“What is wrong?” Diana prompted in a gentle voice. Carefully she knelt beside Elana, her dark eyes searching the averted face. She set her medical box aside and covered the tense, browned hand with her own. “Ona?”
“Wrong…?” Elana whispered faintly and then seemed to gather herself together. She turned to Di’nay. “My arm, I think.” She shrugged sideways, glancing at the bloodied sleeve. “It’s not bad, but — ”
“I’ll see to it,” Diana reassured her, squeezing her hand lightly. “Yet there’s more, isn’t there? Can you tell me what it is?”
Blue eyes stared at their clasped hands, and Elana felt the hollowness in her stomach begin to churn. Tightly she clamped down the panic and stirring memories. “Not yet.”
“You’re safe for now.” Diana spoke calmly, respectful of Elana’s judgment even as she was concerned for her.
“Not safe enough yet.” Elana looked up, her eyes caressing Di’nay’s weathered face in a familiar search. “Give me time — and distance from this Seer.”
Diana nodded and held her hand for a moment longer before turning to the arm. But her grimness had turned to a savage anger at this Maltar. Her fingers grasped the stained fabric, venting fury as she ripped it.
Elana gasped at the amarin.
Diana grabbed her shoulder to steady her. “Have I hurt you?!”
“No.” Elana’s dark braid shook with the denial as she pushed back the memory of men and ravaging malice. She smiled shakily. “It’s been a rather eventful day.”
Diana broke open the antiseptic and set to cleaning the wound. “This will make your arm a bit numb.”
Elana nodded mutely.
From the corner of her eye Diana watched Elana. Everything about Elana urged her to gather this woman close and let her cry. But this was not some safely enclosed bathhouse, and a Seer was searching for them.
Elana said, “I counted the night before last as the eve they took me. Is that right? Or did I lose count?” All of a sudden it seemed important to know exactly how long they had held her.
“You’re right,” Diana murmured, grimly thinking how awful those nearly forty hours had seemed to her and the eitteh. “Where did they have you that you couldn’t follow Aggar’s cycles?”
“They call it a Seer’s Tomb,” Elana replied almost curtly. She drew another deep breath as Di’nay tied the bandage; there was so much she wanted — no, needed Di’nay to know, but she did not trust her own self control. “The walls are very thick, and even the door is stone.”
Diana swallowed the ache in her throat and wished that her love had been spared that nightmare. Gently, she took Elana’s small hand in hers. “Ona… I or Eitteh will always stay near. To remind you, you’re not alone now.”
The hand grasped hers gratefully, and Diana tightened her own grip.
“Where is our eitteh?” Elana asked then, glancing about the barge.
“Out hunting breakfast, I expect. Neither of us remembered to eat yesterday.”
Elana shook off Di’nay’s clasp. And for a brief instant, she was feeling better. “By the Mother’s Hand, can’t I even leave you for a day?”
Diana laughed and her spirits lifted. “Here.” She pulled the cap off the flat little jar and shook a pair of tablets into Elana’s free hand. “Take these. They prevent infections. It’s a clean cut, but we don’t need to take chances.”
She peered critically at the friction burn along Elana’s right cheekbone. “Does your face hurt badly?”
“No, it will be fine.” The feel of cold steel crawled along her skin, eclipsing thought, and suddenly Elana could only stare at the tablets in her palm.
“You are not alone,” Diana repeated softly.
“No…” She nodded shakily, fighting her sudden tears with a weak smile as those gentle words cut through the terror. “…I am not, am I.”
Garrison was their most pressing problem, given not only his dubious mental state but his obviously alien appearance. His mind was so racked with the Seer’s rape that it lay completely open to Elana now.
Diana took over the rudder and Elana quickly drew the information the Empire so urgently needed from him; the details of that distant assassination plot were plucked all too easily from his ravished mind. Then she gently sent him into a deeper darkness. They could not risk him regaining awareness while they still lay so near to the Seer. Even if Garrison only half woke, still too confused to understand what he was seeing, the Seer’s eyes would discern enough that the Maltar would identify their route.
Then, while Elana guided the boat, Diana scrubbed the dungeon smell from his gaunt figure and trimmed his hair and beard. Her extra tunic and breeches hung too loosely on him, but they were a good deal better than the tattered shreds of his fieldsuit. She cut the feet from the remnants of her extra fieldsuit, the one the cucarii had torn, and once she’d managed to get a limp foot into each, she wrapped the rags from the discarded Priory tunic about them. The end result was not so odd for this planet. Slaves were often clad in their owner’s older garments, and it was not uncommon for them to lack proper shoes; Garrison merely looked as if he’d tied his feet up in rags to keep them warm.
† † †
The eitteh returned mid-morning, rumbling with well-fed good humor as she curled up against Elana’s leg to doze. They stayed close to the towering cliffs and the sheltering shadows, the sun finally lifting clear of the plateau. Clouds began to gather and it seemed the Mother had not forgotten them.
Both women were pleased to see the storm warnings of the northern front. There would be a full day before it broke, but it was probably not the doings of Maltar’s Seer since a storm would only obscure tracks and slow soldiers. Yet the Maltar dared not order his Seer to hold off this onslaught of winter; such an act would be certain to draw the attention of the Council Seers. It was a complex game this man played with the Council and Keep; he had gone undetected for years. Diana gambled that his shrewdness would not lapse now.
It was a long day in the slow way days will pass when so much is at risk and yet so little may be done. The current was swift and took them well past the broken ravine that they had followed from Melysa’s to meet the river. Their first glimpse of the Ma’naur had been four days ago, and with luck this would be their last acquaintance with these black waters. But the farewell seemed to last an eternity.
Elana quieted the horses with promises of grass at nightfall and found herself to be only a little stiffer despite the ride. The stretching had helped after all. Dressed again in her own tunic and jerkin, with the eitteh curled close and Di’nay here, she found the waiting a relief after those hours in the blackness. In her pack she found the hunting knife Di’nay and the eitteh had retrieved for her, and she smiled at the memory of her first night with her Amazon. There were moments where she was as nearly content as conceivable, given the circumstances.
The river, however, was too exposed for Diana’s comfort. She conceded that it was the best of the available options, but she did not like it. In mute frustration she set her mind to the work before her.
There was the problem of Diana’s transmitter. Without the descrambler unit it was just a receiver. Without it, there was no way she could accurately key the base’s frequencies. Her last contact had been with Cleis in Gronday, and it was unlikely that anyone was still there. Most probably even that channel had been lost due to the jostling of travel. She could not even reach Gronday.
“Commander Baily’s people do not monitor all the frequencies?” Elana probed.
“Security monitors all the usual channels. However, they only randomly check in on the field channels unless something specific is scheduled, then they’ll record it for files. Granted, it’s a careless practice, but since your people have no use for this type of communication it never seemed to be much of a risk.” Wearily Diana settled at her feet beside the rudder seat. “Our best chance will be to keep sending whenever possible. But sitting out in the open every night for the next ten-day does not sound ver
y safe with this Seer searching. Also we do not know if the Maltar has the receiver from Garrison’s ship. If he could get the laser working….”
Elana shook her head. “It is too dangerous. And there is no need for it. Even if your base cannot receive you, the Council will know to alert them.”
She was beginning to expect that kind of remark, Diana realized. “Am I to understand from what you are saying that the Council monitors our transmissions?”
Elana nodded.
Diana wondered if that meant they had been listening even on her conversations with Cleis. She said, “But even when we dare transmit, why should the Council of Ten pass the information on to Thomas? Won’t they just interpret our loss of contact with my base as another sign that they shouldn’t interfere?”
Solemnly Elana reminded her, “Maltar has a Seer. The winds of the Mother stir strange sands. If he had not been discovered, the Maltar would eventually unseat the Council’s balance — just as the assassin would unseat your Chairman. A Seer outside the Keep’s walls is the Council’s business. The Council’s involvement in the journey will be well met — once the Council knows this Seer exists. They have little reason not to repay the aid and inform Commander Baily and the Terrans of the assassination and its details.”
Elana placed a hand on her lover’s shoulder. “They believe in balance, Di’nay.”
“I begin to think, Elana, that your Council is somewhat like our Shekhina. On my planet there is relatively little technology compared to that of the Empire. On Shekhina, however — on our single moon — we have a very technologically sophisticated society. It is our bridge — our point of contact with the rest of the Empire; it is all they know of us. You seem to house all you need to protect your world, and yet you measure the use of such sciences — for use to Aggar — for use with the Empire. But both your Keep and my Shekhina must be in harmony with their world or it is for nothing.”
“As I have said,” Elana touched her friend’s face, “in some ways we are not so very different.”
With a calm peacefulness growing within her, Diana nodded. A smile softened her weariness as she turned her cheek to Elana’s hand. “And each day, perhaps I come closer to remembering that.”
† † †
Part Three
Until the End
Chapter One
A gray dawn appeared as Diana climbed the trail from the stream bed where she had caught a string of fish and a plump pair of grubbers. They had taken a day here to hunt and prepare for the coming trek through the Wayward Path. There would be no food to be found in the depths of the mountain caverns, and despite their need for speed, it had been wise to call a halt.
Six days — had it only been six days back that they had left the Ma’naur to begin this trek south? The wind whipped at her ears and her breath was a frosty white. She quickened her pace up the side of the ravine.
Despite everything she had been through, Elana had guided them well. The ravine she had chosen at the Ma’naur had cut abruptly into that giant wall, and the rocky stream bed had been a tracker’s worst dread. The black current too had been swift at that junction. It had been Fates’ own Jest that they had managed the landing; then the waters had carried the barge west again. When it was eventually found, there would be no trace of where it had unloaded its passengers. It was almost possible that the soldiers would think they had cut the ferry free once they were across at the eastern crossing to prevent being followed. In any event, Diana had scrubbed the deck quickly before releasing the thing; she had not been about to confirm or deny that they traveled on horseback.
The wind grew stronger as she went higher, and thankfully Diana spied the shadowy entrance to their cave. She made a clicking noise with her tongue, calling to the eitteh on guard inside as she approached.
The long, low entry into the rock opened to a gaping cavern with endless tunnels. She walked down the sandy slope inside, not waiting for her eyes to adjust. A fire glowed, reminding her that she was cold. Snow may not have set in, but winter certainly had.
An unreadable green gaze followed her and Diana nodded to the eitteh. The creature blinked sedately. Comfortably enclosed by Elana’s curled figure, its golden wings lay open, protectively covering much of the woman’s body. It pleased them both that Elana still slept — the nightmares had finally begun to fade.
Diana brushed the ash back from the glowing embers stoking the fire. She would clean her catch while it burnt down to cooking coals. Needing the light, she regretfully went back to the windy entrance to work. It would be for the best. She’d not wake Elana and she had a good vantage point to watch for pursuers.
So far, they had seen no sign of tracking soldiers. The eitteh had brought news that there were riders scouting the easterly road and that there were more than the usual number of boats abroad on the Ma’naur. But no one had come far into the canyons — yet. It was not surprising, though. Elana had taken them deep into the winding passes and led them crisscrossing through the narrower, wet paths for two days before arriving in this sprawling, green ravine — a major tributary, spawned from the very foot of the Dual Peaks. Here traveling had grown easier and the game slightly more plentiful.
Tomorrow they would halt just beyond the Dual Peaks settlement, and the day after, if the Mother’s Hand allowed, they would find the Wayward Path. She was not very excited about the venture. It would not be a far walk, but they no longer had the horses and so Garrison would need help.
Still, she thought as she paused in her work to look out across the small valley, it had been a good decision to leave the horses.
Yesterday while Diana was hunting, Elana and the eitteh had taken the animals downstream to a grassy pocket of canyons and left them there. Eventually, the Changlings would find them. But they would have been discovered immediately if loosened at the entrance to the Wayward Path. There were already enough people searching for the ‘Council spies’.
The heavy overcast brought the scent of snow, and Diana felt her bones chill. Elana said that the Seers of the Keep were responsible for the thick clouds coming with the northern front. Even after the driving rains were gone they had not dissipated. It meant the Council had received Diana’s transmission and, rather than searching for them with their Seers and inadvertently aiding the Maltar’s Seer by locating Elana for him, this dimming blanket had been sent across the Wastelands and half of the Maltar’s reign to hinder his search.
Diana looked upward with a sigh. She knew she should wake Elana. She would start the cooking herself. It wouldn’t hurt them to suffer through one of her meals, if it let her beloved sleep.
The eitteh opened her emerald eyes as Diana withdrew from the entrance. She had been dozing while Diana could take the watch. She yawned and flipped her ears forward. Her hearing was acute enough to well warn them of any approaching. Diana smiled at her, mentally noting she’d offer the creature one of the roasted grubbers for breakfast; they were all tired of fish.
Between the two of them Elana had not been left alone since her escape. They found their habits matched well. When the eitteh took the hunt or the late night watch, Diana was always near Elana; when the Amazon went foraging or addressed Garrison’s half-conscious needs, the eitteh stayed close. Their gentle protectiveness had not gone unnoticed by Elana; the young woman had not protested, but drew upon their strength, and her healing was hastened by their patient vigil.
Images crowded through Diana’s mind unbidden, swimming impressions of soldiers and blackness that Elana had finally shared with her. Diana sighed tiredly and pinched the bridge of her nose. Elana had said that the Seers routinely schooled all trainees in the cruelties of men; just as the masters taught them how to avoid — or survive — the blows. Elana had always distanced herself from the Seers’ lessons just as she did daily from others’ experiences, and she said now that the practice had helped. True, she could no longer say to herself, “That is not my body. This is not happening to me.” But she could say, “It is over now. This is a mem
ory. I am safe.” And she found it easier to sleep each day.
Diana respected her for the honesty and for the pain that she did not deny. At night when she woke shivering in a clammy sweat, Diana drew her near and whispered of gentler things and warmer places. She whispered in her Sisters’ tongue and often of home where men were never known and where darkness did not come from locked doors. Then slowly, Elana’s body would relax and her mind ease, and bit by bit she would drift back into a more peaceful sleep. Diana only wished that the bruises on her body could heal as quickly as her spirit seemed to be mending.
“Breakfast smells good.” The faint murmur carried the sound of a smile in it.
“I promise only edible,” Diana returned, looking up.
The eitteh moved with a stiff stretch and a yawn. She squinted with smug satisfaction as Elana scratched the top of the eitteh’s head fondly. Then she rose and padded out to the sandy slope of the entrance. She looked hopefully for a little sun on the single, jutting rock. Unfortunately there was none, so she settled for the cool breeze. The golden winged-cat found shelters and caves a little too cramped for her tastes.
“Those are fresh,” Elana said in surprise and sat up. “You’ve been out again?”
“I went before dawn. I didn’t want to abuse the food stocks so soon.”
“So, you do not trust me when I say there’s enough to see us through?”
“It’s my appetite that I don’t trust,” Diana corrected, delighting in their friendly banter. Again she thought how beautiful Elana’s eyes were and how lovely her hair. She was so glad to have this woman safe.
“How — how is Garrison?” Elana asked haltingly.
Diana felt her stomach twist with guilt as she realized what Elana had read in her amarin. Anger surged through her, quickening her heart, and awkwardly Diana dropped her gaze to the fire. She was learning that since the beatings — the demanding threats, the isolation — Elana cringed at any touch tainted with powerful amarin. Anything of anger — anything hinting of strong amarin… passions of love so easily mimicked passions of another sort when mixed with the memories and the panic.
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 38
