—Opening—
—That way!—
The three ifflings darted away, fleeing across the underrealm. The enemy gave chase. The living flames, all of them, burned bright in this strange arid underrealm. But in the darkness behind them, the ifflings sensed the human alone once more, temporarily abandoned by the false-ones.
—Make contact again!—
—She must be led!—
The ifflings swept back in a great arc. But the two remaining enemies flew quickly to block the way. The ifflings veered. Before the false-ones could intercept them, they skated around the human and flanked it from the opposite side. Now three true-ifflings and two false-ifflings surrounded the human. The ifflings darted and jockeyed; but they could not approach closer without drawing a new attack. The false-ones were equally wary.
Hovering in an uneasy truce, they waited and watched, calling out, hoping that even from a distance, the human might hear their voices and follow.
* * *
Jarvorus watched his adversaries with gnawing apprehension. No longer was he so certain of his ability to sweep them away! Three of his fellows were gone, destroyed! He had been too confident. But no more. He would not drop his vigil even for an instant. And if the chance came, he would crush the ifflings once and for all.
At the same time, he felt drawn to the shimmering presence of the human. Her awareness in the underrealm was a flickering and uncertain thing. The ifflings had gotten through to her briefly; but now neither they nor he could get close enough to speak directly. He would call out to her in the underrealm anyway—call from a distance. That way might not be so subtle as he wished, but his message would be heard.
She would know: Windrush was a traitor who sought only to entrap her. Jarvorus' mission was clear and he would see to it that he was heard.
* * *
Jael got no more sleep that night. Voices seemed to keep calling to her in the night, voices that she could not quite make out, voices that would give her no peace.
She spent the following day in solitude, overcome by feelings of déjà vu. She remembered her feelings two years ago, between her first encounter in the dragon realm—the trip that culminated in her killing her own captain in self-defense—and her first meeting with Ar in the port of Lexis, a meeting that ultimately led her back to Highwing's mountains. Then, as now, she'd been alone on a world that was not home, waiting and hoping the impossible hope, for circumstances that would permit her to return to those harsh, alien, beautiful mountains.
Now she could only await Ar's arrival. She could not conceive of returning to the dragon realm without him. In the meantime, she desperately wished she had someone she could talk to about it. There was Ed, of course. But Ed, her beloved cyberparrot, was not human and not what she needed now. She felt terribly alone.
It helped a little to get out and walk around. The port of Krakow on Cargeeling was more a town than a city, with a large park at its center, surrounding a lake. She walked in the park in the afternoon, watching the birds and recording images of them for Ed, who accompanied her in a small memory-device hung on her neck chain. She slowly began to be able to think.
How could she get a ship so that she might go to Windrush? There was no doubt in her mind that she must go. The question was how. And how would she find the dragon, if he was in trouble? She had an unsettling feeling that someone meant to lead her.
Her thoughts returned, as well, to last night and that strange man Kan-Kon. He was a sad case, perhaps, but he knew of the dragons and believed in them. That was more than anyone else here could offer.
That night she returned to the Green Tap, but to her disappointment, there was no sign of Kan-Kon. She approached some people who had the look of regulars. A polite query brought only shrugs, and a muttered deprecation about Kan-Kon. Sitting down at a table, she sat drumming her fingers, wondering what time Kan-Kon was likely to come in. Finally she sought out the human manager and asked him. He told her that Kan-Kon had been in the 'lucie room earlier. He hooked a thumb toward the rear of the bar.
Jael frowned and hesitated at the entrance to the 'lucie room, wrinkling her nose at the stale, smoky smells coming through the curtained doorway. She took a deep breath of fresh air and ducked in. It was a close, dim room, the air stifling with incense, tobacco, and God knew what other substances. Colored lights and holos danced in her eyes, making it hard to focus. There was a grumbling undertone of music, leaking from the headsets worn by the half dozen or so patrons, all of whom were under 'lucie wires or tabs. None of them, with the exception of a horse-headed Swert, paid her the slightest attention. The Swert's large-eyed, penetrating gaze caused her to shiver and look away.
Kan-Kon was sitting cross-legged in the far corner, looking even more disheveled than he had the night before. Synaptic auggie wires streamed from his head, and he was smoking a hookah from which a sweet, greenish white smoke curled into the already thick air. She exhaled with a cough and took another dizzying lungful. She picked her way past the other motionless bodies, stepping carefully over the bare stick-legs of a sallow-faced man who was puffing energetically in and out through a seemingly empty glass cylinder. Jael didn't even want to know what he was doing. She reached the ex-rigger and crouched in front of him. "Hey," she said. "Kan-Kon!"
He sighed, rocking his head from side to side. He looked as though a deep fog lay about his brain.
"Kan-Kon!" she said sharply. She hesitated, then reached out, wondering if she could just remove the wires from his head.
"It is not permitted to touch the wires of another patron," said a voice from overhead. "Please respect the privacy of others and do not disturb their sessions."
She craned her neck to look up. The voice was coming from a speaker in the ceiling. A long plastic robot arm, also attached to the ceiling, was shaking a finger at her. She flushed, feeling foolish. Was she going to argue with a robot? She dropped her hands to her sides.
"Thank you, ma'am."
Kan-Kon was still oblivious to her presence. Clearly she could give up on him tonight. She turned away in distaste and fled from the room, trying not to breathe, until she escaped from the bar by the rear exit.
In the alley, panting to clear her lungs, she walked out toward the street and then into the park where she and Kan-Kon had sat last night. She wanted both to cry and to scream. Resting on a bench, she inhaled the night air, smelling the lake and the dark-cedars and spider-blossoms. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, wishing she could blot the farmsat's light from the sky so that she could see the stars.
She felt a profound loneliness, and she wept silently for her friends who needed her, who were so far away. Eventually she dozed off. When she awoke, the town was quiet, the clubs were mostly dark, and she had a terrific neckache. She trudged back to the dorm, got a sandwich from a dispenser, and returned to her room, where she ate one bite before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.
* * *
She spent the next day in the rigger nav library, running sims of various routes to the mountain region of Aeregian space. Later, she again went looking for Kan-Kon, hoping to find him before he could lose himself in drink, drugs, or wires. But her search was fruitless; no one in any of the clubs had seen him all evening. One woman told Jael that she'd seen him sitting in the park that morning and he'd looked . . . scared, she'd thought. But where he'd gone, the woman had no idea.
Jael gave up. On an impulse, she went to the depot and caught a night train out of Krakow to one of the small tourist towns out beyond the radius of the farmsat's light. She took a room, but spent most of the night sitting out under the stars, watching the rotation of the sky until it brought the constellations of Aeregian space blazing high over the horizon. Somewhere out there, among the stars scattered like motes of glowing dust in the sky, was the mountain route leading to the port of Lexis. Somewhere in that region, dipping into the Flux, one could find the realm of dragons. She gazed for a long time, and felt her hopes and fears rise and fall like
an invisible tide.
The feeling persisted that someone, or some spirit, not of this world, lingered nearby—trying to speak to her across an unbreachable barrier. When she finally slept that night, she dreamed of voices booming and rushing about her, like water in a stream pounding down a carved channel. She dreamed that someone was calling Windrush a traitor to the realm. She dreamed that Windrush was calling out to her in his sleep. She dreamed of someone calling: They are trying to entrap you! and she woke up with those words echoing in her mind.
Returning to Krakow, she renewed her search for Kan-Kon. No one seemed to think it unusual for him to drop out of sight. Who could predict the habits of a rigger turned lush—and who cared, besides Jael? She began to wonder if she had imagined her conversation with the man. She checked with registry and verified that Ar had not yet returned. She fumed and went to the nav library and ran another sim. She went to a holoshow and left in the middle. Finally she went to a bar and, uncharacteristically, got stinking drunk, telling at least three potential suitors to drop dead.
The next morning, waking with ringing ears and a splitting headache, she could remember nothing of the previous night's dreams. She decided that perhaps it would be smart to forget Kan-Kon, as well. She spent the day in the park, thinking through various options for getting back into space. The most obvious was to seek an assignment on an unaccompanied single-rigger to Lexis. But her memories of begging work alone in the rigger halls were as vivid today as ever—and anyway, she didn't seriously intend to go anywhere without Ar. And yet, she feared waiting too long.
They are trying to entrap you! The words swirled in her mind. Windrush needs you.
She reviewed her finances. She was no longer poor, by the standards of her profession. Flying with Ar, she had saved most of her earnings, and she could add to that the settlement she had received from the estate of her late former captain, Mogurn—not just flight pay, but damages for Mogurn's coercive abuse. Still, that hardly put her in the category of being able to acquire a ship. She thought of appealing directly to Mariella Flaire. But it seemed absurd to think that Flaire would divert a starship for Jael's personal needs.
That only seemed to leave . . . stealing Flaire's ship the next time she and Ar were sent out together. And that was almost unthinkable.
And yet . . .
What was she willing to do to help her friend? She had already once risked Flaire's ship, and her own life and her shipmates' lives, to help Highwing when he was in need. She had no regrets about that. But that had not been a premeditated theft.
She rubbed her eyes, staring hopelessly. The lake seemed almost incongruously peaceful as she gazed out over its waters, thinking.
"Miss—"
She started, and looked up into the craggy face of Kan-Kon.
"I've—I've forgotten your name," the man stammered. "But you know—I have this feeling we talked some, a day or two ago." He scratched his stubbly chin.
Jael gulped and nodded, and gestured to the grass beside her. The retired rigger eyed her for a moment, then carefully lowered himself to the ground, like some ungainly, spindly bird.
"I've been looking for you," she said. "Where have you been?"
Kan-Kon shrugged. "Here—there—no place special." He was silent for a moment, then grunted. "You were looking for me?"
Jael frowned. She was sure that he remembered perfectly well what they had talked about the other night. Why else would he be here? "I wanted to talk to you about the . . . dragons. I thought maybe—"
His voice shook as he interrupted her. "About—?"
"Dragons," Jael snapped. "Remember them?"
"Well—" He swallowed and glanced away. "No, I—don't think I really know anything about that, miss—"
"Jael. My name is Jael. And yes you do." She took a sharp breath. "Are you telling me you don't remember losing your shipmate there? And you don't remember the ifflings? And their prophecy? You don't remember—?"
"Okay!" he hissed. "Okay, miss—Jael. You don't have to be—" And he suddenly turned his back to her, and trembled as though crying.
Jael felt sorry for him, but not sorry enough to let go. "Kan-Kon," she said, hardening her voice. Damn you, she thought, what are you afraid of? "Kan-Kon, listen to me! We may be the only two people on this planet who know the dragons are real. And the ifflings." And it suddenly hit her, like a bolt—how could she not have seen it before? The creatures who had spoken to her in the middle of the night—were they ifflings?
"Ifflin's," Kan-Kon whispered. "Saved my life." He slowly turned back to face her.
"I think—I saw some ifflings—a few nights ago," she said. "They spoke to me."
"It scared me," he said, seeming not to hear her words— "talkin' to you and knowin' that you been there, too. I been—tryin' to forget, ever since."
"Why? Because you lost your friend there?"
For a moment, she thought he was going to cry again. His face tightened up, and twisted, and he nodded. "I'm just—always wonderin'—if he might be—" He looked away, suddenly, and stared out over the water. Then his chin jerked, and he gazed back at her. "Did you jus' say you saw ifflings—here?"
Jael nodded.
"Damn," he whispered. "Damn. I've been feelin' like I've been hearin' voices lately. That same night we talked was the worst—didn't sleep a wink, not a damn wink. I—I just figgered it was the booze, the damn booze makin' me hear things."
Jael strained toward him. "You've heard them, too? What did they say to you?"
Kan-Kon snorted. "To me? Nothing. It was more like I dreamed they was there, hoverin' around, watchin' something that had nothing to do with me, and talkin' to each other." He hesitated, stroking his chin. "Mebbe I 'magined the whole thing. I dunno."
Electrified, Jael stared at Kan-Kon. But when she spoke, it was as much to herself as to him. "I have to go back there," she said. "They need me."
"Shuuuuu—WHAT?"
"I have to go back. To help my friends."
Kan-Kon's eyebrows quivered in disbelief, or horror.
Jael looked away, remembering the iffling's words . . . remembering how much had gone before, to draw her and the dragons together in friendship. It had not merely been her rescue of Highwing from a fiery exile, or even Highwing's help in freeing her from the bondage of the shipowner Mogurn. Those acts had grown out of another—Highwing's freeing her from the bondage of her own past, from the bondage of a lifetime of bitterness against her father. That was what the dragon had done for her, which no human had been able to do—and it was not only because he had recognized in her the embodiment of an ancient dragon prophecy. It was done, she believed, out of genuine friendship. And that was why she would never abandon Highwing's son, any more than she would have abandoned Highwing himself. She nodded, looking back at Kan-Kon. "I don't have a ship yet. But I'll find a way. Somehow."
Kan-Kon looked as though he would pop a vein in his forehead. "You're going back," he whispered.
She nodded again.
"Ship. You need a ship." He was squinting now, as though every fiber of his body were concentrated in thought.
"Do you know where I can get one?" She didn't really expect an answer.
Kan-Kon angled his face up into the sun as though contemplating her question. But when he looked down again, he merely shook his head. "Mighty tough to get a ship, if you're aimin' to go that route."
She sighed and tugged at the tough, pliant grass between her knees. "Would you want to come with us?" Only after the words were out did she realize what she had just said.
Kan-Kon's face went pale. His eyes seemed to focus very far away, his lips trembled, and he began coughing.
"That's okay. I didn't think you would," Jael said hastily. She waited until his coughing subsided. "Anyway, I'm hoping my partner, Ar, can help me come up with a way when he gets back." She shrugged. "If there's anything you remember that might help . . . I mean, you never know what might be useful."
Kan-Kon's eyes were still focused elsewh
ere. He seemed to be in shock over the very idea of going back to that place. He sat still for what seemed a very long time; then, without warning, he stood up and brushed off his pants. "I must be going," he said softly. He began to stride away.
"Wait!"
Kan-Kon looked back.
"I'm staying at the rigger dorm!" she yelled. "Jael LeBrae. Call if you think of anything, all right?"
Kan-Kon might have nodded, or it might just have been her imagination. Then he walked off along the waters that lapped at the grassy shore.
* * *
Dragon Rigger Page 12
