by Mind Guest
at all to see the barbarian with Fallan's sword in him go down there were too many other barbarians still on their feet to worry about. Lord
only knows where they'd come from, but they were suddenly all around,
screaming and swinging away with an abandon that made everyone else I'd
seen look reserved and dignified. I defended myself for the first few
seconds of adjustment, then began eliminating opponents before I was
eliminated.
I'd accounted for a respectable number of barbarians before it came to
me that I wasn't fighting alone. Strangely enough, some of the
barbarians seemed to be fighting on my side. I'd just come to the
conclusion that I'd blundered into the middle of some intertribal
rivalry when I spotted something that cleared away the strangeness.
Over the heads of the screaming, sweating barbarians nearest me, I saw
the familiar features of the giant Leandor, head of Dameron's special
section. I blocked a thrust from a determined barbarian and riposted
cleanly, then paid attention to staying alive now that I'd finally
reached my contact back to where I'd come from.
It took many more frantic minutes before Leandor and his people were
able to push the real barbarians farther away into the trees. I took a
deep breath of relief at finally being in the, clear, stretched my
aching arm and back muscles, then turned to look at "the mercenary
Fallan." One of the barbarians had opened his thigh with a quick jab
before I'd finished her, and the wound had obviously been the last of
too many. The man lay sprawled on the ground unconscious, still alive
but not doing very well. I felt the very long night and morning in
every muscle and bone of my body, and squatted down close to stare at
the face I'd learned too know so well. He'd shouted my name just before
the barbarians had hit, and there was only one way for him to have
known my name. I stared at the pale, drawn face that was still covered
with the sweat of pain, and wondered which of Dameron's people he was.
Five minutes later there was the sound of hurrying footsteps and I
stood straight fast, glad I hadn't resheathed my sword, but it was only
Leandor, coming back alone. He still had his reddened sword in his
fist, but I was suddenly too tired to hang onto mine, so I wiped most
of the blood off on the skirt of my riding dress and resheathed the
blade before walking a few steps in his direction.
"Girl, am I glad to see you!" he called as he got closer. "Up to a few
minutes ago, we all thought you'd had it permanently!"
"Why would you think that?" I frowned, looking up at him as he stopped
in front of me.
"When somebody's beacon goes off, it usually means they've gone with
it," he grinned, his eyes moving all over me. "You seem to be one of
the few exceptions to the rule. What did you run into?"
"Nothing much to speak of," I muttered, holding down the rage that
wanted to flame out at anything handy. If my beacon had gone out as
Leandor said, it was a fairly safe, bet it had been planted in my side,
in the spot I currently had a half-healed gouge. If Leandor hadn't come
along, I would have waited for a pick-up till I died of old age! I
picked out a few choice words to say to Dameron's medics and put them
aside, then looked back up at Leandor. "How are you fixed for a firstaid
kit?" I asked, moving my head around to nod at Fallan. Leandor
followed my gaze and lost his grin, then moved past me to the
unconscious ex-mercenary.
"How bad is he?" he asked, bending down to see for himself without
waiting for an answer. It was obvious Fallan wasn't good, so I shrugged
at Leandor's back.
"If he's faking, he's doing a good job of it," I commented. "He's lost
enough blood to put him on anyone's critical list, and I'm fresh out of bandages. How fast can you get him back to base?"
"We can't get either one of you back before dark,", Leandor said
without looking up, "but I can give him a transfusion at my camp. It
isn't far and it'll give us all the privacy we need."
He wrestled Fallan off the ground and over his shoulder, then started
off in the direction all the barbarians seemed to have come from. I
collected my vair and Fallan's and followed, but it wasn't long before
I mounted my vair, finding it easier following Leandor when I didn't
have to match his stride. Leandor continued on through the trees, and
before long we came to a larger clearing than the one I'd stopped at.
There were tents pitched all over the clearing, and some of Leandor's
team was still there, relaxing only a little when Leandor nodded at
them before disappearing inside one of the tents. I just sat on my vair
and slumped over its neck, feeling the soreness in my left side for the
first time in days. I'd probably still be there if one of Leandor's
team men hadn't come over to offer me a place to wait and something to
eat. I half fell off the vair and plodded after the team member, and
the tent I was led to was more inviting than many palaces I'd seen.
Once inside the tent, I was able to collapse in peace. The thing was
surprisingly spacious, with blanket like hangings on the skin walls,
furs on the floor as carpeting, and a large fire burning in a deep hole
in the middle of the floor, all of it fitting in very well with the
"barbarian's" clothing. The men were wearing long, loose trousers in
assorted colors, the legs of the trousers being tied tight around their
ankles with leather, and the women had brief, vest-like halters to add
to that. Both wore knives and sword-belts around their waists, and both
were barefoot, riot needing boots for their saddleless vair. I picked a
spot on the furs near the fire and stretched out, and didn't move until
the food came. The meal was no more than grilled steak from some animal
or other and a bowl of barbarian beer called gannas, but to me it
tasted like the next thing to ambrosia. I swallowed it all, then leaned
back to relax again.
I was happily digesting what had gone down my throat when Leandor came
in. he was carrying his own bowl of gannas, but waited until he was
sitting near me before swallowing at it.
"Just what I needed," he commented after lowering the bowl. "Sometimes
this stuff is better for what ails you than anything the clinicians
have."
"How's your patient?" I asked, rolling onto my side in order to see him
more easily. He swallowed at the gannas again, and waved a hand around.
"Oh, he'll be fine," he assured me. "Nothing too badly wrong with him,
and the transfusion will do the job until we can get him back to base."
"Glad to hear that," I nodded, keeping my eyes on him. "Now for the
next question: who the hell is he?"
Leandor's eyebrows rose, and he forgot about the bowl in his hands.
"What do you mean, who is he?" he demanded. "Didn't he tell you? And
what kind of game were you two playing when we got there?"
"He didn't tell me anything, and it was no game," I growled, holding
his gaze. "And if you start beating around the bush, we'll see how long
it takes me to pull this tent down around y
our ears."
I hadn't raised my voice, but there was no longer a reason to swallow
whatever annoyance I felt. Leandor looked surprised again, then raised
a hand in a calming gesture.
"Just take it easy," he soothed, a frown beginning to crease his
forehead. "Nobody's beating around the bush. I don't know why he didn't
tell you, but there's nothing secret involved. Granted, Valdon hasn't
been in the field for a while." "Valdon!" I exploded, sitting up straight. "The man's a damned fool!
How could Dameron send him?"
"There wasn't much choice." Leandor shrugged, not very pleased with my
reaction. "We got the chance to substitute one of our own for the real
Fallan at the last minute, and Valdon grabbed the privilege. He is
second in command, and doesn't usually abuse the position. When he
insisted, Dameron gave in. I got back yesterday, and we were following
his beacon for a pick-up when that tribe of barbarians jumped us. We
didn't mean to drive them straight toward you, but we didn't have much
choice about it."
"Choices," I muttered, as if it were a swear word, as I leaned back
again, then I thought of something else. "Every time I turned around I
found myself tripping over that man. If my beacon was knocked out, how
did he keep finding me?"
"He must have been attuned to you," Leandor answered in an "everyone
knows that" tone of voice. "Beacons are for long-range pick-ups and
emergency spotting. Attuning is for close-up work, when your target
might take off in any direction at any time. The base has your pattern,
so attuning would be a snap."
I shook my head sourly at his idea of a snap, then brought my eyes back
to his.
"If you knew someone was in that Paldovar Village because of Valdon's
beacon, why didn't you show up there for a pick-up?"
"You've got to be kidding!" he snorted, looking outraged at the idea.
"We stay away from those places except in absolute emergencies." Then
he eyed me curiously. "How did you two happen to end up there?"
"It's a long story," I sighed, settling down flat in the furs. "If we
ever get drunk together, I might let you in on it. Right now I'd
appreciate a spare corner to sleep in. Does your hospitality extend
that far?"
"At least that far," he chuckled, moving slightly where he sat. "You
can use the spot you're on, and forget about keeping one eye open.
We'll look after you for a while."
"Gee, thanks," I murmured, turning over to bury my face in the soft,
warm fur. "But where were you when I needed you?"
Leandor chuckled again but didn't say anything, and it must have been a
good ten seconds before I conked Out cold.
Getting back to base was as eventful and complicated as leaving it had
been. Fallan-Valdon, I mean was hustled off to the hospital area, still
unconscious from a shot Leandor had given him. After stepping out of
the scouter into the docking area, I had just enough time to stretch
once before an escort showed up to guide me through the base proper. I
thought I was being taken to Dameron's office for their version of
debriefing, but instead found myself being awaited by a hungry group of
medics who were dying to get their hands on me. I enjoy popularity, but
not of the medical variety, and politely declined their offer of
attention. They took to insisting; I suggested what they might do with
their spare time; they turned red then threatened to use restraints,
and I rested my hand on the hilt of the sword I was still wearing. Just
before the real bloodshed started, Dameron walked in.
"I thought hospitals were supposed to be quiet," he commented,
stationing himself between me and my admirers. "I could hear the bunch
of you back in the residential wing."
The stars of the medical profession knew as well as I did that Dameron
was exaggerating, but they flushed anyway at the implied criticism.
Then my most ardent admirer, the same little man I'd met when I'd first opened my eyes in the base, detached himself from the rest and faced
Dameron.
"Commander, it is our considered opinion that this young woman is badly
in need of treatment and bed rest," he announced in that fussy way of
his. "We will defer to others in any area but medicine. If we do not
have the final word there, we can be of no further use to you. It is of
course, your decision."
I snorted an estimate of his considered opinion, a reaction he chose to
ignore as he folded his arms and stared at Dameron, but the base
commander didn't share my estimation. He seemed to be thoughtfully
considering the little man's words, and when he moved his dark eyes
over to me, my headache started coming back.
"Dameron," I began, intending to make my position very, very clear, but
Dameron wasn't waiting to hear what I had to say.
"You've got to cooperate, girl," he rumbled, holding up a conciliatory
hand. "They're only trying to help you."
"I've had enough of people trying to help me!" I snapped, noticing that
the golden haze was beginning to form again. "For a change, I'm damned
well going to see a little disinterested neutrality!"
My hand was at the sword hilt again, the golden haze thickening by the
second, but that didn't keep me from hearing the hiss behind my back. I
whirled around on the frightened medic who still held the pressure hypo
and began drawing on him, but never got the chance to clear the
scabbard. Dameron jumped me from behind, wrapping those oversized arms
around me, holding me until the shot could take effect. I struggled to
get free, intent on killing everyone in the room, but the dark took
over before I could.
Chapter 10
A small click woke me first, intruding on a deep, dreamless sleep that
seemed to have been a part of me for some time. I was lying on my side,
all curled up, so I rolled over onto my back to stare at a flat gold
ceiling. My eyes stayed with the ceiling for a while, moved slowly down
blank gold walls, then settled on the soft yellow cover over me before
I reached the point of wondering where I was. By that time I knew I was
back in the base, knew where the base was, and knew that the gold walls
meant the hospital area, but I wasn't quite up to remembering why I had
to be in the hospital area. My head felt as though it should hurtthough
it didn't and I was bothered by an annoying disorientation.
I was still trying to sort things out when there was another click,
this time accompanied by the door sliding open. Dameron came in, his
steps over-quiet, his face preoccupied, and the door closed behind him
again as he walked to a mound chair not far from my bed. I watched him
sit down with more weariness than I'd come to expect from him, wondered
what sort of a problem he had this time, and then saw his eyes come to
me. He started when he saw me watching him, and leaned forward
anxiously in the chair.
"You're not supposed to be awake yet," he rumbled, almost in
accusation. "How are you feeling?"
"I've been worse and better," I admitted, looking him over. "If I'm not
"I've been listing my sins and estimating penalties," he snorted, then
leaned even closer. "Are you sure you're all right?"
I took some time to roll myself into a sitting position before
answering him. My head felt-tight, I guess you could call it, and the
gears of my mind seemed to need a good oiling. "I'll probably live," I conceded thickly. "What did those fumblefingered
idiots do to me?"
"If you're referring to my medical staff, they probably did the best
job of their careers," he chuckled, finally relaxing a little. "You're
sounding more familiar by the minute. How anxious are you to get your
hands on a sword again?"
I was about to ask him what a sword had to do with anything when the
tightness in my mind broke, letting in a flood of memories and
associations. The time with Grigon, the time in the slave market,
fighting, running, bleeding and Fallan. The man called Fallan who was
really Valdon, a man who had tried to give me a hand, a man who had
fought to protect me, a man who had saved my life at least twice. I
tangled my fingers in my hair and bent over with a moan when I thought
of what I'd done to him.
"Why didn't he say something?" I choked out, not realizing that Dameron
shouldn't have known what I was talking about. I kept my head down,
rocking back and forth with the pain, and only vaguely heard Dameron
get out of his chair.
"Considering what went on between you two before you left, he thought
at first that it would be better if you didn't know who he was,"
Dameron's voice came, soft with compassion. "When you reached the
woodsman's house he was about to tell you everything, but that 'bandit'
attack came first. The next time you were alone together, you were in a
Paldovar Village. The Paldovar already know about too many things that
should be secret, so it was no place to go into explanations. But don't
blame yourself for what happened-it wasn't your fault. You're the first
one to react to impressions the way you did, and it couldn't have been
anticipated. It simply wasn't your fault."
"Then whose fault was it?" I demanded, looking up at him again. "Who do
you think that was, cutting a man to pieces without giving him a
chance? Not a swift, clean death, but cut by agonizing cut, trying to
make him beg for his life!"
