Soothsayer (3 page)

The Mouse reached out a hand and pulled Penelope to her feet. “Where are your parents?"

"I don't know. Dead, I think."

"Can you walk?"

"Yes."

"All right,” said the Mouse, heading toward the door. “Let's go."

"Wait!” said Penelope suddenly. “I can't leave without Jennifer!"

"Jennifer?” demanded the Mouse. “Who's Jennifer?"

Penelope raced to a corner of the room and picked up a filthy rag doll. “This is Jennifer,” she said, holding it up in the beam of light. “Now we can go."

"Give me your hand,” said the Mouse, ordering the door to slide into the wall.

She stuck her head out into the hall, saw no movement, and quickly walked to the stairwell, practically dragging the weakened little girl behind her. Once there, they walked down to the basement level and made their way to the laundry room.

"Now listen carefully,” whispered the Mouse. “I want you to crawl on your hands and knees, just the way I'm going to do, behind this row of laundry carts, until we reach that vent. Can you see it?"

Penelope peered into the semi-darkness and shook her head.

"I'll let you know when we're there. Once we reach the vent, I'm going to boost you up inside it. It's narrow and it's dark, but you won't get stuck, because that's how I came in and I'm bigger than you are."

"I'm not afraid,” said Penelope.

"I know you're not,” said the Mouse reassuringly. “But you have to be absolutely silent. If you make any noise, the maids who are running the washing machines on the other side of the room might hear, and if they come over to investigate, I'll have to kill them."

"It's wrong to kill."

"Then don't make any noise and I won't have to,” said the Mouse. “Are you ready?"

Penelope nodded her head, and the Mouse began crawling toward the vent. When she reached it she turned to see how far Penelope had gotten, and was surprised to find the little girl almost beside her.

The Mouse made sure that the maids were still busily loading and unloading the washers and dryers, put a finger to her lips, then lifted Penelope into the vent. The little girl writhed and wriggled, and finally made it to the right angle where the vent left the building and went beneath the street.

The Mouse was about to follow her when she heard a plaintive whisper.

"I can't find Jennifer!"

"Keep going!” hissed the Mouse. “I'll find her."

She waited for a moment until she could hear the child wriggling forward again, then climbed into the vent herself. She came upon the rag doll wedged into a corner as the vent turned out of the building, tucked it into her belt, then continued crawling until she caught up with Penelope, who had reached the grate beneath Merlin's wagon and didn't know what to do next.

The Mouse quickly removed the grate, boosted Penelope into the wagon, and followed her, leaning back down through the false floor to reattach the grate.

"Wait here,” she instructed the child. “And don't make a sound."

She donned her black hood and made it to the act's finale with no more than ten seconds to spare. When it was over, and most of the crowd had dispersed, she led Merlin back inside the wagon.

"What kept you?” asked the magician. “You cut it awfully close."

"I hired an assistant,” said the Mouse with a smile.

"An assistant?"

The Mouse pointed at Penelope, who had buried herself under a bag of props.

"Good God!” muttered Merlin, lifting the bag. “Where the hell did you find her?"

"Chained to a bed in an alien's room."

The magician squatted down next to the little girl and examined the bruise on her cheek. “You've had a hard time of it, haven't you?"

She stared at him without answering.

"Has she got any family on Westerly?” Merlin asked the Mouse.

"I don't think so."

"What was she doing here?"

"I don't know,” said the Mouse.

"Hiding,” said Penelope.

"He doesn't mean now, Penelope,” said the Mouse. “He meant when I found you."

"Hiding,” repeated Penelope.

"You mean the alien who stole you was in hiding?"

She shook her head. “He was hiding me."

The Mouse nodded. “From your parents."

Penelope shook her head again. “My parents are dead."

"From the authorities, then,” said the Mouse.

"No."

"Then from who?” asked the Mouse in mild exasperation.

Penelope pointed a thin, wavering finger out the wagon's only window to the doorway of the hotel, where Cemetery Smith and Three-Fisted Ollie were speaking in loud angry voices to the doorman.

"From
them
."

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Penelope was sound asleep, clutching her rag doll to her chest, as the ship sped through the void to the dry, dusty world of Cherokee. The Mouse had fed and bathed her, and put a healing ointment on her feet, and had finally gone to the ship's cluttered galley, where she found Merlin sitting at the dining table. He had a small mirror set up opposite his hands, and was studying it intently as he went through his repertoire of card tricks.

"Well?” he asked.

"Well what?"

Merlin put the deck of cards in his pocket. “Did she say anything?"

"Of course she did,” answered the Mouse. “She's not mute, you know."

"Anything
useful
?” he persisted. “Like why anyone would hire two such expensive killers to hunt her down?"

"We've gone over this before,” said the Mouse wearily. “She's very young and very confused.” She commanded a cabinet to open, and withdrew a bottle and a glass. “It's far more likely that they were after her abductor. Look at it logically: the alien kidnapped her, the family decided not to pay any ransom, and they hired a pair of killers to get her back."

"If you're right, we've got to unload her quick,” said Merlin. “If there's a reward, we claim it on Cherokee. If there isn't, we get rid of her before they send Smith and Ollie after
us
."

"There
aren't
any authorities on Cherokee,” she pointed out while pouring herself a drink. “It's an Inner Frontier world. That's why we chose it."

"It's got a post office covered with wanted posters, and it's got a powerful subspace radio transmitter,” responded Merlin. “We can at least find out if a reward has been offered."

"I don't know if there will be a reward in the usual sense,” said the Mouse, “but someone is offering something, or Cemetary Smith and Three-Fisted Ollie wouldn't have been after the kidnapper.” She paused. “If she's valuable enough to interest professional assassins and bounty hunters, the family must be awfully rich. My guess is that they're trying to keep it quiet. Maybe she's got brothers and sisters; there's no sense advertising that their security is flawed."

"Then how will we find out who she is and who she belongs to?” said Merlin. “We can't just post an advertisement that we've stolen this little blonde girl from an alien kidnapper. Smith and Ollie would be hunting for
us
five minutes later.” He stared thoughtfully at his lean, white fingers. “I don't know. We may have bitten off more than we can chew."

"What did you want me to do?” asked the Mouse irritably. “Leave her where she was?"

"No, I suppose not.” Merlin sighed deeply and lit a small cigar. “But I'm starting to get a very bad feeling about this."

"I don't see why,” said the Mouse, downing her drink.

"Because we're a couple of small-timers. If Cemetary Smith and Three-Fisted Ollie are involved in this, then we're in over our heads. And I have a feeling that there's more to this than meets the eye."

"For instance?"

"I don't know,” he admitted. “But I can't help remembering the look on her face when she pointed to those two killers—like she'd seen them before."

"Perhaps she had,” agreed the Mouse. “So what? Maybe they took a shot at her captor and missed, and in her confused state she thought they were shooting at her."

"
That's
the problem,” said Merlin.

"What is?"

"Those guys don't miss.” He paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And there's something else, too."

"What?"

"Bounty hunters aren't much for sharing. Do you know how much money someone had to put up to get them to work together?” He stared at her, a troubled expression on his face. “If she's worth
that
much, why haven't we heard about her before?"

"When you're
really
rich, you don't brag about it—you hide it."

"I don't know,” said Merlin. “You've got an answer for everything ... but I still don't like it."

"I'll tell you what,” she said. “When we set down on Cherokee, we'll make some very discreet inquiries and see if we can find out who she is and who wants her ... and we'll keep doing it, carefully and discreetly, on every world we hit until we get an answer. In the meantime, she can shill for the act. Will that satisfy you?"

"I suppose so. The question is: will it satisfy
her
?"

"What do you mean?” asked the Mouse.

"What if she wants to go home right now—wherever
home
is,” said Merlin. “You told me that the alien kept her chained up. What if she tries to get away from us?"

The Mouse shook her head. “She thinks I saved her—which in fact I did. I can keep her contented."

"I just don't think of you as the motherly type."

"Why don't you let
me
worry about that?"

"As long as
some
one's worrying about it,” said Merlin.

They sat in silence for half an hour, the Mouse reading a newstape, Merlin practicing his sleight-of-hand with a trio of coins. Then they heard Penelope moan, and the Mouse went to her cabin to check on her.

"What's the matter?” she asked as she approached the girl's bed.

Penelope looked confused. “I thought I was back where you found me."

"It was just a dream,” said the Mouse soothingly.

"I'm frightened,” whimpered Penelope.

"There's no need to be. You're safe now."

Penelope shook her head.

"But you are,” continued the Mouse. “Tomorrow we'll be landing on a new world, and we've decided to let you start learning the act so you can help us. Won't that be fun?"

"They won't let me."

"
Who
won't let you?"

"Everybody."

"No one on this world even knows you,” said the Mouse.

"Someone will. Someone always does."

The Mouse frowned. “How many worlds have you been to?"

Penelope held up both hands, studied them, and then bent two fingers on her right hand.

"Eight worlds?"

Penelope nodded.

"And somebody always knew you on each of these worlds?"

"On most of them."

"Who knew you?"

"Men."

"Just men?"

"
Bad
men,” said Penelope.

"Men with weapons?"

"Some of them."

"You've had a tough time of it, haven't you?” said the Mouse. “Try to go to sleep now. Things will look better when you wake up."

She gave the little girl a hug and then left the cabin.

"Well?” asked Merlin, when she had rejoined him.

"Bad dream."

He shrugged. “I suppose she's entitled to it."

"She is. Do you know that they've been chasing her kidnapper across eight worlds?"

"She told you that?” asked Merlin.

"Yes."

He frowned. “That's another thing that doesn't fit."

"Why not?"

"If this alien was good enough to keep one step ahead of Cemetary Smith for eight worlds, how come you were able to just walk right in and grab her?"

"He didn't know I was there. Nobody did."

"And he didn't take any precautions against an unknown bounty hunter coming in the back door? I find that just a little bit hard to believe."

"He obviously didn't have any confederates,” replied the Mouse. “Or else they were killed by bounty hunters. At any rate, he couldn't watch her every minute of every day."

"I gather he'd been doing just that on eight different worlds."

She looked annoyed. “Why is it that whenever you find yourself in a new situation, you suddenly become the most paranoid man I've ever known?"

"New I don't mind,” responded Merlin, waving his hand in the air and producing a bouquet of flowers. “I don't even mind strange. But this situation feels more than new and strange: It feels dangerous, and
that
I don't like."

"Well,” said the Mouse after a moment's silence, “I don't know what we can do about it. She's here, and until we can return her to whoever's paying Cemetary Smith and Three-Fisted Ollie to find her, she's staying here."

"We'll see."

"I mean it, Merlin,” she said firmly. “After what she's been through, I'm not about to abandon her on some Frontier dirtball with no friends or family to look after her."

"All right,” he said resignedly. “I know that tone of voice. She stays until we find out who will pay to get her back."

"You needn't look so unhappy about it,” she added.

"Why not?” replied Merlin. “I've got the same questions now I had an hour ago; none of them have gone away just because you've always got a smooth answer for everything.” He paused. “The only thing that's changed since this conversation began is that now we've got another mouth to feed."

"A very little one."

"A very well-traveled, very enigmatic little one,” he corrected her.

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The ship touched down on a barren strip of ground a mile beyond Cherokee's only Tradertown. Ordinarily Merlin and the Mouse would have taken a room at the local hotel, just to get away from the monotony of their cramped quarters, but they didn't want to advertise the fact that a little blonde girl was traveling with them, so they decided to sleep in the ship.

They touched down in the middle of the night, and when the harsh yellow sun rose over Cherokee's blood-red sand dunes and barren, rocky hills, they left Penelope behind and walked into town.

Like most of the Inner Frontier's Tradertowns, this one had sprung up around the planet's first bar and whorehouse. There were a pair of small hotels, a couple of restaurants, a second whorehouse and three more bars, a hangar for private spaceships, a post office that functioned not only for Cherokee but for every habitable world within five light years, a now-defunct government office for registering mining claims, a safari outfitter, seven import/export companies, a small brewery, two general stores, and perhaps fifty modular domed houses.