Skeen's Return (38 page)

Timka poured out a cup of tea. “This isn't as hot as it might be; if you want, I'll have the girl get us more.”

Skeen pulled out a chair and sat. She reached out a long arm, brought back the cup. “Never mind, it's the caffein I want, not the heat.”

“They get off all right?”

“No sign of trouble. I talked with Nossik,” a jog of her elbow indicated the man behind the bar idly wiping at it with a folded cloth, “he put me onto one Brampon who has a boat and is willing to sail it upriver to Dum Besar for the paltry sum of a gold for each of us. I didn't much feel like arguing but for the look of the thing I beat him down to one gold ten silver. Brampon and Nossik agree that the fog's going to hang about for a while yet, but it should thin out some in the afternoon; he says it doesn't bother him, he navigates by the feel of it most times anyway; I have a notion he travels a lot in weather like this,” she grinned, “if you know what I mean.”

“Travel with Skeen and see the halfworld.”

‘Just about. I mentioned we might have a bit of trouble and he should look out for hostile Min between then and whenever we left. He didn't seem much worried by that.”

“You think they'd go after him?”

“Me, I would. Break some bones and burn the boat. Discourage the other boatmen, leave us stranded here. We want to travel, it's on foot or horseback; in either case, it'd slow us down considerably, leave us far more vulnerable, give them more chances to attack us.” She drained the cup, passed it across the table for Timka to refill.

Timka hefted the pot, shook it, waved one of the serving girls over to the table and ordered more tea. When the girl was gone, she frowned at Skeen. “You don't look very worried.”

“No?” Skeen stretched, patted a yawn. “It's not me that's flying around up there. Brampon knows how to take care of himself. If he doesn't, too bad.” She yawned again and settled to staring drowsily at the fire that crackled cheerily in the fireplace a short distance away from the table.

“Conceited, aren't you.”

Skeen chuckled. “Truthful.”

The serving girl came back with the pot. While Timka filled Skeen's cup, one for the silent brooding Lipitero, finishing with her own, Skeen ordered a large breakfast for herself. Watching her, Timka wasn't too surprised to see the edginess that barbed her tongue and put harsh angles into her movements was dissolved away. Despite what she'd learned from the dreams she'd siphoned out of Skeen, she couldn't understand that combination of pain and pleasure, though she could make some guesses about what lay behind it. Ah, well, that didn't matter as long as it didn't get in the way of what they had to do. She sighed. “When are we leaving?”

Skeen glanced at her ringchron. “Another hour.”

“Plenty of time.”

“I hate to sweat. What about our shadows, they still up there?”

“All four of them. One flew off to the east a while, but he's back.”

“Nosing around the Pouliloulou?”

“Checking to make sure they haven't mixed up their Min.”

Skeen leaned forward, interest vivid in her face. “They can't tell Min from Min from up there?”

“Not them.”

“You?”

“Depends.”

“Telka?”

“We'd know each other as far as we could reach.”

“Hm. Oh well, might as well go with Brampon now that I've made the arrangements.”

HERE'S WHERE WE SKIP AHEAD AGAIN, COVERING GROUND THEY CREPT ACROSS WITH THE USEFUL DEVICE OF THE NARRATIVE SUMMARY. UP THE LAZY RIVER WITH BRAMPON, THROUGH AN ALTERNATION OF FOG AND TEMPEST, THE FOUR MIN FOLLOWING WITH DOGGED PERSISTENCE AND NO IMAGINATION. THE TRIP WAS UNCOMFORTABLE, OF COURSE, IT WAS AN OPEN BOAT, THEY GOT WET AND STAYED WET, GOT COLD AND STAYED COLD, ATE TOUGH LEATHERY POCKET BREAD, CHEESE AND DRIED MEAT, DRANK FROM THE RIVER (NOT SKEEN, SHE WAS BLUNT ABOUT HER DISLIKE OF THE THOUGHT) AND A BARREL OF ALE FROM NOSSIK'S CELLARS. BRAMPON DROPPED THEM AT A DESERTED LANDING NORTH OF THE CITY AND HENCEFORTH IS GONE ENTIRELY FROM THE STORY, NEVER HAVING MADE MUCH OF AN ENTRANCE INTO IT. AT ONE OF THE ESTATES BEYOND THE GROVE WHERE SKEEN AND TELKA NOT SO MUCH MET AS COLLIDED, THEY ACQUIRED A LIGHT CART, A FAST TEAM AND SUFFICIENT HARNESS TO CONNECT THE TWO BY (a) A QUICK NIGHT RAID ON A BARN (b) A STOCK AUCTION THEY CHANCED TO STUMBLE ACROSS—WELL, IT COULD HAPPEN (c) THE EXPENDITURE OF THE LAST OF SKEEN'S GOLD AND SOME HARD BARGAINING. YOU CHOOSE THE ONE THAT APPEALS TO YOU AND COLOR IN THE DETAILS WITH YOUR OWN IMAGINATION. TIMKA DOES THE DRIVING AS THEY START TOWARD THE MOUNTAINS; NOT ONLY IS SKEEN MINUS A HAND, SHE IS MINUS THE LEAST FRAGMENT OF KNOWLEDGE ABOUT HOW TO HANDLE A TEAM. LIPITERO IS EQUALLY USELESS, SO TIMKA HAS TO SCRATCH UP ANCIENT MEMORIES, STRUGGLE WITH THE STRAPS AND BUCKLES AND CONVINCE A PAIR OF HIGH-SPIRITED BEASTS THEY WANT TO GO HOW AND WHERE SHE DIRECTS THEM. BEING MIN IS A HELP HERE. WHEN THEY GET TO FEELING TOO INDEPENDENT, SHE FREEZES THEM IN PLACE UNTIL THEY GO MORE WILLINGLY. SO THERE IT IS, THE LAST RUSH BEGINS.

While they bounded along rutted dirt lanes (the cart was a light, well-built vehicle with graceful hand-turned spokes in the wheels and an iron tire shrunk onto the rim, but its springs would be flattered if you called them primitive), Skeen dozed, ignoring the bumps and lurches, and Lipitero brooded.

While Timka slept, exhausted by her labors, Skeen and Lipitero stood two-hour watches; they'd planned no more than a four-hour stop to let the beasts rest and graze; there was really no point in pushing too hard, they weren't racing anything but impatience. Telka and her army were in place, waiting for them; they could have rested longer, but as Timka said, why make Telka impatient and bring her after them too far from the Gate. Skeen took the first watch, woke Lipitero and lay down to snatch some more sleep. Lipitero watched and brooded; toward the end of her second hour, she got firewood from the cart and started water boiling for tea.

When she had breakfast ready, she woke Skeen and Timka.

“I've been thinking,” Lipitero said, raising her voice over the rattle of the cart and the horse noises. She pointed at the Min visible intermittently through the ragged clouds. “They should be told about the Ever-Hunger.”

“Waste of breath,” Skeen said. “They won't believe you.

The leather cushions on the driver's seat squeaked as Timka slid around so she could see Lipitero. The horses slowed to an amble, but didn't quite dare stop completely. “I'm afraid Skeen's right,” she said, hesitating over the words as if she didn't want to believe them, as if she wanted Lipitero to convince her otherwise. “They've got too many lives invested to dare believe you.”

‘No doubt,” Lipitero said. “But they've lived all their lives with the Hunger waiting for them. That must count for something. It's not so hard to believe, is it? Ykx penned the beast. Isn't it reasonable that an Ykx can release it?”

Skeen wriggled along the cart bottom until her head caught on the low side; she stared into the sky watching the dark shapes form and dissolve as they flew in and out of open patches. Her smile was unpleasantly like a smirk. “First catch your hare.”

Timka snorted. “If you're going to be like that, Pass-Through, I'm sure we both prefer your silence.” She glanced at the Min, then at Lipitero. “I could go up and challenge them?”

“You could. No. They'll be more apt to listen if I go.”

Skeen stirred. “Keep your batteries at full charge, you're going to need them. No thermals to ease the drain, not on a day like this.”

Lipitero fidgeted with the ties to her robe, staring past the horses at the mountains hazily visible ahead of them. Finally she nodded, two short sharp jerks of her head. She got carefully to her feet, took off the robe of concealment and let it fall. She smiled. “I have missed soaring,” she said and shot Skeen a glance full of mischief, “Lovely to have a splendidly ethical excuse to do what one wants.” She chuckled at the grimace Skeen contrived, then powered the lift field and went soaring up.

The fliers retreated, consternation and agitation visible in every feather.

Lipitero didn't attempt to pursue them, simply rose until the glow globe about her touched cloud. “Min of these Mountains,” she cried, and her voice was a giant's shout that boomed across the Plain.

Timka gaped. Skeen sighed. “More waste of energy. She's done something to the shunt field that makes it amplify her voice.” She moved uneasily, scanned the pastures about them and saw far too many Pallah in them for her comfort. “We stick out like warts here.”

“Hush, I want to hear this.”

“How can you miss it?”

“See me,” the great voice continued, “I am Ykx. Hear me. You have attacked me and died for it, yet I have been merciful. I am merciful still; my honor commands me to give warning. If I am attacked again by one or one thousand, I will not hold my hand. Behold, I am Ykx. Believe me and beware. If I am attacked again by one or one thousand, I cry doom on the Min of the Mountains. If I am attacked again, I will loose the Ever-Hunger. I swear it by Gather and by Blood. I will loose the Hunger on you and you will know terror all your days and horror all your nights. I am Ykx. Hear me.” She spread her flight skins; the cold gray light of the sun, the warm gold light of the lift field shone on her shimmering silver-gray fur. For one last breath, she hung there under the clouds, then she dropped swiftly into the cart.

As soon as she was down, Timka slapped the reins on the team's haunches and gave them a needle that sent them into a long lope which made things highly uncomfortable for everyone in the cart.

Sometime later when the team had settled back to a steady walk and talking was possible, Lipitero smiled with satisfaction. “Am I right, Ti? Two of them have left us. At least I got that much reaction from them. Do you think it means anything?”

Timka twisted round. “Can you loose the Hunger from here?”

“Why?”

“If you can't, you've just issued a call for Telka and the Holavish to take you out before you do get close enough.”

“Ungh. I didn't think of that. Yes, Ti, I can loose it from here. Matter of fact, given proper atmospherics, the Sydo Ykx could loose it from Sydo Gather. They couldn't corral it again from there. That's why they sent the others. Mmmh, I can prod the Hunger a bit without actually loosing it. They'll feel it stirring. That help?

“It might keep them off our necks for a while longer, might even start some arguments. Will it stop them? No. Because it's not just Telka, though she's one of the drivers. The Holavish want the old days back, the old ways. The weaker converts might hold back, but the true believers don't care how much destruction they cause. Death or glory, death and glory, it's the same thing. I don't understand that. I don't want to understand that.”

Skeen stirred, stretched. “It happens,” she said drowsily. “You Min've got no monopoly on airheads.”

“That's a very helpful comment, Skeen. Got any more of them?”

“My, we're snappish today.”

Timka clamped her teeth on her lip, holding back the words crowding her tongue. She focused on the bobbing heads of the horses and settled for interior monologue. So you're the only one allowed unreasonable irritation; so you're the only one allowed to scratch at whoever's nearest you; so you're the only one who can get edgy and show it. The litany went on and on until she'd worked through her anger and was merely tired and disheartened.

Around an hour after Lipitero's speech, a small swarm of Min came winging from the west. They were agitated and angry, fear hanging round them like a bitter fog; Timka probed with as much energy as she could spare, but she got nothing more definite from them. She thought about warning Skeen that the newcomers might try some sort of attack, but they continued their agitated loops with no sign they intended anything more intrusive than a stringent watch with possibilities of a raid to snatch the Ykx if she and Skeen gave them the slightest chance of bringing it off. She glanced over her shoulder. Lipitero was curled in a tight knot and seemed to be sleeping, Skeen was definitely asleep, her face Slack, her mouth dropped open. Ah, well, time to make a fuss when the Holavish showed signs of doing something drastic.

Later still, it started raining, a cold steady drizzle.

The horses plodded on, the cart creaked along, lurching over ruts and sinking perilously in the glutinous red mud; Skeen and Lipitero huddled under an old sail Skeen bought from Brampon, Timka took off her blouse and skirt and grew a coat of sleek fur. The talent she'd discovered in herself was proving useful for more than battles and rescue missions. On and on, deep into the night, deep into the Mountains. When the track got so rough it was dangerous to continue without more light, Timka tied the team to a stout tree, taking no chances the watching Min would try to spook them; she joined Skeen and Lipitero under the sail which Skeen had converted into a crude tent. Lipitero was building a small fire with the last of the dry wood. She fanned the smoke out of her face, nodded to Timka and moved aside to let her help with the meal.

They ate, then sat huddled in blankets watching the fire die, listening to the patter of rain on the canvas.

Lipitero cleared her throat but it was a moment before she spoke. “How far is the Gate from here?”

Skeen scratched at the film over her stump. “Three, four hours. No more than that.”

“The Gate will take about half an hour to power up. When do you want me to activate it?”

“Does the Gate have to be working when you release the Hunger?”

“Yes.”

“Ti, what about your Holavish army? If they're here, they're hiding.”

“They're all around us now. I almost can't think for them pressing on me. The main body is ahead, though.”

“What the hell they waiting for? By the way, how many?”

“Like leaves on the trees, mmmm, I can't say exactly, maybe four to five hundred. What are they waiting for? The Ever-Hunger is raging, you can't feel it? Ah, I remember, you're not as attuned to it as us. Petro? No? I can feel the barrier creaking as it lunges against it. That's … terrifying. You don't know how hard it is to keep going toward that thing, even when I know Petro will protect us from it. Them out there, they don't have a hope of avoiding it. They're working themselves up to the attack, but they're not ready yet. Another thing, not that it counts for much except as another stone in the balance pan, it's raining. Hard to fly in the rain. They're waiting for it to stop.” She passed a hand over the short plushy fur on her face. “I could give you maybe a minute's warning before they come at us.”