Soothsayer (7 page)

"Right,” said the Mouse. She sighed. “Well, there's no sense wasting any more time. Let's go."

She pulled back onto the road and headed off across the Devil's Anvil.

After about 65 kilometers the road vanished, and the Mouse immediately slowed down.

"You can keep going fast,” said Penelope. “The ground is hard here."

"I know,” said the Mouse. “But if I don't slow down, we're going to leave a cloud of dust and sand, and that will make us easier to spot if anyone's following us.” She turned to the girl. “Are they?"

Penelope shrugged. “I don't know."

"Well, since we don't know that they aren't, we'll do it the safe way."

"But it's hot."

"The air conditioner can only do so much,” answered the Mouse. “The ground temperature must be close to 60 degrees Celsius. Just try not to think about it."

Penelope was silent for a moment. Then she turned to the Mouse. “The more I try not to think about it, the more I do,” she complained.

"Then take a nap."

"But I just woke up."

"Then let's talk,” said the Mouse. “Maybe that will take your mind off the heat."

"All right,” agreed Penelope.

"Tell me about this man called 32."

Penelope shook her head. “I don't want to talk about people who were mean to me,” she said adamantly.

"Suits me,” said the Mouse. “Who
hasn't
been mean to you?"

"You and Merlin."

"There must have been someone else in your whole life."

The little girl was silent for a moment, lost in thought. “Maybe my mother,” she said.

"Only maybe?"

"She let them take me away."

"She may not have had a choice."

"
You
had a choice,” Penelope pointed out. “You didn't have to save me, but you did."

"You're not saved yet,” said the Mouse. “First we've got to get off this world, and then connect with Merlin again."

"And then what?"

The Mouse shrugged. “I don't know."

"You won't make me go back?"

"No, I won't make you go back,” said the Mouse. “I already told you that."

"Lots of people tell me things.” Penelope paused. “Most of them lied."

"You're too young to be that cynical."

"What does that mean?” asked Penelope.

The Mouse sighed. “It means too many people have lied to you."

"We're talking about me again,” complained Penelope. “I thought we were going to talk about you."

"I have a better idea,” said the Mouse. “Let's talk about us."

"Us?"

"You and me."

"What about us?” asked the girl.

"Well, we're a team now."

"We are?” said Penelope, her face brightening.

The Mouse nodded. “We're together, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"And the same men who want you are after me, right?"

"Right."

"And if we get away, you're going to work with Merlin and me, aren't you?"

"I guess so."

"That makes us a team."

Penelope considered the statement for a moment, then smiled. “I like being a team with you."

"I like it too,” said the Mouse. “And the first rule of being on a team is that you never keep secrets from your teammates."

"I don't know any secrets."

"
Everyone
knows some secrets."

"Not me."

"Even you,” said the Mouse. “For example, you never told me where Jennifer came from."

Penelope looked at the battered doll, which was propped up next to her.

"My mother gave her to me."

"Where?"

"In the living room, I think."

"I mean, on what world?"

Penelope shrugged. “I don't remember."

"How did she die?"

"Jennifer's not dead. She's right here with us."

"I meant your mother."

"I don't know if she's dead,” answered the girl.

"But you think she is."

Penelope nodded.

"Why?"

"Because she would have saved me if she was alive."

"Not if she didn't know where you were."

"
You
found me."

"I wasn't even looking for you,” said the Mouse. “It was just a lucky accident.” She paused. “If that's the only reason you have, then your mother might very well be alive. How about your father?"

"They took him away."

"They?” repeated the Mouse. “Who?"

"The men who came with 32. He didn't want them to take me, so they took both of us."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

"No."

"If your mother
is
alive, she must be looking for you."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"She's afraid of me."

"Of you?"

"Yes."

"Why?” asked the Mouse.

"Because I'm different."

"You mean because you can see the future?"

Penelope nodded. “I used to think everyone could do it, so I talked about it. My mother didn't believe me, so I showed her that I was telling the truth. Then she was afraid."

"And your father,” said the Mouse. “Was he afraid of you, too?"

"No."

"What did he do for a living?"

"I don't know."

"Was he rich?"

"I don't know.” Penelope frowned. “We're talking about me again."

"We're talking about secrets,” said the Mouse. “And now I'm going to tell you one."

"What is it?” asked Penelope eagerly.

"Someone very rich is trying to find you."

"You told me that already ... but you didn't tell me why."

"Because you can see the future."

"What good does seeing the future do?” asked Penelope. “Everybody keeps chasing me, and no matter how hard I try to get away, sooner or later they catch me."

"Did you ever make a bet on anything?” asked the Mouse.

"No. My parents didn't like betting."

"But you know how it works?” continued the Mouse. “I say something is going to happen one way, you say it's going to happen another, and whoever turns out to be right wins the bet."

"I know."

"A person who could see the future would know in advance which side to bet on."

"It doesn't work that way,” said Penelope.

"Oh?"

"When 32's people were making me do all those things, they tried to make me say how a coin would land or what numbers would be on some dice after they rolled them."

"And you couldn't do it?"

"Sometimes I could."

"Even if you just guessed like everyone else, you'd be right half the time on a coin flip,” said the Mouse.

"I mean, sometimes I could see in my mind how the coins or the dice would land."

"But only sometimes?"

"Only sometimes."

"Were you ever wrong?” asked the Mouse. “I mean, on those times when you could see the coins in your mind?"

Penelope shook her head.

"That's why this rich person wants you,” said the Mouse. “You don't have to know the right answer every time you tell him how to bet or invest. You just have to be right on those occasions that you
do
see the future."

"I wish I couldn't do it,” said Penelope, frowning. “Then maybe everyone would leave me alone."

"But you saved my life by doing it,” noted the Mouse.

"They wouldn't have been trying to kill you if I couldn't do it,” said Penelope. “I wish I were just a normal little girl."

"But then we'd never have met,” said the Mouse, offering her a reassuring smile.

Penelope sighed deeply. “I forgot about that,” she admitted. “But I wish everyone would leave us alone."

The Mouse shrugged. “We'll just have to find a place where they will."

"Maybe we'll be safe at Ophir,” suggested the girl.

"Nobody's safe in a mining town,” answered the Mouse. “Everyone thinks everyone else is after their goods, and nobody ever trusts anybody. I'll be happy if we just live long enough to borrow or steal a ship.” She paused. “God, it's getting hot in here!” She slammed her hand against the vehicle's air conditioner. “I wonder if this thing is still working."

Penelope reached a small white hand toward one of the vents. “It is.” She paused. “Kind of,” she added.

"They must be pulling some damned big diamonds out of the ground to be worth living out here in this heat,” said the Mouse. She paused. “Well, we've each told the other a secret. Now I think we'd better invent one."

"Invent a secret?” repeated Penelope uncomprehendingly.

The Mouse nodded. “We need a secret signal so I'll know if someone wants to harm us."

"Like a secret code!” said Penelope excitedly. “Like the stories I saw on the video!"

"Just like them."

"How about if I do
this
?” suggested Penelope, screwing up her face in such a grotesque expression that the Mouse laughed out loud.

"It wouldn't be secret for very long."

"I could pretend to sneeze."

"No,” said the Mouse. “We need something that doesn't draw attention to you. Try scratching your chin."

Penelope made a claw of her left hand and scratched her chin vigorously.

The Mouse shook her head. “Use one finger, and do it very gingerly."

The little girl did as she was instructed.

"That's it. If anyone is going to try to hurt us, that's what I want you to do."

"But what if I'm in another room, or you can't see me?” asked Penelope. “Maybe I should whistle a song."

"It will attract too much attention."

"But if someone wants to kill us, shouldn't we want to attract attention?"

The Mouse grimaced. “I'm not big enough to fight off an attacker; I just want a little warning so we can sneak out before they pounce.” She paused. “Besides, someone has offered an awful lot of money for you. Attract enough attention in a town like Ophir, and four out of every five men who figure out who you are will be more likely to kidnap you than save you."

Penelope fell silent and practiced gently scratching her chin, and the Mouse increased their speed and tried to ignore the constantly increasing heat within the vehicle.

Two hours later they arrived at the tiny outpost of Ophir.

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The Mouse walked into the bar, Penelope at her side, and breathed a sigh of gratitude as a wave of cold air swept over her. There were twelve large, well-worn tables made from a local hardwood, all of them empty at midday, and she collapsed into a chair at the closest one. The walls were covered with holographs of military heroes, sports heroes, and plump nude women, none of which particularly impressed her.

The bartender, a short, burly man with a noticeable limp and a sparse mustache that made his upper lip appear dirty rather than hairy, nodded a greeting to them.

"I don't know how anyone lives out here,” said the Mouse. “I've felt cooler ovens."

The bartender grinned. “We don't reach the heat of the day for another couple of hours. You'll get used to it."

"Why would anyone want to?” replied the Mouse. She peered at his stock behind the bar. “What have you got to drink?"

"You name it, we've got it."

"We'll need a room, too."

"It's yours, gratis."

"You don't charge for your rooms?” said the Mouse, puzzled.

"The next room I charge for will be the first,” said the bartender.

"How do you make a living?"

"Oh, I manage,” said the bartender. “By the way, my name's Ryan—Bannister Ryan."

"Bannister?” repeated the Mouse. “That's an unusual name."

Ryan chuckled. “Oh, it's not my real one. They gave it to me the first year I was here."

"Why?"

He leaned forward, resting his large hands on the polished surface of the bar. “Some drunk was causing a disturbance, so I asked him politely to desist. He didn't"—Ryan smiled at the memory—"so I ripped a bannister off the staircase and cracked him over the head with it. I've been Bannister Ryan ever since."

"How long have you been out here?” asked the Mouse.

Ryan paused long enough to do a quick mental computation. “Eighteen years. Bought the place seven years ago."

"The bar?"

"The whole damned town—all three buildings’ worth."

"Well, Bannister, that's an interesting story, but we're still thirsty."

"What'll you have?"

"I'll have a tall, cold beer,” said the Mouse.

"The first one's on the house,” said Ryan.

"You're kidding!"

He shook his head. “One thing I never kid about is money."

"Someday you must tell me how you stay in business."

"Someday I will,” Ryan assured her.

"How about you?” said the Mouse to Penelope. “What'll you have?"

"A glass of water, please,” said the girl.

"Right,” said Ryan. “That'll be 300 credits."

"
What?
” demanded the Mouse.

"300 credits,” repeated Ryan.

"For a glass of water?” said the Mouse incredulously.

"Nobody's holding a gun to your head,” said Ryan cheerfully. “If you think you can get it cheaper somewhere else, go right ahead."

"Now I see how you make a living,” said the Mouse irritably.

"Out here, water's worth a hell of a lot more than a bed,” replied Ryan. “There's none on the surface for 200 miles in any direction, and the miners use what little exists below the ground to extract their diamonds."

"Can't you recycle it?"

He shook his head. “Radioactive. Two glasses of it and you won't need a flashlight when you go out at night."

The Mouse pulled out a wad of credits and slapped them down on the table, and a moment later Ryan came out from behind the bar carrying a beer and a glass of water.

"I've sold water for a lot more than this from time to time,” he explained pleasantly. “You wouldn't believe what a man with a pocketful of diamonds will pay to fill his canteen before he sets out for Haggard—especially if he hasn't told his partners that he's leaving."

The Mouse looked out a dusty window at the vast expanse of sand and rock. “Yes, I think I would."

"By the way, how long are you and the child going to be staying?"

"At 300 credits for a glass of water, not as long as I thought."

"If you're short of money, there's work to be had,” said Ryan.

"I don't know the first thing about mining."