Through the Ice (9 page)

You make sense, woman,
Vidav acknowledged.
It is a distinct tactical advantage to have secret communications.

Yes. Do not make any indication of this ability by day. Others cannot read us, but it is best if they do not even suspect we are linked.

Agreed. Now let me sleep.

Seth slept too, at that point, whether from fatigue or her sleep-thought he wasn't sure.

He also still wasn't sure whether this was dream or reality. He would have to try telepathy in the daytime.

The next day they trained in combat. "Nefarious has minions among both human and nonhuman creatures," Turcot explained. "You must be able to defend yourselves from attacks by types which may be unfamiliar to you."

"Body armor and a good sword can do much," Vidav asserted.

"Not against a cloud of poison mites. For that you need magic, or proficiency with a net."

Vidav nodded, yielding the point. He would train with a suitable net.

Seth, meanwhile, was trying to fathom whether his dreams of the night had any reality by day.
Tirsa!
he thought.
Do you read me?

She gave no sign that she did. Either she was playing some kind of game, or there was no telepathy.

They practiced with the nets against neutralized poison mites. They were tiny flies that hovered in a cloud, not flying strongly, but the bite of a potent one would, Turcot assured them, numb the region near the bite, and multiple bites would bring unconsciousness and even death. The nets had very fine mesh, magically enhanced, so that they could trap the mites. It was just a matter of sweeping them through the air. But any mites that were missed could be deadly.

They also drilled against other types of creatures, any one of which could be handled, but only if the proper technique was known. Some were likely to be encountered individually; others always came in packs or swarms. Some had to be fled, while others could generally be bluffed. It was confusing at first, but Seth knew how important it was to get it straight.

"Two mountain trolls, charging from either side," Turcot announced. "What do you do?"

They had learned what to do. Seth leaped to join his closest companion, who happened to be Tirsa. They stood back to back, swords lifted high. That was all that was required; seeing no ready rear approach, the trolls would give it up as a bad job and forage elsewhere. They were fearsome when they thought they had the advantage, but cowardly at other times. Seth remembered the fight he and Rame had had with the smaller valley trolls, who had thought they had the advantage because of their numbers. He didn't want to run afoul of big trolls!

You are doing well, Seth,
Tirsa thought.

You mean it's real?
he responded.
We really can communicate telepathically?
He had no concern about giving himself away in his surprise, because he was supposed to be nervously watching for trolls; any expression would be in order at the moment!

Certainly! Why should you doubt?

Because I tried to reach you this morning, and got nowhere.

That was because I was not attuned to you. I am telepathic; you are not. I must orient on you, and read your thoughts.

You mean I wasn't really sending?
he asked, disappointed.

Not in the way I do. Perhaps in time you could achieve that, but you have not had your full life to develop your power, as I have. It hardly matters; I will link you with the others whenever necessary.

But I helped push you into contact with Vidav!

True. You made an effort, and I drew on it. But the ability to do that was mine, not yours; your effort was undisciplined.

Then they had to move on to the next exercise. They separated, and she tuned out. While what he had learned had not been entirely heartening, still it confirmed that his experiences of the past two nights were real, not dreams.

The exercises were becoming routine, and Seth mastered them readily, because his training in martial arts had disciplined him for such drill. His thoughts drifted back to his home plane. He wondered if Tirsa saw him the way he had seen a girl of his class. She had been plain, and so not in demand for dates. When a turnabout dance came up, she had asked him. Surprised, he had accepted, though he did not expect to enjoy it the way he might a date with a pretty girl. But he discovered that appearance was deceptive; the girl was lively and an interesting conversationalist, and he had a great time. He had learned something then: not to judge by initial impressions. Sure, beauty was great—but there were other things, and they could be more important. He had accepted the date only as a favor to the girl, but he felt that in the end he had done himself one.

Then he saw Tirsa looking at him. Ouch! Had she read his thoughts? He threw himself more vigorously into the exercise, hoping that his exertion would hide the flush on his face.

That night they went after Rame, and finally managed to hook him into the network. It wasn't that the faun resisted it, but that he was not fully human, and it was hard for Tirsa to find the key to his mind. Once she did, Rame was happy to participate.

In the following days' training they began linking mentally, and it made them into a remarkably effective team. They worked so well together, in fact, that they had to start making some deliberate mistakes, to avoid arousing suspicion. Even so, Turcot was amazed. "Perhaps we do have a chance," he muttered.

There was one thing that bothered Seth increasingly, however. Their mission was one of murder. They would have to seek out Nefarious, and kill him. Maybe the Sorcerer was an evil man who deserved to die. Maybe he would destroy the planes if he had the chance. Maybe he would gleefully kill the four Chosen. But those were all maybe's. One thing Seth was sure of was that he was not a coldblooded assassin. But he was the most proficient one of them in combat; their drills had made it clear that his physical coordination and prior experience made him their expert. He was the one most likely to deliver the killing stroke. That made the ultimate decision his.

He brought it up when Tirsa linked them in the evening.
I have trained in martial arts on my own plane, and I am training here,
he thought to the others.
But I am not a killer. I can't just go out to kill a man I don't know, just because someone else tells me it has to be done.

I agree!
Rame's thought came.
I can kill when the need arises, but I must be the judge of the need.

It is right that you do so,
Vidav thought.
No man takes delight in killing, or does it carelessly.

Seth was surprised and gratified by this support. He had come to know the other Chosen physically during the past few days, and mentally during the nights, but this subject had never come up. He had thought that Vidav would kill without compunction; now he saw that this judgment had been hasty. He was glad.

Certainly I do not support casual killing,
Tirsa thought.
We shall have to make a judgment when the occasion arises, on this as in other aspects of the mission.

Other aspects?
Rame asked.

There is much I do not understand about this situation,
she explained.
It seems to me that we four came onto the scene quite conveniently. Perhaps it is as the Emperor says
—
but I am not certain that we should take that on faith. Prophecy is treacherous business
—
and how can we be sure it is a true prophecy? The three of you I have come to know well enough to trust, but I think I trust none other here.

Agreed!
Vidav thought, and Rame and Seth echoed the sentiment. They would go on the mission, but they would make sure of the facts before doing anything final.

It seemed in one sense only a moment before they sat before Emperor Towk again, and in another sense a year. Physically they had hardly changed, but mentally they had shifted from individuals to a tightly knit group. They looked like four quite different people, but Tirsa linked them so that they were constantly sharing thoughts.

"It is time for you to set out on your mission," the Emperor said. "Turcot advises me that you have learned the use of the tools and weapons we gave you very well, and that you are as well prepared as any group can be. We have shown you on the map where Nefarious's castle is, but you must not approach it directly, for he would quickly intercept you. You must choose your own route, known to no others, and come upon him by surprise. I cannot overstress the importance of your mission; you are the Chosen, and if you fail, the four frames are lost."

Standard peptalk,
Seth thought, not with disrespect. The others agreed. They kept their faces straight, giving no sign of their private interchange.

There were formalities, but Seth hardly paid attention. He was already pondering their course of action, with input from the others. They intended to drop out of sight, not only from Nefarious, but from the Emperor as well. But how were they to do that, in a countryside where every peasant farmer would recognize them instantly? They had some notions, but had refrained from discussing them; it was enough of a job just to complete training and master the telepathy.

They started off at noon, with a fanfare: the Empire Orchestra was there for the occasion, with its strange and magical instruments. A great crowd of townsmen turned out; they had evidently been granted a holiday. Domela, under the pretext of bringing Vidav an item he had forgotten, managed to sneak in a kiss, to his evident disgust. But Seth picked up enough from his linked mind to know that his disgust was mostly that she was a spy. Otherwise she could have been tempting indeed. However, this was quickly left behind, as they took steps with their traveling shoes; in moments they were out of sight of the castle, far down the main highway.

First one who sees a green insect, take the lead,
Tirsa thought. That was their way of making their travel essentially random. Each of them had worked out a possible route to Nefarious's castle; since there was no way to tell who would first see the insect, they could not know whose route would be used. If they themselves did not know, how could anyone else? If Nefarious had analyzed their personalities and abilities—as surely he had!—he would have come to a conclusion about their likely course, and set his trap somewhere along it. This would nullify that, for they were not taking a sensible, agreed-upon course. They were taking a haphazard one.

I see one,
Rame thought. His eye was excellent for natural things.
Lock on me.
This was a technique they had developed by secret experimentation: they tuned in to his awareness, and let his mind guide their actions.

Rame turned north and stepped toward the forest. They matched him in virtual lock-step. Two steps brought them to the trees. Then Rame took baby-steps, that moved him only about ten feet at a time, so as to be able to move between trees without overlapping any. Anyone observing from a distance would have seen them enter the forest, and perhaps would have assumed that they were proceeding in the same direction, at the same speed through it. But Rame turned at right angles, skirted the clearing, came to the edge of a large field, and took a giant step across it. They followed precisely.

In this manner, what Seth thought of as baby/giant stepping, they took such a devious course that no one could have followed them physically. The faun tried to keep to the cover of trees, always moving rapidly across open spaces in one, two or three steps, never pausing. It was a bit wearing, staying with him, but their mental rapport made it possible. They were doing an excellent job of losing any possible pursuit. They were fortunate that Rame was the one in charge, because he was by far the most skilled in this type of thing.

Seth was hardly aware where they were, because he was busy staying with Rame, who was pursuing an incredibly intricate course generally north. Forests, fields, lakes, mountains, miscellaneous ravines and bogs—he hoped the faun knew where they were going, because Seth certainly didn't!

As the day grew late, they came to a small mountain lake. They slowed to baby-step rate and approached a village whose dwellings seemed to be fashioned from woven animal hair. As they came close, Seth saw that the houses were small. What kind of folk lived here?

In a moment he learned the answer. They were gnomes: manlike creatures about half normal human height, and furry all over their bodies.
Let me make contact,
Rame thought.

The three paused, while the faun went ahead to the edge of the village. The Fur-Gnomes came out to meet him. They talked, then Rame's thought came back:
I talked with Cotan, their chief. They will let us camp here for the night, and will not betray our presence to the enemy, but we must do them a service. They have had bad fishing; can we catch them a batch?

Tirsa concentrated.
I pick up many fishly minds, deep in the water where they have gone to feed.

I know net-fishing,
Vidav thought.

Soon they were busy fashioning a large net from strands provided by the Fur-Gnomes, following Vidav's instructions. They weighted the corners of the net with stones and tossed it into the section of the lake where Tirsa sensed the fish. When it sank to the right level, Vidav hauled on its lines, closing it around the fish and bringing it toward shore. It was a hard job, but Vidav seemed tireless; he kept hauling it in, hand over hand, until it came to the surface before them.

The net was bulging with trapped fish. The Fur-Gnomes pounced gleefully on them and bore them away. Before long the net was empty—but the village problem of food for the week was solved.

There was a feast of baked fish that evening, which the Chosen shared. The Fur-Gnomes, originally reserved and wary, had become quite friendly when they saw the fish, and a number of them came up to introduce themselves. Their men were stout and strong, their women slender and pretty, and their children were bundles of joy and mischief. The gnomes put on a show for the visitors: a firelight dance whose intricate motions were hypnotic. Seth was reminded of the patterns of the marching bands of his plane. Even the smoke of the fire was beneficial: it kept the thronging nocturnal insects at bay.