by Emerson, Ru
"Done,” Dahven said. He stood, bent over coughing, but waved her off when she came toward him. “No—stay there, keep the—damn!—the horses back.” He drew a wheezing breath, shook his head, coughed again.
"Two more times,” Lialla warned as she rode back toward them. She dragged the nervous horse to a halt and stood in the stirrups to peer up the slope. “They split up last time, remember?"
"Who wouldn't?” Chris retorted. “Mom?"
"Coming. Oh, God.” Robyn was panting. “Is it there?"
"I'll tell you,” Lialla said grimly. “What are you doing back there, Jen?"
"Trying something; don't distract us,” Jennifer replied.
"Oh, God,” Robyn said again. “I swear I heard horses coming up the road, just now. Let—shut up, everyone, and let me listen, will you?"
Momentary silence. Jennifer reached into Thread and caught hold of the red: familiar and easy to work. She detached herself almost at once. “New trouble, folks. Enough horses that it has to be Firsi and his friends."
"Light,” Lialla said tensely.
"See them,” Chris said.
"Dahven,” Jennifer said anxiously. He was still staring at his handiwork—something that looked like concentric four-leaf clovers to her—and mumbling to himself. “Dahven!"
"I heard.” He drew a deep breath, coughed a little, mumbled something under his breath. Finally took up the bo again, glanced uphill and drew a line that cut through the inner and outer figures, pointing the way he'd looked. “I don't know. It's supposed to somehow block them. Doesn't look like much, does it?"
"No,” Jennifer agreed. She stuffed the flashlight in her jacket pocket, bent her knees slightly, came up onto the balls of her feet, ready to dodge an attack. The Host came across the road at a different angle—almost paralleling the road, west to east. Two of the riders missed the back corner of the wagon by inches; a third came down between Robyn and Lialla; the rest split around Dahven and his drawn figure. Jennifer, behind him, had her hands momentarily full with hysterical horses. “I think I'll kill you!” she shouted at him. “Trusting that thing like that!"
He turned to grin at her; his forehead was damp. “I didn't; I couldn't move. It did work.” He came over and took the horses from her. “I'm only sorry I don't know a way to unmake a Host—but this will help, won't it?"
"Final time,” Lialla said. Apparently she hadn't heard them, or the words hadn't registered in all the excitement. “If we can evade them this time—"
"Up north, you said they don't go away until they kill something,” Chris said pointedly.
"I didn't,” Lialla snarled back. “I said four times, if you can avoid them, that's it. Light—watch yourselves!"
"Look out!” Robyn was pointing back down the road. A slight rise had hidden the riders until just now; moon shone on metal—protective plates on leather armor and drawn swords. Fourteen men checked at the top of the hill. Firsi or someone else saw those they pursued and shouted, “There!” A loud, rough cheer greeted this; men urged milling horses forward.
Dahven thrust the bo into Jennifer's hands and pulled himself into the saddle, drawing the sword that hung from the saddlebow. The already frightened horse stood on its hind legs and swung in a half-circle. With an oath, he brought it back around and down onto all fours, coming back to face south just as the Host came into sight for the fourth and final time.
Firsi and his men saw it at the same moment; men shouted, swore, dragged horses back and around. The Host was coming at the same swift trot but time around it seemed to somehow slow—as though giving her more time to fear it, Jennifer thought rather wildly. She threw herself onto the horse, laid the bo across her thighs and tried to still her own nerves so the poor animal didn't have those to cope with as well. The donkey-riders were splitting up. Firsi and two of the Sikkreni were almost upon them, unable to control their panicked mounts and shoved forward by the men behind them. Dahven drew his horse off to the north side of the road and swore hotly. Firsi came to a halt right on top of the carefully drawn figure; his sword was up and out.
Dahven cast a quick glance at Jennifer, at the approaching Host, at Firsi, whose attention was all for him. “Get back!” Jennifer followed his glance, dropped the bo and somehow forced her mount around and down off the road toward the water. She felt the wind of the passing rider and smelled dust and grubby donkey. Fortunately for her, the other riders had gone the other way; she was shaking too much to avoid anything else. Save it, she ordered herself. But now the horse refused, utterly, to cooperate and she came close to being thrown. A shrill, terrified cry; she glanced up as the donkey-rider passed over the spot where she'd been, over the destroyed sketch, and over Firsi.
* * * *
Someone grabbed the reins, jerking them from her hands, yanking down hard. The horse snorted, stopped; Chris's voice was overly loud against her left ear and it echoed oddly. “Hey, lady! I said get off that thing, okay?"
"Okay,” Jennifer said. She wrapped both arms around the thick neck, forced her right leg over the unfamiliar pile of things tied behind her, slid to the ground.
"Here,” Chris said. He shoved the bo upright between her and the saddle, wrapped her left hand around it. “I've got the brainless wonder tied off to a rock; he won't pull anything now."
"Bets?” Jennifer asked, rather breathlessly. She turned, weight against the saddle, bo dug in to help her balance. Chris patted her shoulder.
Dahven sat his horse in the road, talking to the two men who'd ridden out ahead of the others with Firsi; she couldn't hear what any of them said, but moments later, the Sikkreni turned and rode back to join their companions, and all thirteen went back down the road.
There was no sign of Firsi or of his horse. Dahven jumped from his horse and squatted in the middle of the road, peering at what was left of his sign; Jennifer took a couple of deep breaths to clear her mind and went to join him. The flashlight, fortunately, hadn't fallen from her pocket. It was perhaps a little dimmer. She flashed it over the ground once, thumbed it off. “It's too bad; if he hadn't erased that, he might have been all right,” Dahven said. He didn't sound very sorry. “They may come after us again, but I doubt it. Firsi had some kind of grudge; I don't fully understand that thinking."
"No.” Jennifer laughed faintly. “It's a self-eliminating sport."
"Mmmm?"
"Joke. Never mind.” She stood, turned. “Everyone all right over there?"
"Counting heads,” Robyn replied. Her voice was still trembly.
"Can't find Ernie.” Chris said. “He didn't—"
"No,” Edrith said flatly. “They didn't go anywhere near the tongue of the wagon, did they? He was right there, and I never saw any of them near him.” He added, rather defensively, “I was watching out for him the best I could.” He went forward, vanished around the empty wagon. “It drops off here pretty suddenly; couldn't see that before the moon came out. Chris, you got that blue-light?"
"Not on me, jeez, you know?"
"Here.” Lialla came forward on foot, blue light seeping between her hands. “You think he's—?"
"Could be,” Edrith said. He took the light and vanished momentarily. “Got him!” The voice was muffled, even when Jennifer came up to the front edge of the wagon, where it tilted forward and slightly down. Another step or two and the entire wheel would have been in the rocky little defile that had been almost invisible earlier. Even now, with full moonlight on them, Edrith was a dark, vague blue-lit movement in a darker hole. “He doesn't look very good. Lialla, I think you and Jen better both come down and look at him—here, wait,” he added as he looked up. Blue light cast strange shadows up his face, changing it to a stranger's. “Let me climb up first; there isn't very much room down here."
Jennifer let him hold the blue-light while she edged cautiously down the first few steps, then took it to hold for Lialla. It took them several moments to work their way down to the fallen Enardi, who lay on his back, one leg bent under him. Lialla edged around to h
is right and down below where he lay, then came back up so she could ease herself down onto her knees. Jennifer crouched next to him. “All right, we're here,” she called up. “Everyone shut up, please, so I can concentrate on what I'm doing, will you?"
Lialla had already shifted into Thread-awareness; in the narrow cleft it was even more disconcerting and uncomfortable to deal with, and humming was only a partial help. Fortunately, the sin-Duchess withdrew into the normal almost immediately. “I don't think he came down on his head; I should be able to see—you know. This shoulder”—she pointed, not quite touching it—“is dislocated."
"Fine,” Jennifer replied tightly. It really wasn't better than it had been at the beginning, living another's pain when she must think, deal with that pain and heal it. “That can be fixed without much trouble.” She gazed down through a maze of Thread, heightened awareness showing the tangle of purple knotted nearer Lialla than her—shoulder, surely. Bruising everywhere—easily recognizable by the way it pulsed. The color lower, near where she crouched, was ruddy, frayed ends everywhere. She brought her hands down close to the damage, felt heat, fragments of Thread drifting loose. “Break,” she announced briefly. It was hard, nearly impossible, talking from the midst of Thread; one of the things that never seemed to get any easier. She dragged herself free, ran both hands through her hair and looked down at the boy. Sighed heavily. When she glanced up, Lialla was watching her anxiously.
"Can you fix it?"
Jennifer shrugged. “Not really. Neri showed me a couple of things but he didn't figure on any of us falling ten feet to rocks. I don't think there's anything that works on a break, unless you know of something.” Lialla chewed one knuckle and sighed. “What I thought.” She shifted her weight cautiously and tilted her head back. “Chris. He's out cold, broken leg, dislocated shoulder. Probably a royal headache when he comes to, but no cracked skull."
"Small favors,” Chris said. “How the hell do we get him out of there?"
Jennifer considered this briefly. Met Lialla's eyes. The sin-Duchess was still chewing on her knuckle. “Are you going to help me with this, Lialla?” she asked crisply.
"I—"
"If we hurry up, we can probably get that shoulder back where it belongs before everything in there swells up and it becomes a serious job. We can probably spare the poor boy a lot of hell. But if you don't want to—"
"Stop it,” Lialla said sharply. She shoved scarves out of the way, shoved the sleeves of her black shirt up to the elbows and nodded. “I'll do what I can—what I have to."
The shoulder had swelled enough that Lialla had to deal with that before they could do anything else; Jennifer had seen a dislocation reset once and was braced for an ugly time of it. Lialla, who hadn't, set her jaw and stuck with it but was nearly sick after. She crawled away for several moments, came back pale and shaking, but set her lips in a tight line once more and did what Jennifer said.
"Chris?” she called up. “Need a couple pieces of straight something to brace this leg; do it, all right?"
It was Edrith who peered over the edge. “Already working on it."
"Good. Keep everyone back, will you? I don't want any rocks coming down on my head."
"Did that, too."
Jennifer let her head fall forward and reached up to rub the back of her neck. The muscles felt like a solid sheet of wood. She began humming under her breath—something by Liszt, she thought, hard to remember such details at the moment. Lialla was dealing with Enardi's bruises. Doing a good job of it, too, Jennifer thought. I wish she'd realize that. Before she drives us all nuts.
6
Chris leaned over the edge some time later, to ask anxiously, “Hey, is he all right?"
Jennifer had to try twice to form the thought and get it out; working with Thread in such a cramped space seemed to be affecting her mind. “I think he will be. Are you people going to come up with a couple boards so we can secure his leg and get him out of this hole?"
"Eddie's working on that. Aletto and Dahven are trying to do something about the wheel. I don't know how we're going to transport him—"
"Save it, okay, kid?” Jennifer let her head fall back so she could look up at him. Chris was shadow against the night sky; she could see blue light moving somewhere behind him. She ran a hand through her hair, blotted her forehead with the backs of her fingers. “Look, I know you're worried about him, but one thing at a time, do you mind?"
"I don't mind,” Chris said gloomily. “His old man's going to kill me—"
"Save that, too. The last thing you have time for right now is a major guilt trip, agreed?"
"Major guilt trip,” Chris echoed. “Hey, who you been hanging out with? Your Rhadazi sounds really rad!” Jennifer laughed, shook her head.
"All right. If you were trying to ease the tension down here, you helped a little. Now scram, go find something useful to do, all right? Perhaps come up with a system of padding to keep this poor child off the bottom of the wagon so he doesn't die every time it hits a hole."
"That's presuming the noble boy wonders can fix the damned thing. And if you're real nice to me, I won't tell Ernie what you called him,” Chris warned as he got to his knees. “Poor child; rully."
"That's boys wonder, Mr. Grammar,” Jennifer replied. “Scram, will you?"
"I—wait. Got the boards you wanted.” Chris turned his head and Jennifer lost a few words. “—Whoa, guy, what'd you do, make a box?"
"Best way to transport a break on such a road."
"No, it's not,” Chris replied gloomily. “Life Flight's a lot better. Never mind, tell you later. Hand that over; you're better on your feet than I am so you drop in, I'll pass it down, and you can hand it on to Jen."
"Chris?” Jennifer called up. “Stretcher of some kind, maybe one of the thickest blankets, a couple of the long ropes? Fix it and get it down here. I hate to manhandle him out of here like that, but I don't think we'll have any choice."
"Get the leg packed good; I think I can keep him out,” Lialla said tersely. “Tell Robyn to dig out the sleeping draught Marseli gave us."
Jennifer turned to look down at her. “How do you plan on keeping him unconscious?"
"What Neri showed me, for calming? If you tighten it enough, it puts you out cold.” Lialla smoothed hair back from the boy's forehead. “It did for me, anyway; it's worth a try, isn't it?"
"It certainly is,” Jennifer said vigorously. “Do it. I'll—here comes Eddie; watch out for loose rock."
"The boys wonder have the wheel faked somehow,” Chris called down.
"Swell. One thing at a time, remember?"
Chris sighed rather dramatically, then said, as though to a small child or the mentally halt: “You get Ernie in the sling. We will pull on the ropes. Is that all right?"
It was a mess, working in the enclosed little space, fighting the triple thickness of reinforced blanket under Enardi, making certain the ropes were straight, that nothing had looped or bunched so that it would come loose when the boy was off the ground. Lialla was visibly trembling with the effort of gripping Thread; Jennifer felt ill from his residual pain, from the external jolt of Thread and the shuddering vibration of Lialla's Wielding. Even with Edrith and Chris pulling steadily, there seemed to be a lot of dead weight on her arms. Shoulder height; and then she was on her knees, on her feet, pressing above her head with arms that ached and trembled. Suddenly, he was gone beyond reach; Jennifer sagged, then fell to her knees and rested her forehead against a braced hand. Lialla's hand gripped her wrist.
"Are you all right?"
"God, no, I think I'm dead,” Jennifer replied breathily.
"He's out; they have him,” Lialla said. “We'd better go. You can rest in the wagon with him."
Jennifer nodded, managed to slow her breath from a thin, rapid pant to something nearer normal. “Yeah. Go ahead, I'm right behind you.” She caught Lialla's arm as the other woman turned away. “Before we go, though: just so you know. You did great."
"Think
so?” It was hard to tell the other woman's expression with only a faint blue light for illumination; Lialla shrugged finally.
"You did great. That kid will thank you for what you did. I'm just doing it now. Don't beat on yourself so much, Lialla. You're turning into a damned fine Wielder, and you're good under pressure. Now, let's get out of here."
* * * *
The wagon had been pulled back onto the road, beyond the mess of holes, fissures and cuts that had damaged it earlier; the mule was in place once more, and Edrith held the reins. Lialla knelt halfway back in the flat bed, but as Jennifer and Dahven came up, she edged back and over the tailgate. Chris handed her the reins to her horse. Aletto was restowing goods that had been piled all anyhow on the horses back in the wagon, stuffing the last blankets along one side. He went back to squat by the wheel and waved a hand. Edrith urged the mule forward several cautious, slow paces, then brought him to a halt. Aletto shook his head, sighed, used the side of the wagon to pull himself back to his feet.
"It seems all right. We'd better have a walker out front, all the same; it won't take any abuse, and I don't know if we can tie it back together again if it breaks a second time."
"Let's not try and find out, shall we?” Lialla said tiredly. She gestured. “If only for Enardi's sake. Jennifer—? Oh, there you are."
"Right here."
"Good. Why don't you ride in the wagon first? Edrith will have his hands full with the mule and the road."
Edrith shook his head. “I can—"
"It's all right, Eddie,” Jennifer assured him. “I think I'd fall right off the horse at the moment and the kid really needs a full-time watcher. I'll keep an eye on him; you drive."
