woke me. The Eater's Rides were up in the air. It's not hard to hear them; they sound something like the fluttering of a bat's leathery wings by your ear. But much, much louder. They have great lights on them, too, and they can blind you with them. One of the last Gathering Parties died that way; he looked into the lights as the Rides came toward them, and froze in his tracks. Of course, no one tried to drag him with them as they all ran for the Tunnels; it's every he-one and she-one for themselves then. As it should be, I guess...

"I crouched by the wall of the building, keeping my eyes down on the ground. The Riders flew over me; I counted five of them by the slightly different sounds they made. It's easy to tell things like that when you live in the Tunnels and listen to lots of things for a living. You Bright-Eyes don't have to worry as much about things like that anymore, and I am blessed to be living in these times. Upper-Level, too, now...

"Ah, yes. Roso, thank you. I was hiding by the wall, you're right. I'm old now and forget my place, sometimes. I waited until they went over, and then some demon mutie in my soul urged me to follow the sounds. I carefully stayed in the shadows of the buildings; even moonlight could give me away to the Eaters if I wasn't terribly careful. I followed the sounds of the Rides to a broad open place, with Greens everywhere. It was lit by their great lights, and I watched as the black, shiny Rides landed on the ground. Their sides opened, and Eaters came out.

"They were tall, but not as tall as the boogieman was. They were slender, but not skinny. They had hair, a lot of it, but not as much as some of the he-ones in the Tunnels. I watched, and realized some were he-ones and some were she-ones. They wore odd clothes—tight-fitting, with different patterns of dark and light on them like a mud-splash on coveralls. They gathered around a big box, and from it they took things that looked like long sticks or poles. They were what the Gathering Party elders called 'prods', and I knew from what they had said about them that a touch from one could make you curl up in a ball and turn blue.

"Eaters were laughing, and talking, just like they were of the Tribe, but I couldn't understand their words. I didn't want to get close enough to find out, either. I sat and watched them, and waited. They were acting like we do when forming a Gathering Party; leaders pointing and gesturing, others laughing, waving the prods and dancing a little. Eaters' faces looked a little like the Tribes' faces, but they were chubbier, like the people—like the people in the papah, I realized. They're smiling, too. But how can that be? Mala said they all burned...

"As if my thoughts had summoned the wrath of the Teacher, a noise split the night above us—me, Trey of the Joizee Tribe, and the Eaters with their prods—and it flattened me to the ground. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw the night sky shimmer, turn into a pool of water, and then... I was blinded for long moments. There was a terrible noise, and wind like fists of an angry elder slammed into me as I lay on the ground. Then, just like that, it was over. I heard screams and shouts from the Eaters, and looked up again at their gathering.

"In their midst, Eaters were moving very quickly. I saw prods flash out, and then, to my surprise, saw them fly up into the night, through the shafts of light pointing into the darkness. Why were they fighting amongst themselves? I wondered, and held my breath to see what else would happen. A body flew into the air, and came down in a sodden lump not far from me. In a ray of light from one of the Rides' light-things, I saw the Eater's face. It was a he-one, from the hair on his face, and his teeth were bared in a grimace. His eyes glazed as I watched...

"More Eaters were screaming, and I heard thuds and ripping sounds, as well as a guttural , tearing snarl coming from inside the group. Some Eaters turned to run, to get to their Rides, but they, none of them, made it more than three or four steps. The blur that was snarling caught them, and killed each of them. I saw bodies torn limb from limb; I saw Eaters with their skulls crushed; I saw blood spurting black in the night, and smelled death.

"In less than a part of a time-click, it was over, and the blur stopped being a blur. Instead, it was a still, black-clad form, with something at its side that glinted occasionally. It prodded a few of the Eaters, curiously, it seemed, and killed one or two that weren't quite dead yet. It moved like a cat. I had seen cats many times, in the Tunnels. We used to leave them alone, since they helped us control the rats and other bothers of the place. I always liked them—they were so sleek, and cool—and this thing in black made me think of a big, person-sized cat.

"I moved slowly over to the dead Eater near me, and began stripping the clothes off before they got too nasty. Whenever the Gathering Parties found dead Eaters—sometimes they killed each other, you know—the he-ones and she-ones would strip the bodies, since the Eaters' clothes are much more long-lasting than ours, and warmer, too. They don't get as wet, I think, and now I have a whole set to myse—

"Cat-movement behind me, and then a sudden pain as I was kicked to the ground. Before I could pull my cutter, a hand reached down and flipped me over onto my back. The glittery thing I had seen the cat-person in black waving earlier was at my throat, and it was the longest, thinnest cutter I'd ever seen. Even though I thought I was going to die right then, I couldn't help but admire the long cutter, and the skill of the person in sneaking up on one of the Tribe. Impressive, I thought. Not to be killed by a boogieman, nor an Eater, but by a cat-person.

"A voice from the being made me look into its face, or at least where its face should be. It was all black, and I couldn't see any features—no nose, no eyes, no hair—and then, like the flick of a scratcher along a wall, the cat-walker flipped its head, and I saw a face. A face like I'd never seen before—but one that was hauntingly familiar. High cheekbones, red hair in a thick braid, a mouth quirked into a slight smile, and deep green eyes. The lights from the Rides showed up all these features clearly, and I gasped at the beauty. I listened again to the voice—a deep one for a she-one, but nevertheless, she was obviously not a he-one, nor a Bright-Eye like myself—and wondered what she was saying.

"Her foot moved off my chest, and I sat up, slowly. Seeing as how she had killed all the Eaters, I decided to show her I was not a threat. As we have always done in the Tribe, I drew my cutter with my off-hand, slowly, feeling the heat of her eyes on me as I moved. Kneeling down, I placed it between her feet, edge-on, and sat back, my hands open. I looked up into her eyes, and said, 'Noshit. No fight. Kewl.' That's what the elders say when they stop fighting, I thought, and maybe she'll understand. Never seen eyes like that before—they seem to look right through me...

"She was quiet for a moment, and then placed one black boot on the blade, moving gracefully. She flipped the cutter up and snatched it from the air almost faster than I could watch, and looked at it closely. She then tucked it into her belt...she's keeping my cutter? I wondered, and then felt her hand on the top of my head. Slowly, like you'd talk to a lilun, she said, 'Saaaafn. Guud.'

"I wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but smiled anyway. I wasn't dead. But, looking around, I realized we both would be, no matter how good a fighter she was. Soon, the Eaters would send more Rides, and more hunting Eaters, and we'd be dinner for some of them. I pointed at the Rides, and then back the way they came. I made a circle with my hand, and brought it back to where we were. 'Please,' I said, 'we must go hide, and soon. Eaters come!' I pointed at the dead Eater next to me, naked in the light from the nearby Ride. 'Eater, this is an Eater,' I said. 'Bad. Baaaaad. We go!', and I pointed into the jumble of buildings beyond. 'Come, run, with me, cat-one, Red-hair. Run!'

"Safe in the subtunnel of one of the fallen buildings, I sat back with a sigh. I was tired, more tired than I could remember being before. The Gatherers hadn't been finding greens as much, and less meat that was clean, and we had all been made to eat less. The penalty for hoarding food from the Tribe was to be given to the Eaters, and several in the last few moon-cycles had made that mistake. I always hated it when we'd have to give them to the Eaters, but the Teacher said it was the only fair thing to do. One of the Sayings: all for one, one for all. Those who do not live by the law die by it, Bright-Eyes. Remember that.

"I watched with interest as Red-hair fixed her leg. One of the Eaters had hit her with a prod, and the tip had broken off in her thigh. She calmly dug it out with a small tool from her belt, and then I watched with amazement as her leg flesh seemed to seal itself almost instantly. One moment she was bleeding, like anyone of the Tribe would be—I didn't know until just a few clicks ago that Eaters could bleed, let alone die—but now her leg had a pink seam where the wound had been. Soon, as I kept glancing at it over the next few clicks, it didn't have a seam at all, and you couldn't tell where the wound had been. That's odd, I remember thinking. Magic of some sort; I wish we had it.

"After she fixed her leg, and took a brief look around the subtunnel, she returned to my side. I had fallen asleep, something one rarely does Upper-Level and lives to tell about it... I felt a soft stroke down the side of my face, and woke to her hand. I started—not used to people of any sort touching me—and she moved back, smiling. 'Saafn,' she said.

"'I don't understand you,' I replied. We looked at each other for a moment, and I could see her thinking hard. Her eyes looked far away for a moment, like a Teacher's do, when a Teacher is thinking about the Law. She closed her beautiful green eyes—green like the first Greens you've had after a long winter—and then said something else. It sounded more like what I had said, but not quite. 'I still don't understand you. Are you an Eater?' I pointed up and west, toward the place of death we'd come from. 'You don't seem like an Eater, and you killed so many... You must be a great fighter. A Hunter."'

"'Ah... ah am no... I am no... not... ee-tah... Eater. I am Draka.' She smiled at me, her teeth white and even in the dim light. She had taken a small box from her belt earlier, and then something from the box; it was a little round ball that floated in the air like a stick does on water. It glowed softly, not enough to attract more Eaters or anything else that would like to snack on us.

"I stared intently at it, looking for the scratcher that starts the fire, or the wires that make the light, but neither was there. I didn't understand, and tried to reach for it. It moved away, humming a little. I reached again, and the Red-hair said, 'No, saafn, hot. Hot?'

"She stopped my hand from touching it, but then, with a strength far greater than mine, held my hand near the round ball. I could feel warmth coming from it, like a fire, and realized she'd kept me from burning myself.

"'Thanks,' I said, and relaxed my hand in hers.

"Red-hair grinned at me, and then let go of my hand, reaching over to pat my hair. 'Good wench.'

"'Way-unch?' I tried to think of some word we used that sounded like that, and couldn't.

"'Wench,' she said. 'Girl, female, saafn wench. Muhmis,' and she pointed to herself. 'Muhmis Gwen. You,' and she pointed at me, 'saafn wench. Your name?'

"Muhmis must be like Teacher, or Fighter—some honor name. Gwen is her name from her tribe, maybe? I wondered. 'My name, my Tribe name, is Trey. I am of the Tribe of Joizee. We live Under. We are not Eaters.'

"'Trey?' Gwen asked, again pointing at me. I nodded. 'Good saafn. You live near here?' She looked back over one shoulder briefly, towards the place with all the now-dead Eaters. 'Home?'

"'Not Upper-Level. We live Under. We live there in safety. Eaters and others live up here, in Upper-Level. We go Gathering here, and sometimes hunting. But they hunt all the time. They are bad. They will eat you if they catch you, Gwen. You killed many of them!' I glance at her cutter in admiration. 'Bitchin' cutter. Kewl!'

"Gwen frowned a little, and I wonder to myself: not healthy if I've made her angry. To my surprise, she laughs softly in the glow of the ball, floating near us. 'No, Trey, I am not angry with you. Just... hard to understand all you say. You speak English, but it is a different dialect than mine, or ones I've learned. Your tribe, are they American?'

"'Merkun? Like the Eagles? They're a tribe that lives Far West; you walk into the sun to go there. They live in the big tunnels, where the land meets the sky. I have heard stories of the Merkuns. But I have never seen one. I think something would eat me before I got there.' I point at her cutter. 'Even if I had a cutter like yours.'

"'Cutter? Oh, my layer knife. Say it: "lay-er niif." You don't have things like this?' She drew it from the holder, and light seemed to shimmer on its blade. I reached for it, to hold the magic, and she caught my hand. 'No, no... no touching. It would hurt you. Just look. Never touch.'

"Her voice had the ring of a Teacher in it, and I immediately folded my hands together and bowed. They don't teach you Bright-Eyes much of that old discipline anymore, but if a Teacher spoke to you, when you were my age, even, you bowed and made your hands like this. It's supposed to look like the place in the sky that we all go to in the end, when we leave our bodies. No one teaches much of that anymore, do they? It's all changed, and all from the moment I met Gwen. Her full tribe name was Gwendolyn Ingolfsson, she told me later. But I was allowed to call her Muhmis Gwen, and then finally just Gwen. But that's further away in the story...

"Muhmis Gwen watched as I bowed, and nodded. 'Good. You've been taught to respect authority, then, or Command...'

"She said words I didn't understand then; I decided they were Teacher words or Hunter words, and I'd have to learn them. The last word she said as though it was a magic one, and that made sense. Every tribe has magic; some have more than others. My magic hadn't bloomed yet, but Mala had told me to be careful, that it was close. I had no idea how close...

"'I look? At cutter? I mean, at layer knife?' I looked up from my hands, hungry to gaze on the thing that had killed so many Eaters. She nodded, and held it before me, but far enough away that she could catch my hands if I reached for it. Some Hunters were very particular about their weapons, and they'd beat you if you messed with them, so I figured she was the same way. I looked it over, and was amazed at how thin it was. If I looked at it sideways, it almost seemed to disappear. The other way, it gleamed like metal that's been polished for many clicks, mega-clicks.

"'Kewl. You kill lots with this? Lots of Eaters? Do you hunt them for your Tribe?'

"'Ah...' Gwen put the layer knife away again. 'I hunt anything I want. My whole Tribe are hunters. We come, we take, we hunt. We are Draka. Have you ever seen this?' She reached to her collar, and showed me a tiny red thing. It looked like a lizard that lives in the lower tunnels; you don't ever want them to bite you because then all the flesh rots away from the bite and you die.

"'No. What is it, your Tribe's sign? Mine's like this,' I said, tracing the magic letters JZ on the floor's dust.

"'It is a drakon, a dragon. Um... large lizard? Breathes fire? You've never seen this? Have your elders ever talked about the Draka? Or something called the Alliance?'

"I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment. My eyelids seemed tremendously heavy... 'No, Muhmis Gwen. No drakon, no Draka, no... What was the other thing? All-eyes?'

"'Alliance. The Alliance for Democracy.' She sat down on the floor next to me, and then before I could stop her, she pulled me into her lap, holding my head gently against her shoulder. She leaned back, against the wall, and the glowing ball dropped lower, almost to the floor, and went dim. 'Enough questions, little one. Rest, now. Tomorrow, I'll get us some food, and water, and we'll see about this Tribe of Joizee.'

"'But...' I struggled a little, but realized she was terribly strong, stronger than any he-one or she-one of the Tribe. What if she wants to... I thought to myself, and swallowed hard. I don't know enough about it, even though I've played with a couple of he-ones and one she-one before... We've never mated. What if... she's different, somehow? What if...

"'Sssshhhhh. I'm not different from you that way, I don't think,' Gwen whispered softly. 'We'll find out soon, don't worry. And even though I'm horny as the seven hells, I'll let you rest tonight. Sleep, Trey. It's all right. Sleep...' Her hands stroked me, and something—her perfume, her breathing—something made me relax, and sleep, in her arms for many clicks. It felt... strange, but good. Safe. Nothing bothered us in the night."

Editor's Note:

The story, what there is of it, was originally written by Anne Marie Talbott (AMT) some unknown time before September 16, 1999. I found this apparently never-completed fanfic as an HTML file from her website of Draka fanfics, and saved it on that day. It's apparently a post-apocalyptic setting, and has quite a few interesting details that make me wonder if a more complete version (or even an outline or notes) exists. The .ZIP archive available above contains the original web version, but AMT's website is now long gone. Like "Yearnings", and several AMT-written Draka fanfics, this one had disappeared from the Internet over the years. After somebody recently asked about another one that I may not have saved, I decided to find and re-present this fanfic on my own Draka website.

The story was apparently originally written using Microsoft Word 97, which was then used to convert it to HTML 4.0 Transitional for her website. If you compare the archived original and this page's version, you'll notice numerous minor changes. The original HTML was produced by Microsoft Word 97, and while the Netscape and Microsoft browsers will display it just fine, it makes validator programs very sick. So, I had to do some corrections, and went to XHTML 1.0 Transitional. No actual text of the story has been removed. Punctuation (double and single quotes, ellipses, em dashes, semicolons) was changed; headings, separators, indentation and fonts were changed to match my current website design. There may have been a few typos too. But I believe my editing hasn't damaged the story. If AMT is still around, or anybody has something to add to "Trey", please share it.

Peter Karsanow
September 13^th, 2005

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The following are used with express or inherited permission of the original authors. Trey is © 1999 Anne Marie Talbott. The Draka, Drakon, Gwendolyn Ingolfsson are © S. M. Stirling.
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