"As deep as you sink into your host's mind, so deep its mind sinks into you." – excerpt from an oral tradition forbidden by the Council of Thirteen
"Who invented this place, Dr. Seuss?" Marco demanded.
The city, if you could call it that, was not like Santa Barbara, but a monstrously tall tower constructed unevenly from colored slabs. The slab we were standing on was blue, connected to the overhanging floor above with a huge green pillar. A complex plumbing system, the tanks and pipes also in bright colors, wrapped around the pillar and connected to a mazelike series of low, round buildings going deeper into the tower.
We, however, were right near the edge. Bachu turned her head to get a good look down, and I privately cursed her for it. The ground was miles down, with no railing to shield us from the drop. I hoped Bachu had very good footing.
The Animorphs noticed at about the same time. They all gasped and leapt forward, away from the edge. But the Iskoort were so intent on – what, selling us things? – that they pushed the Animorphs back toward the edge. Rachel was teetering backward, arms windmilling desperately for balance. "Rachel!" her dæmon cried, and seized her arm with his teeth. With his greater weight, he managed to pull her back from the edge, blithely kicking any Iskoort who came too close. Once they were a safe distance in, Rachel leaned back against Abineng, rubbing the bite mark on her arm.
The Iskoort barely noticed. The whole time, they kept yammering at us.
«Come stay at my luxurious palace of leisure!»
«I will buy your ungestated embryos!»
«Find the partner of your dreams at my pool-parlor!»
And to me, or rather, Bachu: «Your metallic casing is dull! Let me polish you!»
"What is this, Planet of the Salesmen?" Marco demanded.
Diamanta became an alligator and snapped her jaws. "Back off!" she said. "All of you, back off!"
"Man, I thought there were a lot of salespeople at Nordstrom's, but this is nuts. I'll take care of this. I know how to get rid of pushy salespeople." Abineng tossed his horned head around to make a path for Rachel through the throng. She stepped out front and said, "We're just here to use the bathroom. Can you tell me where the ladies' room is?"
That shut them up, finally, if only out of sheer confusion.
Cassie exchanged a look with Jake and sighed. "Now what? What do we do? Stand around 'til someone tries to kill us?"
I took a look around. I had no idea what Howlers looked like, but the Iskoort seemed to be a very diverse lot. A bare majority of the salespeople before us were whining accordion windbags with backward-jointed legs and stalk eyes that reminded me uncomfortably of an Andalite's. One looked like a Vanarx, but with a long, fluttering dorsal fin and teeth, which made me even more uncomfortable. The rest were less threatening: a few hovering people with huge buzzing wings and bodies sized and shaped like basketballs, and another few sort of like Venus fly traps with legs.
"Can they even understand us?" Marco said. "Unless the Ellimist cast some kind of translation magic on us, I'm pretty sure these guys don't speak English."
"Which ones are the Iskoort?" Rachel said, looking over them. "Are any of them Howlers? How are we supposed to tell?"
"The Ellimist never said the Iskoort were a species," Bachu pointed out quietly. "Maybe everyone here is called an Iskoort, sort of like how anyone can be an American no matter where they came from."
A new assault team was headed toward us, whining and hooting and humming. The leader, one of the stalk-eyed accordion-people, said, «Forgive us, strangers! We did not expect new off-worlders today. Welcome to the City of Beauty! Do you require a guide? Do you wish to sell your memories, or perhaps any unnecessary body parts?»
Merlyse was in coyote form, ears flattened back like she might try to chase them off, but Quincy said to her, "You know, if they're really offering a guide…"
"Yeah, you're right," Jake said. Merlyse relaxed, but still watched the Iskoort warily. "Um, well, we could use a guide. You know, to show us around. Show us where to stay."
«I can partner one of you with my own grub,» the leader said, which answered Marco's question about whether they could understand us, though not how. «Undbel would be happy to guide you in exchange for memories, especially ones of delicious eating experiences.»
The Animorphs exchanged looks, eyebrows raised. Working in exchange for memories seemed perfectly reasonable to me – I value my hosts' memories very highly – but apparently it didn't to them. "Uh, could we pay with something else?" Jake said.
«None of my grubs will work for anything but memories, but my associate,» the Iskoort said, gesturing forward another, smaller accordion-person, «knows the City of Beauty from swamp to sky, and they will work in exchange for his hair.» It pointed a small tentacle at Abineng's black mane.
This time, we all exchanged looks. Anything cut or plucked from a dæmon's body just dissolves into Rusakov particles; Karen tried it with a feather from Cavanagh's wing once.
"What about Rachel's hair?" Marco said, pointing.
"Hey!" Rachel snapped.
«Deal!» the leader Iskoort exclaimed.
Rachel folded her arms. "How much?"
«All of it,» the Iskoort said.
"No way!" Rachel indicated a spot just below her ears. "This much, and that's final."
The Iskoort whined, but unsheathed a sharp-looking razor from a sort of utility belt around its shoulders. «Bend yourself downward so I can remove the hair.»
"Uh uh. I will use your head as a soccer ball before I let you anywhere near my head with that thing." She looked around at the rest of us desperately. "None of you know how to cut hair, by any chance?"
"I do," said Bachu. "In one of my lives I cut the hair of all the village girls for years. Not that short, but…"
"I'll take it," Rachel said. "Do you have some kind of Swiss army knife scissor that comes out of your hand or do you need Mr. Salesman's razor?"
"Um," said Bachu. "Razor, please."
Rachel looked at the Iskoort. "You heard the robot."
It whined and passed over the razor. Bachu held it in a sure and easy grip. "Come here, Rachel. Let me see the back."
Rachel stood in front of us, hands clasped behind her back. Abineng hovered to our right, watching with a gimlet eye. I wondered if they were using four-eye to get a 360º view of the haircut. They would.
Bachu took Rachel's silky hair in her fingers, moving it this way and that, and I felt the familiar greed rise up. What would it be like to have hair like this? To feel it brushing against my neck as I walked? What motions of her hands did she use to arrange it in the morning? I wanted to be a part of that experience. But Rachel would never let me.
I felt the weight of Rachel's hair shift in my right hand as Bachu cut with her left, starting just behind her earlobe. She used a slanting cut so the inner layers were longer than the outer ones. It looked very sharp and crisp, except a few ragged strands, which Bachu neatly trimmed away.
Abineng walked a circle around Rachel. "Not bad," he murmured, and that was probably the best Bachu was going to get.
Quincy flew a circle around Rachel, behind Abineng. "It looks good," he said, and Cassie gave Bachu and Rachel a smile. I like Cassie's smiles. They're soft, closed-lipped, and warm.
"This from the girl who buys all her clothes from L.L. Bean," Rachel grumbled.
Bachu handed the Iskoort the hair. It took it and eyed Marco's long hair speculatively. "And you?" it whined. "Your hair is also very fine."
"Dude, we agreed: Rachel's hair for the guide," Marco said.
Diamanta said, "Next time Dad complains about your hair getting too long, I'm telling him it got compliments from an alien."
The Iskoort gave one last ingratiating whine, gestured, and said, "This is my associate, Guide of Ebixuln."
Guide immediately tried to bargain for the last foot and a half of the Andalite's tail, which was the best entertainment I'd gotten all day. The look on his face! He'd clearly rather have traded his sex organs. Marco threatened to sic the Andalite on Guide if it tried anything, and that kept it mostly quiet, for now at least.
"One question, right up front," Jake said. "Have you seen any other off-world strangers?"
«Off-worlders? Of course! The City of Beauty is temporary home to many, many off-worlders.»
«We're looking for members of a species called Howlers,» Tobias said.
"They look somewhat like them," Bachu said, gesturing at the humans. "Same body plan, but black and deep red. They have blue eyes and a very narrow waist that pivots."
"Why are they called Howlers, then?" Rachel demanded. "I thought they'd be like wolves or something."
Guide whined, its mouth gaping open. «This species is not known to me.»
Jake pressed Guide until it admitted there were Howlers about, selling memories. The Iskoort seemed to understand how threatening they were, reticent to share any detail about them. Cassie, frustrated, asked Bachu, "What else can you tell us about Howlers?"
"They're smart," said Bachu. "Very technologically advanced. They use all kinds of weapons. They have this howl that's so loud it completely scrambles your brain. And they have this special souped-up vision that can see infrared, and even major organs inside the body."
"Anyone have a morph that can't hear so well?" Jake said.
"I could morph cobra," Marco said. "They don't have ears."
«I have a rattlesnake morph,» the Andalite added.
"All right," said Jake. "If we see a Howler, we hide and send Ax and Marco after it as snakes. Element of surprise, right? A Howler wouldn't know they're poisonous, or immune to its howl."
"How do we know snake venom works on them?" Cassie said.
«It works on Andalites,» Ax pointed out.
"If you have a better idea…" Jake sighed.
"No. I don't."
"What about you, Delia?"
"It might work on one Howler," Bachu said. "But if they really do have collective memory, even if the Howler dies, the others will know, and that trick won't work again."
"What about your holograms?" Rachel said. "Could you cover Ax and Marco with holograms when they're in snake form?"
Bachu shook her head. "Concealing them so they can more effectively assassinate the Howler? That's a violation of my programming."
Marco snapped his fingers. "Could you disguise us as Iskoort? Like, right now?"
"Sure," Bachu said, "but it wouldn't throw them off for long. They can see infrared. They would notice that your heat signature isn't the same as the Iskoorts'."
"Still," said Jake. "It would at least make us stand out a little less."
"All right," said Bachu. "Make your dæmons small if you can." Merlyse and Diamanta became a magpie and a chameleon. Holograms shimmered into being around us, disguising us as the different species – if that was what they were – of Iskoort. Rachel and Abineng became two Iskoort, on account of Abineng's size. Guide watched jealously, accordion chest whining, and I wondered what body parts it would be willing to offer to get Bachu's holographic tech.
Marco looked down at his tentacles. "Well," he said. "That's freaky."
The Abineng-Iskoort came over to hiss something quietly at him, and he piped down. Abineng must have realized that speaking aloud would quickly give away that we weren't Iskoort. A beat of awkward silence passed, then the Andalite said to Guide, «Prince Merlyse would like me to ask you to take us to where the Howlers went to sell their memories.»
«Yes! Our grand bazaar! Follow me.»
«Great,» I grumbled. «The others are communicating via hologram-covered dæmons. How am I supposed to talk?»
«I'll make a privacy bubble around us if we need it,» Bachu said.
Guide led us downstairs, walking backward in a way that made me uneasy just to watch. I tried not to think about the drop at all. We passed a mostly empty floor full of what Guide noted were energy storage tubes. There was still an exposed plumbing system here, but it was less complex, with long straight tubes and only the occasional tank or spigot.
The next floor down was a different story. It was identifiable as a grand bazaar, as alien as it was. The storefronts were open to accommodate traders of a hundred different body shapes and sizes. The accordion-people were still a majority, but only just. The rest were a bewildering variety. Speech and thought-speak rang out everywhere. I saw an Iskoort no bigger than a human fist negotiating fiercely with another the size of a draft horse. I saw an accordion-person stop at a spigot in the vastly convoluted plumbing system and talk into it for some reason. I saw a pulsing slug-thing reach inside itself and pull out a still-beating organ with a squelch, trading it for a glittering chip like a coin. Eurgh. No wonder the Iskoort kept asking the Animorphs for body parts.
As soon as we reached the mustard-yellow floor, Iskoort teemed around us, brandishing gems and gadgets and dripping pulsing things for us to buy, reaching for our body parts and clothing with acquisitive tentacles and claws and robot pincers. Guide steered us through the grasping herd to a somewhat sparser area where Iskoort with horns and other pointy bits predominated.
«This is the trading zone for the Warmaker Guild,» Guide explained. «They come to the memory palaces here to trade memories for weaponry.»
I looked at a storefront. It had a series of colorful dots on its eaves, and as I looked at them, my mind swam into a strange not-focus, and I was able to read them. They meant something like "Ferocious Battlefield Other-Mind Spectacular." I would never have known the dots were writing if the Ellimist hadn't tampered with our minds. Maybe it was only fair, since the Howlers would probably know how to read the dot-writing, but since when had the Ellimist been fair?
The Andalite said, «Prince Merlyse asks if we can buy Howler memories.»
«I can load them into the robot,» Guide said. Its accordion chest groaned doubtfully. «But they are expensive.»
«I guess we could morph, give some body parts, and demorph?» Tobias said doubtfully.
There was a collective cry of dismay from the Animorphs, quickly suppressed.
«I will pay for you to view the Howler memories. In exchange for harvesting your own memories,» Guide said.
A pause as Merlyse whispered in the Andalite's ear. «What does the memory harvesting process involve?»
«A memory reader will be attached to wherever your brain is kept and used to read the electrical impulses there. You will remain in a mild trance state throughout the process. It is quick and causes no harm.»
«Can't do it,» Tobias said. «Those memories could end up reaching the Yeerks.»
I might have complained that I was in just as much risk of revealing important secrets from my memories to the Andalites. But no one but Cassie would listen if I did, so I kept quiet.
Another pause, then the Andalite said: «Show us a star chart, Guide.»
Guide touched a wall panel, which turned into a screen. It made some gestures toward the screen, which called up a star chart. It wasn't familiar to me, but I'd never had much interest in astronomy. «Expand,» the Andalite said, and the view pulled out. «Expand,» he said again, and now I could see the shape of our galaxy, which the Andalites call the Many-Tailed Witch-Lord. «We are more than five thousand light years from Earth,» he said. «Before the Yeerks could spread a tenth of this distance they would have had to swallow not only Earth, but my planet as well.» A pause. «We will make the trade. Our memories in exchange for all Howler memories, as well as anything else we may need.»
Guide pointed to a slot next to the screen. «Can you interface?»
I felt wiring shift inside Bachu's metal hand. Her finger changed shape. Then a lot of things happened at once.
Bachu put her finger in the slot. Tobias cried, «Howler!» My mental awareness of Bachu disappeared. I wanted to turn my head around to see what was happening, but I didn't dare take over our body without Bachu's permission or even awareness, as far as I knew. «I don't think it's noticed us yet,» Tobias said tersely. «But it matches Delia's description. It's in this, this Warmaker Guild zone.»
«Marco and I will morph snake. Everyone else, retreat, except Delia. Finish transferring the memories.»
It was hard for me to follow what happened. My head was still facing the screen and I didn't dare turn it. Was Bachu done downloading the memories yet? She was the most advanced technology I'd ever encountered or heard of. Surely it couldn't take this long. Or maybe it just felt like a long time.
Bachu pulled her finger from the slot. Slowly, she turned her head around. Still, it felt like this body was empty, carrying out instructions left by a long-gone intelligence. I had lost track of the Animorphs behind their holograms, lost in the shifting crowd. But the Howler stood out clearly, centered in my sight, an oddly-shaped piece of dried lava that still smoldered in its depths. It did not seem to notice the two snakes slithering with surprising speed toward its legs.
Each snake sank its fangs into what on a human would be an ankle. The Howler gave a high-pitched, warbling cry, reached for its left ankle, and wrenched one of the snakes off with a hard pull. It gave a gargling hiss as it left behind a fang, still embedded in the Howler's rough hide. The Howler held the snake by its neck and shook it, fountaining its blood in an arc from where its fang had been torn out.
The Iskoort cleared a space around the Howler and watched with apparent interest, but did not intervene. Recording memories for later sale, no doubt. Bachu still seemed frozen, but I couldn't wait for her any longer. I didn't know where the other Animorphs were, and this one was about to die. Cassie would never forgive me, or herself, if that happened. "Demorph!" I cried. "Both of you, demorph and get OUT!"
The Howler's head snapped toward me. I'd known it would happen. I couldn't use Bachu's holograms to cover my voice; I only had access to motor functions and five basic senses. But it didn't prepare me for the total paralyzing terror of having those blue, empty eyes fixed on me.
The snake the Howler hadn't grabbed used the moment of distraction to pull back and begin demorphing. The snake's scales melted into brown skin. Marco. That meant the snake in the Howler's grasp was the Andalite.
I hesitated. Getting rid of the Andalite could only increase my chances of convincing the Animorphs to support my cause. He would probably kill thousands of my kind if he could, just like his brother. All I had to do to destroy the Andalite was do nothing at all.
A memory surfaced, unwanted, both mine and not mine. Ax was in the fields behind my house. He was usually cautious, but he came so near I knew he was there. He seemed so lonely. I'd never really thought about what it must be like, to be so far from everyone and everything he ever knew. My family wouldn't be much of a substitute, but they knew how to love anyone who needed it. They had to be better than staying alone in the dark. So I invited him to my house.
It was suddenly even more obvious to me why the Iskoort traded in memories. But I would never buy any. I could scarcely handle the ones I already had. Cassie loved the Andalite – Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill – and she loved me. I wasn't sure if all humans had the capacity to embrace so many contradictions, or if Cassie was just special that way. But she did love him, like a brother.
"Do you know what I am, Howler?" I shouted. "Look at me. Tell me. What am I?"
The Howler turned its attention back toward me. It narrowed its eyes. And, masters of timing as the Animorphs were, Tobias used that moment to dive for the Howler's head, talons outstretched. It must have heard the rush of air, because it looked up. Its eyes widened. It dropped the Andalite, shielded its head with one arm, and drew a projectile weapon with the other. It fired the weapon at Tobias.
«Aaaahhhh!» A spray of flechettes peppered Tobias, tearing his left wing to useless shreds. Blood ran over his left eye. He spiraled downward, his other wing fluttering.
«Tobias!» the Andalite cried weakly.
«You can't help him now!» Marco shouted. «Ax, you're bleeding out! Demorph before the Howler – »
"Come on, Howler!" I bellowed. "Look at me! WHAT AM I?"
Then, all at once, the Howler came for me. Its legs loped so fast that by the time I realized what was happening it was nearly on me already. It was then that Bachu finally seemed to wake up. I felt her presence inside. She began to run.
If the Howler was fast, Bachu was unbelievable. Riding along in her body when she began to run was like being strapped to the top of a Bug fighter entering atmosphere. But even with her speed, the Howler had too much of a head start. In a few dizzying seconds I couldn't follow, the Howler had us over its shoulder like a human fireman carrying a burning victim. And with Bachu's programming, we could do nothing to resist.
«Ax, Tobias, morph out! We're on our way, we're gonna – »
«Can't think. Fuzzy. How do I – »
«Oh, shit. Guys, come on, it has Delia!»
«Are you serious?!»
«Of course I'm fucking serious, am I going to fuck with you at a time like this? Oh, oh no – »
I saw, sideways and upside down, as the Howler fired back at the elephant and tiger coming after us. More flechettes. One hit an artery in the tiger's neck. It buckled as blood sprayed hot and red, speckling the elephant's side. The elephant, too, stopped and screamed in agony at the wounds that appeared on its face. Somehow, none of the flechettes seemed to have hit the Iskoort around us, who watched in a tight circle around the action, hooting and shouting dismay and encouragement both.
The Howler ran on. I lost sight of the Animorphs. «Bachu?» I said, tentatively. «What now?»
«It's a child, Aftran,» Bachu said hollowly. «I have their memories. They're children. They've never lost a battle. They've never left a survivor. And it's just a game to them. They're playing. It's so much fun.»
I thought of my moment of empathy with Cassie's love for the Andalite, and felt very bitter and small. Why should any of us have to know our enemies so well? What did they do to deserve our understanding? Knowing them hurt so much more than when they were featureless monsters.
«They have collective memory. They keep track of… high scores. Like in the arcade games human children play. The Pemalites weren't even a high score. Killing them took too long. They started to get bored, by the end.»
«Bachu,» I said. «What are the Howlers going to do with us now? There must be something we can do, if not fight!»
«They only live three years. They self-destruct after that. The Howlers don't care, as long as they get to have some fun before they die. Their lives are so carefree!»
«This isn't helping. Bachu, think.»
«What can we do? I can't fight. They'll probably disassemble me for parts. They'll find my holographic transmitters and use them to become more deadly than ever. And there's nothing I can do about it. You could leave me, I suppose. But you wouldn't survive, not without a liquid environment.»
Liquid environment. I remembered the plumbing system that coiled around every pillar and wall. I realized what it reminded me of – the dæmon-piping system Karen's mother dæmon, a cookie-cutter shark, used to move around their house, except that the piping in Karen's house was transparent. It was as if every Iskoort had an aquatic dæmon they didn't want to get too far away from, except the dæmons were deep-sea creatures who didn't want any light in their pipes. But it didn't matter why the Iskoort had them. The Howler didn't seem to know I was inside Bachu. If we got close enough to one of the spigots, I could crawl out of her head and make my escape.
«Bachu. I need you to focus. Did you notice the plumbing system the Iskoort have set up in this ramshackle nightmare tower of theirs?»
«Um?» she said vaguely. «Yes.»
«Do you see the spigots? Holes where liquid can exit and enter?»
«Yes.»
«I'm going in through one of those as soon as we get close enough. I'm going to swim away, find the Animorphs, and rescue you from the Howlers. But I need your help. As soon as I leave your head, I won't be able to see. I need you to open your head, pull me out, and drop me in one of the spigots, quick as you can. At my signal. Can you do that?»
«Yes. It's non-violent. Simple. But you won't save me, Aftran. This one Howler nearly killed the Animorphs. Maybe it did kill some of them. When they face all eight…»
«They will, Bachu. All the more if you can help me. What you told me just now, about them. That they're children. We could use that. Any information helps. So. Are you ready?»
«What if the liquid in this plumbing system is deadly to your kind? It could be, for all you know.»
I paused. I hadn't thought of that. «Either I take this risk, or I sit in your head helplessly while they disassemble my host. No, Bachu. I couldn't bear it. You're mine. They can't do that to you.»
«I don't… All right. Yes. We're running alongside a wall now. I'm ready.»
Bachu's head opened. All my senses except touch and smell went dark. I felt cold metal pinch me, then a rush of cool dry air on my skin, making me writhe. I feared I might desiccate to a husk, or feel the bite of the Howler's claws. But then the air went damp and earthy, and warm sludge embraced me.
My first thought was that it felt like home. Better than home, even. The sludge was just the right texture, instead of that constant glue-like viscosity the California pool had. I felt minerals in the fluid in just the right concentrations, not like the ones that were added as supplemental bursts every few hours to our off-world pools, so that every Yeerk got the bare minimum needed to survive another three days. The Visserarchy couldn't spare any more than that, since all the nutrients had to be snuck from the home world through the Andalite embargo, or synthesized at great expense in a lab. But a constant stream of soft-smelling mineral salts flowed past me, making the slime on my skin feel smooth and refreshed.
A sense of calm and contentment eased the edge of my panic. I felt I could think straight again. Already I was contemplating how to find the Animorphs. Why did I feel so good? It was almost as if – no. That was impossible. But there it was, shining all around me from the walls of the pipe I had entered. The Kandrona.
I thought briefly of the ridiculous stories Karen was taught in that Sunday school of hers. Had the Howler killed me and sent me to some idyllic Yeerk pool afterlife? Silly as it was, I couldn't help but let out a burst of sonar, just to check.
I saw a group of them down the pipe, with a sense of space around them. It had to be one of the tanks in the plumbing system – a socialization area? But no, Yeerks didn't mingle, and they were Yeerks, unmistakably, though very small, with long palps. I swam toward them, unable to stop myself, though I knew it must be an illusion.
As I came closer, I heard them talking, in a mix of sonar and electric pulses, just like I do in the pool. It was not in any language I knew. But just like the dot-writing on the threshold of the memory theater, the meaning-content of their sonar clicks became clear to me, like distant speech suddenly coming closer into focus, though the emotional-intention-content of their electric pulses remained difficult to read.
"Aalyeh introduced me to the most wonderful person the other day. Their name is Salt-Reader, sibling of Story-speaker, if you can believe it. Could they be any more perfect? We talked for hours. Well, we decided today to be partners, but they're so worried they won't earn enough this cycle to afford the body mod for it. I am simply despondent. I can't bear to wait a full cycle to share minds with them, I just can't."
A prickling pulse of electricity that might have been exasperation. "You are such a Isk-chaser, Yehyulu. I haven't been with an Isk since I was a grub and I'm perfectly happy that way. You can make it through another cycle. Deep pools, friend, you'll probably be obsessed with someone new by then."
"Rude."
"Yeah, seriously. How can you say that after Yehyulu got tossed aside for a drug addiction?"
"Do you have to keep bringing that up? I'm trying to move on!"
"I'm sorry, Yehyulu."
"Me too. That was rude. I can't imagine what that's like, watching from outside as your former partner…" A shudder in the electrical fields.
I paused, far enough away so that the strange not-Yeerks, absorbed in their conversation, weren't likely to notice me. I tuned them out. I needed to think. I wish I had a host, even a dæmon, anything that would help me sort out the thoughts swirling in my mind. These Yeerks – if I could be said to share a species with such strange people – were chatting. About personal matters. About their personal feelings for their hosts. About how they could be happy without a host. Right out loud so anyone could hear them.
"Well, I'm sure you could buy one." Right. They were still talking. "Ho, there! Can I get a skin-seller?"
An electric crackle came from what must be the wall of the tank ahead of me, then, suddenly, thought-speech. «Skin-seller of Tekzhane at your service. How may I help you, honored Yoorts?»
The name format was familiar. Guide of Ebixuln, Skin-seller of Tekzhane. This was one of the accordion-people, thought-speaking respectfully to these… Yoorts. These were Yoorts. Hosts were Isks. Iskoort. Controllers!
"Have you any graft-compatible pelts? My friend Zhakdud's Isk has hair falling out all over, but is just too proud and miserly to spring for a new pelt. Zhakdud can feel how uncomfortable and embarrassing it is, but you know how it goes, you can never make an Isk do anything they're dead set against, even if it's for their own good. Anyway, Zhakdud wants to buy a new pelt themself. What's your texture selection like?"
You can't make an Isk do anything. Not Controllers, then. Something new, that I never could have imagined until now. What had the Yoorts called them? Partners. I could have basked in the light of that word as if it were Kandrona. But there was no time. My partner needed me. And to help her, I needed to find the Animorphs. Oh, how the Animorphs would love that they were fighting to save a world of Yeerks and their willing partners. Well, Cassie really would.
I was in an agony of snarled thoughts and indecision. The Ellimist. This had to mean something about the Ellimist. But no, I had to focus. This plumbing system – no, this Yoort pool – was a vast maze, as much or more as the monstrous Lego tower itself. Which way had I come? Was there a 'net terminal I could consult to find out where the Warmaker Guild zone was?
The Yoort swam up to me and pressed their palps to mine, just like that. As if they spoke that way, touching, intimate, all the time. "Whoa there! How long have you been floating there without us noticing? You're a strapping fellow, stranger! What's your name?"
There were stories of sinkholes, back on the homeworld, that would suck Yeerks down into the muddy bottom. This must be what it felt like to be caught in one, unable to resist its pull. I said, without thinking, "Aftran 942."
"Numbers after your name?" another Yoort said. "How funny! What do they mean?"
"It's my birth order in my spawning," I said, unable to control the waves of wild panic in my electric fields.
"Someone counted the exact order of grubs in your spawning? That seems a little obsessive to me. I hope they recorded it and had an image-parser do the job."
"You feel distressed, my friend," said another Yoort – perhaps it was the one who had called the Skin-seller. "Can we help you?"
"Listen," I said desperately, though giving my trust to another Yeerk, even a friendly alien one, felt as unnatural as dry air on my skin. "My partner's been kidnapped. I have some allies who can help get her back, but I don't know how to find them."
Shock flickered from every direction in the Yoorts' electric impulses. "Someone kidnapped your partner?"
"Oh no, you poor thing!"
"I can't even imagine!"
"We're making a call to the Social Regulation and Peacekeeping Guild right now. We can't have people kidnapping Isk left and right; it's a scandal!"
Another wave of panic. The Iskoort couldn't stop the Howlers. They wouldn't stand a chance. Except. Except that when the Howler who kidnapped me and Bachu fired back at the Animorphs over his shoulder, it had been carefully precise. Not a single flechette had hit the Iskoort standing around watching. It wasn't because the Howler cared whether it hit an Iskoort or not. If anything, they enjoyed taking lives; Bachu said it was all just a game to them. So if the Howler avoided hitting any Iskoort, that meant it had to be one of the rules of the game. The rules that the Ellimist had so kindly refrained from telling us, along with the fact that this planet was – no, I couldn't even go there. Once I was pulled down that sinkhole, I would never escape.
"Yes," I said. "Please. Call them. But be sure to warn them. The one who kidnapped my partner is an offworlder. A Howler."
A round of electric gasps. "An offworlder dares to kidnap an Isk? We're going straight to the Warmaker Guild."
"Is there even anything they can do? Aalyeh saw part of a Howler memory. Someone dared them to do it. They lost the dare because they had to quit a minute in, it was so bad. Those Howlers are stone-dry killers. Oh, Aftran. You must be worried frantic for your partner."
"I am," I said quietly. It felt good to admit it. How often did I get to speak my true feelings about my hosts? "Go ahead and call the Warmaker Guild. Even if all they do is delay the Howlers from destroying her, every minute could count. But I also need to find my allies. They were in the Warmaker Guild zone of the trading bazaar when the Howler came for us."
One of the Yoorts touched their palps to a terminal on the tank wall, presumably to call the Warmakers. The others said, "Tell us more about your allies."
"They're offworlders too," I said. Bachu wouldn't be able to cloak them in holograms anymore. They were exposed, I realized. If they were all still alive. It had looked very bad for Tobias and Jake. "Four of them are bipeds with hairy heads, the rest of their bodies covered with skins made from plant and animal fibers. One of the bipeds carries a smaller creature on her shoulder. One is a black quadruped with long horns. One is a flying predator with a sharp beak and claws. One is a quadruped covered in blue hair with stalk eyes and a bladed tail. Two of them change shape."
"I've never seen offworlders that looked like that," mused a Yoort who I suspected was Yehyulu, the Isk-chaser. "I wonder what it would be like to change shape. It sounds exciting."
There was no point trying to explain unsettled dæmons right now, though the Yoort was right that it was fun to have one. "And they're with an Iskoort," I added. "Guide of Ebixuln." Another Controller – no, an Isk partnered with a Yoort. I felt a quiet thrill at that.
"Oh, yes, I believe I've bought a memory or two from Ebixuln. I'll give them a buzz." Palps pressed to the terminal in the wall. "Hello? Ebixuln? This is an urgent message, pick up!"
«I have some very important off-world clients to handle right now, Ushmyerg.» Well, that sounded as different from Guide as I sound from Bachu when I talk. «Can't it wait?»
"Tell your very important off-world clients that I have Aftran 942 with me right now!"
A pause. Then, in a very different tone: «We're in Apartment 47-BQ-Up-Green. How soon can you be here?»
"Zhakdud knows the express lanes like the inside of their Isk's skull," Ushmyerg said. "We'll be there in no time."
"You'll escort me there?" I said.
"Of course. No one knows the express lanes on these levels like I do. And anyway, the Warmaker Guild are on the prowl for that kidnapping Howler, but your partner is still in danger. In your place I'd be stripping my own slime off with worry. It's the least we can do."
So many things the Visserarchy and Empire had taken away from my people, that I'd preached to the Peace Movement that we needed, and I'd forgotten this one: kindness. Trust. "Thank you, friends."
"There's a port to the express lane this way," said Zhakdud. "Follow me, as close as you can. It's easy to get separated once we're through, especially the way I turn."
The four of us swam a few pipes and tanks over to a circular hatch in the ceiling. "I hope Aftran the giant can fit," Zhakdud teased. "Now, remember: you want to take the second left. There's a big sonar-reflective circle around it." They touched their palps to the hatch, and in a gurgling roar of fluid, was gone. The other two zipped through, and then it was my turn. I touched my palps to the hatch. There was enormous pressure, and I was sucked through, my sides scraping against the hatch.
"Yaaaaaahhhh!" I crackled pure electric exhilaration. I'd never moved so fast without a host. I could feel ferocious current across my slime layer. I let out a burst of sonar. Right tunnel, in bright outline! Left tunnel! Second left, up ahead! I hurled myself toward the entrance and got sucked in a whole new direction. The others were up ahead of me, pulsing amusement at me.
"Haven't you used the express lanes before, Aftran?" said Ushmyerg. "You must stick to your Isk like dried slime. You should get out more!"
"What's the next turn?" I said. Brightly marked side tunnels were zipping by at alarming speed.
"Straight up in 3… 2…" Zhakdud was pulled suddenly upward as if by a tractor beam. Then Yehyulu, then Ushmyerg, then I swam upward as hard as I could and whoosh!
The current here was so strong it distorted Zhakdud's speech. "Back to the slow lanes soon! The next lane won't be as strong, then we'll go through a port. Now, left!"
This one was, blissfully, slower. I'd had more than my share of excitement for one day. We emerged from the port into a crowded pipe; it was all I could do not to lose my guides. At one point, I actually did, but they found me again easily enough; I was half again the size of most Yoorts, and twice as large as some, like Yehyulu. Here, the branching pipes were labeled with sonar-reflective characters, which again, I should not have been able to read. 47-BB-Down-Green. 47-BC-Down-Green. And so on until 47-BQ-Down-Green. Ushmyerg touched their palps to the port. "Ebixuln, it's us!"
The port opened. We swam through into a space like nothing I'd ever known. The walls were blasting sonar – not the clicks of language, but echoes, just like you get in response to your own sonar. The echoes gave me the image of a room with nine figures in it. I listened to the echoes again. No, more than that. A shape distorting a human shoulder, another on a human wrist – their dæmons. The walls of this tank were showing me the whole room using sonar. I could see the Animorphs, after my own fashion, without leaving the comfort of the pool.
I touched my palps to the wall. "Cassie?" I said. The wall doubled my voice into thought-speech.
Cassie came forward. A huge shape that had to be her hand pressed against the tank. "Aftran!" So strange, to hear her voice translated into something like my language. "You got away – through the plumbing system?"
"Not exactly," I said. "It's complicated. May I share minds with you? That would be simpler, I think."
"Put your hand by the tap," Guide of Ebixuln said. "Aftran can come out through there."
"Cassie's my… well, not partner, but we do share minds sometimes," I explained to the Yoorts.
"A friendly temp," Yehyulu said. "I know how it is. I prefer a more serious partnership, but…"
"I have to go help my partner," I said. "But I'm grateful for your guidance. More than you can know." I remembered how far this planet was from Earth and felt hollow. "Listen. Once I find my partner, I'll have to go soon after. Far away. But before I go, I want to find you again."
"You know our names," Ushmyerg said. "And we're all registered to the Engineering Guild. Yehyulu to the Shopper Guild as well, though they can hardly afford it."
Yehyulu pulsed exasperation.
"Thank you," I said, and swam toward a spigot much like the one I'd entered through only fifteen minutes ago, though it felt like much longer. I was engulfed in the firm warmth of a cupped hand, and soon into the familiar tightness of an ear canal. As I made contact with Cassie's brain, I opened myself up to her as much as she did to me. It was what a Yoort would do, I felt, and anyway, I needed her to understand me on the levels I could not understand myself.
Fresh memories from her: frantically talking Jake and Rachel through demorphing as they sprayed bright arterial blood from neck and eye, Marco doing the same for Tobias and the Andalite. Guiding them toward an elevator to the apartment as they demorphed, their blood sealing itself away. Everyone's frantic worry at Bachu's kidnapping, Cassie's worry for me. Their fear of the Howlers.
«Oh, Aftran,» Cassie said. «Have you never had a friend before?»
«How can you say that? You're my friend. So is Bachu.»
«It's different with hosts – partners – and you know it.»
She was right, of course. «There's Illim. One of my lieutenants in the Yeerk Peace Movement.»
«But you never tell him anything important, do you? Not outside of Peace Movement business. You don't help each other when you're in trouble.»
«We can't,» I said. «For all I like him, I can't be completely sure he's not a spy of some Visser. He doesn't know my number designation or my host. Nor do I know his. In fact, I suspect his name is not really Illim. If he has any sense, he gave me a false name.»
«I'm sorry, Aftran. And glad for you, too. For the experience you just had.» A feeling of warmth in her face and chest. «If we can beat the Howlers, Aftran… I really feel like we have some hope.»
Yes, of course. That was the name for that dangerous feeling that kept threatening to pull me under when I was with the Yoorts. Wild, unbridled hope.