by Andre Norton
15
Night shadows were gathering. The sun, so brazen and naked over this riven land, was gone, though its brilliant banners still lingered in part of the sky. Ziantha crouched at the back of the cave. Her body ached from the unaccustomed exercise, but her mind was alert.
The man Ogan had sent out did not return. Twice click signals she could not decode came, and with each Ogan grew more restless. Whatever his plans, they were manifestly being frustrated. At last he came back to where she sat, hunkered down so that their faces were on a level.
“You are safe here—“
“Safe from Iuban?” she dared to interrupt. “Are his men trailing us?
“Iuban!” He gestured as if the Jack captain were a gaming piece of little value to be swept from the board. “No—there is a greater complication than that. There is a Patrol ship down out there!”
“Patrol! But how—“ Among all the possible dangers she had not expected this one.
Ogan shrugged. “How indeed? But there are always ears to listen, mouths to be bought. Yasa went through Waystar. And Waystar is not Guild; it can be infiltrated—in fact it has been, at least once. And there is a chance I may have been followed also. But how they came does not matter. That they are here does.”
He was silent for a moment, eyeing her narrowly.
“You know the penalty for using sensitive power for the Guild—remember it well, girl.”
Her mouth was suddenly dry. Yes, it had been hammered into her from the earliest days of her training what her fate would be if the forces of the law caught her during a Guild foray. Not death, no. In some ways death would be more welcome. But erasure—brain erasure—so that the person who was Ziantha would vanish from life, and some dull-witted creature fit only for a routine task would stand in her place. All memory, personality, wiped permanently away.
There was a glint of satisfaction in Ogan’s expression; he must have seen her recoil.
“Yes, remember that and keep remembering it, Ziantha. Erasure—“ Ogan drawled that last word. It became an obscenity when one knew its meaning. “You stay undercover exactly as you are bid. Unfortunately the Patrol ship has landed in just that area where it can cause us the greatest inconvenience, and we have to remain hidden until they convince themselves that the Jack ship is the only one here.”
“But your ship—they can locate that.”
He shook his head. “Not a ship, Ziantha. I landed from space in an L-B. And that is under detect protection. My ship will return, but it is not in orbit now to be picked up by a Patrol detect.”
“They have other detects, persona ones, do they not? What if they use those?” She fought for control, determined not to let the fear he sparked in her become panic.
“Naturally. And they are out there now, combing with such. They will pick up the Jacks, unless they are equipped with distorts. We do have those—“
A distort could throw off a persona, she knew. Just as a visual distort could throw off sight. There was one other way—if they had a sensitive—
“They do not!” Ogan might have read her mind. “Though they might have on such a mission, by so much fortune we are favored. I have probed for one and there is no trace. So we are safe as long as we take precautions. But we do not have much time. The L-B is set on a time return, and unless I can get to it and reset it, it will take off without us.”
“You are going to try that?”
“I must. Therefore I shall leave you here with Mauth. There is always the hope that the Patrol and the Jacks will keep each other busy. But understand—if they find you”—he again made that sweep-away gesture—“you are finished. There is no one to lift a hand to save you. So—you have the focus-stones—give them to me. I shall put them in the L-B for safety.”
“They will be of no value to you.” Ziantha began her own game. It all depended on how much she could make Ogan believe. “They are now mind-linked to me. I have learned their full secret, and they will answer only to the one who awakened them.”
Would he accept that? He had no way of testing it one way or the other since his lab equipment was worlds away.
“What can you do with them?” he asked.
Ziantha thought frantically. She had to provide some major advantage now for keeping the stones.
“If the Patrol here has no sensitive, I may be able to use these as a mind distort. They were once used for controlling—“ For controlling the Lurla, animal things—would they work on men? But she need not explain that to Ogan.
“You have learned much. When there is time you shall tell me all of it.”
“All,” she echoed as if she were still under his domination.
“But perhaps it is best that you do keep the stones,” Ogan continued to her great relief. “And you shall stay with Mauth until my return.”
Ziantha knew that he went unwillingly, that above all he was now intrigued by her disclosures and frustrated that he could not put her statements to instant testing. Ogan had never been the most patient of men where his absorption in parapsychology was concerned.
The girl watched him make a wary exit from the cave. Why she had not gladly surrendered the stones to him she did not know, only that she could not. Just as she had brought what had been in D’Eyree’s hands from one past, and both of them out of Vintra’s time, so were they joined to her now.
She took them out, holding them in her clenched fist. If she ever looked into them again where would she be—Singakok? Nornoch? Neither did she want to see again.
Nor would she use them to serve Ogan. If the need to choose came she would see that they were lost somewhere in this wilderness of broken rocks, beyond his reach.
There remained Harath. Ogan must have left him at the L-B, though she still could not understand his denial that the alien was on-planet. With Ogan gone she could call—from Harath she could certainly learn the truth.
With the stones in her hands, Ziantha let down her mind barrier for the first time since Ogan had found her. She sent out a thought probe, the image of Harath bright and clear in her mind. Greatly daring she advanced the call farther and farther.
“Harath?”
His recognition was as sharp as her call. And then, before she could question him—
Warning, denial, a surge of need—do not try to communicate—use our touch as a guide.
Harath could not then be at the L-B; perhaps he had wandered away, searching for them. Or had he fled Ogan for some reason? But he would not answer. The thread between them was very faint and thin by his will, a guide but not a way of exchanging information. Save the fact that he held it so conveyed a warning.
She leaned her head forward so her chin rested on her knees as she thought of Harath, kept that thread intact. He was coming to her—there was danger—
A sharp clicking interrupted her thoughts. Her head jerked up and around. It was now dark in the cave. The guard at the mouth was only a blot against the slightly lighter sky. That must be his com in action.
“Gentle fem,” his voice out of the gloom, using the customary address of everyday life, seemed strange here, “a message from veep Ogan. We are to move out—to the east.”
“He said—stay here.” Move now when Harath was on the way? She must not.
“The plans are changed, gentle fem. The Jacks or the Patrol are closing in with some type of persona detect that is new.”
Perhaps, she thought anxiously, they have picked up my call to Harath.
“Come on!” Mauth did not speak with any courtesy now. He was plainly prepared to carry out his instructions by force if need be.
Ziantha thought furiously. She had the stones with all the power they represented. This man was no sensitive, and this was her chance for escape. She must take it and wait for Harath.
“I am coming.” But she did not stir from her place. Instead she broke that cord with Harath and bent all the energy she could summon into a projection aimed at Mauth.
“We go down—“ He turned and scrambled
out of the cave. Nor did he look back to see that she was not with him. Her attempt was successful, and to his mind she was beside him now.
Ziantha was honestly astounded at her success. Ogan could do this with those who had no talents. But that she could project a believable hallucination was new. Her confidence in the might of the stones grew.
But she could not hold this long. Which meant that with Mauth away from the cave she must leave also. As soon as her projection faded he would be back hunting her.
Searching, she found a single ration tube, a small water container. She burdened herself with nothing more. But at the mouth of the cave she hesitated. The night was dark and the rocks a maze. The best she could do was to find another hiding place and await Harath.
To go higher was best, reach a point from which she could see more. Thrusting the focus-stones back within her suit, Ziantha began to scramble from one hold to the next.
She was some distance from the cave when she heard a sound from below and froze, her body plastered to the cliff wall. Mauth—he was coming back! She must remain where she was lest some sound betray her.
The night was very still with no wind to howl mournfully among the erosion-sculptured stones. She could hear, sharp and clear, his movements down there, even a muttered curse which must mean he had found the cave empty. Then a second or so later came the click of the com. Was he signaling to Ogan, or receiving a message?
If she could only read that code! Dared she try mind-probe? But, even as she hesitated, Mauth was on the move again, and, by the sounds issuing from the cave, he was coming in her direction!
Then, out of the night shot a beam of dazzling light. Not to pin Ziantha to the rock, but to show Mauth.
“Freeze—right where you are!”
He obeyed and there followed sounds of others on the move—coming up. Patrolmen? They would question Mauth, learn about her. Ziantha swallowed. She was as helpless here as Mauth was, even if they had no light on her. For her slightest move would make a betraying sound.
Someone climbed into the flood of light centered on Mauth. But that was no Patrol uniform, rather a crewman’s planet suit—Iuban’s men then. If Yasa had made the deal Ogan expected -- Should Ziantha hail them? But she could not be sure if Yasa was a free ally or Iuban’s prisoner. No—stay free if she could—find Harath and learn some truths.
The crewman disarmed Mauth, was shoving him downhill. And they made no move to climb higher. They did not suspect her to be here then. But they would learn speedily enough. Ziantha had no illusion that Mauth would not tell them everything they wanted to know once they applied Jack methods to the matter. As soon as she had the chance to move she should get as far away from here as possible.
They were searching the cave now. But that took no length of time. Ziantha willed them to go. She was not using the power, but sometimes even such willing could exert an influence.
Then she drew a deep breath of relief and would have sagged to the ground had there been anything more than a shallow ledge to support her. They were leaving, at last. She strained her ears to follow the sounds of their withdrawal, waiting poised for what seemed very long moments after the last of those finally died away.
Now—up and up—on! The girl began the ascent with the caution dark demanded, feeling ahead with her hands, testing each step with her foot before she put her full weight upon it. Twice she huddled, with a wildly beating heart, as dislodged stones made noises she was sure would bring the hunters straightway back to track her down.
After what seemed hours of strain, Ziantha reached the top of the rise and found it relatively smooth with no rocks to offer shelter. Which meant pushing on, across here and down the other side. Something in the air—she cringed—and then knew it for a flying thing. So this world had night life of its own. The flapping of wings sounded lazy, assured in a way that gave her courage. At least enough to start on again.
The slope on the other side seemed easier, and she was thankful for that, moving slowly, listening always for any sound. One of the stunted bushes caught at her, thorns raking out along the hand she had flung to the side to steady herself as a foot slipped.
But she lost her footing then, skidded down a slope in a loud cascade of stones and earth, bringing up against the thorny embrace of a second growth more stoutly rooted. For a moment she was too alarmed to try to move on again. Surely anyone within a good distance had heard that! Without thinking she tried mind-probe.
Harath!
Since she had broken their thread back in the cave she had longed to find a sanctuary from which she could again link with the alien. This was no hiding place, but from the very vigor of that pickup she knew that Harath must be near.
He must be close—very close! Seconds later she heard a faint noise—Harath on this slope?
Something was indeed moving in her direction, making less noise, Ziantha was certain, than a man. And Harath had nightsight; to him this stretch of gravel and small rocks would be much more visible than to her. She held fast to the bush as an anchor, waiting.
Scuttling—then before her—Harath!
He sprung straight for her, both pairs of his tentacles out to find holds on her body. There radiated from him a need for contact, for a meeting of body to body. Ziantha cuddled his small downy shape against her, though it seemed very odd that the usually self-sufficient Harath needed comfort.
“You were lost?”
“Not lost! Come with Harath—come!”
His excitement was wild and now he struggled in her grasp.
“Must come—he dies!”
“Who dies?” Ogan? Had the parapsychologist met with disaster on his attempt to reach the L-B?
“He!” Harath seemed to be utterly unable to understand that Ziantha did not know. As if the person he meant was of such importance in the world that there was no question of his identity.
“Come!”
She had never seen Harath so excited before. The alien would not answer her questions, but fought for release with the same vigor as he had greeted her. That he wanted her attention for only one thing, to obey his command, was plain. And she could not control him.
He had already struggled out of her hold. Ziantha could not restrain him without applying force, and that she was not prepared to do.
“Come!” He scuttled away as swiftly as he had arrived.
Ziantha got carefully to her feet. That she must not let Harath escape her again was plain. But also she had not his sight and could not trust the path ahead.
“Harath!” Had she made that call as emphatic as she must? “Harath—you must wait—I cannot see you!”
“Come!” She caught a glimpse of movement at the foot of the slope, as if Harath lingered there, bobbing about in his impatience and desire to be gone. Recklessly she half slid, half jumped down to that level. Now he reached with an upper tentacle, took hold of her suit, tugged with all his limited strength.
“Come!”
At least Harath offered a guide. As Ziantha obeyed that tug, the girl discovered she did not have to fear such rough footing, that her companion was picking the smoothest way. There was light in the sky now, as a moon rose. A small pale moon whose radiance was greenish, making her own flesh look strange and unhealthy.
Harath turned east. Ziantha thought she recognized one of the oddly shaped peaks in that wan moonlight. Surely they were not far from the Jack ship.
Yasa? But Harath had insisted on “he,” and the alien had never displayed any great liking for the Salarika in the past. No—she did not think he led her to the veep. Now he was showing wariness as he angled back and forth among strange outcrops of rock which arose in clusters like the petrified trunks of long dead trees.
“The Jack ship—“ Ziantha ventured.
Harath did not reply; only his grasp on her suit tightened, and he gave a sharp pull as if forbidding communication here. They wound a way beyond those rocks and came to a place where pinnacles were joined at the foot to form a wall. Harath loosed hi
s hold on her, scrambled at a speed wherein his feet were aided by all four tentacles, climbing the curve of that wall at a space between two spires.
“Come!”
Where Harath might go she was not sure she could follow. The space between those prongs of stone looked very narrow. But Ziantha had to try it or lose him entirely. Dragging herself up, she wedged between the outcrops, an action which nearly scraped the suit from her back.
Below was a depression like the one in which Ogan had earlier camped. And that pocket was full of shadow. But she could make out dimly that someone lay on the ground here, and Harath was beside the body.
Harath—and a stranger—the sensitive! But if Harath wanted her—then that other was not dead after all! Ziantha’s heart beat so fast that it seemed to shake her. She went on her knees beside the body she could not see.
Now she explored with her hands. He wore the bulk of a planet suit, the heavy boots of an explorer. But his head was uncovered and he lay face up. His skin was very cold, but when she held her hand palm down over his lips she could feel a breath puff against her skin. Entranced? It might well be. If so, to bring him out would be a matter requiring more skill than she possessed. Ogan should be here.
“No—Ogan kill!”
Harath’s thought was like a blow, sharp enough to make her start back.
“You—Harath—reach—reach—“ The alien’s communication was in her mind. The emotion of fear which her suggestion of Ogan had raised in him had upset him to the point where he could not mind-send coherently. What lay behind that fear, Ziantha could not guess, but its reality she did not doubt in the least. If Harath said Ogan was a danger, she was willing to accept his verdict.
“Harath—“ she sent the thought in as calm a fashion as she could summon. “How do we reach -- ?”
He appeared able now to control himself.
“Send—with Harath—send—“
