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blinked. "So you don't trust me? You are right not to. There is no one here
but yourselves that you can trust." Its gaze drifted from Jefri to the ranks
of Amdi, and then down the hall. "Steel doesn't know I've brought you here."
The confession was so quick, so easily made. Jefri swallowed hard. "You
brought us down here to k-kill us." All of Amdi was staring at him and
Tyrathect, every eye wide with shock.
The singleton bobbed its head in part of a smile. "You think I am
traitor? After all this time, some healthy suspicion. I am proud of you."
Mr. Tyrathect continued smoothly, "You are surrounded by traitors,
Amdijefri. But I am not one of them. I am here to help you."
"I know that." Amdi reached forward to touch a muzzle to the
singleton's. "You're no traitor. You're the only person besides Jefri that I
can touch. We've always wanted to like you, but -- "
"Ah, but you should be suspicious. You will all die if you aren't."
Tyrathect looked over the puppies, at the frowning Jefri. "Your sister is
alive, Jefri. She's out there now, and Steel has known all along. He killed
your parents; he did almost everything he said Woodcarver did." Amdi backed
away, shaking himself in frightened negations. "You don't believe me? That's
funny. Once upon a time I was such a good liar; I could talk the fish right
into my mouths. But now, when only the truth will work, I can't convince
you.... Listen:"
Suddenly it was Steel's human-speaking voice that came from the
singleton, Steel talking with Ravna about Johanna being alive, excusing the
attack he had just ordered on her.
Johanna. Jefri rushed forward, fell on his knees before the Cloak.
Almost without thought, he grabbed the singleton by the throat, shaking it.
Teeth snapped at his hands as the other tried to shake free. Amdi rushed
forward and pulled hard on his sleeves. After a moment Jefri let go.
Centimeters away from his face, the singleton peered back at him, the
torchlight glinting in its dark eyes. Amdi was saying: "Human voices are
easy to fake -- "
The fragment was disdainful. "Of course. And I'm not claiming that was
a direct relay. What you heard is several minutes old. Here's what Steel and
I are planning this very second." His Samnorsk abruptly stopped, and the
hallway was filled with the gobbling chords of Pack talk. Even after a year,
Jefri could only extract vague sense from the conversation. It did sound
like two packs. One of them wanted the other to do something, bring
Amdijefri -- that chord was clear -- up.
Amdiranifani went suddenly still, every member straining at the relayed
sounds. "Stop it!" he shrilled. And the hallway was as quiet as a tomb. "Mr.
Steel, oh Mr. Steel." All of Amdi huddled against Jefri. "He's talking about
hurting you if Ravna doesn't obey. He wants to kill the Visitors when they
land." The wide eyes were ringed with tears. "I don't understand."
Jefri jabbed a hand at the Cloak. "Maybe he's faking that, too."
"I don't know. I could never fake two packs that well." The tiny bodies
shuddered against Jefri, and there was the sound of human weeping, the
eerily familiar sound of a small child desolated.... "What are we going to
do, Jefri?"
But Jefri was silent, remembering and finally understanding, the first
few minutes after Steel's troops had rescued -- captured? -- him. Memories
suppressed by later kindness crept out from the corners of his mind. Mom,
Dad, Johanna. But Johanna still lived, just beyond these walls....
"Jefri?"
"I don't know either. H-hide maybe?"
For a moment they just stared at each other. Finally the fragment
spoke. "You can do better than hide. You already know about the passages
through these walls. If you know the entrance points -- and I do -- you can
get to almost anywhere you want. You can even get outside."
Johanna.
Amdi's crying stopped. Three of him watched Tyrathect front, aft, and
sideways. The rest still clung to Jefri. "We still don't trust you,
Tyrathect," said Jefri.
"Good, good. I am a pack of various parts. Perhaps not entirely
trustable."
"Show us all the holes." Let us decide.
"There won't be time -- "
"Okay, but start showing us. And while you do, keep relaying what Mr.
Steel is saying."
The singleton bobbed its head, and the multiple streams of Pack talk
resumed. The Cloak got painfully to its feet and led the two children down a
side tunnel, one where the wick torches were mostly burned out. The loudest
sound down here was the soft dripping of water. The place was less than a
year old, yet -- except for the jagged edges of the cut stone -- it seemed
ancient.
Puppies was crying again. Jefri stroked the back of the one that clung
to his shoulder, "Please Amdi, translate for me."
After a moment Amdi's voice came hesitantly in his ear. "M-Mr. Steel is
asking again where we are. Tyrathect says we're trapped by a ceiling fall in
the inner wing." In fact, they had heard the masonry shift a few minutes
before, but it sounded far away. "Mr. Steel just sent the rest of Tyrathect
to get Mr. Shreck and dig us out. Mr. Steel sounds so ... different."
"Maybe it's not really him," Jefri whispered back.
Long silence. "No. It's him. He just seems so angry, and he's using
strange words."
"Big words?"
"No. Scary ones. About cutting and killing ... Ravna and you and me. He
... he doesn't like us, Jefri."
The singleton stopped. They were beyond the last wall torch, and it was
too dark to see anything but shadowy forms. He pointed to a spot on the
wall. Amdi reached forward and pushed at the rock. All the while Mr.
Tyrathect continued talking, reporting from the outside.
"Okay," said Amdi, "that opens. And it's big enough for you, Jefri. I
think -- "
Tyrathect's human voice said, "The Spacers are back. I can see their
little boat.... I got away just in time. Steel is getting suspicious. A few
more seconds and he will be searching everywhere."
Amdi looked into the dark hole. "I say we go," he said softly, sadly.
"Yeah." Jefri reached down to touch one of Amdi's shoulders. The member
led him to a hole cut in sharp-edged stone. If he scrunched his shoulders
there would be enough room to crawl in. One of Amdi entered just ahead of
him. The rest would follow. "I hope it doesn't get any narrower than this."
Tyrathect: "It shouldn't. All these passages are designed for packs in
light armor. The important thing: keep to upward curving passages. Keep
moving and you'll eventually get outside. Pham's flying craft is less than,
uh, five hundred meters from the walls.
Jefri couldn't even look over his shoulder to talk to the Cloak. "What
if Mr. Steel chases us into the walls?"
There was a brief silence. "He probably won't do that, if he doesn't
know where you entered. It would take too long to find you. But," the voice
was suddenly gentler, "but there are openings on the top of the walls. In
case enemy soldiers tried to sneak in from the outside, there has to be some
way to kill them in the tunnels. He could pour oil down the tunnels."
The possibility did not frighten Jefri. At the moment it just sounded
bizarre. "We've got to hurry then."
Jefri scrabbled forward as the rest of Amdi crawled in behind him. He
was already several meters deep in stone when he heard Amdi's voice back at
the entrance, the last one to enter: "Will you be okay, Mr. Tyrathect?"
Or is this all another lie? thought Jefri.
The other's voice had its usual, cynical tone. "I expect to land on my
feet. Please do remember that I helped you."
And then the hatch was shut and they scrambled forward, into the dark.
Negotiations, shit. It was obvious to Pham that Steel's idea of
"mutually safe meeting" was a cover for mayhem. Even Ravna wasn't fooled by
the pack's new proposals. At least it meant that Steel was ad libbing now --
that he was beyond all the scripts and schemes. The trouble was, he still
wasn't giving them any openings. Pham would have cheerfully died for a few
undisturbed hours with the Countermeasure, but Steel's setup would have them
dead before they ever saw the inside of the refugee ship.
"Keep moving around, Blueshell. I want Steel to have us weighing on his
mind, without being a good target."
The Rider waved a frond in agreement and the boat bounced briefly up
from the moss, drifted a hundred meters parallel to the castle walls, and
descended again. They were in the no-man's land between the forces of
Woodcarver and Steel.
Johanna Olsndot twisted around to look at him. The boat was a very
crowded place now, Blueshell stretched across the Riderish controls at the
bow, Pham and Johanna jammed into the seats behind him -- and a pack called
Pilgrim in every empty space in between. "Even if you can locate the
commset, don't fire. Jefri could be close by." For twenty minutes Steel had
been promising the momentary reappearance of Jefri Olsndot.
Pham eyed her smudged face. "Yeah, we won't fire unless we can see
exactly what we'll hit." The girl nodded shortly. She couldn't have been
more than fourteen, but she was a good trooper. Half the people he had known
in Qeng Ho would have been in limp hysterics after this pickup. And of the
rest, few could have given a better status report than Johanna and her
friend.
He glanced at the pack. It would take a while to get used to these
critters. At first he'd thought that two of the dogs were sprouting extra
heads -- then he noticed the small ones were just puppies carried in jacket
pockets. The "Pilgrim" was all over the boat; just what part of him should
he talk to? He picked the head that was looking in his direction. "Any
theories how to deal with Steel?"
The pack's Samnorsk was better than Pham's: "Steel and Flenser are as
tricky as anything I've seen in Johanna's dataset. And Flenser is cool."
"Flenser? Hadn't realized there was a person with that name.... There
was a 'Mr. Skinner' we talked to. Some kind of assistant to Steel."
"Hmm. He's tricky enough to play flunky.... wish we could drop back and
chat with Woodcarver about this." The request was artfully contained in his
intonation. Pham wondered briefly what percentage of Packfolk were so
flexible. They might be one hell of a trading race if they ever reached
space.
"Sorry, we don't have time for that. In fact, if we can't get in right
away, we've lost everything. I just hope Steel doesn't guess that."
The heads subtly rearranged themselves. The biggest member, the one
with a broken arrow shaft sticking up from its jacket, moved closer to the
girl. "Well, if Steel is in charge, there's a chance. He's very smart, but
we think he runs amok when things get tough. Your finding Johanna has
probably put him to chasing his tails. Keep him off balance, and you can
expect some big mistakes."
Johanna spoke abruptly, "He might kill Jefri."
Or blow up the starship. "Ravna, any luck with Steel?"
Her voice came back over the comm: "No. The threats are a bit more
transparent now, and his Samnorsk is getting harder to understand. He's
trying to bring cannon in from north of the Castle; I don't think he knows
how much I can see.... He still hasn't brought Jefri back to the radio."
The girl paled, but she didn't say anything. Her hand stole up to grasp
one of Pilgrim's paws.
Blueshell had been very quiet all through the rescue, first because he
had his fronds full with flying, then because the girl and the Pack had so
much to say. Pham had noticed that part of Pilgrim had been politely nosing
around the Rider. Blueshell hadn't seemed upset by the attention; his race
had plenty of experience with others.
But now the Rider made a brap for attention, "Sir Pham, there is action
in front of the castle."
Pilgrim was on it at almost the same instant, one head helping another
look through a telescope. "Yes. That's the main sally port that's coming
open. But why would Steel send packs out now? Woodcarver will chew them up."
The enemy was indeed fielding infantry. The packs spewed out the wide hole
in a headlong dash, much like troops of Pham's recollection. But once they
cleared the entrance they broke of into clumps of four to six dogs each and
spread across the castle perimeter.
Pham leaned forward, trying to see as far along the walls as possible.
"Maybe not. These guys aren't advancing. They're staying in range of the
archers on the walls."
"Yeah. But we still have cannons." Pilgrim's perfect imitation of
humanity broke for a second, and a Tinish chord filled the cockpit.
"Something is really strange. It's like they're trying to keep someone from
getting out."
"Are there other entrances?"
"Probably. And lots of little tunnels, just one member wide."
"Ravna?"
"Steel's not talking at all now. He said something about traitors
infifltrating the castle. Now all I'm getting is Tinish gobble." From
embrasure to embrasure along the battlements, Pham could see enemy soldiers
moving above those on the ground. Something had upset the rats' nest.
Johanna Olsndot was a vision of horrified concentration, her free hand
gathered into a fist, her lips faintly trembling. "All this time I thought
he was dead. If they kill him now, I...." Her voice suddenly scaled up:
"What are they doing?" Cast iron kettles had been dragged to the top of the
walls.
Pham could guess. Siege fighting on Canberra had involved similar
things. He looked at the girl, and kept his mouth shut. There's nothing we
can do.
The Pilgrim pack was not so kind -- or not so patronizing: "It's oil,
Johanna. They want to kill someone in the walls. But if he can get out....
Blueshell, I've read about loudspeakers. Can I use one? If Jefri is in the
walls, Woodcarver can safely scrape Steel's troops off the field and
battlements."
Pham opened his mouth to object, but the Rider had already opened a
channel. Pilgrim's Tinish voice echoed across the hillside. Along the castle
walls heads turned. To them, the voice must have sounded like a god's. The
chords and trills continued a moment longer, then ceased.
Ravna's voice was on the line an instant later, "Whatever you did just
now, it pushed Steel over the edge. I can barely understand him; He seems to
be describing how he'll torture Jefri if we don't pull the Woodcarvers
back."
Pham grunted. "Okay then. Get us in the air, Blueshell." It felt good
to kiss subtlety goodbye.
Blueshell wobbled the boat aloft. They moved forward, scarcely faster
than a man can run. Behind them more of Woodcarver's troops were coming over
the military crest of the hill. Those fellows had been pulled well back
after Pham's strafing run: things might be decided before they got to the
castle.... But Woodcarver's reach was still long and deadly: splashes of
smoke and fire appeared along the battlements, followed by sharp popping
noises. Killing Jefri Olsndot was going to be a very expensive proposition
for Steel.
"Can you use the beamer to clear Steel's troops away from the wall?"
asked Johanna.
Pham started to nod, then noticed what was happening by the castle.
"See the oil." Dark pools were growing between the enemy packs and the walls
they guarded. Until they knew where the kid was coming out, it would be best
not to start fires.
Pilgrim: "Oops." Then he was shouting something more on the
loudspeakers. Woodcarver's artillery ceased.
"Okay," said Pham, "for now, all eyes on the castle wall. Circle the
perimeter, Blueshell. If we can see the kid before Steel's guys, we may have
a chance."
Ravna: "They're spread evenly around every side except the North, Pham.
I don't think Steel has any idea were the boy is."
When you challenge Heaven, the stakes are high. And I could have won.
If he had not betrayed me, I could have won. But now the masks were down,
and the enemy's brute physical power was all that counted. Steel brought
himself down from the hysterical blackout of the last few minutes. If I can
not have Heaven, at least I can still take them to Hell. Kill Amdijefri,
destroy the ship the Visitors wanted so ... most of all, destroy his
traitorous teacher.
"My lord?" It was Shreck.
Steel turned a head in Shreck's direction. The time for hysteria was
past. "How goes the flooding?" he said mildly. He wouldn't ask about
Tyrathect again.
"All but complete. The oil is pooling beyond the castle walls." The two
packs crouched as one of Woodcarver's bombs exploded just beyond the
battlement. Her troops were already halfway back across the field -- and
Steel's archers were preoccupied with flooding the tunnels and watching the
exits. "We may have flushed out the traitors, my lord. Just before
Woodcarver resumed fire, we heard something by the southeast wall. But I
fear the spacers will see whatever we do there." His heads bobbed
spastically.
Strange to see Shreck coming apart, Steel thought vaguely. Shreck's was
the loyalty of clockwork, but now his orderly world was failing and there
was nothing left to support him. The madness he was born from was all that
was left.
If Shreck was close to breaking, then the siege of Starship Hill was
nearly at an end. Just a little longer, that is all I ask now. Steel forced
a confident expression upon his members. "I understand. You have done well,
Shreck. We may still win. I know how these mantises think. If you can kill
the child, especially before their eyes, it will break their spirit -- just
as puppies can be broken by the right terrors."
"Yes, sir." There was dull incredulity in Shreck's eyes, but this would
hold him, a plausible excuse to continue the charade.
"Light the oil beyond the walls. Move the troops in front of where you
think Amdijefri will exit. The Visitors must see this if it is to have
proper effect. And -- " and blow up the refugee ship! The words almost
slipped out, but he caught himself in time. The explosives built into the
Jaws and the Starship dome would bring down everything interior to the
outerwalls and would kill most of the packs within. Ordering Shreck do that
would make Steel's real goal all too clear. "-- And move quickly before
Woodcarver's troops can close. This is the Movement's last hope, Shreck."
The pack bowed its way back down the steps. Steel maintained an
expansive posture, boldly looking across the battlefield until the other was
out of sight. Then he reached across the battlements and slammed the radio
into the stone walkway. This one didn't break, and now the Ravna mantis's
voice came querulously from it. Steel bounded down the stairs. "You get
nothing," he shrieked back at her in Tines' talk. "Everything you want will
die!"
And then he was down the stairs and running across the courtyard. He
ducked out of sight, into the hallway that circled the Jaws of Welcome. He
could blow those easily, but very likely the main dome and the ship within
would survive. No, he must go to the heart. Kill the ship and all the
sleeping mantises. He stepped into a secret room, picked up two crossbows --
and the extra radio cloak he had prepared. Inside that cloak was a small
bomb. He had tested the idea with the second set of radios; the receiving
pack had died instantly.
Down another set of stairs, into a supply corridor. The sounds of
battle were lost behind him. His own tines' clatter was the loudest noise.
Around him loomed bins of gunpowder, food supplies, fresh timber. The fuses
and set charges were only fifty yards further on. And Steel slowed to a
walk, curled his paws so the metal on them made no noise. Listening. Looking
in every direction. Somehow he knew the other would be here. The Flenser
Fragment. Flenser had haunted him from the beginning of his existence, had
haunted even after Flenser had mostly died. But not until this clear treason
had Steel been able to free his hate. Most likely the Master thought to
escape with the children, but there was a chance that Flenser schemed to win
everything. There was a chance that he had returned. Steel knew his own
death would come soon. And yet there might still be triumph. If, by his own
jaws and claws, he could kill the Master.... Please, please be here, dear
Master. Be here thinking you can trick me one more time.
A wish granted. He heard faint mind sounds. Close. Heads rose from
behind the bins above him. Two of the Fragment showed themselves in the
corridor ahead.
"Student."
"Master." Steel smiled. All five of the other were here; the Fragment
had smuggled himself all back. But gone were the radio cloaks. The members
stood naked, their pelts covered with oozing sores. The radio bomb would be
useless. Perhaps it didn't matter; Steel had seen corpses that looked
healthier than these. Out of sight, he raised his bows. "I have come to kill
you."
The death's heads shrugged. "You have come to try."
Jaws on claws, Steel would have had no trouble killing the other. But
the Fragment had positioned three of himself above, by cargo bins that
looked strangely off-balance. A straight forward rush could be fatal. But if
he could get good bow shots... Steel eased forward, to just short of where
the cargo bins would fall. "Do you really expect to live, Fragment? I am not
your only enemy." He waved a nose back up the corridor. "There are thousands
out there who hunger for your death."
The other bobbed its heads in a ghastly smile. New blood oozed from the
wounds that were opened. "Dear Steel, you never seem to understand. You have
made it possible for me to survive. Don't you see? I have saved the
children. Even now, I am preventing you from harming the starship. In the
end this will win me a conditional surrender. I will be weak for a few
years, but I will survive."
The old Flenser glittered through the pain and the wounds. The old
opportunism.
"But you are a fragment. Three-fifths of you is -- "
"The little school teacher?" Flenser lowered his heads and blinked
shyly. "She was stronger than I expected. For a while she ruled this pack,
but bit by bit I forced my way back. In the end, even without the others, I
am whole."
Flenser whole once more. Steel edged back, almost in retreat. Yet there
was something strange here. Yes, the Flenser was at peace with himself,
self-satisfied. But now that Steel could see the pack all together, he saw
something in its body language that... Insight came then, and with it a
flash of intensest pride. For once in my life, I understand better than the
Master. "Whole, you say? Think. We both know how souls do battle within, the
little rationalizations, the great unknowings. You think you've killed the
other, but whence comes your recent confidence? What you're doing is exactly
what Tyrathect would do now. All thought is yours now, but the foundation is
her soul. And whatever you think, it's the little school teacher who won!"
The Fragment hesitated, understanding. Its inattention lasted only a
fraction of a second, but Steel was ready: He leaped into the open, loosing
his arrows, lunging across the open space for the other's throats.
.Delete this paragraph to shift page flush
-=*=-
Any time before now, the climb through the walls would have been fun.
Even though it was pitch dark, Amdi was in front and behind him, and his
noses gave him a good feel for the way. Anytime before now there would have
been the thrill of discovery, of giggling at Amdi's strung-out mental state.
But now Amdi's confusion was simply scary. He kept bumping into Jefri's
heels. "I'm going as fast as I can." The fabric of Jefri's pants' knees was
already torn apart on the rough stone. He hustled faster, the stabbing beat
of rock on knees barely penetrating his consciousness. He bumped into the
puppy ahead of him. The puppy had stopped, seemed to be twisting sideways.
"There's a fork. I say we ... what should I say, Jefri?"
Jefri rolled back, knocking his head on top of the wormhole. For most
of a year, it had been Amdi's confidence, his cheeky cleverness, that had
kept him going. Now ... suddenly he was aware of the tonnes of rock that
were pressing in from all directions. If the tunnel narrowed just a few
centimeters, they would be stuck here forever.
"Jefri?"
"I-- " Think! "Which side seems to be going up?"
"Just a second." The lead member ran off a little ways down one fork.
"Don't go too far!" Jefri shouted.
"Don't worry. I ... he'll know to get back." Then he heard the patter
of return, and the lead member was touching its nose to his cheek. "The one
on the right goes up."
They hadn't gone more than fifteen meters before Amdi started hearing
things. "People chasing us?" asked Jefri.
"No. I'm mean, I'm not sure. Stop. Listen.... Hear that? Gluppy,
syrupy." Oil.
No more stopping. Jefri moved faster than ever up the tunnel. His head
bumped into the ceiling and he stumbled to his elbows, recovered without
thinking and raced on. A trickle of blood dripped down his cheek.
Even he could hear the oil now.
The sides of the tunnel closed down on his shoulders. Ahead of him,
Amdi said, "Dead end -- or we're at an exit!" Scritching sounds. "I can't
move it." The puppy turned around and wiggled back between Jefri's legs.
"Push at the top, Jefri. If it's like the one I found in the dome, it opens
at the top."
The darn tunnel got narrow right before the door. Jefri hunched his
shoulders and squeezed forward. He pushed at the top of the door. It moved,
maybe a centimeter. He crawled forward a little further, squished so tightly
between the walls that he couldn't even take a deep breath. Now he pushed
hard as he could. The stone turned all the way and light spilled onto his
face. It wasn't full daylight; they were still hidden from the outside
behind angles of stone -- but it was the happiest sight Jefri had ever seen.
Half a meter more and he would be out -- only now he was jammed.
He twisted forward a fraction, and things only seemed to get worse.
Behind him, Amdi was piling up. "Jefri! My rear paws are in the oil. It's
filled the tunnel all up behind us."
Panic. For a second Jefri couldn't think of anything. So close, so
close. He could see color now, the bloody smears on his hands. "Back up!
I'll take off my jacket and try again."
Backing up was itself almost impossible, so thoroughly wedged had he
become. Finally he'd done it. He turned on his side, shrugged out of the
jacket.
"Jefri! Two of me under ... oil. Can't breathe." The puppies jammed up
around him, their pelts slick with oil. Slick!
"Jus' second!" Jefri wiped the fur, smeared his shoulders with the oil.
He extended his arms straight past his head and used his heels to push back
into the narrowness. Then the stone closed in on his shoulders. Behind him,
what was left of Amdi was making whistling noises. Jam. Push. Push. A
centimeter, another. And then he was out to his armpits and it was easy.
He dropped to the ground and reached back to grab the nearest part of
Amdi. The pup wriggled out of his hands. It blubbered something not Tinish
and not human. Jefri could see the dark shadows of several members pulling
at something out of sight. A second later, a cold, wet blob of fur rolled
out of the darkness into his arms. A second more, and out came another.
Jefri lowered the two to the ground and wiped goo away from their muzzles.
One rolled onto its legs and began to shake itself. The other started
choking and coughing.
Meanwhile the rest of Amdi dropped out of the hole. All eight were
covered with some amount of oil. They straggled drunkenly into a heap,
licking each another's tympana. Their buzzing and croaking made no sense.
Jefri turned from his friend and walked toward the light. They were
hidden by a turn in the stone ... fortunately. From around the corner he
could hear the marshaling calls of Steel's troopers. He crept to the edge
and peered around. For an instant he thought he and Amdi were back inside
the castle yard; there were so many troopers. But then he saw the unbounded
sweep of the hillside and the smoke rising out of the valley.
What next? He glanced back at Amdi, who was still frantically grooming
his tympana. The chords and hums were sounding more rational now, and all of
Amdi was moving. He turned back to the hillside. For an instant he almost
felt like rushing out to the troops. They had been his protectors for so
long.
One of Amdi bumped against his legs, and looked out for himself. "Wow.
There's a regular lake of oil between us and Mr. Steel's soldiers. I -- "
The booming sound was loud, but not like a gunpowder blast. It lasted
almost a second, then became a background roar. Two more of Amdi stretched
necks around the corner. The lake had become a roaring sea of flame.
Blueshell had maneuvered the boat within two hundred meters of the
castle wall, opposite the point where the packs had bunched up. Now the
lander floated just a man's height off the moss. "Just our being here is
driving the packs away," said Pilgrim.
Pham glanced over his shoulder. Woodcarver's troops had regained the
field and were racing toward the castle walls. Another sixty seconds, max,
and they would be in contact with Steel's packs.
There was a loud brap from Blueshell's voder, and Pham looked forward.
"By the Fleet," he said softly. Packs on the ramparts had fired some kind of
flamethrowers into the pools of oil below the castle walls. Blueshell flew
in a little closer. Long pools of oil lay parallel to the walls. The enemy's
packs on the outside were all but cut off from their castle now. Except for
one thirty-meter-wide gap, the section they had been guarding was high fire.
The boat bobbed a little higher, tilting and sliding in the fire-driven
whirl of air. In most places the oil lapped the sloped base of the walls.
Those walls were more intricate than the castles of Canberra -- in many
places it looked like there were little mazes or caves built into the base.
Looks damn stupid in a defensive structure.
"Jefri!" screamed Johanna, and pointed toward the middle of the
unburning section. Pham had a glimpse of something withdrawing behind the
stonework.
"I saw him too." Blueshell tilted the boat over and slid downwards,
toward the wall. Johanna's hand closed on Pham's arm, pushing and shaking.
He could barely hear her voice over the Pilgrim's shouting. "Please, please,
please," she was saying.
For a moment it looked like they would make it: Steel's troops were
well back from them and -- though there were ponds of oil below them -- they
were not yet alight. Even the air seemed quieter than before. For all that,
Blueshell managed to lose control. A gentle tipping went uncorrected, and
the boat slid sideways into the ground. It was a slow collision, but Pham
heard one of the landing pods cracking. Blueshell played with the controls
and the other side of the craft settled to earth. The beamer was stuck
muzzle first into the earth.
Pham's gaze snapped up at the Skroderider. He'd known it would come to
this.
Ravna: "What happened? Can you get up?"
Blueshell dithered with the controls a moment longer, then gave a
Riderish shrug. "Yes. But it will take too long -- " He was undoing his
restraints, unclamping his skrode from the deck. The hatch in front of him
slid open, and the noise of battle and fire came loud.
"What in hell do you think you're doing, Blueshell!"
The Rider's fronds angled attention at Pham, "To rescue the boy. This
will all be afire in a moment."
"And this boat could fry if we leave it here. You're not going
anywhere, Blueshell." He leaned forward, far enough to grab the other by his
lower fronds.
Johanna was looking wildly from one to the other in an uncomprehending
panic. "No! Please -- " And Ravna was shouting at him too. Pham tensed, all
his attention on the Rider.
Blueshell rocked toward him in the cramped space and pushed his fronds
close to Pham's face. The voder voice frayed into nonlinearity: "And what
will you do if I disobey? You need me whole or the boat is useless. I go,
Sir Pham. I prove I am not the thrall of some Power. Can you prove as much?"
He paused, and for a moment Rider and human stared at each other from
centimeters apart. But Pham did not grab him.
Brap. Blueshell's fronds withdrew. He rolled back onto the lip of the
hatch. The skrode's third axle reached the ground, and he descended in a
controlled teeter. Still Pham had not moved. I am not some Power's program.
"Pham?" The girl was looking up at him, and tugging at his sleeve.
Nuwen shook the nightmare away and saw again. The Pilgrim pack was already
out of the boat. Short swords were held in the mouths of the four adults;
steel claws gleamed on their forepaws.
"Okay." He flipped open a panel, withdrew the pistol he'd hidden there.
Since Blueshell had crashed the damn boat, there was no choice but to make
the best of it.
The realization was a cool breath of freedom. He pulled free of the
crash restraints and clambered down. Pilgrim stood all around him. The two
with puppies were unlimbering some kind of shields. Even with all his mouths
full, the critter's voice was as clear as ever: "Maybe we can find a way
closer in -- " between the flames. There were no more arrows from the
ramparts. The air above the fire was just too hot for the archers.
Pham and Johanna followed Pilgrim as he skirted pools of black goo.
"Stay as far from the oil as we can."
The packs of Mr. Steel were rounding the flames. Pham couldn't tell if
they were charging the lander or simply fleeing the friendlies that chased
them. And maybe it didn't matter. He dropped to one knee and sprayed the
oncoming packs with his handgun. It was nothing like the beamer, especially
at this range, but it was not to be ignored: the front dogs tumbled. Others
bounded over them. They reached the far edge of the oil. Only a few ventured
into the goo -- they knew what it could become. Others shifted out of Pham's
sight, behind the landing boat.
Was there a dry approach? Pham ran along the edge of the oil. There had
to be a gap in the "moat", or surely the fire would have spread. Ahead of
him the flames towered twenty meters into the air, the heat a physical
battering on his skin. Above the top of the glow, tarry smoke swept back
over the field, turning the sunlight into reddish murk. "Can't see a thing,"
came Ravna's voice in his ear, despairing.
"There's still a chance, Rav." If he could hold them off long enough
for Woodcarver's troops....
Steel's packs had found a safe path inwards and were coming closer.
Something sighed past him -- an arrow. He dropped to the ground and sprayed
the enemy packs at full rate. If they had known how fast he was getting to
empty they might have kept coming, but after a few seconds of ripping
carnage, the advance halted. The enemy sweep broke apart and the dogthings
were running away, taking their chances with Woodcarver's packs.
Pham turned and looked back at the castle. Johanna and Pilgrim stood
ten meters nearer the walls. She was pulling against the pack's grasp. Pham
followed her gaze.... There was the Skroderider. Blueshell had paid no
attention to the packs that ran around the edge of the fire. He rolled
steadily inwards, oily tracks marking his progress. The Rider had drawn in
all his externals and pulled his cargo scarf close to his central stalk. He
was driving blind through the superheated air, deeper and deeper into the
narrowing gap between the flames.
He was less than fifteen meters from the walls. Abruptly two fronds
extended out from his trunk, into the heat. There. Through the heat shimmer,
Pham could see the kid, walking uncertainly out from the cover of stone.
Small shapes sat on the boy's shoulders, and walked beside him. Pham ran up
the slope. He could move faster over this terrain than any Rider. Maybe
there was time.
A single burst of flame arched down from the castle, into the pond of
oil between him and the Rider at the wall. What had been a narrow channel of
safety was gone, and the flames spread unbroken before him.
"There's still lots of clear space," Amdi said. He reached a few meters
out from their hiding place to reconnoiter around the corners. "The flier is
down! Some ... strange thing ... is coming our way. Blueshell or
Greenstalk?"
There were lots of Steel's packs out there too, but not close --
probably because of the flier. That was a weird one, with none of the
symmetry of Straumer aircraft. It looked all tilted over, almost as if it
had crashed. A tall human raced across their field of view, firing at
Steel's troops. Jefri looked further out, and his hand tightened almost
unconsciously on the nearest puppy. Coming toward them was a wheeled
vehicle, like something out of a Nyjoran historical. The sides were painted
with jagged stripes. A thick pole grew up from the top.
The two children stepped a little ways out from their protection. The
Spacer saw them! It slewed about, spraying oil and moss from under its
wheels. Two frail somethings reached out from its bluish trunk. Its voice
was squeaky Samnorsk. "Quickly, Sir Jefri. We have little time." Behind the
creature, beyond the pond of oil, Jefri could see ... Johanna.
And then the pond exploded, the fire on both sides sprouting across all
escape routes. Still the Spacer was waving its tendrils, urging them onto
the flat of its hull. Jefri grasped at the few handholds available. The
puppies jumped up after him, clinging to his shirt and pants. Up close,
Jefri could see that the stalk was the person: the skin was smudged and dry,
but it was soft and it moved.
Two of Amdi were still on the ground, ranging out on either side of the
cart for a better view of the fire. "Wah!" shrieked Amdi by his ear. Even so
close, he could scarcely be heard over the thunder of the fire. "We can
never get through that, Jefri. Our only chance is to stay here."
The Spacer's voice came from a little plate at the base of its stalk.
"No. If you stay here, you will die. The fire is spreading." Jefri had
huddled as much behind the Rider's stalk as possible, and still he could
feel the heat. Much more and the oil in Amdi's fur would catch fire.
The Rider's tendrils lifted the colored cloth that lay on its hull.
"Pull this over you." It waggled a tendril at the rest of Amdi. "All of
you."
The two on the ground were crouched behind the creature's front wheels.
"Too hot, too hot," came Amdi's voice. But the two jumped up and buried
themselves under the peculiar tarpaulin.
"Cover yourself, all the way!" Jefri felt the Rider pulling the cover
over them. The cart was already rolling back, toward the flames. Pain burned
through every gap in the tarp. The boy reached frantically, first with one
hand and then the other, trying to get the cloth over his legs. Their course
was a wild bouncing ride, and Jefri could barely keep hold. Around him he
felt Amdi straining with his free jaws to keep the tarpaulin in place. The
sound of fire was a roaring beast, and the tarp itself was searing hot
against his skin. Every new jolt bounced him up from the hull, threatening
to break his grip. For a time, panic obliterated thought. It was not till
much later that he remembered the tiny sounds that came from the voder
plate, and understood what those sounds must mean.
Pham ran toward the new flames. Agony. He raised his arms across his
face and felt the skin on his hands blistering. He backed away.
"This way, this way!" Pilgrim's voice came from behind him, guiding him
out. He ran back, stumbling. The pack was in a shallow gully. It had shifted
its shields around to face the new stretch of fire. Two of the pack moved
out of his way as he dived behind them.
Both Johanna and the pack were slapping at his head.
"Your hair's on fire!" the girl shouted. In seconds they had the fire
out. The Pilgrim looked a bit singed, too. Its shoulder pouches were tucked
safely shut; for the first time, no inquisitive puppy eyes peeked out.
"I still can't see anything, Pham." It was Ravna from high above.
"What's going on?"
Quick glance behind him. "We're okay," he gasped. "Woodcarver's packs
are tearing up Steel's. But Blueshell -- " He peered between in the shields.
It was like looking into a kiln. Right by the castle wall there might be a
breathing space. A slim hope, but --
"Something is moving in there." Pilgrim had tucked one head briefly
around the shield. He withdrew it now, licking his nose from both sides.
Pham looked again through the crack. The fire had internal shadows,
places of not-so-bright that wavered ... moved? "I see it too." He felt
Johanna stick her head close to his, peering frantically. "It's Blueshell,
Rav.... By the Fleet." This last said too softly to carry over the fire
sound. There was no sign of Jefri Olsndot, but -- "Blueshell is rolling
through the middle of the fire, Rav."
The skrode wheeled out of the deeper oil. Slowly, steadily making its
way. And now Pham could see fire within fire, Blueshell's trunk flaring in
rivulets of flame. His fronds were no longer gathered into himself. They
extended, writhing with their own fire. "He's still coming, driving straight
out."
The skrode cleared the wall of fire, rolled with jerky abandon down the
slope. Blueshell didn't turn toward them, but just before he reached the
landing boat, all six wheels grated to a fast stop.
Pham stood and raced back toward the Skroderider. Pilgrim was already
unlimbering his shields and turning to follow him. Johanna Olsndot stood for
a second, sad and slight and alone, her gaze stuck hopelessly on the fire
and smoke on the castle side. One of the Pilgrim grabbed her sleeve, drawing
her back from the fire.
Pham was at the Rider now. He stared silently for a second. "...
Blueshell's dead, Rav, no way you could doubt if you could see." The fronds
were burnt away, leaving stubs along the stalk. The stalk itself had burst.
Ravna's voice in his ear was shuddery. "He drove through that even
while he was burning?"
"Can't be. He must have been dead after the first few meters. This must
all have been on autopilot." Pham tried to forget the agonized reaching of
fronds he had seen back in the fire. He blanked out for a moment, staring at
the fire-split flesh.
The skrode itself radiated heat. Pilgrim sniffed around it, shying away
abruptly when a nose came too close. Abruptly he reached out a steel-tined
paw and pulled hard on the scarf that covered the hull.
Johanna screamed and rushed forward. The forms beneath the scarf were
unmoving, but unburned. She grabbed her brother by the shoulders, pulling
him to the ground. Pham knelt beside her. Is the kid breathing? He was
distantly aware of Ravna shouting in his ear, and Pilgrim plucking tiny
dogthings off the metal.
Seconds later the boy started coughing. His arms windmilled against his
sister. "Amdi, Amdi!" His eyes opened, widened. "Sis!" And then again.
"Amdi?"
"I don't know," said the Pilgrim, standing close to the seven -- no,
eight -- grease-covered forms. "There are some mind sounds but not
coherent." He nosed at three of puppies, doing something that might have
been rescue breathing.
After a moment the little boy began crying, a sound lost in the fire
sounds. He crawled across to the puppies, his face right next to one of
Pilgrim's. Johanna was right behind him, holding his shoulders, looking
first to Pilgrim and then at the still creatures.
Pham came to his knees and looked back at the castle. The fire was a
little lower now. He stared a long time at the blackened stump that had been
Blueshell. Wondering and remembering. Wondering if all the suspicion had
been for naught. Wondering what mix of courage and autopilot had been behind
the rescue.
Remembering all the months he had spent with Blueshell, the liking and
then the hate -- Oh, Blueshell, my friend.
The fires slowly ebbed. Pham paced the edge of receding heat. He felt
but yourselves that you can trust." Its gaze drifted from Jefri to the ranks
of Amdi, and then down the hall. "Steel doesn't know I've brought you here."
The confession was so quick, so easily made. Jefri swallowed hard. "You
brought us down here to k-kill us." All of Amdi was staring at him and
Tyrathect, every eye wide with shock.
The singleton bobbed its head in part of a smile. "You think I am
traitor? After all this time, some healthy suspicion. I am proud of you."
Mr. Tyrathect continued smoothly, "You are surrounded by traitors,
Amdijefri. But I am not one of them. I am here to help you."
"I know that." Amdi reached forward to touch a muzzle to the
singleton's. "You're no traitor. You're the only person besides Jefri that I
can touch. We've always wanted to like you, but -- "
"Ah, but you should be suspicious. You will all die if you aren't."
Tyrathect looked over the puppies, at the frowning Jefri. "Your sister is
alive, Jefri. She's out there now, and Steel has known all along. He killed
your parents; he did almost everything he said Woodcarver did." Amdi backed
away, shaking himself in frightened negations. "You don't believe me? That's
funny. Once upon a time I was such a good liar; I could talk the fish right
into my mouths. But now, when only the truth will work, I can't convince
you.... Listen:"
Suddenly it was Steel's human-speaking voice that came from the
singleton, Steel talking with Ravna about Johanna being alive, excusing the
attack he had just ordered on her.
Johanna. Jefri rushed forward, fell on his knees before the Cloak.
Almost without thought, he grabbed the singleton by the throat, shaking it.
Teeth snapped at his hands as the other tried to shake free. Amdi rushed
forward and pulled hard on his sleeves. After a moment Jefri let go.
Centimeters away from his face, the singleton peered back at him, the
torchlight glinting in its dark eyes. Amdi was saying: "Human voices are
easy to fake -- "
The fragment was disdainful. "Of course. And I'm not claiming that was
a direct relay. What you heard is several minutes old. Here's what Steel and
I are planning this very second." His Samnorsk abruptly stopped, and the
hallway was filled with the gobbling chords of Pack talk. Even after a year,
Jefri could only extract vague sense from the conversation. It did sound
like two packs. One of them wanted the other to do something, bring
Amdijefri -- that chord was clear -- up.
Amdiranifani went suddenly still, every member straining at the relayed
sounds. "Stop it!" he shrilled. And the hallway was as quiet as a tomb. "Mr.
Steel, oh Mr. Steel." All of Amdi huddled against Jefri. "He's talking about
hurting you if Ravna doesn't obey. He wants to kill the Visitors when they
land." The wide eyes were ringed with tears. "I don't understand."
Jefri jabbed a hand at the Cloak. "Maybe he's faking that, too."
"I don't know. I could never fake two packs that well." The tiny bodies
shuddered against Jefri, and there was the sound of human weeping, the
eerily familiar sound of a small child desolated.... "What are we going to
do, Jefri?"
But Jefri was silent, remembering and finally understanding, the first
few minutes after Steel's troops had rescued -- captured? -- him. Memories
suppressed by later kindness crept out from the corners of his mind. Mom,
Dad, Johanna. But Johanna still lived, just beyond these walls....
"Jefri?"
"I don't know either. H-hide maybe?"
For a moment they just stared at each other. Finally the fragment
spoke. "You can do better than hide. You already know about the passages
through these walls. If you know the entrance points -- and I do -- you can
get to almost anywhere you want. You can even get outside."
Johanna.
Amdi's crying stopped. Three of him watched Tyrathect front, aft, and
sideways. The rest still clung to Jefri. "We still don't trust you,
Tyrathect," said Jefri.
"Good, good. I am a pack of various parts. Perhaps not entirely
trustable."
"Show us all the holes." Let us decide.
"There won't be time -- "
"Okay, but start showing us. And while you do, keep relaying what Mr.
Steel is saying."
The singleton bobbed its head, and the multiple streams of Pack talk
resumed. The Cloak got painfully to its feet and led the two children down a
side tunnel, one where the wick torches were mostly burned out. The loudest
sound down here was the soft dripping of water. The place was less than a
year old, yet -- except for the jagged edges of the cut stone -- it seemed
ancient.
Puppies was crying again. Jefri stroked the back of the one that clung
to his shoulder, "Please Amdi, translate for me."
After a moment Amdi's voice came hesitantly in his ear. "M-Mr. Steel is
asking again where we are. Tyrathect says we're trapped by a ceiling fall in
the inner wing." In fact, they had heard the masonry shift a few minutes
before, but it sounded far away. "Mr. Steel just sent the rest of Tyrathect
to get Mr. Shreck and dig us out. Mr. Steel sounds so ... different."
"Maybe it's not really him," Jefri whispered back.
Long silence. "No. It's him. He just seems so angry, and he's using
strange words."
"Big words?"
"No. Scary ones. About cutting and killing ... Ravna and you and me. He
... he doesn't like us, Jefri."
The singleton stopped. They were beyond the last wall torch, and it was
too dark to see anything but shadowy forms. He pointed to a spot on the
wall. Amdi reached forward and pushed at the rock. All the while Mr.
Tyrathect continued talking, reporting from the outside.
"Okay," said Amdi, "that opens. And it's big enough for you, Jefri. I
think -- "
Tyrathect's human voice said, "The Spacers are back. I can see their
little boat.... I got away just in time. Steel is getting suspicious. A few
more seconds and he will be searching everywhere."
Amdi looked into the dark hole. "I say we go," he said softly, sadly.
"Yeah." Jefri reached down to touch one of Amdi's shoulders. The member
led him to a hole cut in sharp-edged stone. If he scrunched his shoulders
there would be enough room to crawl in. One of Amdi entered just ahead of
him. The rest would follow. "I hope it doesn't get any narrower than this."
Tyrathect: "It shouldn't. All these passages are designed for packs in
light armor. The important thing: keep to upward curving passages. Keep
moving and you'll eventually get outside. Pham's flying craft is less than,
uh, five hundred meters from the walls.
Jefri couldn't even look over his shoulder to talk to the Cloak. "What
if Mr. Steel chases us into the walls?"
There was a brief silence. "He probably won't do that, if he doesn't
know where you entered. It would take too long to find you. But," the voice
was suddenly gentler, "but there are openings on the top of the walls. In
case enemy soldiers tried to sneak in from the outside, there has to be some
way to kill them in the tunnels. He could pour oil down the tunnels."
The possibility did not frighten Jefri. At the moment it just sounded
bizarre. "We've got to hurry then."
Jefri scrabbled forward as the rest of Amdi crawled in behind him. He
was already several meters deep in stone when he heard Amdi's voice back at
the entrance, the last one to enter: "Will you be okay, Mr. Tyrathect?"
Or is this all another lie? thought Jefri.
The other's voice had its usual, cynical tone. "I expect to land on my
feet. Please do remember that I helped you."
And then the hatch was shut and they scrambled forward, into the dark.
Negotiations, shit. It was obvious to Pham that Steel's idea of
"mutually safe meeting" was a cover for mayhem. Even Ravna wasn't fooled by
the pack's new proposals. At least it meant that Steel was ad libbing now --
that he was beyond all the scripts and schemes. The trouble was, he still
wasn't giving them any openings. Pham would have cheerfully died for a few
undisturbed hours with the Countermeasure, but Steel's setup would have them
dead before they ever saw the inside of the refugee ship.
"Keep moving around, Blueshell. I want Steel to have us weighing on his
mind, without being a good target."
The Rider waved a frond in agreement and the boat bounced briefly up
from the moss, drifted a hundred meters parallel to the castle walls, and
descended again. They were in the no-man's land between the forces of
Woodcarver and Steel.
Johanna Olsndot twisted around to look at him. The boat was a very
crowded place now, Blueshell stretched across the Riderish controls at the
bow, Pham and Johanna jammed into the seats behind him -- and a pack called
Pilgrim in every empty space in between. "Even if you can locate the
commset, don't fire. Jefri could be close by." For twenty minutes Steel had
been promising the momentary reappearance of Jefri Olsndot.
Pham eyed her smudged face. "Yeah, we won't fire unless we can see
exactly what we'll hit." The girl nodded shortly. She couldn't have been
more than fourteen, but she was a good trooper. Half the people he had known
in Qeng Ho would have been in limp hysterics after this pickup. And of the
rest, few could have given a better status report than Johanna and her
friend.
He glanced at the pack. It would take a while to get used to these
critters. At first he'd thought that two of the dogs were sprouting extra
heads -- then he noticed the small ones were just puppies carried in jacket
pockets. The "Pilgrim" was all over the boat; just what part of him should
he talk to? He picked the head that was looking in his direction. "Any
theories how to deal with Steel?"
The pack's Samnorsk was better than Pham's: "Steel and Flenser are as
tricky as anything I've seen in Johanna's dataset. And Flenser is cool."
"Flenser? Hadn't realized there was a person with that name.... There
was a 'Mr. Skinner' we talked to. Some kind of assistant to Steel."
"Hmm. He's tricky enough to play flunky.... wish we could drop back and
chat with Woodcarver about this." The request was artfully contained in his
intonation. Pham wondered briefly what percentage of Packfolk were so
flexible. They might be one hell of a trading race if they ever reached
space.
"Sorry, we don't have time for that. In fact, if we can't get in right
away, we've lost everything. I just hope Steel doesn't guess that."
The heads subtly rearranged themselves. The biggest member, the one
with a broken arrow shaft sticking up from its jacket, moved closer to the
girl. "Well, if Steel is in charge, there's a chance. He's very smart, but
we think he runs amok when things get tough. Your finding Johanna has
probably put him to chasing his tails. Keep him off balance, and you can
expect some big mistakes."
Johanna spoke abruptly, "He might kill Jefri."
Or blow up the starship. "Ravna, any luck with Steel?"
Her voice came back over the comm: "No. The threats are a bit more
transparent now, and his Samnorsk is getting harder to understand. He's
trying to bring cannon in from north of the Castle; I don't think he knows
how much I can see.... He still hasn't brought Jefri back to the radio."
The girl paled, but she didn't say anything. Her hand stole up to grasp
one of Pilgrim's paws.
Blueshell had been very quiet all through the rescue, first because he
had his fronds full with flying, then because the girl and the Pack had so
much to say. Pham had noticed that part of Pilgrim had been politely nosing
around the Rider. Blueshell hadn't seemed upset by the attention; his race
had plenty of experience with others.
But now the Rider made a brap for attention, "Sir Pham, there is action
in front of the castle."
Pilgrim was on it at almost the same instant, one head helping another
look through a telescope. "Yes. That's the main sally port that's coming
open. But why would Steel send packs out now? Woodcarver will chew them up."
The enemy was indeed fielding infantry. The packs spewed out the wide hole
in a headlong dash, much like troops of Pham's recollection. But once they
cleared the entrance they broke of into clumps of four to six dogs each and
spread across the castle perimeter.
Pham leaned forward, trying to see as far along the walls as possible.
"Maybe not. These guys aren't advancing. They're staying in range of the
archers on the walls."
"Yeah. But we still have cannons." Pilgrim's perfect imitation of
humanity broke for a second, and a Tinish chord filled the cockpit.
"Something is really strange. It's like they're trying to keep someone from
getting out."
"Are there other entrances?"
"Probably. And lots of little tunnels, just one member wide."
"Ravna?"
"Steel's not talking at all now. He said something about traitors
infifltrating the castle. Now all I'm getting is Tinish gobble." From
embrasure to embrasure along the battlements, Pham could see enemy soldiers
moving above those on the ground. Something had upset the rats' nest.
Johanna Olsndot was a vision of horrified concentration, her free hand
gathered into a fist, her lips faintly trembling. "All this time I thought
he was dead. If they kill him now, I...." Her voice suddenly scaled up:
"What are they doing?" Cast iron kettles had been dragged to the top of the
walls.
Pham could guess. Siege fighting on Canberra had involved similar
things. He looked at the girl, and kept his mouth shut. There's nothing we
can do.
The Pilgrim pack was not so kind -- or not so patronizing: "It's oil,
Johanna. They want to kill someone in the walls. But if he can get out....
Blueshell, I've read about loudspeakers. Can I use one? If Jefri is in the
walls, Woodcarver can safely scrape Steel's troops off the field and
battlements."
Pham opened his mouth to object, but the Rider had already opened a
channel. Pilgrim's Tinish voice echoed across the hillside. Along the castle
walls heads turned. To them, the voice must have sounded like a god's. The
chords and trills continued a moment longer, then ceased.
Ravna's voice was on the line an instant later, "Whatever you did just
now, it pushed Steel over the edge. I can barely understand him; He seems to
be describing how he'll torture Jefri if we don't pull the Woodcarvers
back."
Pham grunted. "Okay then. Get us in the air, Blueshell." It felt good
to kiss subtlety goodbye.
Blueshell wobbled the boat aloft. They moved forward, scarcely faster
than a man can run. Behind them more of Woodcarver's troops were coming over
the military crest of the hill. Those fellows had been pulled well back
after Pham's strafing run: things might be decided before they got to the
castle.... But Woodcarver's reach was still long and deadly: splashes of
smoke and fire appeared along the battlements, followed by sharp popping
noises. Killing Jefri Olsndot was going to be a very expensive proposition
for Steel.
"Can you use the beamer to clear Steel's troops away from the wall?"
asked Johanna.
Pham started to nod, then noticed what was happening by the castle.
"See the oil." Dark pools were growing between the enemy packs and the walls
they guarded. Until they knew where the kid was coming out, it would be best
not to start fires.
Pilgrim: "Oops." Then he was shouting something more on the
loudspeakers. Woodcarver's artillery ceased.
"Okay," said Pham, "for now, all eyes on the castle wall. Circle the
perimeter, Blueshell. If we can see the kid before Steel's guys, we may have
a chance."
Ravna: "They're spread evenly around every side except the North, Pham.
I don't think Steel has any idea were the boy is."
When you challenge Heaven, the stakes are high. And I could have won.
If he had not betrayed me, I could have won. But now the masks were down,
and the enemy's brute physical power was all that counted. Steel brought
himself down from the hysterical blackout of the last few minutes. If I can
not have Heaven, at least I can still take them to Hell. Kill Amdijefri,
destroy the ship the Visitors wanted so ... most of all, destroy his
traitorous teacher.
"My lord?" It was Shreck.
Steel turned a head in Shreck's direction. The time for hysteria was
past. "How goes the flooding?" he said mildly. He wouldn't ask about
Tyrathect again.
"All but complete. The oil is pooling beyond the castle walls." The two
packs crouched as one of Woodcarver's bombs exploded just beyond the
battlement. Her troops were already halfway back across the field -- and
Steel's archers were preoccupied with flooding the tunnels and watching the
exits. "We may have flushed out the traitors, my lord. Just before
Woodcarver resumed fire, we heard something by the southeast wall. But I
fear the spacers will see whatever we do there." His heads bobbed
spastically.
Strange to see Shreck coming apart, Steel thought vaguely. Shreck's was
the loyalty of clockwork, but now his orderly world was failing and there
was nothing left to support him. The madness he was born from was all that
was left.
If Shreck was close to breaking, then the siege of Starship Hill was
nearly at an end. Just a little longer, that is all I ask now. Steel forced
a confident expression upon his members. "I understand. You have done well,
Shreck. We may still win. I know how these mantises think. If you can kill
the child, especially before their eyes, it will break their spirit -- just
as puppies can be broken by the right terrors."
"Yes, sir." There was dull incredulity in Shreck's eyes, but this would
hold him, a plausible excuse to continue the charade.
"Light the oil beyond the walls. Move the troops in front of where you
think Amdijefri will exit. The Visitors must see this if it is to have
proper effect. And -- " and blow up the refugee ship! The words almost
slipped out, but he caught himself in time. The explosives built into the
Jaws and the Starship dome would bring down everything interior to the
outerwalls and would kill most of the packs within. Ordering Shreck do that
would make Steel's real goal all too clear. "-- And move quickly before
Woodcarver's troops can close. This is the Movement's last hope, Shreck."
The pack bowed its way back down the steps. Steel maintained an
expansive posture, boldly looking across the battlefield until the other was
out of sight. Then he reached across the battlements and slammed the radio
into the stone walkway. This one didn't break, and now the Ravna mantis's
voice came querulously from it. Steel bounded down the stairs. "You get
nothing," he shrieked back at her in Tines' talk. "Everything you want will
die!"
And then he was down the stairs and running across the courtyard. He
ducked out of sight, into the hallway that circled the Jaws of Welcome. He
could blow those easily, but very likely the main dome and the ship within
would survive. No, he must go to the heart. Kill the ship and all the
sleeping mantises. He stepped into a secret room, picked up two crossbows --
and the extra radio cloak he had prepared. Inside that cloak was a small
bomb. He had tested the idea with the second set of radios; the receiving
pack had died instantly.
Down another set of stairs, into a supply corridor. The sounds of
battle were lost behind him. His own tines' clatter was the loudest noise.
Around him loomed bins of gunpowder, food supplies, fresh timber. The fuses
and set charges were only fifty yards further on. And Steel slowed to a
walk, curled his paws so the metal on them made no noise. Listening. Looking
in every direction. Somehow he knew the other would be here. The Flenser
Fragment. Flenser had haunted him from the beginning of his existence, had
haunted even after Flenser had mostly died. But not until this clear treason
had Steel been able to free his hate. Most likely the Master thought to
escape with the children, but there was a chance that Flenser schemed to win
everything. There was a chance that he had returned. Steel knew his own
death would come soon. And yet there might still be triumph. If, by his own
jaws and claws, he could kill the Master.... Please, please be here, dear
Master. Be here thinking you can trick me one more time.
A wish granted. He heard faint mind sounds. Close. Heads rose from
behind the bins above him. Two of the Fragment showed themselves in the
corridor ahead.
"Student."
"Master." Steel smiled. All five of the other were here; the Fragment
had smuggled himself all back. But gone were the radio cloaks. The members
stood naked, their pelts covered with oozing sores. The radio bomb would be
useless. Perhaps it didn't matter; Steel had seen corpses that looked
healthier than these. Out of sight, he raised his bows. "I have come to kill
you."
The death's heads shrugged. "You have come to try."
Jaws on claws, Steel would have had no trouble killing the other. But
the Fragment had positioned three of himself above, by cargo bins that
looked strangely off-balance. A straight forward rush could be fatal. But if
he could get good bow shots... Steel eased forward, to just short of where
the cargo bins would fall. "Do you really expect to live, Fragment? I am not
your only enemy." He waved a nose back up the corridor. "There are thousands
out there who hunger for your death."
The other bobbed its heads in a ghastly smile. New blood oozed from the
wounds that were opened. "Dear Steel, you never seem to understand. You have
made it possible for me to survive. Don't you see? I have saved the
children. Even now, I am preventing you from harming the starship. In the
end this will win me a conditional surrender. I will be weak for a few
years, but I will survive."
The old Flenser glittered through the pain and the wounds. The old
opportunism.
"But you are a fragment. Three-fifths of you is -- "
"The little school teacher?" Flenser lowered his heads and blinked
shyly. "She was stronger than I expected. For a while she ruled this pack,
but bit by bit I forced my way back. In the end, even without the others, I
am whole."
Flenser whole once more. Steel edged back, almost in retreat. Yet there
was something strange here. Yes, the Flenser was at peace with himself,
self-satisfied. But now that Steel could see the pack all together, he saw
something in its body language that... Insight came then, and with it a
flash of intensest pride. For once in my life, I understand better than the
Master. "Whole, you say? Think. We both know how souls do battle within, the
little rationalizations, the great unknowings. You think you've killed the
other, but whence comes your recent confidence? What you're doing is exactly
what Tyrathect would do now. All thought is yours now, but the foundation is
her soul. And whatever you think, it's the little school teacher who won!"
The Fragment hesitated, understanding. Its inattention lasted only a
fraction of a second, but Steel was ready: He leaped into the open, loosing
his arrows, lunging across the open space for the other's throats.
.Delete this paragraph to shift page flush
-=*=-
Any time before now, the climb through the walls would have been fun.
Even though it was pitch dark, Amdi was in front and behind him, and his
noses gave him a good feel for the way. Anytime before now there would have
been the thrill of discovery, of giggling at Amdi's strung-out mental state.
But now Amdi's confusion was simply scary. He kept bumping into Jefri's
heels. "I'm going as fast as I can." The fabric of Jefri's pants' knees was
already torn apart on the rough stone. He hustled faster, the stabbing beat
of rock on knees barely penetrating his consciousness. He bumped into the
puppy ahead of him. The puppy had stopped, seemed to be twisting sideways.
"There's a fork. I say we ... what should I say, Jefri?"
Jefri rolled back, knocking his head on top of the wormhole. For most
of a year, it had been Amdi's confidence, his cheeky cleverness, that had
kept him going. Now ... suddenly he was aware of the tonnes of rock that
were pressing in from all directions. If the tunnel narrowed just a few
centimeters, they would be stuck here forever.
"Jefri?"
"I-- " Think! "Which side seems to be going up?"
"Just a second." The lead member ran off a little ways down one fork.
"Don't go too far!" Jefri shouted.
"Don't worry. I ... he'll know to get back." Then he heard the patter
of return, and the lead member was touching its nose to his cheek. "The one
on the right goes up."
They hadn't gone more than fifteen meters before Amdi started hearing
things. "People chasing us?" asked Jefri.
"No. I'm mean, I'm not sure. Stop. Listen.... Hear that? Gluppy,
syrupy." Oil.
No more stopping. Jefri moved faster than ever up the tunnel. His head
bumped into the ceiling and he stumbled to his elbows, recovered without
thinking and raced on. A trickle of blood dripped down his cheek.
Even he could hear the oil now.
The sides of the tunnel closed down on his shoulders. Ahead of him,
Amdi said, "Dead end -- or we're at an exit!" Scritching sounds. "I can't
move it." The puppy turned around and wiggled back between Jefri's legs.
"Push at the top, Jefri. If it's like the one I found in the dome, it opens
at the top."
The darn tunnel got narrow right before the door. Jefri hunched his
shoulders and squeezed forward. He pushed at the top of the door. It moved,
maybe a centimeter. He crawled forward a little further, squished so tightly
between the walls that he couldn't even take a deep breath. Now he pushed
hard as he could. The stone turned all the way and light spilled onto his
face. It wasn't full daylight; they were still hidden from the outside
behind angles of stone -- but it was the happiest sight Jefri had ever seen.
Half a meter more and he would be out -- only now he was jammed.
He twisted forward a fraction, and things only seemed to get worse.
Behind him, Amdi was piling up. "Jefri! My rear paws are in the oil. It's
filled the tunnel all up behind us."
Panic. For a second Jefri couldn't think of anything. So close, so
close. He could see color now, the bloody smears on his hands. "Back up!
I'll take off my jacket and try again."
Backing up was itself almost impossible, so thoroughly wedged had he
become. Finally he'd done it. He turned on his side, shrugged out of the
jacket.
"Jefri! Two of me under ... oil. Can't breathe." The puppies jammed up
around him, their pelts slick with oil. Slick!
"Jus' second!" Jefri wiped the fur, smeared his shoulders with the oil.
He extended his arms straight past his head and used his heels to push back
into the narrowness. Then the stone closed in on his shoulders. Behind him,
what was left of Amdi was making whistling noises. Jam. Push. Push. A
centimeter, another. And then he was out to his armpits and it was easy.
He dropped to the ground and reached back to grab the nearest part of
Amdi. The pup wriggled out of his hands. It blubbered something not Tinish
and not human. Jefri could see the dark shadows of several members pulling
at something out of sight. A second later, a cold, wet blob of fur rolled
out of the darkness into his arms. A second more, and out came another.
Jefri lowered the two to the ground and wiped goo away from their muzzles.
One rolled onto its legs and began to shake itself. The other started
choking and coughing.
Meanwhile the rest of Amdi dropped out of the hole. All eight were
covered with some amount of oil. They straggled drunkenly into a heap,
licking each another's tympana. Their buzzing and croaking made no sense.
Jefri turned from his friend and walked toward the light. They were
hidden by a turn in the stone ... fortunately. From around the corner he
could hear the marshaling calls of Steel's troopers. He crept to the edge
and peered around. For an instant he thought he and Amdi were back inside
the castle yard; there were so many troopers. But then he saw the unbounded
sweep of the hillside and the smoke rising out of the valley.
What next? He glanced back at Amdi, who was still frantically grooming
his tympana. The chords and hums were sounding more rational now, and all of
Amdi was moving. He turned back to the hillside. For an instant he almost
felt like rushing out to the troops. They had been his protectors for so
long.
One of Amdi bumped against his legs, and looked out for himself. "Wow.
There's a regular lake of oil between us and Mr. Steel's soldiers. I -- "
The booming sound was loud, but not like a gunpowder blast. It lasted
almost a second, then became a background roar. Two more of Amdi stretched
necks around the corner. The lake had become a roaring sea of flame.
Blueshell had maneuvered the boat within two hundred meters of the
castle wall, opposite the point where the packs had bunched up. Now the
lander floated just a man's height off the moss. "Just our being here is
driving the packs away," said Pilgrim.
Pham glanced over his shoulder. Woodcarver's troops had regained the
field and were racing toward the castle walls. Another sixty seconds, max,
and they would be in contact with Steel's packs.
There was a loud brap from Blueshell's voder, and Pham looked forward.
"By the Fleet," he said softly. Packs on the ramparts had fired some kind of
flamethrowers into the pools of oil below the castle walls. Blueshell flew
in a little closer. Long pools of oil lay parallel to the walls. The enemy's
packs on the outside were all but cut off from their castle now. Except for
one thirty-meter-wide gap, the section they had been guarding was high fire.
The boat bobbed a little higher, tilting and sliding in the fire-driven
whirl of air. In most places the oil lapped the sloped base of the walls.
Those walls were more intricate than the castles of Canberra -- in many
places it looked like there were little mazes or caves built into the base.
Looks damn stupid in a defensive structure.
"Jefri!" screamed Johanna, and pointed toward the middle of the
unburning section. Pham had a glimpse of something withdrawing behind the
stonework.
"I saw him too." Blueshell tilted the boat over and slid downwards,
toward the wall. Johanna's hand closed on Pham's arm, pushing and shaking.
He could barely hear her voice over the Pilgrim's shouting. "Please, please,
please," she was saying.
For a moment it looked like they would make it: Steel's troops were
well back from them and -- though there were ponds of oil below them -- they
were not yet alight. Even the air seemed quieter than before. For all that,
Blueshell managed to lose control. A gentle tipping went uncorrected, and
the boat slid sideways into the ground. It was a slow collision, but Pham
heard one of the landing pods cracking. Blueshell played with the controls
and the other side of the craft settled to earth. The beamer was stuck
muzzle first into the earth.
Pham's gaze snapped up at the Skroderider. He'd known it would come to
this.
Ravna: "What happened? Can you get up?"
Blueshell dithered with the controls a moment longer, then gave a
Riderish shrug. "Yes. But it will take too long -- " He was undoing his
restraints, unclamping his skrode from the deck. The hatch in front of him
slid open, and the noise of battle and fire came loud.
"What in hell do you think you're doing, Blueshell!"
The Rider's fronds angled attention at Pham, "To rescue the boy. This
will all be afire in a moment."
"And this boat could fry if we leave it here. You're not going
anywhere, Blueshell." He leaned forward, far enough to grab the other by his
lower fronds.
Johanna was looking wildly from one to the other in an uncomprehending
panic. "No! Please -- " And Ravna was shouting at him too. Pham tensed, all
his attention on the Rider.
Blueshell rocked toward him in the cramped space and pushed his fronds
close to Pham's face. The voder voice frayed into nonlinearity: "And what
will you do if I disobey? You need me whole or the boat is useless. I go,
Sir Pham. I prove I am not the thrall of some Power. Can you prove as much?"
He paused, and for a moment Rider and human stared at each other from
centimeters apart. But Pham did not grab him.
Brap. Blueshell's fronds withdrew. He rolled back onto the lip of the
hatch. The skrode's third axle reached the ground, and he descended in a
controlled teeter. Still Pham had not moved. I am not some Power's program.
"Pham?" The girl was looking up at him, and tugging at his sleeve.
Nuwen shook the nightmare away and saw again. The Pilgrim pack was already
out of the boat. Short swords were held in the mouths of the four adults;
steel claws gleamed on their forepaws.
"Okay." He flipped open a panel, withdrew the pistol he'd hidden there.
Since Blueshell had crashed the damn boat, there was no choice but to make
the best of it.
The realization was a cool breath of freedom. He pulled free of the
crash restraints and clambered down. Pilgrim stood all around him. The two
with puppies were unlimbering some kind of shields. Even with all his mouths
full, the critter's voice was as clear as ever: "Maybe we can find a way
closer in -- " between the flames. There were no more arrows from the
ramparts. The air above the fire was just too hot for the archers.
Pham and Johanna followed Pilgrim as he skirted pools of black goo.
"Stay as far from the oil as we can."
The packs of Mr. Steel were rounding the flames. Pham couldn't tell if
they were charging the lander or simply fleeing the friendlies that chased
them. And maybe it didn't matter. He dropped to one knee and sprayed the
oncoming packs with his handgun. It was nothing like the beamer, especially
at this range, but it was not to be ignored: the front dogs tumbled. Others
bounded over them. They reached the far edge of the oil. Only a few ventured
into the goo -- they knew what it could become. Others shifted out of Pham's
sight, behind the landing boat.
Was there a dry approach? Pham ran along the edge of the oil. There had
to be a gap in the "moat", or surely the fire would have spread. Ahead of
him the flames towered twenty meters into the air, the heat a physical
battering on his skin. Above the top of the glow, tarry smoke swept back
over the field, turning the sunlight into reddish murk. "Can't see a thing,"
came Ravna's voice in his ear, despairing.
"There's still a chance, Rav." If he could hold them off long enough
for Woodcarver's troops....
Steel's packs had found a safe path inwards and were coming closer.
Something sighed past him -- an arrow. He dropped to the ground and sprayed
the enemy packs at full rate. If they had known how fast he was getting to
empty they might have kept coming, but after a few seconds of ripping
carnage, the advance halted. The enemy sweep broke apart and the dogthings
were running away, taking their chances with Woodcarver's packs.
Pham turned and looked back at the castle. Johanna and Pilgrim stood
ten meters nearer the walls. She was pulling against the pack's grasp. Pham
followed her gaze.... There was the Skroderider. Blueshell had paid no
attention to the packs that ran around the edge of the fire. He rolled
steadily inwards, oily tracks marking his progress. The Rider had drawn in
all his externals and pulled his cargo scarf close to his central stalk. He
was driving blind through the superheated air, deeper and deeper into the
narrowing gap between the flames.
He was less than fifteen meters from the walls. Abruptly two fronds
extended out from his trunk, into the heat. There. Through the heat shimmer,
Pham could see the kid, walking uncertainly out from the cover of stone.
Small shapes sat on the boy's shoulders, and walked beside him. Pham ran up
the slope. He could move faster over this terrain than any Rider. Maybe
there was time.
A single burst of flame arched down from the castle, into the pond of
oil between him and the Rider at the wall. What had been a narrow channel of
safety was gone, and the flames spread unbroken before him.
"There's still lots of clear space," Amdi said. He reached a few meters
out from their hiding place to reconnoiter around the corners. "The flier is
down! Some ... strange thing ... is coming our way. Blueshell or
Greenstalk?"
There were lots of Steel's packs out there too, but not close --
probably because of the flier. That was a weird one, with none of the
symmetry of Straumer aircraft. It looked all tilted over, almost as if it
had crashed. A tall human raced across their field of view, firing at
Steel's troops. Jefri looked further out, and his hand tightened almost
unconsciously on the nearest puppy. Coming toward them was a wheeled
vehicle, like something out of a Nyjoran historical. The sides were painted
with jagged stripes. A thick pole grew up from the top.
The two children stepped a little ways out from their protection. The
Spacer saw them! It slewed about, spraying oil and moss from under its
wheels. Two frail somethings reached out from its bluish trunk. Its voice
was squeaky Samnorsk. "Quickly, Sir Jefri. We have little time." Behind the
creature, beyond the pond of oil, Jefri could see ... Johanna.
And then the pond exploded, the fire on both sides sprouting across all
escape routes. Still the Spacer was waving its tendrils, urging them onto
the flat of its hull. Jefri grasped at the few handholds available. The
puppies jumped up after him, clinging to his shirt and pants. Up close,
Jefri could see that the stalk was the person: the skin was smudged and dry,
but it was soft and it moved.
Two of Amdi were still on the ground, ranging out on either side of the
cart for a better view of the fire. "Wah!" shrieked Amdi by his ear. Even so
close, he could scarcely be heard over the thunder of the fire. "We can
never get through that, Jefri. Our only chance is to stay here."
The Spacer's voice came from a little plate at the base of its stalk.
"No. If you stay here, you will die. The fire is spreading." Jefri had
huddled as much behind the Rider's stalk as possible, and still he could
feel the heat. Much more and the oil in Amdi's fur would catch fire.
The Rider's tendrils lifted the colored cloth that lay on its hull.
"Pull this over you." It waggled a tendril at the rest of Amdi. "All of
you."
The two on the ground were crouched behind the creature's front wheels.
"Too hot, too hot," came Amdi's voice. But the two jumped up and buried
themselves under the peculiar tarpaulin.
"Cover yourself, all the way!" Jefri felt the Rider pulling the cover
over them. The cart was already rolling back, toward the flames. Pain burned
through every gap in the tarp. The boy reached frantically, first with one
hand and then the other, trying to get the cloth over his legs. Their course
was a wild bouncing ride, and Jefri could barely keep hold. Around him he
felt Amdi straining with his free jaws to keep the tarpaulin in place. The
sound of fire was a roaring beast, and the tarp itself was searing hot
against his skin. Every new jolt bounced him up from the hull, threatening
to break his grip. For a time, panic obliterated thought. It was not till
much later that he remembered the tiny sounds that came from the voder
plate, and understood what those sounds must mean.
Pham ran toward the new flames. Agony. He raised his arms across his
face and felt the skin on his hands blistering. He backed away.
"This way, this way!" Pilgrim's voice came from behind him, guiding him
out. He ran back, stumbling. The pack was in a shallow gully. It had shifted
its shields around to face the new stretch of fire. Two of the pack moved
out of his way as he dived behind them.
Both Johanna and the pack were slapping at his head.
"Your hair's on fire!" the girl shouted. In seconds they had the fire
out. The Pilgrim looked a bit singed, too. Its shoulder pouches were tucked
safely shut; for the first time, no inquisitive puppy eyes peeked out.
"I still can't see anything, Pham." It was Ravna from high above.
"What's going on?"
Quick glance behind him. "We're okay," he gasped. "Woodcarver's packs
are tearing up Steel's. But Blueshell -- " He peered between in the shields.
It was like looking into a kiln. Right by the castle wall there might be a
breathing space. A slim hope, but --
"Something is moving in there." Pilgrim had tucked one head briefly
around the shield. He withdrew it now, licking his nose from both sides.
Pham looked again through the crack. The fire had internal shadows,
places of not-so-bright that wavered ... moved? "I see it too." He felt
Johanna stick her head close to his, peering frantically. "It's Blueshell,
Rav.... By the Fleet." This last said too softly to carry over the fire
sound. There was no sign of Jefri Olsndot, but -- "Blueshell is rolling
through the middle of the fire, Rav."
The skrode wheeled out of the deeper oil. Slowly, steadily making its
way. And now Pham could see fire within fire, Blueshell's trunk flaring in
rivulets of flame. His fronds were no longer gathered into himself. They
extended, writhing with their own fire. "He's still coming, driving straight
out."
The skrode cleared the wall of fire, rolled with jerky abandon down the
slope. Blueshell didn't turn toward them, but just before he reached the
landing boat, all six wheels grated to a fast stop.
Pham stood and raced back toward the Skroderider. Pilgrim was already
unlimbering his shields and turning to follow him. Johanna Olsndot stood for
a second, sad and slight and alone, her gaze stuck hopelessly on the fire
and smoke on the castle side. One of the Pilgrim grabbed her sleeve, drawing
her back from the fire.
Pham was at the Rider now. He stared silently for a second. "...
Blueshell's dead, Rav, no way you could doubt if you could see." The fronds
were burnt away, leaving stubs along the stalk. The stalk itself had burst.
Ravna's voice in his ear was shuddery. "He drove through that even
while he was burning?"
"Can't be. He must have been dead after the first few meters. This must
all have been on autopilot." Pham tried to forget the agonized reaching of
fronds he had seen back in the fire. He blanked out for a moment, staring at
the fire-split flesh.
The skrode itself radiated heat. Pilgrim sniffed around it, shying away
abruptly when a nose came too close. Abruptly he reached out a steel-tined
paw and pulled hard on the scarf that covered the hull.
Johanna screamed and rushed forward. The forms beneath the scarf were
unmoving, but unburned. She grabbed her brother by the shoulders, pulling
him to the ground. Pham knelt beside her. Is the kid breathing? He was
distantly aware of Ravna shouting in his ear, and Pilgrim plucking tiny
dogthings off the metal.
Seconds later the boy started coughing. His arms windmilled against his
sister. "Amdi, Amdi!" His eyes opened, widened. "Sis!" And then again.
"Amdi?"
"I don't know," said the Pilgrim, standing close to the seven -- no,
eight -- grease-covered forms. "There are some mind sounds but not
coherent." He nosed at three of puppies, doing something that might have
been rescue breathing.
After a moment the little boy began crying, a sound lost in the fire
sounds. He crawled across to the puppies, his face right next to one of
Pilgrim's. Johanna was right behind him, holding his shoulders, looking
first to Pilgrim and then at the still creatures.
Pham came to his knees and looked back at the castle. The fire was a
little lower now. He stared a long time at the blackened stump that had been
Blueshell. Wondering and remembering. Wondering if all the suspicion had
been for naught. Wondering what mix of courage and autopilot had been behind
the rescue.
Remembering all the months he had spent with Blueshell, the liking and
then the hate -- Oh, Blueshell, my friend.
The fires slowly ebbed. Pham paced the edge of receding heat. He felt