by Amy Gallow
Rachael, the trained covert agent, was impressed as Anneke created a story to explain everything, get the results they wanted and be easily memorized. This Traveler girl was good. It was only to be expected, she supposed, Anneke's race had gulled the peasants out of their hard-earned goods for centuries.
"You approve.” Anneke's words were less a question than a statement. She was very adept at reading expressions, another understandable trait, but it would seem like mind reading to the average peasant.
Rachael smiled. She knew telepathy was impossible. They'd tested her extensively after she'd scored unusually high in ESP tests and found nothing. Her results had dropped to average when the tests grew unpleasantly rigorous.
They sat there, Anneke gazing into the middle distance as if pondering something, and Rachael enjoying the flow of chilled water over her feet. She could feel it doing her good, the pain receding by the minute. She'd thought herself done, but the prospect of another hour's walk no longer daunted her.
"We'll move on.” Anneke had returned from her thoughts. “I want to be there before dawn."
Rachael rose gingerly, expecting a protest from her feet, and was surprised. They felt tender, sore in places, but there was no real pain. Looking down at them in the dim light, she could see only paler blobs beneath the surface of the water, but the rest and the cold water had worked wonders.
"Come on.” Anneke was waiting at the beginning of the path. “We need to move."
Rachael shrugged and stepped up onto the bank. “Yes. Lead on MacDuff.” Shakespeare was still part of the school curriculum. No one had yet surpassed his skill in capturing the human condition, for all that he was an unashamed apologist for his Tudor patrons.
"Lay to, MacDuff.” Anneke corrected absent-mindedly, proving the universal attraction of the Bard.
She turned and set off down the path. Rachael shrugged and fell in behind her, keeping pace without difficulty.
Lulled by the girl's confident leadership. Rachael's mind began to wander, a sure sign she'd got her second wind. Harmless enough at first, creating images out of half seen shapes in the darkness, Rachael drifted into a half-dreaming state. It happened more rarely since the ESP testing and she'd almost forgotten the feeling of hypersensitivity that could turn guesses into certainties as a picture of Anneke formed in her mind and she considered its contradictions.
Anneke was an educated woman. Her instant recognition of Shakespeare and normal speech pattern proved it. Travelers originally came from Britain and Ireland and normally mixed Romany and Welsh Cant in their speech, while she didn't. Rachael sensed a family in the background, vague pictures of a strong father and capable brothers forming unbidden. Her mother was different, a great beauty of an ancient race. They came from afar, all of them.
Another face formed, the sergeant-at-arms. Like Anneke, he was educated, more High Born than peasant. An ambitious man, ruthless. He was following. She could feel his hunger for her death...
A shudder of revulsion shocked Rachael into awareness of her surroundings and she was back on the path, following in Anneke's footsteps, her legs protesting and her feet sore.
Her mind felt strange. It always did after one of these episodes. External sound seemed muffled, as if she'd lost one of her senses, yet experience insisted she trust the insights provided. She didn't know how it happened, but they were never wrong. One day she might learn how to command it—a curiously daunting prospect. For the moment she must think.
If Anneke was not a Traveler, what was she? She acted like a trained agent and the only non-Federation agents were those of the First Family. There'd been no reports of First Family interest in this planet, but then there'd been the assumption that no Spacers had visited here either. It looked like yet another Administration blunder. Would they cut and run to hide it? Abandoning her here. Had they already left orbit?
Rachael had to calm her racing thoughts. Panic could get her killed.
She had no choice but to continue with the present plan. If Anneke was a First Family agent, she was a very good one and thoroughly briefed on the area. Rachael didn't know why she was helping, but it didn't matter. Her first priority was to set up the signal to space. She wouldn't send the confirmatory signal until she was sure of Anneke's purpose, but the first one would make it difficult for the Federation mission leader to abandon her.
The sergeant was another matter. Her sense of him suggested his enmity was personal, not just the reaction of a professional soldier towards someone who'd thwarted his purpose and probably earned him a reprimand. She'd felt his ambition so her death probably contributed to his eventual goal. It made him a dangerous enemy, for she sensed a high level of intelligence and pride in his professional accomplishments. What she remembered of the hanging party confirmed it. He'd gone about the business with an efficiency she might have commended, had she not been personally involved.
She pictured his face again, trying to probe behind it. Toughness, both mental and physical, were the predominate impressions. There'd been small scars on his cheeks, long healed into thin white lines that reminded her of the manhood rituals of some native tribes, visible proof he could bear pain. Blue, or gray, eyes, set under dark brows. Thin lips, or normal lips thinned by anger, she wasn't sure which. A hard face for a hard man. He would follow wherever she went and act without mercy.
Rachael shuddered again as his voice came to her across the distance. “Poor Red, Life isn't fair."
* * * *
Kamran kept the identity photo of Rachael from the pile of belongings confiscated from the Federation party. He'd been going through them, looking for anything to focus his search and was now staring at the parchment map on his table guessing how far she could travel since they raided the hut and searched the area.
Assuming she was outside the perimeter at the onset and her companion was a local, there weren't many options. A few he could discount. He'd posted men in the two villages and they'd been part of the hanging party, able to recognize Rachael on sight. One, in particular, remembered her vividly. He was still reluctant to straighten quickly and her kick had left the whole area black and blue. She'd get short shift if he caught her, and the three with him were brutal at best.
The woman was smart, she had to be to evade capture so far, and she had a local guide. How had she recruited her companion? There must have been clandestine landings prior to the arrival of the shuttle.
He turned back to the confiscated possessions, studying the three communication devices. Short range stuff, nothing powerful enough to penetrate the ionosphere and too bulky for the redhead to have concealed. Either there was an agreed rendezvous or, Red, he'd taken to calling her that, had to communicate with her people by a visible signal, large enough to be seen from space, but not obvious from ground level. He turned to the map again, visualizing the country it represented. He'd marched over most of it these last ten years.
There were no large fields of grain, an obvious means of signaling, nor any open tracts where a signal could be arranged without being noticed. Signaling by night could only be done by fires and it would take time to set and tend them and there was enough nocturnal movement from poachers and smugglers to make it risky. Red would be a tasty morsel to any of the groups he knew to exist. They were punished savagely if caught and it made them callous to those who fell into their hands. Her local guide would know.
Where would she go?
His mind came back to the clandestine landings. They were the most likely pick-up points. The mountains were out. Too far from any population centers. A large town would be ideal, but how to land without being noticed. Large town attracted nocturnal movement, particularly smugglers between the principalities. A coastal town had possibilities. There was no night fishing and the smugglers hugged the shore. An amphibious nighttime landing with silenced motor boats using radar would be easy. Kordobah was on the coast. He located it on the map and took a direct line to the forest hut. Five days travel, possibly six, through heavy forest. No
t much chance of setting a signal there and dangerous too. Even the charcoal burners banded together in groups for self protection.
Charcoal mounds! Once set, they were the perfect signal, infrared as well as visible. There were no permanent camps in the area, but he seemed to remember reports of a breakaway group setting up operations not far from the direct line to Kordobah.
Three or four, he thought. They argued over the shares setup in a larger group and had struck out on their own, using concealment for protection until they made enough profit to attract others.
"Poor Red,” he spoke aloud, addressing the map. “Life isn't fair.” But for the Spacer knowledge passed on by his father and the years he'd spent off-planet, she'd be home free. He strode to the door and opened it. “Corporal of the Guard, rouse Companies A & B, plus the archers, at dawn. Full marching order, five days provisions. We leave at the first turn of the glass."
It would give him time to convince the fool he served and give Dirk his orders.
A final glance at the map and he snuffed his candle. He had four hours for sleep, a luxury these days, and then they'd march to the village nearest to the suspect area and start questioning everyone.
* * * *
"We're there.” Anneke's whisper roused Rachael from her thoughts. “Remember, say as little as possible. Use short sentences. Giggle, or simper, wherever possible. You sound too much like High Born. Follow my leads."
She waited until Rachael nodded her understanding and stepped into the clearing. “Hola, the camp. May we come in?"
"Who are you.” Rachael could hear the man's fear and the stir as he woke his companions.
"Two fugitives from gadjes’ injustice, eh.” Anneke's voice had changed, her words had a lilt and the statement ended in an interrogative lift.
"Travelers?” There was relief in his response. The charcoal burners often sold their wares through the traveler's network.
"Who else, eh?” Anneke's answer was almost a chuckle.
"Come into the light.” One of the men had armed himself with a hastily strung bow and had an arrow nocked, the other had a fearsome axe while the third, the speaker, held a crude spear at the ready.
"Coming,” Anneke called. “Be careful with that bow, eh?"
Rachael had listened to voice recordings of travelers and Anneke had the perfect mixture of half amusement at Gorgio's incompetence and wheedling encouragement. She had to be a First Family agent, and a very good one at that.
"Your fire's too big. You want to invite everyone, eh?” Anneke led the way. “Some of the people out there ain't as friendly as we. I could smell it for the last mile and see the reflection in the treetops for a hundred yards."
"I told you to keep it small,” the man with the bow said. He was obviously the leader.
"Better still, keep it in a pot and add only twigs, eh.” Anneke advised, stepping into the circle of light.
"I know you,” the bowman said. “You healed my sister's child. Bring your friend, we'll bank the fire with earth and make tea."
Rachael sat silent while Anneke told the agreed tale, adding such details as the bowman might already know.
"He sounds too much a fool to run a village,” he said. “Still,” a nod towards Rachael, “She's pretty enough to turn many a head."
Anneke shrugged expressively. “The blood's thinned a bit.” She tapped her forehead.
Nods answered her and the men looked sympathetic.
"I see you're ready to build new stacks.” There were piles of gathered timber and mounds of earth. A small group like this would burn as many stacks as they could monitor in batches and then fade into the background with their precious charcoal, returning to the forest only when it was sold.
"If you arrange them the way I show you, other Pavee will know you are friends, eh?"
"Why not,” the bowman said. “We need all the help we can get."
"Use the sun to make sure of your alignment. I'll show you in the morning.” Anneke yawned. “Sleep, eh?"
"There's a shelter under that tree,” the bowman pointed. “Take your friend. She'll be safe there. My sister still mentions you in her prayers."
"Tell her not to deafen the poor man. Better she does the things I showed her, eh?"
The bowman shook his head. “Women need these things. Myself, I think he has more important things to do than listen to me whine. Sleep well."
"Thankee. We've come a long way.” Anneke gestured for Rachael to precede her. “We'll take the mugs, eh?” She held up the clay mug of tea.
"Yes. Bring them back in the morning. We'll share this one.” He held up the third mug. “Then sleep ourselves."
For all his views on women, Rachael liked the bowman. She could hear him ticking off the watchman about the fire, concentrating on the act, not the man, and praising Anneke's suggestion about the pot. “Start making one in the morning. Talk to the Traveler and get her ideas,” were the last words she heard.
A bed of fresh bracken, covered by a threadbare blanket beckoned and she finished her tea and was asleep within minutes, barely aware of Anneke lying relaxed beside her.
* * * *
Anneke scanned the immediate area, identifying each mind before moving on and then outwards, creating a mental map with every person, waking or asleep. She reached the sergeant and found him dreaming of some past conquest, her features entwined with Rachael's. The corporal of the guard was checking his sentries and his mind told her of the dawn reveille of the men, but not their destination. She'd check back later for that. One final check before sleep and she caught the whisper of a smuggler group. Their watchman was dozing so the information was sketchy, but, if the sergeant marched in this direction, the two groups could well collide. She smiled at the thought. The smugglers on this world were not her favorite characters. One final check and she allowed herself to sleep, thankful the branches above them would keep off the dew. She hated waking in sodden clothes, something she did far too often in this world.
Perhaps Peter was right; she'd completed her sixty missions and could take operational command. It would be nice to sleep at home every night and monitor the operation from Limbo.
"Rakli, Rakli, Wake up, Rakli.” The tone wasn't urgent and Anneke struggled to ignore it, but a hand on her ankle decided the battle and she opened her eyes. It was the bowman. “We're ready to start the mounds. There's tea by the fire."
It was full daylight.
"Coming,” she said, sitting up.
Rachael was still asleep, mouth open and snoring softly, so Anneke eased herself out of the shelter and stretched when she stood up, knotted muscles protesting.
"I remembered the word for girl,” the bowman said. “You called my sister's child, Rakli."
"Very good.” Anneke smiled at him. “Tell you the truth I feel more Rawnie than Rakli at the moment, more woman than girl, eh?"
They joined the others at the fire and Anneke drank the black unsweetened tea gratefully, her mind wakening. These were foresters. They'd judge direction from the tree trunks rather than the sun.
"You know South,” she asked, and three right arms pointed unerringly in the right direction. “Good.” She nodded in confirmation. “This is the pattern you must use.” She scratched it on the ground, marking the position of each mound with a cross. “All the distances are equal, so you can adjust it to the space you have, only the orientation is critical. You understand, eh?"
Three vigorous nods answered.
"Good.” She swept the ground, destroying the sketch. “Show me, eh?” She went back to the fire for another mug of tea, opening her mind to scan the area.
The sergeant was on his way, so were the smugglers, the latter group making an unusual daylight march across unpopulated forest to a rendezvous. Current progress suggested the sergeant and his men would come up behind the smugglers. It should distract him, which was just as well. He was very good and his time off-planet made him dangerous. Anneke couldn't argue with any part of his reasoning. She'd have to watch h
im carefully.
"Good morning.” Rachael joined her, body moving awkwardly as she limped towards the fire. “I expected to feel worse."
"We're going as soon as the mounds are lit. There's too much movement around here.” Anneke's mind was occupied, calculating distances and angles, ready to intervene and give the smuggler boss a nudge in the right direction, even so, she noted Rachael's reaction with some admiration. The girl had clamped down on her instinctive wail of despair and hardened her mind to the prospect of further flight. If Anneke could keep her body going, the mind would do the rest.
"What's the First Family's interest here?"
"As far as I know, they've none. I'm just visiting friends.” Anneke stopped short of a direct admission, but gave Rachael a mental tick for deduction. “Grab some tea and we'll see how they're going with the mounds.” She turned away and started walking.
"Go ahead, I'll join you.” Rachael was content with the lack of denial for the moment, but Anneke knew she could expect further questions.
They'd set the central stakes of the mounds to provide the top vents and Anneke was impressed, both the orientation and the spacing were right. Rachael's signal would be perfect.
"You've done well. Right smart fellows, eh?” She patted the bowman on the shoulder. “Tell anyone who asks you always use this pattern, eh? Your lucky charm from a Pavee. Given years ago, eh?"
The bowman/leader nodded slowly. “Everyone?” He was studying Anneke's expression. “We've been doing it this way for years?"
Anneke's nod was enough for him.
"I'll make sure the others understand,” he said. “You'll be on your way soon?"
Anneke nodded again.
