"Don't be nervous - he's just a bit eccentric. Remember, he's not a human".
"I've met them before", Valentine said.
She took Valentine into a... grotto was the only word Valentine could use for it. It was warm and humid. Banks of what he guessed were grow lights fed thick ferns, palmettos, rhododendrons, and other plants Valentine hadn't seen since he'd been in the tropics. Off to one side a pool, fed by a sheet of water coming down the wall that most people would call a leak rather than a falls, moved quietly, stirred by some unknown current. The banks of plant boxes and platforms made something of a maze, but the medical officer guided him past the pool and into the center of the plant life.
"What's his name?" Valentine asked.
She led him past a bank of purple flowers. Valentine heard a bee buzz. Something was wrong with that, but he couldn't remember
what. "He said we couldn't pronounce it. We just call him 'Sir.' It's quick and easy.
"Don't let his appearance throw you off. Remember, it's just a show", she said, coming to a gauzy tent. She lifted a flap.
"David Valentine to see you, Sir", she said.
Valentine saw a hairy mass and several sheet-covered floor mats within.
"Enter, sojourner", a slightly lisping voice said.
Valentine went into the tent. Enough light from the intense bulbs penetrated the thick white gauze to make him feel as though he were inside some kind of cottony womb.
The creature within made a startling contrast to the whites and pale greens of the sheets covering the mats on the floor. The Lifeweaver looked like a half daemon, half satyr, right down to thick hairy legs hinged like a goat's. Overlong fingers and toes with nails that weren't quite claws displayed delicately painted, mysterious glyphs. Pointed of ear, flat-nosed and slant-eyed, it was barrel-chested but thin-hipped, covered with limp, stringy, dirty hair and the odd bubo about the neck and groin. Valentine couldn't say whether he was faced with a combination of legends or nightmares.
"Sit", it said, with an artful wave of the wrist and overlong fingers. Valentine was reminded of an exhibition he'd once seen after his return from Nebraska where a martial artist showed how to use a war fan. "Cross-legged is best, for your kind". Valentine sat.
It reclined on one of the mats, lounging. "Speak your mind, sojourner".
"Why do you look like that, Sir?"
The medical officer brought in a wide, water-filled bowl. A candle and some flower petals floated within. She set a small stainless steel cup in front of Valentine.
"Suits the profession. Suits of the profession. War, famine, disease, and death. All I've known, watching these thousands of years. It's all that's left of me. I stayed on, you see, though others left after the old
battles of your ancestors' time. I stayed and watched, for I loved and admired you. But I'm afraid it's driven me a bit mad".
He smiled, showing brown and green teeth. "Valhalla awaits, if you have the courage and survive your ordeal", Sir said, reaching out with arms that thinned as they extended. Valentine felt the greasy touch of its hands, the prick of its claws, as it cradled his head.
"You will be death, destroyer of worlds", Sir whispered in his ear, despite the fact that his head remained on the other side of the tent.
Valentine broke away from Sir's grasp. "Wait. I think there's a mistake. I'm not here to become a Bear".
The arms pulled back. "Not a Bear?"
"No, I need your help. I'm from Southern Command", Valentine said hurriedly, wondering just how much of this the nurse was hearing.
"A Wolf once, now a Cat, and more in your blood besides", Sir said.
Valentine didn't bother to ask for hows and whys. "They need the help of the Dau'weem".
"I never accepted that title. We were right, not backward", Sir said. The shape blurred and returned. "Southern Command, where is that again? Argentina?"
"The Ozarks, Texas, parts of Oklahoma now..."
"Mississippi River, oh yes, of course. Louisiana Purchase and all that. One of your better specimens, Jefferson, though I've only known him secondhand. I met Washington once. A good man and true. You're not fighting with the Britons again, are you? You've got to settle these squabbles yourselves or you'll never get anywhere as a people. All Rome's fault, of course - if they'd only stayed the course and not become addicted to slavery. It's like an opiate".
Valentine wondered how to drag Sir's mind back out of lost millennia.
"We need your help. I have to get in touch with the other Lifeweavers".