“But we have not forgotten who we once were. For all we know, there are still wild ones of us left in the remnants of the old forest lands. If ever we gain freedom we will go searching for such wild ones; we have no interest in remaining in the city once we have exacted our revenge for generations of ill-treatment.”
“I, and those who I ally with, will do our best to set you free,” the Greencat promised. “We will not be able to help you find your unfettered relatives, but we will try to direct you to where you ought to go look for them. As long as you will not hinder the rescue operation that we are planning.”
Then, there she was, staring at the gate which led into the wood. It was closed, of course, but the locking mechanism looked simple enough, very much like those that had been in use at Ferhil Stones, a place which did not indulge in electronic gadgetry unless a pressing reason existed to do so. There was no need for such gadgets here either, unless one was expecting fools to either feed themselves to the feral cats, or to let them out, and the inhabitants of Volgoid Prime City knew better than to flout the Rules so blatantly. The cats had no opposable thumbs and could not operate even simple locks—any more than the Greencat could do so.
Had there been a real need to do so, she could have used her ESP to do the kinetic manipulation necessary. However, that was not necessary, now that she had made friends with the inhabitants of the woods. She could get the information that she needed from their minds. The feral cats could tell her about the gates opening into the inner enclosure, including the location of such. The cats did; there was only one, and it was locked with a lock the exact duplicate of the one on the outer gate. It could be opened from both sides, though it rarely was opened at all.
There had been an incident of a young biped who had unlocked the gate from within the enclosure, and had rushed headlong into the wood before his fellows could stop him. He had ended up dead, and had been eaten—a pitiful morsel of a snack, according to the cat. There had been no honour and little pleasure in trying to sate animal hunger with his body, but the cat-handlers had been inordinately pleased to have had the gnawed bones to take into the inner enclosure, and to show them to the prisoners.
The Greencat spent moments mindscanning the inner enclosure. The humans were all inside, with most of the prisoners asleep. A couple of the young men were occupied with “clients” who chose to use the Pleasure House services on the premises, rather than taking the courtesans elsewhere. None of the prisoners were missing; probably the night had not been a busy one, or else the Elite women had brought their choices back to the premises in the evening, rather than keeping them overnight. Dyron had told the Guru that this often happened; his explanation for it had been that the women's husbands and/or fathers were not keen to have slave men present in their homes overnight. Evella Copoz was an exception; her husband Geof let her do pretty much whatever she pleased, other than do serious physical damage to Coryn.
Coryn was one of the sleepers. He was sleeping the heavy sleep of one exhausted, his body struggling to clear out drugs from its systems. The Greencat spent a moment worrying about him—and realized as he did so that he had mental company. The minds of the other cat-animals had followed her!
She decided to take advantage of their interest.
“He is the mate of the kind woman who mentally approached you from a long way away, a while ago,” she told them. “She is coming to get him; she wants him back. The ones who call themselves the Elites have been tormenting him, especially one woman of them. She has been plying his body with poisons to make him bow to her will, to do whatever she wants him to do.”
“We know who,” answered one of the other cats. “She is a mean, nasty woman. She thinks that starving us is a fine idea. We will not touch this man, and we will spare his fellow prisoners. But do not expect us to be merciful to the tormentors, that woman especially.”
**
On her return trip the Greencat took the trouble to locate the train stop closest to the target. The script naming the station meant nothing to her, but she memorized its appearance on the sign, in order to pass it on to the Guru for deciphering. The Troupe had a map of the train routes and ought to be able to use it to find the place, and a train to take them there.
The Greencat relaxed as she loped through the shadows of the Volgoid Prime City, back towards the Seaport area. Surely the Kordean Blessing and the Curse would work their magic in one way or another to help the Troupe with their primary task. Marlyss, had she been present, would certainly have assured the whole Team of that!
They had the positive energies of the universe on their side!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Seer Jon sketched a picture, on a scrap of cheap paper, of the train station sign which the Greencat had memorized, for the other Troupe members. They had gathered for a breakfast meeting at a picnic table in the park in which their venue was located. They had already decided that, during the day, they would follow their usual schedule as closely as was possible. Lindy and Shellion were in agreement that they could not let outsiders know that they were aware that the jig was up, certainly not before they were ready to act.
Lindy was glad that she and Shellion had spent time openly with the railroad map of the city on a couple of occasions, vocally speculating about where there might be sights worth seeing and how to get to any that seemed to be within a reasonable travelling distance from their Inn. As Shellion had loudly proclaimed one morning, it was silly to be spending time on the Most Central World of the Neotsarian Empire, in its Capital City, no less, and not take the opportunity to marvel at a thing or two. Not that there was much to marvel at, according to the locals.
“Maybe there are interesting sights on Yukoid, and the other oddball planets,” one old-timer had sniffed at Shellion, “but here on Volgoid we don't run rampant. Our streets run as straight from the outskirts to the ocean as the lay of the land allows, and the avenues that cross them, meet them at right angles. Everything visible is supposed to be kept grey and clean; if householders have gardens they are hidden in the back, to be seen only from the alleys.”
“There are green spots on this map,” Shellion had protested. “Besides this park that we're in, that is.”
“You want to look at those, you'll be pressing your nose against a wire fence,” the old fellow had said with a head shake. “Those places would be for the use and enjoyment of the Elites. Not for the likes of regular citizens, nor of scruffy tourists. And the Elites have ways of keeping us out.”
“I suppose that those feral cats keep the locals out as much as they pen the slaves in,” Shellion muttered to Lindy, now, in a low voice. “I wonder if the Elites use the same trick elsewhere, to insure their privacy from the Great Plebeian Hordes.”
“That wouldn't surprise me,” Lindy answered just as quietly. “The scuttlebutt among my colleagues was that the Neotsarians were not particularly imaginative. If they find something that works, they use it again and again.”
“Pity that we won't have the time or the opportunity to go around and release all the animals from their pens,” muttered Kami savagely. “That would serve the Elite bastards right. They'd have to run for their lives from feral animals that understand who have been their jailers.”
“Watch that bitter attitude, Kami,” Lindy said, “Not that I don't understand where it's coming from. But we do have a precise task to perform, and we don't want to jeopardize its success through over-enthusiasm.”
Shellion threw back his head and laughed.
“I love your attitude, Lindy!” he exclaimed. “I'm starting to understand how you people operate! And, Kami, should you want to continue working against the Elites, once this caper is done, just come and join my group on Yukoid!”
“If you're planning to foment revolution against the Elites of the Sector, Shellion, don't be totally surprised if you find that you get more Confederation recruits than just Kami, into your ranks,” said Lindy. “Sounds to me like that's where the real action is going to be taking pla
ce.”
If only Marcues was not the one in charge of The Agency, she added silently to herself. The Agents could do a lot to help someone like Shellion coalesce the opposition to the tight-assed, authoritarian regime of the Elites.
Seer Jon was watching, and listening to this exchange with a tiny grin on his face. He turned his eyes on Sunny who had also been looking and listening, with an alertness not in keeping with her simple status. The Seer leaned down then, to pat the fur of the Greencat who was seated in her usual spot next to him.
Sunny realized suddenly that the thoughts of all three of them had turned to Marlyss, the Eldest of the Kordean Witch Circle of the Twelve. She could almost hear Marlyss saying:
“This is how the universe changes for the better. Through the actions of us all!”
Dini had had her nose almost pressed to the map spread out on the table, and she pulled the Seer's scrap of paper to her, looked at it, and immediately stabbed a spot on the map with her index finger.
“There,” she declared. “And the green space a short distance from the station must be the place.”
She squinted at the words printed on the green.
“The Elite Women's Pleasure House,” she read. “What the frig?”
“Yeah, that would be it,” Sunny said, her voice very low.
Nevertheless, everyone at the table turned to stare at her.
“I got a sense of it when I was trawling for information about Coryn, finding out how he was,” she said in what was barely more than a whisper. “It's staffed with slaves, nice-looking men captured from outside the Neotsarian Empire. They have little choice except to do the bidding of the women who use the service.”
“Like I said after Coryn was kidnapped,” Kami added testily, “if you have to be a slave among the Elites, it's better not to be particularly good-looking.”
“In other words, Coryn didn't have a chance,” Lindy said. “Of course not. Especially since Evella Copoz was quite familiar with him, considering how he had served The Agency for a number of years.”
“What you're saying,” commented Dini, “is that this guy at the centre of this problem is a looker, right? Interesting.”
“He's a lot more than that,” Lindy countered. “Though, when I first worked with him, as a trainee, I didn't understand that. If I had understood it, I would have snagged him when I had the chance! Instead, he went off to sweet-talk secrets out of arrogant Elite female visitors on Space Station RES, and I married—and later divorced—a slick idiot. And Coryn had the good sense to fall for the most talented Witch on Kordea, and managed to woo, and marry her!”
“Though we better give up on the reminiscences for the moment,” said Shellion, glancing around them. “Locals have awakened and are coming by.”
“Right,” Lindy agreed. “Eat your breakfast wraps while we figure this map out. In no time the first person wanting his or her fortune told by the Seer is going to drop by.”
“I can distract the ones wanting their fortunes told by opening up shop at the little table inside the shelter,” Seer Jon said with a chuckle. “You'll have to think of something else for the idly curious.”
Barely were his words out when the first customer arrived, and addressed him by name, a pleading look in her eyes. He pulled out the fortune-telling cards from his bag, and gestured towards the shelter. The woman's eyes brightened, and she immediately turned to go there. Seer Jon got up from the bench that he had been sitting on, picked up the chipped cup which contained the dregs of his morning coffee, and set out to follow her.
“If anyone is going for another pot of coffee,” he said, “do come and fill my mug, too.”
“We'll do that,” Shellion promised with a grin.
Lindy tossed a wry smile in his direction. Shellion had all the makings of a top-notch Agent—or a first-rate rebel leader, she thought, again. She was quite aware, too, that he had been doing some wandering around, and talking to the locals, on his own, during the time they had been ensconced in the Seaport Area. No doubt those forays would prove their usefulness, sooner or later!
**
Shellion further showed his astuteness as an emerging Rebel Leader later that day. He asked Seer Jon which one of the regular attendees who had also requested peeks into their futures was honest enough to be trusted with money that was not his or her own.
“I don't want to leave debts behind us,” he explained. “Dini, Lew, and I may want to come back here, sometime, if we're serious about change. So I'd like to leave funds with someone we can trust, instructing him or her to pay off the Innkeeper, and any other people in whose debt we might be, in the event that we mysteriously disappear. Assuming that you people haven't been blowing smoke about the possibility.”
“Excellent idea,” Lindy commented immediately. “We do not want to behave like the Elites do, and take, and take, and never pay for what you take.”
The Seer suggested the name of a certain middle-aged lady who had been helpful with the recruitment of young volunteers to set up, and take down the equipment used in the shows. The recruits were studying what the acrobatic Troupe members did, and Lindy was certain that it would not take long, once the Troupe had done their disappearing act, before they would be staging their version of it, to appreciative crowds, she hoped. The likely amateurishness of any such show hardly mattered; it was clear that the inhabitants of Volgoid Prime City were hungry for entertainment, and grateful for almost anything on offer.
Shellion and Lindy spoke to Merta, the chosen lady, and confided in her just enough to make her understand what they wanted, and why. Merta said little, asked only questions pertinent to the task she was being asked to do, and accepted the envelope Lindy passed to her, promising to follow the instructions as given.
“Let's hope that the bastard Elites keep on being overconfident for the rest of this day,” Lindy muttered to Shellion as they returned to where the Troupe members were warming up for the second-last show. “It would be seriously shitty if they decided to descend upon us this afternoon, when we're all set to go tear their prison apart tonight.”
“I very much doubt that we need to worry,” Shellion replied. “Those guys will spend some time gloating over the fact that they've got us figured out! If I know anything about the way the Elite minds work, tonight will be party time for them! They'll be meeting with their higher-ups to explain what they've accomplished, and what the next stage in their plans is. They won't be expecting us to show up at their prison camp tonight.”
“They likely have no idea that we know that they know who we are,” Lindy agreed. “They may have an idea of what a Kordean Witch can do with her Stone, but they haven't a glimmer when it comes to the talents of someone like Seer Jon, or the Greencat.”
**
The afternoon dragged, in spite of the fact that there was plenty to be done. In the interval between the shows, some of the Troupe members studied the train maps and train schedules, while the others asked questions of the locals who professed to have knowledge of possibly interesting places in the city. They publicly speculated about taking a day off from performing, later in the week, with the idea of using the holiday to wander about.
Some of the inhabitants encouraged them, but cautioned them to be careful not to get on the wrong side of the Law-Enforcers, or any Elites that they might encounter.
“The Enforcers are the ones you're most likely to run into,” Merta said to Shellion. “They can be officious fools; that's how they get those jobs, by proving that they're jerks.”
“Do they patrol the trains?” Shellion asked.
He did not remember running into any during their trip between the Space Port and the Seaport area.
“They're supposed to,” Merta answered. “And occasionally they do so. However, they prefer to fly around in their official flits and flyers, swooping down from the sky, on anything that looks like trouble. And we who use the trains for commuting, like things that way, and avoid creating altercations. Up to now that has worked beaut
ifully; I, personally, haven't seen an Enforcer on a train in years.”
Meanwhile Lew and Dini had obtained a written train schedule from the ticket booth of the Seaport Station, and had determined that it was possible to get from where they were to where they wanted to go, using this form of transport. What's more, the trains ran through the night, if not nearly as often as during the day. With help from Lindy and Kami, they mapped out a route and a schedule which could be used to take the Troupe members to the Elite Women's Pleasure House, late that very night.
Sunny was the person doing the most fretting. There was very little that she could do while clinging to her assumed identity. She had been on edge ever since the group had left Yukoid. The necessity to hide Sarah had become a burden which was hard to bear, but she was not foolish enough to court disaster by refusing to carry it. She endured as she well knew that she must, only doing so was tougher than ever, now that it seemed that, quite possibly, the time for the necessity was coming to an end. Soon she would be required to act. And when that time came, everything would depend on her.
Suddenly Sandy, big, kindly Sandy loomed beside her.
“Let's go buy food for all of us,” she said in a low voice. “We need to eat, no matter how nervous we are.”
She jingled some coins in her pocket.
“I've instructions from Lindy as to what, and how much. You're to help me carry the goods back to our usual picnic table.”
Sunny smiled up at Sandy, grateful to have something to do. Besides, food for everybody was definitely a good idea.
**
The sun had gone down when a motley crew of non-Volgoidians boarded a train heading towards the city centre, at the Seaport Station. They were obviously the Entertainment Troupe—minus the cat-animal which was usually attached to the Seer—which had been putting on shows in a local park for the past week or two.
Revenge of the Catspaw Page 26
