Now, as Lord Nalin's cohorts put their heads up, they found themselves facing what seemed to be a wave of fury. Sprites are more klatha-sensitive than most humans. The creature running towards them, one of the survivors later said, seemed at least fifteen feet tall and as unstoppable as an avalanche. And they were already rattled by the exploding grenades that had appeared from nowhere.
Afterwards the captain admitted that he'd even forgotten to fire, while he was running forward.
Those behind him made up for it.
Lord Nalin's loyalists were not all Nanite-infected. Few of them were, actually. These were just foot soldiers following their lord's orders, who really didn't want to be there at all, fighting the High Lord. They turned and fled. Some of them fell over the barrier of the large cocoon shielding Leewit, two little Sprites and a huge furry beast of some kind. The beast was wounded and bleating plaintively.
The captain got there, and, as he stopped, Arvin's Sprites surged past. There were several hundred of them, and High Lord Arvin was in the van. So was Hantis, accompanied by Pul. A panting Vezzarn and two other Sprites he'd co-opted came up with a makeshift stretcher—and Goth, still in her own shield cocoon.
Catching his breath, the captain decided that the Leewit could wait until he'd liberated Goth. If he could lipread she was saying some pretty awful things, and he didn't know if the Sprites had soap anyway.
Calming himself slowly and deliberately, the captain retraced the pattern that shielded Goth.
"What did you leave me behind for, Captain?" she demanded as she bounced to her feet. "You agreed to stay behind me." It was one of the few times he'd ever seen Goth hopping mad. She even stamped her foot. "What's the point of me staying around until I'm marriageable age if you're going to do STUPID things like that!"
"Er," said Pausert. "The Leewit was in trouble."
Goth was not mollified. "The Leewit's always in trouble." Crossly, Goth glanced at her little sister. "I'd say leave her in there, out of trouble for a change. Save us all some grief. Except those two Sprites seem to want to get to the others that are in with her." She pointed to two anxious Sprites who were trying reach into the shield cocoon.
Pausert realized they were trying to get to the two small Sprites in there, and that the Leewit was signing frantically at him.
He took a deep breath and retraced that pattern too.
Instantly the passage was overwhelmed by yelling.
"Captain!" The Leewit tugged at his sleeve. "The nursebeast's been shot!" She dragged him towards the fluffy thing.
It was definitely bleeding and in pain. He knelt beside it and parted the rich fur, looking for the wound. "Give me the vibro-razor, Vezzarn. Let me just cut the fur clear, here."
He did, exposing the entry-wound. The beast turned its long neck to try and peer at it. Its beery-brown eyes had a look of entreaty that made Pausert feel terribly helpless. Goth and the Leewit were kneeling beside him. So, on the other side of the fluffy creature, were two small Sprites and what were apparently their parents. Sprite soldiers streamed around them as the captain felt around the wound cautiously, wishing he knew more about first aid and more about alien physiology. At a guess, the creature had a bullet lodged in its lung—if it was built like the creatures he was familiar with.
"The bullet will have to come out."
Goth took a deep breath. "I can do that, I think." She closed her eyes, briefly. "Here, Captain." She held out a bloody metal fragment.
"I think I can still the pain and stop the bleeding," said a voice from the Leewit's mouth. It didn't sound like the Leewit, but more like her older sister Maleen. Captain Pausert realized that the Leewit was calling up her sister's pattern to guide her through some piece of unfamiliar klatha. "But I'll need to borrow from you two."
"Sure," said Goth, gruffly. "So long as you fix it. I ought to give you a good thumping later, you idiot. The captain and I have been worried stiff about you. And you nearly got him killed."
"You and what clumping army?" the Leewit jibed. "Just 'cause you're sweet on him! Take more than a few silly Sprites to hurt the captain, anyway. Now help me with the nursebeast. We can fight later."
Goth smiled mistily at her sister. "Just you wait. Now, draw away. This is what they premoted you'd be good at one day."
"What must I do?" asked the captain.
"Just hold her shoulders. And when she needs your strength, let her have it."
"I'll do my best," he said, a bit uncertainly. He knew it wasn't physical strength she wanted.
The Leewit began to glow. Her hands, wrapped in the nursebeast's fur, looked like little torches of warm redness that seemed to be sinking into the animal. The captain felt himself being drawn on . . . and gave. The nursebeast gave an odd sort of hooting whinny and stuck a long pink wet tongue out and licked the little Sprites and the Leewit. Then the fluffy head sank down. The little Sprites gave unmistakably heartbroken cries.
The Leewit said something, tiredly. Even if they weren't human, there was no mistaking the incredulity on the faces of the Sprite parents. And hope on the faces of the little ones.
"I told them she's going to be all right now, with some rest. I think we did the trick, Captain. I could use some rest myself. Can you give us a hand to carry her into their home?"
And then the littlest witch hugged him fiercely, and so did Goth, and Captain Pausert, once of the Republic of Nikkeldepain, suddenly felt very good about the universe and his place in it.
Pausert took one side, Vezzarn and the male Sprite the other; joining hands, they lifted the fluffy thing and carried it down the passage, while the little Sprites, the Leewit and the mother rushed ahead and opened a door into what the captain presumed was the Sprites' apartment. They three carried the nursebeast into a small entirely soft-upholstered room and put it down.
"I guess I'll skip whopping her," said Goth. Her little sister had flopped onto a chair, with the small Sprites on either side. The Leewit looked tired and pale. "This time, anyway."
The Leewit beckoned. "Hey. I've asked them for some food."
"Better make it something we can eat on the run," said Goth. "We've got to catch up with Hantis before she does something silly. She's very taken up with this High Lord Arvin. And we've still got a job to do for Karres, getting her and Pul to the Imperial court before the Winter Carnival."
The Leewit sighed. "I guess. I'll just ask for a few of the meat-roll things, then. They're pretty good and we can eat those while we go."
There followed a high speed exchange in the Sprite language. The two little Sprites were still clinging onto the Leewit, from whom they had to be pried away by their parents.
"I said we'd see them and explain later. And thanks for the food," said the Leewit. "Phew. I hadn't realized what hard work it is not to be the youngest."
Once they got back into the corridor, it was easy to work out where to go. There was a steady stream of armed Sprites heading in one direction. Word must have gotten around, too, because no one tried to stop the human party. They ate as they walked. The captain found he was both ravenous and tired and was grateful to his professional beggar "niece." She must have done a fair job of cleaning out the Sprite family's pantry, as well as expropriating some of their children's clothes.
Nalin had apparently retreated into the upper reaches of the castle. As they got higher, it became apparent that they were catching up on the fighting, and that it had been fierce. Burned areas showed that the High Lord had been forced to make his own path forward. The air stank of smoke, fear, and the coppery smell of Sprite blood.
Captain Pausert began to wonder if he should perhaps have left Goth and the Leewit with the grateful Sprite family. But the Leewit reassured him. "They say it's all over. A small party cut their way out through the shutters and the rest are dead or captive. And the High Lord and the foreign Lady are still alive. Oh. And Pul bit someone."
Pul had indeed bitten someone. Lord Nalin had not been one of those who got away. The Sprites moved asid
e to allow the captain through to Hantis and the High Lord Arvin.
"They say you're a hero, Captain," said Hantis. Her brown face had sooty smudges and a shallow scratch on it. "That you charged the barricades alone."
"You know the captain thinks he has to look after us . . ." Goth's voice trailed off, and it was hardly surprising. Lord Nalin was on the ground in a circle of nervous Sprite-soldiers. He was jerking and twitching, and something that looked like gray dust was spilling out of him.
"Poisoned Nanites," said Hantis grimly.
"And the others? Was he the only one infected?" asked the captain, both fascinated and revolted.
"No. At least seven of them got away. They fled in the direction of Delaron." There was no expression in Hantis' voice. "We also have the infected but not yet controlled ones."
She patted High Lord Arvin on the shoulder. "High Lord, this one is safe. But we must deal with the others. We must sterilize their nest." She turned back to Pausert, Goth, the Leewit and Vezzarn. "Come. See what we're up against."
They went through into an adjoining room. This did not look like it was a home—even a war-smashed home—of the detail and decor-conscious Sprites. Instead the glass and bric-a-brac with which the Sprites filled every spare corner had been carelessly swept together. Glass, gold, silver, gems and crystal lay broken and jumbled in a trash pile.
On the floor lay some twenty-seven Sprites. Males. Females. Even a child. Their bodies convulsed every now and again. Their eyes were open . . . and empty.
* * *
Hantis saw how the High Lord started when he saw the infected ones.
Then he gave a cry of horror and would have run into the room, if Hantis had not restrained him. "You don't understand," he said frantically, trying to pull away from her hands. "Hantis, that is Neirion there! We must help her! We are betrothed."
"No, my Lord Arvin," said Hantis. "It is you who do not understand. That was your betrothed. Now she is just a crawling mass of Nanites."
"But we must get them out of her! We must."
"We can't. We have found no way of doing so. Not without killing the victim. Anyway, it is already too late." She spoke as gently as she could, knowing full well that it was this moment that had transformed the gentle young Arvin into Arvin Warmaker, who had half-destroyed Nartheby to save it. And been cursed by generations unborn for his goodness and greatness.
"You must destroy this with your klatha power. Destroy all of Lord Nalin's chambers. Sterilize everything with cleansing fire. It is the greatest—the only—mercy you can give to those infected."
Hantis saw the anguish in the young High Lord's face. "I can't!"
"High Lord Arvin. Unless you would see all Aloorn, and indeed all Nartheby like that, you must. Our dominions are already lost. Without you, we are, too." She paused. "And you do have the strength. Three thousand years later we still remember that you did."
CHAPTER 32
It had been a more comfortable rest than the last couple he'd had, Captain Pausert had to admit. The Sprites were treating them rather like royalty, even if Hantis said that they would still have to appear in the Hall of Stars before High Lord Arvin in the Seat of Judgment the next morning. Arvin was recovering from the immense amount of klatha energy he'd expended. If Hantis was right, he was also preparing to attack and destroy the neighboring principality, as part of saving his species and the galaxy from the Nanite plague
That was all very well, but the captain wanted to get back to saving his own species and the galaxy from the same plague—three thousand years from now. It was of course logical that it had to be saved earlier, in order to have it around to save later, but Arvin seemed to have the matter in hand. He was doing just fine, and didn't need them at all, other than some advice from Hantis and the loan of Pul as a stud. But Pausert was no nearer to solving his own problem of how to get them back. The vatch was still around, but it was keeping its distance.
The Hall of Stars was just as full as it had been the last time they had been there. And once again they were in the gallery reserved for the accused. But this time they were respectfully ushered into it.
"It's mostly a formality," said Hantis, with slight unease. "It was all something of a misunderstanding."
"But you did call the High Lord names," pointed out the Leewit, a bit self-righteously. "You punched him in the belly, too."
"And you, little lady, did willfully destroy precious crystals, some of which had been grown for more than five centuries in zero-gravity."
"Hey! The little squirts were going to fry us!" protested the Leewit.
"That takes some nerve—you, calling anyone else a little squirt." Hantis smiled impishly. "It's not that the High Lord wants to punish us, but Sprite law is quite inflexible. He'll have to go through the motions. If there are complainants, then he has to act. But now that the truth is being told, Arvin and the others are somewhat embarrassed. No one will complain."
But it soon became apparent that although High Lord Arvin was content to let bygones be bygones, some of the other Sprites were not. First, the accusers got to speak.
"They're saying," said the Leewit with a frown, "that misunderstanding or no, Hantis insulted Aloorn's honor. And we destroyed part of the ancient heritage of Aloorn. And that one is saying that the High Lord is taking a stranger's word and destroying part of—hey, wait a minute! I recognize him! That's the one they called Wellpo. He's one of those three that kidnapped me!"
"Ah," said Hantis. "I will ask the guard to take a message to the High Lord. I could tell he was lying, but I thought that it was merely politics, which is mostly lies. You don't remember the name of the third kidnapper?"
The Leewit shook her head. "No. She had a sharp chin and a pointy nose, that was all I noticed."
"Well, that means it could only be about any of the Sprites," said Goth with a yawn. The captain knew how she felt. The proceedings were long and the seats comfortable enough to encourage a nap. Below them the arguments went back and forth. And on and on, rather like a slow foreign play in which the dialogue was the only important part. Then, just as the captain was dropping off to sleep, things suddenly got more interesting.
"They're grabbing old Wellpo!" squeaked the Leewit with delight. "Said he'd stick a knife into me. Oh, look! He's hit one of the High Lord's guards over the head!"
Pausert sat up and peered over the edge of the gallery. There was quite a fracas going on in a gallery some ways down and further to his right. And, he noticed, one going on across to their left that the Leewit hadn't yet spotted.
He took her by the elbow and pointed. "That your lady with a pointy nose?"
The hat of the "lady" in question had just been knocked off. She was struggling with two of the High Lord's guards.
"Yep," said the Leewit in satisfaction. "I guess they got her, too." Then her eyes narrowed and she whistled. Several pieces of expensive crystal in the far gallery shattered, including a globe in the long-nosed woman's hand.
The Sprites in the gallery scattered. "Guess whatever was in there was pretty nasty," said the Leewit. "They've still got her though."
"She was one of those calling for retribution, too," said Hantis with satisfaction. "The guard I sent to tell Arvin about Wellpo said that the High Lord had instructed the guards to search his quarters. I think they must have found something that incriminated her. I think that this is all over, even before those who would speak for us have their turn."
"Vatch!" hissed Goth. "Captain, get ready."
Pausert began hastily shaping hooks of klatha force with his mind. And then realized that, unless Silver-eyes needed to be tickled, they wouldn't help.
Why didn't you catch the big one? it buzzed reproachfully. I took a big chance teasing it, Big Real Thing. It nearly caught me, too—and then you let it get away!
It was too quick for me, admitted the captain. And I can't get close enough to it now. It's watching us, but keeping its distance. I've been trying to figure out how to either go after it, or to
get it to come closer.
The tiny vatch buzzed around, amusing itself by doing a quick light-shift and making the underside of the gallery where they stood transparent. Why don't you hide where we can't see? Then the big one might come looking. Though it might just go away, I suppose.
If the big vatch just went away they'd be stuck here in the past. But they had to try something. Where can we hide, though? You seem to be able to find us across time and space.
There's a no-place right here, Big Real Thing. Where they make the stuff for the lights. The place where up spins. You could hide there.
"Where 'up spins'?" The captain assumed Silver-eyes was talking about some kind of power plant. He thought about it for a while.
Where up spins. A generator? A spinning magnetic field? That might make some sort of sense to a creatures like a vatch.
The crowded galleries began cheering.
"What's going on out there?" asked the captain, irritated that his train of thought had been disturbed.
Hantis laughed. "We've got a lot more adherents than Sprites who wish us ill—especially as the chief detractor turned out to be a paid spy and possible murderer. The fact that the Leewit is a child and was kidnapped upset a lot of Sprites. The mother of young Lisol and Ta'himmin has just finished speaking. She was very eloquent on your behalf, Captain. We Sprites are protective of our young. They'll be yelling for war now, when they find out the infected ones have fled to Delaron."
"Huh. Child!" said the Leewit crossly. "I think I'll whistle at 'em. Lisol and Ta'himmin are children. Me, I'm—"
"An impossible brat," said the captain, with a smile. "A pint-sized disaster-in-motion. Other terms come to mind." He pressed on before the Leewit could do more than scowl. "Now, if they'll let us out of here, I want to try getting out of historical Nartheby before you go and destroy any more its ancient heritage. Is there a power-generator room we can get to, Hantis?"
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