Lamarchos (30 page)

“The one we came in on. We'll be stopping to eat and rest the horses. After that it's about a day's journey to the ship.”

Maissa kicked petulantly at the splashboard. “I'm sick of this ball of mud.” She sank into a brooding silence. Aleytys let her alone and concentrated on getting downhill in one piece as the gradient suddenly steepened.

“Can't you do without that damn noise?” Maissa pressed trembling hands over her ears.

“No.” Aleytys kicked the brake loose as the trail flattened for a moment. “If it bothers you so much, go inside.” The trail began to dip, the caravan picked up speed, and Aleytys slammed the brake on again. Maissa winced but shut her mouth in a stubborn line and folded her arms across her breasts. At intervals she flicked an ominous angry glance at Aleytys.

When Stavver pulled his caravan into the shade of the grove, Aleytys silently blessed the break. Without a word Maissa jumped down from her seat and strode to the road where she stood staring toward the east.

Stavver touched Aleytys' shoulder. “There's a well over there. I see sleeping beauty's awake.”

“Beauty! Awake and in her usual sunny mood.” She sighed and leaned back against him. “You trust her, Miks?”

He rubbed his hand slowly up and down her neck, his eyes on the meager form in the roadway. “Is there a choice?”

“I suppose not.”

“We'll take turns sleeping.” He laughed and dropped a kiss on her hair. “We can take a week off and relax on I!kwasset. I've got friends there.”

“If we get there.”

“We will. If she doesn't strip her gears first.”

She sighed. “I'm tired of all these complicated plots. Let's get back to simple things for a while. Like watering a lot of tired horses.”

Chapter XIV

Maissa slapped her hand against the tree trunk. The camouflage sheeting peeled apart and began shrinking until the ship gleamed a silken gold in the diffused orange light. Aleytys saw it with relief tinged with a growing trepidation. She was tired of waiting for the last task to appear. Three times she'd tried the grass. Nothing, not the slightest hint of a pattern. Even now, with the ship waiting to take them away, tension tied her stomach in knots. What was the fourth thing?

At Maissa's impatient call she drove the caravan under the trees and halted it beside the ship. Stavver stopped the other beside her.

“I don't believe it.”

He smiled. “Help me with the horses.”

Maissa came out of the ship. Ignoring them she ran up the stairs into the caravan. Aleytys jumped down. “You start, Miks. I'll be out in a minute. With Sharl.”

In the caravan Maissa was on her knees clawing at the panel. Sharl's drawer was nearly shut, muffling his angry and frightened yells. Aleytys scowled at Maissa then sighed as she pulled the drawer open and lifted out the crying baby. Maissa was what she was. No use expecting her to change.

Sharl's yells quieted. Picking up a quilt, she carried him outside. Fluffing up the quilt, she arranged it into a nest and laid the baby down in the folds, pulling a corner over him. “Sleep, my little one.…” She touched his cheek, then went to help Stavver strip the harness from the horses.

“Stavver! Get in here.” Maissa thrust back the curtain and stood in the doorway, radiating explosive energy.

Inside, the panel was tossed onto one of the bunks. Maissa jumped onto a bunk, coiling her legs under her. She jerked a thumb at the cavity. “I can't move it. You try.”

Stavver moved past her and knelt. “Hard to get a hold on this thing.”

Maissa shrugged then turned her head to glare at Aleytys. “I didn't call you.”

Aleytys shrugged. Leaning against the doorpost she watched Stavver tug at the box. He managed to shift a corner of it into the space between the bunks but no amount of effort could move it further.

“You'll have to empty it,” Aleytys said quietly.

Maissa scowled. “I don't want to.”

Stavver snorted. “Then you move the thing.”

“Ah god, if I only had a man.”

“Or an ape. Make up your mind.”

“Go outside. Both of you.” Maissa slid off the bunk to stand between Stavver and the box. “I'll call you when I want you.”

Silently Aleytys climbed down the stairs. She looked back at Stavver and opened her mouth.

He shook his head and led her away under the trees. “You're right, Leyta. She's back to her sweet original.” He sat down, leaning against the trunk of a tree. “Come here.”

Aleytys sank down, settling herself against him. “You argue too much with her, Miks.”

“She knows me, Leyta. So I walk a tightrope with her. Too much independence and she shoots me out of pique. Too little and she shoots me out of suspicion.”

“Ahai, Madar! How long to I!kwasset?”

“Three weeks.” His mouth tilted into a one-sided smile.

“Ouch.”

“When Maissa's on her ship.… That's her territory. She'll calm down once we're in space.”

Aleytys watched the grazing horses move between them and the caravans. “You hope.”

“Think, Leyta. You saw her on the ship coming here.”

Aleytys sighed. “She's been through a hard time.”

“Forget her a minute.” He pushed her from his shoulder and turned her so he could see her face. “Stay with me, Lee.”

“Miks.…”

“Don't jump. Think a minute before you answer.”

She put her hands on his arms. “I want to. No.…” She stopped him, shaking her head. “Would you come with me?”

A muscle twitched beside his mouth. “Where?”

“To Vrithian. I think I should go there. For Sharl's sake. For me too.”

“That's your condition?”

“No.” She dropped her eyes.

“Well, Lee, I've always wanted to see Vrithian. After that I'll show you.…” He pulled her against his chest, rubbing a hand up and down her back as she shuddered, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Stavver!”

“Damn.”

Aleytys giggled damply then jumped to her feet. “Our master calls.”

Stavver grunted. He raised his bony length from the ground with deliberate slowness, narrow face fixed into a heavy scowl.

“Stavver! Get over here. You too, witch.”

Wiping her eyes Aleytys followed him to the caravan. Maissa waited for them inside.

“Get in there and clean it out. I'll lower the sling for the box when you've got it empty enough to move.” She ran scornful eyes over Stavver's thin body. “Yell if you need help.” She ran with quick nervous strides down the back stairs and into the ship.

“It's going to be a long three weeks,” Aleytys grumbled.

Stavver knelt beside the box. “Let it slide off, Leyta. She can't hurt you now.” He plunged his hand in and pulled out one of the sacks then the other. Tossing them to Aleytys, he said, “Shove the rocks in there. Easier to carry.”

Aleytys nodded.

When the box was empty Stavver tipped it onto one side and maneuvered it out of the cavity. With Aleytys' help he hauled it out of the caravan and set it down beside the ship beneath the slowly descending sling.

Aleytys straightened, groaning. “My back. It'll never be the same. Miks, I was NOT meant to be a pack mule.”

“Come on.” Stavver started back for the caravan. “We've got another load to haul.”

“Fun, fun. I thought thieving was supposed to be an adventure. All I can see, it's damn hard work.”

He grinned. “No magic in thieving, Leyta.”

When they came out of the caravan carrying the sacks, Maissa was standing beside the sling waiting for them. “Hurry it up,” she snapped. “I want to get out of here.”

Kale stepped from the shadow under the trees. “Stand quiet,” he said calmly. “All of you.”

Behind him other Lamarchans slid like hunting cats from the shadows, bows cocked and aimed, the wicked points of the quarrels glittering in the sunlight.

Aleytys stared. The underlying sense of barely controlled despair and rage was gone out of him. He radiated pride and self-confidence. Whatever it was that made him bitter, futile, a man acted on rather than acting … this intangible thing was wiped totally away … how? Then she saw that the false tattoos were gone. The wolves grinned on his face, loped along his arms, slanted up his chest. He held a crossbow casually pointed at the group, leaving the active menace to the men supporting him. “Move away from that box, Captain. I see you wanting the weapons inside.”

Maissa glared at him. For a minute Aleytys was afraid she'd ignore the warning.

Kale lifted the bow. “I'm very good with this, Maissa. You aren't fast enough to dodge.”

Maissa balanced on her toes, her muscles taut and poised to leap. Her eyes swept from Kale's face to the point of the quarrel, over the stern faces of the men behind him, flicking at last to Stavver and Aleytys. As she read their unwillingness to act, she sighed, relaxed and moved to lean against the tailfin of the ship.

“Gikena.”

“What?”

“We could take you with us. If you want.”

“If I don't want to go?”

“We could take you anyway. Have you a choice?”

“Yes.” Aleytys nodded at Maissa. “You can't control me like that. Have you forgotten?” She smiled. “Be careful, Kale.”

Still relaxed and feeling himself in command of the situation, he nodded. “You were given four tasks, gikena.”

“I never told you that.”

“My father knows. Three are done. This is the fourth. Lakoe-heai used you, Aleytys. To bring the Soul-in-Flight back to the people.”

“That poaku?” She glanced at the two sacks.

He nodded. “Captain.” When Maissa refused to look at him, he repeated the word. “Captain. Come here. You're standing on my home ground here. I tell you what to do. Not like on your bridge.”

“No!”

“Come. Or die.”

Maissa straightened, watching his strong cold face with considerable puzzlement, wondering where he had got the force to do this to her. The madness Aleytys feared in her spurred her toward sudden violent action, but shrewd instinct recognized the demands of the real world. What she had to do to survive, she would do. Under Kale's direction she backed against a tree and extended her arms behind her. The youngest of the anonymous guard loped around the tree and roped her hands together with swift efficiency.

Kale jabbed a thumb at Stavver. “You next.” He grinned. “That huahua there. A long man needs a long tree.”

The boy tied Stavver's hands around the bole, then stepped to the next tree.

“Now you, gikena. Carefully. You see?” He stepped aside. A white-haired man held a quilt-wrapped bundle in one arm, a knife in the other, point just touching the skin of the baby's throat. Sharl. In the confusion she had forgotten him. “I don't think even you could keep the knife from his throat, gikena.”

Aleytys backed against the tree, felt the smooth narrow hands of the boy moving over her arms and wrists. “What happens now?”

The white-haired man brought Sharl to her and laid him at her feet, where he lay sucking contentedly at his thumb.

Kale lowered the crossbow. “My brother used a different knot on your arms, gikena. On time you'll be able to work yourself loose. Captain.” He met Maissa's furious eyes and smiled grimly. “Don't try following us. We'll be scattered and we'll turn the world against you. One man's hard to find on the surface of a world. I've learned that much in my own faring.”

Black eyes burned out of a greyish pallor. She said nothing.

Aleytys pulled gently at the ropes around her wrists. There didn't seem to be any give to them. She left it for the moment. “Didn't you intend to take me with you?”

“I'd like to.” His eyes moved over her body, then he shook his head. “I've seen too much of what you can do, gikena. You're an uncomfortable companion for an ordinary man.”

Maissa's hoarse voice stabbed at her. “Do something, witch!”

“What? I'd welcome any workable ideas.”

An ugly growl tore from Maissa's throat as she twisted wildly at the ropes.

Kale laughed at her and walked away. He knelt beside the bags of poaku, dark shapeless lumps on the paler earth. “Makuakane, the Soul-in-Flight is in one of these. The honor is yours, my father. Bring the soul forth.” He moved backward and knelt again in respectful silence, holding the crossbow in front of him, stock snugged against the ground.

Ignoring the three roped to the trees, the brothers gathered around the old man, kneeling beside Kale. Aleytys watched with interest. The white-haired man was an older edition of Kale, the resemblance startling as they knelt side by side. The others shared the elusive similarity of family likeness. She realized with a shock of surprise how very little she knew of this world. Immersed in its problems she had begun to accept her role here as an element of her own personality. Somehow it was easier to deal with this world if she thought of it as simply an unexplored section of Jaydugar. But occasionally one thing or another jarred her from her complacency. A triple handful of days … not enough, never enough to absorb the whole of a culture.

The old man took the poaku from the bag, unwrapping each and handing them on to a son who reverently rewrapped them and placed them in a growing heap by his knees. When the first sack was empty the old one turned quietly to the second but shot a troubled glance at his son's impassive face. Again he took the poaku out. As the slow quiet process went on, Aleytys sensed a growing impatience in all but Kale.

Then the slanting rays from the setting sun gleamed along the amber and russet stone. She saw the stopping hawk uncovered. The old man's hands trembled. “Soul-in-Flight. It has come home.”

Holding the stone at arm's length he rocked up onto his feet. Bowing deeply in front of Kale he took one hand from the stone and pressed it down on the top of his son's dark head. “My blessing, Kale. You have brought honor back to Wolf clan.”