Watcher's Web (26 page)

Pressed back
in his chair, Daya turned off the still-flashing communication
channel. Even if the Exchange was open, he couldn’t use it. The
craft’s power level was still only a bit more than half what he
needed. But Barresh, on the other side of the continent, had an
Exchange, too. Moreover, he had recognised the source of the power
that had helped him.

He had also
seen the slim form of a Pengali female. Barresh. The girl was in
Barresh.

But he had to
hurry. He had also seen the white hair and fur cloak of a Mirani
Trader.

Miran already
had its hands on the girl.

Chapter
22

J
ESSICA
LET
I
ZTHO lead her down
into the courtyard of the guesthouse, where the patrons sat at
tables for breakfast. Still in the tunic and trousers she had worn
to the Pengali hideout last night, she felt hot and sweaty. While
he pushed her into a chair, she tried to mumble something about a
bath, but her tongue wouldn’t work.

Her brain felt
like someone had been at it with an axe, trying to split it in
two.

Iztho poured
light green juice in a cup and passed it to her.

“I think you
and I should leave as soon as possible. You are in shock. You are
in need of a Healer and I wouldn’t trust the ones in this pitiful
town. As soon as we have finished our meal, I’ll go to the
Exchange. I think you are ready to pass as a local.”

He
didn’t say
my
wife.

Jessica
attempted to wipe haziness from her eyes. In the mirrored stone
next to the door in her room, she had seen that she looked even
paler than normal. If the glances were anything to go by, fellow
guests who shared this corner of the courtyard with them had
noticed as well. Two petite red-haired women turned frequent
glances on her, hazel eyes ringed by bright orange eyelashes. A man
on a table next to them cast severe yellow-eyed looks over the top
of his reader. Goodness knew what they all thought.

She took a
bite from the bread. Its nutty, minty taste exploded in her
mouth—and images of trees lining a riverbank bursting with green.
Drooping branches tickled the water. Children playing. The soft
murmur of a woman’s voice. Her mother; she recognised the tone.
Memories, as if these past few days had unlocked them from
somewhere deep in her mind.

Jessica took
her cup, brought it to her mouth with a trembling hand. Was there
anything she could do without getting visions and hearing
voices?

“Lady, do you
want me to bring you to bed?” Iztho’s face looked pale.

His blue eyes
turned into black ones. Loose curls tumbled about his face. The
soft glow of early morning light glistened in amber stones that
dangled from his earrings. Below him flickered lights on an
instrument panel similar to what she had seen in Iztho’s craft;
sleek and smooth. Much more modern.

I’m
coming. Hold on tight. I’m coming for you.
The power of the engine sang through her
veins.

Blood rushed
to her cheeks.

Iztho just
caught the cup before she dropped it, but a gush of juice went over
the front of her tunic. “Come, I’ll get a Healer to come out right
now.” Iztho’s eyes were wide with concern.

“
No,
really, I’m fine.” She rose from the table.
I’m here. I’m waiting. Tell me where you
want to see me.

“You’re not.
You’re disturbed. Please, let me help you.”

“I’m not
disturbed!”

At the tables
around them, conversations halted. People turned around.

She said in a
lower voice, “He’s coming for me.”

Daya’s
dark lips twitched into a tiny smile that accompanied his twinkling
eyes. A wave of happiness washed over her.
His
emotions. The link between them was complete. He
was coming.

“Who is
coming? Let me take you—”

Come to
me. You’re in danger.

“
No.”
Jessica pushed Iztho’s hands aside. She was not going to any doctor
to be prodded at. If there was anything
wrong
with her, there was only one person who could fix
it.

She ran
from the table across the courtyard, although she barely saw where
she was going for the image of Daya’s face in her mind.
He’s coming, he’s
coming.

Iztho called
after her, “Come back! Who is coming?”

Jessica ran
out, into the foyer, past a line of guards into the street. She
turned left, at random, had no idea where she was going or why. A
group of Pengali stopped and watched. Jessica ran. She didn’t want
to become entangled with them again, she didn’t want
to . . .

She didn’t
know.

She ran,
without aim, without taking notice of where she was going. She ran,
and ran and ran. No one stopped her until the visions faded and she
found herself soaked with rain and exhausted, in an alley.

Empty,
dulled, staring at the rain-soaked pavement. The surface of puddles
stirred with raindrops. Sometimes, larger drops falling from the
trees made bigger rings. She clamped her hands around herself; her
tunic was soaking wet. The memory of Daya’s voice repeated in her
mind.
Come to me.
You’re in danger.

He
didn’t just speak in her mind, she could
hear
him,
feel
him,
smell
him.
His voice left her no option, no energy to question, no opinion of
her own. He called, she obeyed. He
was
her, and she
was
him,
except right now, she was alone, rain pelted down on her, and she
had no idea where she was.

Daya,
what now?

Wait.
I’m coming.

Well, that
wasn’t much help right now. Her hair dripped into her eyes; she
shivered and she was hungry.

She pushed
open a small door to what looked to be a shed.

The scent of
rot wafted out of the dark space beyond. Great. A rubbish tip. But
it was the only dry place and she simply had to get out of the
rain. She sucked in a deep breath, ducked and crawled into the
darkness, then pulled the door as tightly shut as it would go. A
thin sliver of light lit mounds of rotting vegetables. Bloody hell,
what a stink.

Her eyes
closed, she sought the energy within her. Cold had released much of
her reserve, but she found enough to make a light. The cramped shed
had two doors, one leading to the alley, the other presumably to
the house on the other side of the wall. She might find a cleaner
shelter there, or better, some Pengali servants. Where there were
Pengali, there was food. She pushed the second door, but it didn’t
move. Locked.

So much for
that idea.

Heavy boots
marched past, splashing in puddles. A voice shouted orders in
Mirani.

Jessica held
her breath and pressed herself against the damp wall, ignoring its
putrid stench.

If you
want to talk to me, please let me know where you are.

*     *     *

Daya shivered,
righting himself against the hard wall of the house. In the stuffy
warmth of the room, he had dozed off. His backside hurt from
sitting on the floor. He longingly thought of the bottle of zixas
in his bag, saw himself pulling out the stopper and taking a big
swig, but no. He wanted to have a clear mind when he met her.

On the other
side of the room, the Pengali fell quiet and turned to him. “What
did you say?”

Daya shook his
head, banishing sleep and weariness. “I didn’t say anything.” Or
did he? A voice asking a question lingered in his mind.

The Pengali
male held up an unidentified piece of lizard. Thin bones protruded
from half-eaten flesh. “You want some?”

“No.” Daya
shuddered. As Coldi, his family only ate worms and other creatures
that lived in soil or compost. Even though he had discovered that
his body was quite different, he still found it hard to accept meat
of larger animals.

He went back
to staring out the window, wishing the voice would come back. She
was here somewhere.

*     *     *

The smell of
cooking lingered in Jessica’s nose, although around her was only
damp and rubbish.

Another group
of soldiers marched through the alley, or were they the same ones
coming back for a second look? Where were the Pengali?

Where
are you?

*     *     *

Damn!

Daya jumped
up.

On the other
side of the room, the Pengali stopped talking. Large eyes observed
him.

“Be patient,”
said the male.

Daya
spoke through gritted teeth. “I can’t be patient. She needs me
now.”
And there is a
whole army after me.

Outside the
rain came down incessantly and water clattered from overflowing
gutters.

He clenched
his fists in his pockets.

*     *     *

The footsteps
came back again, much slower this time. Men spoke in Mirani, but
their speech was uneducated, too unlike that of Iztho for Jessica
to understand.

She crouched
behind the door. Soon they would discover that it was open and look
inside, and she would have to run.

*     *     *

Daya opened
the door into the courtyard, letting in a cloud of droplets. Water
dripped from the leaves of the tree into deep puddles between its
roots. No one, not even a creature, stirred in the yard or the
alley on the other side of the gate.

He balled and
unballed his hands, kicked at the rotten planks at his feet.

A Pengali
behind him said, “Leave the door closed; someone will see us.”

Leave the door
closed—with him on the inside or the outside? In one jump, Daya
grabbed one of the broad-rimmed rain hats that lay in the corner.
Too small to fit him, he sat it atop his hair, its oiled cloth
curtain dangling over his back. Another jump and he was in the
courtyard. He slammed the door behind him.

*     *     *

Closer the
footsteps came, and closer. Jessica crouched, preparing to spring.
She shut her eyes, gathering strands of energy in her mind. When
that door opened, she would have to do something, dazzle them with
light or burn them with sparks, but making a light was not that
simple. It required time and concentration. Not something you could
do while running.

Whoever’s out there, please help me.

*     *     *

The door into
the house opened again. A Pengali looked into the courtyard,
squinting against the grey light. “Wait until dark.”

Daya was
opening the gate into the alley. “I can’t wait any more. If you’re
going to sit here and do nothing, that’s your problem, but I
won’t.”

“Anmi is in
guesthouse. We go there after dark.”

“It is almost
dark. And she’s not in the guesthouse.”

Daya pulled
the veil down from the hat and launched himself into the alley.
True, he had no idea where to go, but when he closed his eyes, a
picture formed in his mind.

It was dark
and smelly and soldiers walked outside a door. Somewhere, not far
away, she waited for his help.

*     *     *

Jessica drew
deep breaths, feeling warmth flow into her. Warmth that came from
somewhere else, outside her body.

The soldiers
had come closer still. Branches rustled, footsteps splashed in
water. “No, not here.”

The door
rattled.

It opened. A
rectangle of grey light fell over rubbish-strewn ground.

A cherubic
face peeked in.

At the moment
the soldier shouted, “Ya, found her!” Jessica jumped and pushed his
chest. The soldier toppled, crashing bottom-first in the mud. He
swore. Three others shouted.

Jessica shoved
them aside and bolted for the end of the alley, gambling they
wouldn’t shoot because she’d be no use to them when dead.

*     *     *

Daya clutched
his head, pressing the wet cloth from the hat’s veil into his face.
The mental scream of panic pounded inside his skull like the beat
of many hammers.

Running
footsteps sounded in the alley to his right. He rounded the
corner.

Three soldiers
ran away from him; one scrambled to his feet, the back of his
uniform stained with mud. The girl ran to the other end of the
alley.

Another patrol
stepped out from around the corner.

His mind
screamed,
Anmi!
Threads of energy escaped . . . formed a strand
of lightning . . . arcing, sizzling and crackling,
through the air . . . over the soldiers’
heads.

*     *     *

Jessica
stopped and turned around. Stared at the tall figure at the other
end of the alley. His call pierced through her mind. She held up
her hands and caught the arcing light.

For a moment,
it seemed like the world stood still.

Then the air
exploded around her. A flash bleached her vision brilliant white. A
gust of wind tore through the alley, carrying leaves and sand.

The soldiers
shouted. Fell against the walls. Sagged onto the ground.

Silence.

Nothing but
the soft hiss of rain.

*     *     *

The girl stood
there, dazed and shocked, staring at the soldiers who lay in the
mud. Her tunic clung to her, wet and streaked with dirt. Her hair
fell in wet strings over her shoulders, but her eyes burned. A rush
of heat rose to Daya’s cheeks. Her scent drifted on the breeze, the
scent of an Aghyrian woman. No longer a girl, a woman. The scent of
laughter, of eyes looking only at him, of picking her up and—no, he
couldn’t do that. He had to protect her.