Mind Guest (42 page)

Once inside the tent, I was able to collapse in peace. The thing was surprisingly spacious, with blanket like hangings on the skin walls, furs on the floor as carpeting, and a large fire burning in a deep hole in the middle of the floor, all of it fitting in very well with the “barbarian’s” clothing. The men were wearing long, loose trousers in assorted colors, the legs of the trousers being tied tight around their ankles with leather, and the women had brief, vest-like halters to add to that. Both wore knives and sword-belts around their waists, and both were barefoot, riot needing boots for their saddleless vair.

I picked a spot on the furs near the fire and stretched out, and didn’t move until the food came. The meal was no more than grilled steak from some animal or other and a bowl of barbarian beer called gannas, but to me it tasted like the next thing to ambrosia. I swallowed it all, then leaned back to relax again.

I was happily digesting what had gone down my throat when Leandor came in. he was carrying his own bowl of gannas, but waited until he was sitting near me before swallowing at it.

“Just what I needed,” he commented after lowering the bowl.

“Sometimes this stuff is better for what ails you than anything the clinicians have.”

“How’s your patient?” I asked, rolling onto my side in order to see him more easily. He swallowed at the gannas again, and waved a hand around.

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” he assured me. “Nothing too badly wrong with him, and the transfusion will do the job until we can get him back to base.”

“Glad to hear that,” I nodded, keeping my eyes on him. “Now for the next question: who the hell is he?”

Leandor’s eyebrows rose, and he forgot about the bowl in his hands.

“What do you mean, who is he?” he demanded. “Didn’t he tell you? And what kind of game were you two playing when we got there?”

“He didn’t tell me anything, and it was no game,” I growled, holding his gaze. “And if you start beating around the bush, we’ll see how long it takes me to pull this tent down around your ears.”

I hadn’t raised my voice, but there was no longer a reason to swallow whatever annoyance I felt. Leandor looked surprised again, then raised a hand in a calming gesture.

“Just take it easy,” he soothed, a frown beginning to crease his forehead. “Nobody’s beating around the bush. I don’t know why he didn’t tell you, but there’s nothing secret involved. Granted, Valdon hasn’t been in the field for a while.”

“Valdon!” I exploded, sitting up straight. “The man’s a damned fool!

How could Dameron send him?”

“There wasn’t much choice.” Leandor shrugged, not very pleased with my reaction. “We got the chance to substitute one of our own for the real Fallan at the last minute, and Valdon grabbed the privilege. He is second in command, and doesn’t usually abuse the position. When he insisted, Dameron gave in. I got back yesterday, and we were following his beacon for a pick-up when that tribe of barbarians jumped us. We didn’t mean to drive them straight toward you, but we didn’t have much choice about it.”

“Choices,” I muttered, as if it were a swear word, as I leaned back again, then I thought of something else. “Every time I turned around I found myself tripping over that man. If my beacon was knocked out, how did he keep finding me?”

“He must have been attuned to you,” Leandor answered in an “everyone knows that” tone of voice. “Beacons are for long-range pick-ups and emergency spotting. Attuning is for close-up work, when your target might take off in any direction at any time. The base has your pattern, so attuning would be a snap.”

I shook my head sourly at his idea of a snap, then brought my eyes back to his.

“If you knew someone was in that Paldovar Village because of Valdon’s beacon, why didn’t you show up there for a pick-up?”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” he snorted, looking outraged at the idea.

“We stay away from those places except in absolute emergencies.” Then he eyed me curiously. “How did you two happen to end up there?”

“It’s a long story,” I sighed, settling down flat in the furs. “If we ever get drunk together, I might let you in on it. Right now I’d appreciate a spare corner to sleep in. Does your hospitality extend that far?”

“At least that far,” he chuckled, moving slightly where he sat. “You can use the spot you’re on, and forget about keeping one eye open.

We’ll look after you for a while.”

“Gee, thanks,” I murmured, turning over to bury my face in the soft, warm fur. “But where were you when I needed you?”

Leandor chuckled again but didn’t say anything, and it must have been a good ten seconds before I conked Out cold.

Getting back to base was as eventful and complicated as leaving it had been. Fallan-Valdon, I mean was hustled off to the hospital area, still unconscious from a shot Leandor had given him. After stepping out of the scouter into the docking area, I had just enough time to stretch once before an escort showed up to guide me through the base proper. I thought I was being taken to Dameron’s office for their version of debriefing, but instead found myself being awaited by a hungry group of medics who were dying to get their hands on me. I enjoy popularity, but not of the medical variety, and politely declined their offer of attention. They took to insisting; I suggested what they might do with their spare time; they turned red then threatened to use restraints, and I rested my hand on the hilt of the sword I was still wearing. Just before the real bloodshed started, Dameron walked in.

“I thought hospitals were supposed to be quiet,” he commented, stationing himself between me and my admirers. “I could hear the bunch of you back in the residential wing.”

The stars of the medical profession knew as well as I did that Dameron was exaggerating, but they flushed anyway at the implied criticism. Then my most ardent admirer, the same little man I’d met when I’d first opened my eyes in the base, detached himself from the rest and faced Dameron.

“Commander, it is our considered opinion that this young woman is badly in need of treatment and bed rest,” he announced in that fussy way of his. “We will defer to others in any area but medicine. If we do not have the final word there, we can be of no further use to you.

It is of course, your decision.”

I snorted an estimate of his considered opinion, a reaction he chose to ignore as he folded his arms and stared at Dameron, but the base commander didn’t share my estimation. He seemed to be thoughtfully considering the little man’s words, and when he moved his dark eyes over to me, my headache started coming back.

“Dameron,” I began, intending to make my position very, very clear, but Dameron wasn’t waiting to hear what I had to say.

“You’ve got to cooperate, girl,” he rumbled, holding up a conciliatory hand. “They’re only trying to help you.”

“I’ve had enough of people trying to help me!” I snapped, noticing that the golden haze was beginning to form again. “For a change, I’m damned well going to see a little disinterested neutrality!”

My hand was at the sword hilt again, the golden haze thickening by the second, but that didn’t keep me from hearing the hiss behind my back. I whirled around on the frightened medic who still held the pressure hypo and began drawing on him, but never got the chance to clear the scabbard. Dameron jumped me from behind, wrapping those oversized arms around me, holding me until the shot could take effect. I struggled to get free, intent on killing everyone in the room, but the dark took over before I could.

A small click woke me first, intruding on a deep, dreamless sleep that seemed to have been a part of me for some time. I was lying on my side, all curled up, so I rolled over onto my back to stare at a flat gold ceiling. My eyes stayed with the ceiling for a while, moved slowly down blank gold walls, then settled on the soft yellow cover over me before I reached the point of wondering where I was. By that time I knew I was back in the base, knew where the base was, and knew that the gold walls meant the hospital area, but I wasn’t quite up to remembering why I had to be in the hospital area. My head felt as though it should hurt-though it didn’t and I was bothered by an annoying disorientation.

I was still trying to sort things out when there was another click, this time accompanied by the door sliding open. Dameron came in, his steps over-quiet, his face preoccupied, and the door closed behind him again as he walked to a mound chair not far from my bed. I watched him sit down with more weariness than I’d come to expect from him, wondered what sort of a problem he had this time, and then saw his eyes come to me. He started when he saw me watching him, and leaned forward anxiously in the chair.

“You’re not supposed to be awake yet,” he rumbled, almost in accusation. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse and better,” I admitted, looking him over. “If I’m not supposed to be awake yet, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been listing my sins and estimating penalties,” he snorted, then leaned even closer. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

I took some time to roll myself into a sitting position before answering him. My head felt-tight, I guess you could call it, and the gears of my mind seemed to need a good oiling.

“I’ll probably live,” I conceded thickly. “What did those fumble-fingered idiots do to me?”

“If you’re referring to my medical staff, they probably did the best job of their careers,” he chuckled, finally relaxing a little.

“You’re sounding more familiar by the minute. How anxious are you to get your hands on a sword again?”

I was about to ask him what a sword had to do with anything when the tightness in my mind broke, letting in a flood of memories and associations. The time with Grigon, the time in the slave market, fighting, running, bleeding and Fallan. The man called Fallan who was really Valdon, a man who had tried to give me a hand, a man who had fought to protect me, a man who had saved my life at least twice. I tangled my fingers in my hair and bent over with a moan when I thought of what I’d done to him.

“Why didn’t he say something?” I choked out, not realizing that Dameron shouldn’t have known what I was talking about. I kept my head down, rocking back and forth with the pain, and only vaguely heard Dameron get out of his chair.

“Considering what went on between you two before you left, he thought at first that it would be better if you didn’t know who he was,”

Dameron’s voice came, soft with compassion. “When you reached the woodsman’s house he was about to tell you everything, but that

‘bandit’ attack came first. The next time you were alone together, you were in a Paldovar Village. The Paldovar already know about too many things that should be secret, so it was no place to go into explanations. But don’t blame yourself for what happened-it wasn’t your fault. You’re the first one to react to impressions the way you did, and it couldn’t have been anticipated. It simply wasn’t your fault.”

“Then whose fault was it?” I demanded, looking up at him again. “Who do you think that was, cutting a man to pieces without giving him a chance? Not a swift, clean death, but cut by agonizing cut, trying to make him beg for his life!”

I cut him off, sickened by the memory of how pleased I’d felt, more ashamed by that than by the actual doing. Killing a man is sometimes necessary, but it had always been something that had to be done, not something to be enjoyed.

“That mind presence was too much for you,” Dameron insisted, crouching down to put a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve removed every trace of it we could find, so you won’t be bothered by it again. Your side has been Healed, Valdon’s wounds have been Healed, and you’re both safely back where you belong. Why don’t you try forgetting about the rest of it?”

“Sure, forget,” I agreed tonelessly, moving away from his hand to lie flat again. The plain gold ceiling was projecting images, so I closed my eyes and added, “There are some cartons of cigarettes among the stores on my ship. I’d appreciate the favor of having one brought to me.”

Dameron sighed without saying anything, then I heard him straighten up and leave the room. I just kept my eyes closed and fought for control.

The carton of cigarettes was brought by an amiable young thing who gave me her best friendly smile along with the carton. I nodded my thanks in a distracted way, unsealed the carton and one of the packs, then lit up and took a deep drag. I like thinking with a cigarette in my hand, and I’d done enough cussing at myself without a blue-gray cloud around to emphasize the points. I was still in bed, still wearing the brief, one-piece garment those medics kept supplying me with, but I’d shifted to a cross-legged sitting position for better leverage on the ideas I’d been tossing around.

It was fairly obvious to anyone with a brain that I’d been a double-damned fool. I should have called a halt to the operation as soon as I found out about my alter ego, but I was too damned stubborn to admit I’d come up against something I might not be able to handle.

I’d looked at it as a challenge, a challenge, for Pete’s sake!

When my life and a good number of other lives depended on my being rational enough to handle a simple part. Twelve years in the business, and I hadn’t even had the sense to realize that it was Bellna growing stronger and more in control and not me. She grew to the point of being able to take over without my even noticing it, and the end result was a murderous, conscienceless little monster with the specialized abilities of a Federation Special Agent. Special Agent! I laughed bitterly. Special idiot was more like it!

No matter how long I thought about it, I still couldn’t understand why I hadn’t guessed who Fallan was. Looking back at it I could see one clue after another, starting with the way Grigon had acted. If Fallan had been a real Tildorani mercenary, Grigon would never have let him get the last word in about not talking to me before we left.

And that comment Fallan had made in the woodsman’s house, about Grigon having been right. Grigon had probably urged him to tell me who he really was, but he hadn’t agreed until it was too late. The speed the big man had showed, the unusual amount of patience, the times he hadn’t been insulted when he should have been-hint after hint after hint and none of it had come through! I hadn’t even asked where his Company was while he was looking after me in the Paldovar Village or, more to the point, why he was looking after me. Bellna wasn’t bright enough to ask questions like that and she’d been the one in control.