The Agent Gambit (77 page)

VANDAR:
Winterfair

The walking was all there
was; that and the slender body in his arms. He listened to her breathing, agonized that it was so shallow but joyous that it continued at all. Twice more she stirred and spoke to Skel, directing him once to put her down and go on alone: "s'an
order,
damn you . . ."

He spoke to her then, hardly heeding what he said, and it seemed that the sound of his voice calmed her. But for most of it, he walked, fighting the snow and a sort of leeching exhaustion, as if his strength were running out a drain rather than being efficiently expended.

It took, in fact, several heartbeats for him to recognize the lanky shape and concerned face before him. He frowned, studying the blondish hair, the bristly mustache, and the myopic blue eyes. "Hakan."

"Cory," the other said carefully. He gestured. "What happened, man?"

"I-" Val Con sighed. "Miri is hurt."

"Alive?"

"Alive," he agreed, feeling the sluggish beat of her heart and hearing the rasp of her breath.

"Right. You stay here and I'll get the fair med-"

"No!"

Hakan froze then frowned. "Cory-"

"She has had-aid. The fair doctor will not do more. I-Hakan, will you take us? It is wrong to ask . . ."

Understanding dawned in the nearsighted eyes. "Hospital's in Vale, Cory. Sure she can take the ride?"

"She can take the ride," Val Con said, "to the place we need to go."

"Right," Hakan said again. He glanced around, jerking his head at an alleyway between two wooden pavilions. "Shortcut to the parking lot."

"All right," Val Con said, and started walking once more.

Hakan did not speak again
until they were clear of the buildings and had started across the field that had that morning been the site of the log-pulls.

"I can carry her, you know," he said, hesitantly. "Give you a rest."

Val Con blinked. Hakan to carry her? Nonkin, when there was her own lifemate to aid her? With an effort, he perceived the kindness of it and the concern for both that had prompted it, and noted his growing weakness. It was imperative that he conserve his strength for the tasks ahead, or Miri's lifemate would fail her at the last.

He smiled up at his friend and nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem." Hakan took his burden gently and set off across the field in a consciously smooth stride.

Val Con followed, fumbling among his store of
L'apeleka
dances. "The Spirit Demands" presented itself and he danced two steps as he walked, his mind encompassing the whole. His heartbeat increased, though not nearly to the level that Tyl Von sig'Alda's had; his breathing deepened; his body began to work with more accustomed efficiency, drawing on stored vitamins and other reserves.

"Thank you, brother," he whispered to the memory of Edger, and stretched his legs to catch up with Hakan.

* * *

"Turn right,"
he said sometime later. Miri was on the seat between them, her head on his knee, a scruffy lap rug tucked around her.

Hakan blinked. "Hospital's in Vale, Cory," he said with a sort of nervous patience. "That's left."

"We go right." Val Con reached into the High Tongue for the proper cadence of authority. Hakan frowned, his mouth straightening stubbornly-and, slowly, turned right.

"Thank you," Val Con said softly, but Hakan only drove on, silent.

Three times they passed spur roads going left, toward Vale and the hospital. Three times Hakan made as if to turn in that direction, and three times Val Con had his way.

The next time, he thought, seeing the determination in Hakan's face, in the set of his hands on the controls. He'll take the next road left, no matter what I say. He sighed to himself. Maddened with grief, I suppose, and don't know what I'm about.

"Skel?" Miri asked and shifted fretfully.

Val Con stroked her wild hair and touched her too-pale cheek. "Skel is not here, cha'trez. Rest now."

But she would not be soothed so easily; she moved her head on his knee and tried to toss the rug off. "Skel!" she insisted. "Damn weather. Damn weatherman. Take readings five times a day and what's the good? Weather ain't
got
a pattern down here, Brunner. World's comin' apart-the
land's
movin', Brunner-like walking on wax. Lost a squad this morning. The hill they were camped on just-fell down . . ." Her agitation was growing; Hakan glanced over and then back at the road as he touched the accelerator, his face tight with resolve.

Val Con captured the questing hand and held it tightly, one part of him trying to think how to calm her while another coldly and continually counted distance and direction. They must not overshoot the ship.

"Gonna have to ditch the machine, Brunner, you hear me? Unit's pinned-what's left. Told Liz I'd kill the gun-give 'em a chance to get out . . .What does 'galandaria' mean, anyway?"

"It means," Val Con said softly, stroking her cheek, willing her to be calm, "compatriot-countryman. Miri-it's Val Con, cha'trez-you must rest . . ."

She stilled abruptly. "Val Con?"

Had she come out of her memories then, back to the present? "Yes."

"Don't leave me, Val Con."

"No," he said, touching her lips lightly. "I won't leave you, Miri."

She sighed then, like a child assured that a dream-monster was well and truly slain, and slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Stop here," Val Con said, and sighed at Hakan's glare of stubborn denial.

"There's nothing here," the musician said flatly. "Just rocks and snow. Miri's
sick,
Cory-she needs a hospital, not a walk in the weather." He turned his eyes back to the road. "There's a turnoff about a half-mile up the road, get us to Vale in a little less than an hour."

"Hakan, stop the car."

The glare this time was less hard-edged, and the car actually did slow a bit.

"Miri is sick," Val Con said softly. "She needs the best medical care it is possible for her to have." He extended a hand. "Am I so mad with grief that I will murder my zhena?"

Hakan looked at him long and hard, then turned away and looked out at the crisp, starry night and the wild tumble of snow-covered rock. "Here?" he asked uncertainly.

"Actually," Val Con said, "approximately a quarter-mile back." He held his breath as the car slowed, stopped, and began to back up.

"Thank you, Hakan," he said softly. But the other only shook his head.

The ship itself
was easy to find-merely a matter of following the line of half-filled footsteps back to their source. Val Con held up a hand as the turret beam lit. "Stay here a moment, Hakan," he said, and went on alone, clutching the multi-use key he had taken from Tyl Von sig'Alda's pockets.

The turret rotated, its beam seeking: Val Con twisted the thing in his hand, brought it to his mouth, and blew two sharp notes. After a pause, he added two more.

The turret stopped its rotation. Val Con pulled the portable beacon from his pocket, flashed a series of long-and-shorts at the beam, and sighed with relief when it simply went out.

"All right, Hakan," he called, and went to the ship's belly. He twisted the multikey, used it on the obvious hatch lock, then bent to find the hidden latch and disarm it.

The hatch slid open, silent in the silent night. The interior lights came up, touching the silver snow with gold.

Hakan stood holding Miri in his arms, mouth open. "An-airplane?" he asked doubtfully.

"Aircraft," Val Con corrected softly, and held out his arms. "I will take Miri, Hakan. Thank you for your aid."

"What?" The stubbornness was fully back in Hakan's face. "You have me drive you to an
aircraft
in the middle of nowhere, with Miri hurt and raving, and I'm supposed to just
leave
you here?" He shook his head. "No."

Val Con considered. Balance, after all, was owed. He bowed, very low. "As you wish. Come with me. Quickly."

The 'doc was behind a partition directly opposite the entrance to the control room. Val Con punched the emergency access, and the clear hatch cycled open. He had Hakan lay Miri on the pallet and then forgot him as he stripped off her coat and the bloodstained shirt, pulled off her boots, and peeled the skirt down. He scanned the board, relieved to find that the Department had thought enough of Tyl Von sig'Alda to supply his ship with a top-of-the-line autodoc, then cycled the hatch closed and watched the lights flicker as the 'doc cataloged Miri's injuries, taking blood samples, X rays, and brain scan. A chime sounded, and a line of characters appeared in the screen directly above the observation window.

GUNSHOT WOUND, HIGH RIGHT CHEST. NO FOREIGN BODIES NOTED WITHIN CHEST CAVITY. COMPLICATIONS: BLOOD LOSS, SHOCK, EXPOSURE. TRACES PSYCHOSTIMULATIVE DRUG DETECTED. PROJECTED REPAIR TIME: TWO HOURS FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

The observation window opaqued. Val Con shuddered, knees sagging. It was going to be all right.

"Cory?" Hakan's voice was not doing well. Val Con straightened and turned to look at his friend.

Hakan's face was unnaturally pale, and he seemed to be trembling.

"Yes."

"Where's Miri?"

Val Con pointed. "In the-healing unit. This-" He touched the readout. "This says that she will be-repaired-in three hours." He smiled slightly. "She will still need to rest and regain her strength, but she will be out of danger."

Hakan frowned. "That machine is fixing Miri, right now?"

"Yes."

The musician nodded, glancing around, then squared his shoulders. "I've seen planes before, Cory-and this isn't a plane."

"No," Val Con said softly. "It's not."

"What is it, then?"

Val Con sighed. "An aircraft, say, Hakan-and now forget that you have seen it."

Hakan stared at him, and Val Con sighed again, moving out of the 'doc cubicle and crossing to the menuboard. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Tea?" Hakan shook his head, perhaps to clear it, and then sighed in his turn. "All right, Cory. Tea would be fine."

Val Con requested two-sweet for his guest, plain for himself-then took the cups out of the dispenser and handed one to Hakan. He sipped, astonished at how good the spicy Liaden tea was; then he saw his friend still staring about wild-eyed, and waved him toward the co-pilot's chair.

"Sit down, Hakan, and rest."

Hakan did, gingerly, and sipped his tea with caution. "Where did this come from?" he demanded.

Val Con looked at him levelly. "Out of the kitchen. You saw it."

"I saw you punch a couple buttons on that wall there, and then you handed me this!" The musician closed his eyes and seemed to be concentrating on taking deep breaths. Val Con wandered over to the pilot's station and sat down.

After a time, Hakan opened his eyes and looked at him, very calmly. "Where are you from, Cory?"

Val Con sighed. "Away."

"Not," Hakan insisted, "Porlint."

"No," Val Con agreed. "Not Porlint."

"Where, then?"

"No," Val Con said. "Hakan, I cannot tell you that. Ask me again, and I will lie to you-and I would rather not lie to my friend, to Miri's friend. I should not have brought you here. For anything less than Miri's life, I would not have brought you here."He smiled ruefully. "I have played a sorry joke on you, my friend-you have seen something that you cannot have seen. Not only that, but if you describe this ship-the kitchen, the medical machine-no one will believe you."

"Why not?"

Val Con moved his shoulders. "Can you go to a wall in any house in Gylles, push a few buttons, and get tea, hot and brewed to perfection? When you are hurt or ill, do you go to the doctor and have him slide you into a machine for an hour or two, until you feel better?"

Hakan shook his head.

"So, these things do not exist, do they? Cannot exist, I think Zhena Trelu would say."

Hakan closed his eyes.

Val Con sipped tea, cautiously allowing his body to relax; he ran the Rainbow very quickly and looked up to find Hakan's eyes on him.

"How long has this been here?"

"No more than a day," Val Con said softly. "And it will be gone before the start of another."

Sorrow shaded the mustached face. "You're leaving?"

"We don't belong here any more than this craft does, Hakan. It is an accident that we are here-a happy accident, as it turns out. We found friends and music-and anything that gains us so much is to be thanked."

Silence grew as they both drank their tea. Val Con shifted slightly, drawing the other man's attention back to him. "You should go, Hakan."

"Now? But, I mean, Miri-" He trailed off in confusion.

Val Con considered. "It is not safe to stop the healing once it is started, and Miri might not wake naturally for some hours after the machine releases her. She cannot say good-bye to you, Hakan, though I know she would wish to. I . . ." He shrugged. "Come back to this spot tomorrow," he said slowly, "and take away what is here." More regulations shattered by whim, he thought ruefully, reaching to touch the other's arm. "Be very careful, my friend."

Tears shone in the blue eyes as Hakan stood. "Kem's never going to forgive me for letting you two get away like this. She-we-love you both."

"And we love you." On some impulse he did not fully understand, Val Con extended a hand and touched one stubbled cheek very lightly, as if they were kin. "I see you, Hakan Meltz." He stood back. "Live in joy, you and Kem-and may all of your children love the music."

"Yeah . . ." Hakan followed Val Con to the hatch and stood looking out at the night.

"Can you find your way, Hakan? Should I walk with you back to the car?"

"I'll be all right," he said, pulling up his hood. "Just follow the footsteps out, like we did on the way in." He hesitated. "Good night, Cory."

"Good night, Hakan."

Val Con watched until he could no longer see Hakan's outline against the stars and snow, then he sealed the hatch and went back into the ship. The 'doc's timer showed one and a quarter hours still to go on Miri's treatment. Val Con set the ship's clock to wake him in an hour, then reclined in the pilot's chair and went to sleep.

VANDAR:
Kosmorn Gore