Maeve (27 page)

As she pushed through the door she saw the little gray man standing on the far side of the street, watching her. Behind her, she heard a rising commotion as Dryknolte stopped the RMoahl from following her. She couldn't distinguish the words but had no doubt the big man was establishing his claim on her and demanding from the RMoahl what their interest in her was. She hoped they wouldn't tell him.

She moved hastily across the street, almost running as she stepped off the sidewalk.

Tintin looked up as she came in. “No visitors.” He sounded almost pleased.

Aleytys nodded. She hurried up the stairs and burst into her room. “Grey?”

“Here. What's wrong?” He stepped away from the wall, palming on the light as he moved. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.” She stretched and groaned, then flattened her back against the wardrobe door. “I'm going for my bath. Go look out the window a minute.”

“Suddenly modest?” He strolled to the window but didn't bother pulling the curtain aside to look out.

Aleytys unlocked the closet and rummaged through her pack. Immediately, she became aware that someone had touched her things. Everything was exactly as she had left it, but she knew in her bones that strange hands had been rummaging through her things. She opened the kerchief tied around the jewels she had liberated from the nayids. All there. Just curiosity then. She took the energy gun from the pack, then folded the flap down and tied the thongs. She shut the door behind her and locked it.

“All right, come on back.”

He turned, raised eyebrows at the gun in her hand. “What's that for?”

“You've had a busy day.”

He examined her face, then shrugged. “I got bored. How'd you know? I'm pretty good at making a clean search.”

She nodded. “You are.” She tossed the gun on the bed and sat down at the dressing table. “I felt your fingerprints.”

He shook his head and sat down on the bed. “Still another talent.” At her inquiring look, he said, “Psychometry. The ability to sense things about objects.” He looked at the gun. “Like I said, what's that for?”

“You. While I'm gone for my bath. There are a bunch … no, several bunches of creeps who might think it's a good idea to break in here and wait for me. Tintin talks a good fight, but catch him right and he'd give out his master key without a second thought. He doesn't like me, anyway.”'

“You want me to tackle anyone coming in?”

“Right. Could be Dryknolte. I've been ignoring a lot of signals from him and he might be tired of that. He's an impatient man. The RMoahl have threatened to force me onto their ship. They're a bit wary of me. They haven't come out well on our previous encounters. Then there's Chu Manhanu. If the parasite decides he wants my body right now …” She picked up the soap dish and slung her towel over her shoulder. “Things are getting a bit tight.”

Grey laughed and settled on the bed, back against the wall, the gun resting in his lap. “Have a nice bath, Amber. I'll keep the homestead free of lice.”

She came back, her body softened by the warm water, her brain relaxed and gently tired. She didn't want to have to stay on alert any longer. So tired …

At her door, she sighed and straightened. There were no problems she could sense waiting for her behind the door. She slapped the key on the lock and stepped inside.

Grey moved away from the wall. “No visitors.”

She let the air trickle from her lungs. “No.” Draping the towel over the doorknob, she tossed the key onto the dressing table and crossed to the bed. “Madar, I'm tired.”

“Lie down. I'll give you a back rub.”

She lay on her face and let him slide the wrapper down off her shoulders. His long, narrow hands were warm and strong as they worked the ache out of her body. When he turned her over and lay beside her, she was ready for him. His hands moved over her, caressing, rousing, until she wanted him with an urgency that blanked out everything else.

“Starwitch!” The word boomed through the room like the note of a great bronze gong.

Grey leaped away from her, his hand closing around the gun. He landed crouched beside the bed, the gun held steady on the wavering apparition floating in the center of the room.

Anger and frustration exploded in Aleytys. She bounced onto her knees. “Get out!”

The image shredded under the impact of her anger. It lifted a protesting hand. “I am Synwedda.” The words were growled and broken, hard to comprehend. “Come to the island, starwitch. We need you. No …” As Aleytys frowned and opened her mouth to protest, the wavery image waved a hand frantically. “Don't interrupt. Hear me. The cerdd Gwynnor waits in a boat at the landing where he left you. Bring the Hunter and come.” Like steam sublimating into the air, the image dissolved.

“Your friend's timing is the worst.” Grey stood, unworried by his nakedness, the gun held by his thigh. “What was she talking about?”

“Then you don't understand the cathl maes.”

“I don't have an automatic translator in my head, like you.”

“You better get dressed. We're going to that island I was telling you about.” She slid off the bed. “It's the best chance of getting to Manhanu.” Rubbing at her tender breasts, she stumped to the chair and slid the grey tunic over her head. When she was dressed, she unlocked the wardrobe and stuffed her few possessions into the pack, swept the things off the dressing table on top of everything else, then tied off the leather thongs that held the flap closed. When she straightened, Grey was beside her.

“I've got to make contact with the others.”

“Just as well. We can't leave here together.”

He nodded and held out the gun.

She shook her head. “I don't need that.” She handed him the pack. “I'd better not walk out carrying this or Tintin'll have a fit. Think I'm walking out on my bill. That reminds me.” She dipped into her pocket and pulled out a fistful of coins. She counted out a week's rent and left the coins in a heap on the table. “This should soothe his nerves.”

Grey's eyebrows rose as he took the pack. “Those jewels are worth a lot. You trust me with them?”

She touched her head, smiling. “Remember? Money isn't your weakness, Grey. Tell you what. Let me distract Tintin. While he's busy with me, you can slide out.”

She went downstairs with Grey a shadow close behind.

In the lobby, Dryknolte was arguing with Tintin. Aleytys hesitated, grimaced, then nodded to Grey. He walked quietly to the door as Aleytys went up to the quarreling pair.

“I'm going for a walk.” She tossed the key on the desk.

Tintin sniffed. “More trouble. You should go for a long walk and forget to come back,” he grumbled.

Aleytys chuckled, amused by the little man's complaining. Then she looked up at Dryknolte. He was devouring her with his eyes.

“You shouldn't go out alone. It's dangerous.”

Aleytys turned her shoulder to him. Grey had disappeared through the door, unnoticed. “I don't want company.”

Dryknolte followed her to the door in time to see the gray man emerge from the shadow and trail after her. Mouth set in an angry line, he went back inside.

Aleytys was briefly grateful for the presence of the spy. As she sauntered along, looking casually around, she thought, Dryknolte will be waiting for me in my room. She grinned at the picture. “Hope he enjoys the wait.”

“H … honey, cummon wi' me.” A drunk fumbled at her arm. She pulled away, disgusted. “C … cummon. G … g … got a room.” Behind her, the spy came up a little closer, watching calmly as she struggled with the clinging, stinking humanoid. All I need, she thought. She kicked out at his crotch. Giggling, he avoided her foot, neat on his large feet as a mountain goat.

“Freyka,” Swardheld's rugged face swam out of the darkness in her head with a suddenness that threw her off-balance and made her stumble against the drunk, who caught her in a stifling bear hug and started dragging her into a stinking alley that was little more than a filthy crack between two raucous bars. “Let him take you further,” the rumble went on, “until the spy comes in after you.”

“I hate this, Swardheld,” she mumbled. “Do I have to?”

“We have to deal with the spy. Or are you planning to keep him as a pet?”

“I suppose you're right.” She relaxed against the bulging muscles of the amorous drunk, “But you better take over before I get sick to my stomach. Madar, this creature stinks!”

As they moved farther into the sordid crack, Swardheld flowed into control. The little man came hesitantly and warily into the alley, projecting a growing unease as he patently wondered whether he should interfere or let her take care of herself. He wasn't there to keep her from being raped, only to keep track of the body his master was interested in.

The drunk hauled her into a doorway and fumbled for a key. Swardheld attacked at that moment, taking advantage of the big humanoid's concentration on unlocking the door. He burst free and drove a thumb against the big vein throbbing behind a hairy bat ear. Within seconds, the huge body slumped against the door, unconscious.

The little gray man crept closer, his eyes darting about, searching for Aleytys.

Swardheld was out of the doorway and attacking, his hands chopping against the sticklike neck. The spy tried for his gun, was too slow, fell into a limp heap in the slime. Swardheld lifted him by his collar and the seat of his pants and stuffed him into the doorway on top of the snoring drunk. Then he thrust the small weapon into a tunic pocket and walked rapidly back to the street. Hand on the wall, still in the shadow of the alley, he murmured, “Business finished, freyka. And I didn't kill your little friend, though no doubt he deserved it a dozen times over.”

“Thanks.” Aleytys fitted herself back into her body with a feeling of relief, finding it easier this time. She moved onto the street as casually as she could.

Grey was waiting for her at the gate. “What now?”

“Through there. I don't know any other way. You saw your friends?”

“Yes.” He looked back along the street. “I see you ditched your shadow.”

“I didn't think he'd make a nice pet.” She rubbed her thumb vigorously alongside her nose. “Let me think for a minute.” She turned away from him, crowding her shoulder against the wall so her face was hidden from him by her back and the other shoulder. “Shadith. How do we get out through the iris?”

“Easy, Lee. There has to be some kind of on-off switch in the guard tower. You can pull it open for a minute, get through. Close it again. Easy. And no sirens to draw attention.”

“Good.”

“Get your friend ready to move. We don't want the guards getting nosy.”

Aleytys opened her eyes and turned. Meeting Grey's curious gaze, she shook her head. “Don't ask.” She could feel his puzzle-obsession building. “Don't ask, Grey. It's none of your business. Look. The forcefield in the arch is going off for a few seconds. Be ready to move when I tell you.”

“Telekinesis.”

“Right.”

“Handy.”

Guided by Shadith, she found the switch and dragged the handle down. The two of them darted through the opened iris, then she turned the field back on.

As they walked down the dark, silent road, a few cold raindrops splatted down.

“Storm coming.”

Grey glanced up. “Good cover. You?”

“No.” She glanced around. “A lot happens I've got nothing to do with. You don't think it's natural?”

“A bit too convenient.”

“The Synwedda's doing, then. A cerdd told me she has some power over natural forces.”

Soaked to the skin by the pouring rain, they climbed cautiously down the steep zigzags of the rickety wooden stairs that clung to the precipitous stone. The rain made the worn boards slippery and treacherous. By the time the two of them reached the bottom, she was trembling with exhaustion.

The small boat was hidden under the landing, Gwynnor silently helped them in. When they were settled, he pushed out into the main current as hastily as possible. The storm thundered above them, too loud for comfortable speech, so the four of them sat in uneasy discomfort without saying anything.

Gwynnor raised the sail as soon as they were clear of the land. With a strong wind driving them, the little boat cut across the bay with surprising speed.

Aleytys huddled beside Grey on the floor of the boat, growing angry as she felt intense, hostile jealousy radiating from Gwynnor and the glowering resentment of the cerdd girl.

When the boat slid beside the jetty, Aleytys was about ready to scream. Her movements jerky and unnecessarily forceful, she lunged awkwardly from the boat, nearly falling into the water as it slid away from under her. She pulled herself onto the ladder and stamped up to the landing. Grey came up next, saw her furious face in the pale, watery moonlight, and moved away to the steps where he stood waiting for the rest of the party to join him.

Sioned came next. She watched Aleytys from the moment her head cleared the top of the jetty. With wary animal caution she circled Aleytys, the fine fur on her pointed ears rippling nervously.

Gwynnor stepped onto the stone.

“What the hell do you think you're playing at!” Aleytys confronted him, eyes blazing. “What right have you to sit there glooming at me like a whipped baby!”

Startled, he backed away. “Aleytys …”

“Amber,” Grey's calm voice cut through the clashing, “you've got more sense than this. Come on.” He started up the steps, startled at first by the amplified booming of his feet.

Aleytys sighed, her anger draining away leaving her tired and depressed. She followed Grey, leaving Gwynnor and Sioned to trail behind.

Chapter XI

Sioned looked up as the acolyte brought Aleytys and Grey into the patio. Aleytys nodded coolly to the cerdd girl who looked chastened this morning, her pointed ears drooping at the tips, her exuberant, black curls flattened. With Grey silent and wary behind her, Aleytys crossed to the benches and sat down.