“Serendipity,” Mikal murmured. “One of those events which are impossible to predict—or to prevent, for that matter.”
“Likely only the innermost members of the governing elite have had knowledge of the cellars,” Hector added. “A useful secret, kept in reserve for the times when it’s necessary to hide something big. Like a lot of people.”
“There is a slight chance that this cousin of Maric’s, Jael, her brother Nimo, or one of the other youngsters that they may have spoken to, has let the word out that the cellars are no longer a secret,” Mikal pointed out. “That’s why we want you Warriors with us when we go down there. You are insurance, more than anything else—and helpful, I hope when it comes to opening locked doors.”
“Judging from the level of technology that we’ve seen on this world, the doors won’t be a problem,” Vonn sniffed. “A sonic cutter will do the trick, and I asked Morr to bring one from our shuttle. You have it, Morr?”
Morr nodded, grinning and pulled a small, innocuous-looking instrument from a sleeve pocket. Seconds later Lank pulled its twin from his pocket, smiling at Morr.
“Now we have two,” he said. “Make the job twice as quick.”
“Lank,” Kati said in surprise. “Where’d you get that? Isn’t that the one Mikal and I brought back from the Drowned World?” She turned to look at Mikal. “The one you and the Sickle Islanders used to cut open Dr. Guzi’s flyer, and mangle it inoperable?”
“Rakil and I smuggled it on to Vultaire,” Lank said. “Mikal said that their searchers probably wouldn’t be able to detect it, any more than the stunners, and they couldn’t. No metal in it, apparently, and it doesn’t look dangerous.”
“You were in on this?” Kati asked Mikal accusingly.
“Of course,” he replied, not in the least penitently. “Just trying to ensure the Unofficial Team’s safety and effectiveness.”
“And here I thought you were a man of principle,” Kati snapped.
“I am. But I’m not an idiot, Kati.”
“We could have used that at the brothel,” Jock muttered, “when that idiot, Berd Warrion, attacked us. It was a pity that Lank wasn’t with us at the time.”
“That’s the first thing I thought of when Kati and Rakil told me of that incident,” Lank admitted. “Still, you guys managed awfully well without me and a sonic cutter.”
“I’m glad we didn’t have you wielding that, there and then, Lank,” Kati said with a shudder. “I did enough damage with Berd’s crystal knife, whatever it was. Pretty nearly killed the dumb rotter. Took a lot to pull him back from the brink.
“But that’s yesterday’s news. Let’s get on with today’s work.”
She ignored the look of concern on Mikal’s face and resolutely turned to look at Maric.
“Which way do we go, young man?” she asked him in the lightest tone that she could manage. “I’m a trifle anxious about Ingrid and the green girls.”
Master Healer Vorlund appeared at her side.
“So am I,” he said. “From what I hear, this is not a matter of illness, but of the difficulty these younglings have surviving away from their home world. If this friend of yours is keeping them alive somehow, she may be depleting her own energies to do so; maybe we can help to recharge her, maybe we cannot. I am certainly hoping that we can, and that way, channel help to the girls, too, through her.”
“I have a sneaking suspicion that the Spirit of the Land may have already been helping Ingrid in some small way,” Kati mused. “That would explain how it is that she has been able to keep doing it for as long as she has. She may not even be aware of the help. But, with her and the girls underground, it may have become impossible for the Spirit, which really feels like it’s a portion of the biota of Vultaire, to reach her. So now she’s on her own, and you’re right—what she’s doing can’t last. I just hope we’ll get them back above ground in time.”
“Then let’s get moving,” Malin said. “There’s no time to lose.”
They already were in motion. Maric was in the lead, with Malin hurrying at his heels. Mikal, Lank and Rakil were keeping up quite well with the pace the long-legged Vultairian youngster was setting, and Kati would have been fine, too—she had had a lot of practise keeping up with Jock—but Vorlund, with his short legs and round shape was faltering beside her, until, abruptly, the Torrones Warrior who was guarding their side, reached down and picked up the Master Healer and began to haul him along in his massive arms.
“I hope you don’t mind me taking this liberty,” he said to the Healer. “I think that we’ll move a lot faster this way, but I do not intend in any way to be disrespectful.”
Kati stifled a giggle even as she agreed that the action was a sensible one, and necessary. Vorlund, however, looked like a plump child in the massive Warrior’s grasp so it was impossible to not be amused. Nevertheless, she knew that the Master Healer commanded enormous respect, even from the Torrones, in spite of his small stature, and she was certain that not one of them thought the less of him for having for the moment become a bundle to be carted around. They were well aware that should they need healing, there was not a better person to approach than the plump little Shelonian.
“Hey Maric, are you taking those people to free the slaves?”
Kati’s attention was drawn to the Vultairian Exalted girl who had suddenly appeared in front of the procession. She seemed to be about Maric’s age, and radiated defiance. Maric came to a halt in front of her, looking confused.
“Jael,” he asked, “what are you doing here?”
“If you’re taking these people down to the cellars, I want to be part of it,” she told him. “I’m the one who showed the place to you. You can’t take all the glory for a rescue when you couldn’t have done it without me.”
“I know I couldn’t do this without you having shown me where to go, Jael,” Maric protested. “I’m not an idiot, and I’m not out to glory-hog. But the woman we talked to down there, she and the four girls with her could be dying right now. They need to get out into the open as soon as possible, and so do the other off-world slaves.”
“Well, fine, but I’m coming with you,” Jael insisted. “If you don’t let me, I’ll go and tell Vi and Roah’s grandmother where you all are going.”
She stared defiantly at the adults behind Maric as she said this, as if she was determined to take on the whole group.
Torrones Warrior A-Class Vonn stepped next to her, and laughed.
“You won’t be going anywhere, little Vultairian girl,” he said. “Except maybe our shuttlecraft, accompanied by a couple of my men.”
Jael opened her mouth to scream but managed no more than a gasp before Vonn had covered her mouth with a large hand. She was pinned in a strong embrace, unable to make a sound; physically restrained, likely for the first time in her life.
Before Vonn had a chance to use his com to call for reinforcements, or to order one of the other Warriors to do so, Mikal spoke up:
“Let’s behave in a civilized fashion here, folks,” he said. “If all the girl wants to do is accompany us on our mission, why don’t we let her? For all we know, she might even be useful, and perhaps, at the very least, she will agree to not be a hindrance to our mission. She is your cousin, Maric, isn’t she?”
Kati breathed a sigh of relief. Trust Mikal not to want to antagonize the locals any more than he had to. And this girl might be an Exalted but she did not look like a bad sort. Wilful, yes, but that was hardly a crime for a seventeen-year-old.
“Yes,” Maric answered truthfully. “And Jael is the one who showed me the cellars beneath the Prison Complex, and she was with me when we talked to Ingrid.”
“Who is Vi and Roah’s grandmother?” Mikal then asked.
“Senate Chair Sartose,” Maric answered. “Vi and Roah are also cousins of mine. It was their gossip about their grandmother’s doings that gave Jael and me the idea to check out the cellars for the off-world slaves. I’m afraid, though, that Jael is sort of snooty to
wards those cousins; they’re not daring enough for her.”
“But you are daring enough.” There was a hint of amusement in Mikal’s tone. “Well, Warrior Vonn, perhaps you can release Jael from that stranglehold, and maybe we’ll find out if it’s worth our while to humour her, or whether we should take your view of things and pack her off to wait out the day in your shuttle.”
Vonn followed Mikal’s instruction, uncovering Jael’s mouth and loosening his hold around her gradually, until he was merely hanging onto her by an upper arm.
Jael looked shaky as she turned her eyes on Mikal.
“Are you in charge of these big lummoxes?” she asked.
Her voice sounded frightened in spite of the bravura of the words.
Morr, beside Vonn, growled at the insult and the girl looked even more scared, swallowing, but shutting her lips tight, as if determined not to let an apology escape, even by accident.
“It’s not wise to call Torrones Warriors lummoxes,” Mikal told her, and Kati could tell that he was holding back laughter. “But we don’t have time to give you an etiquette lesson. Yes, Jael, Maric’s cousin, I am, in spite of my size, the person in charge of this group. And I say, that if you promise to behave, and to help us get the off-world slaves above ground from those cellars, we’ll let you walk freely among us and take part in this operation. Will you do that?”
“Yes, of course I will.” The girl did not hesitate at all.
Mikal nodded to Vonn who let go of the girl’s arm, stony-faced. Morr gave her a glance of pure contempt even as the group resumed their motion.
“Kati, will you take it upon yourself to clue this young lady in, if she should need lessoning?” Mikal asked, nodding to Jael to fall back to where Kati was walking beside the Warrior carrying Vorlund.
Kati had expected Mikal to call on her to look after the girl, and to act as a buffer between her and the Warriors. Having spent enough time on Vultaire to have experienced the casual arrogance of the Exalted, she was not surprised by the look of shock on the girl’s face as she took in the fact that the Master Healer appeared perfectly comfortable being carried by one of the Torrones. Plus, the Warrior doing the carrying seemed pleased to be doing so, respectful of his burden.
“I don’t understand that at all,” she muttered as she adjusted her gait to Kati’s shorter stride—although Kati was hurrying along at a pace she had not been accustomed to in her life before Vultaire.
“The short man is the Shelonian Master Healer Vorlund,” Kati explained tersely. “The Warrior is helping him to keep up the pace at which we need to travel. Since we’re expecting health difficulties among the people we are going to liberate, we need the Master Healer with us.”
“Oh,” was all that Jael said in response. But Kati had the feeling that there was an inkling of something new and wondering behind that one syllable.
They attracted surprisingly little attention as Maric led them around the park surrounding the Legislative Buildings, and now filled with Klensers and their Ordinary Citizen supporters, to the far side of the Law Courts. Everyone’s attention seemed to be on what was happening in the park. Also, twilight had begun to descend upon the city and there were fewer pedestrians on the side streets. The presence of the Torrones Warriors apparently had discouraged the usual army of youthful Exalted from joyriding in their flits—at least in this part of town. Although Jael pointed out when Kati asked her about their whereabouts, that “those silly idiots” preferred to manoeuvre above the busier downtown streets where there were more people to impress with their daring, and their flying skills. The few people that the group did see, took a look at the half-a-dozen big, black Warriors and suddenly discovered that they had something to do, blocks away from the procession, barely noticing the non-Torrones among them.
The door into the cellars was just as Maric remembered it, almost hidden by small trees and shrubbery, but still quite accessible. The Warriors had to push their way in, however, and the one carrying Vorlund put his burden down before doing so, whence the Master Healer made his own way in.
“Sometimes being small is useful,” Vorlund said to Jock who held the door open for the others.
“It indeed can be; I have noticed,” Jock responded with a grin, even as he lighted the Shelonian’s way down the stairs with one of the lamps from the Musical Troupe’s cart.
“It’s interesting that this door is here at all,” Kati said to Jael as they descended. “There must be a story there. Likely now so long forgotten that we’ll never know it. Otherwise the door would not have been left open for you and your brother to find.”
“I’d love to know the story,” Jael said wistfully. “When we first found this place, we spent days wandering around, and exploring all the convoluted passages and the empty rooms. I made up tales about people getting lost in these cellars. I was expecting to find skeletons, or some hints of occupation, but we never found anything, absolutely nothing at all from the past. I suppose that someone must have cleaned the whole place up at some time; why, I have no idea.”
Kati, with her more varied experience of human behaviour, had ideas. However, she kept her speculations to herself. If Jael was still young and naive enough to draw no conclusions from the fact that a group of enslaved people had been brought down into the cellars recently, to keep their presence on the world a secret, it seemed cruel to tear apart her illusions about her own kind. Jael seemed to be a smart young woman; life would disabuse her of naive notions soon enough.
“Vultaire is an old world,” Kati merely said. “Likely more stories have been forgotten than are yet retained in anyone’s memory.”
They were walking along a corridor, now. Jael had switched on the light that she had dug out of one of her pockets, adding its glow to that of the others about them. Glancing behind them, Kati saw that Vorlund had been picked up again by the Warrior who had taken it upon himself to tend to him. Rakil and Lank were behind her and Jael, and ahead of Jock.
Mikal and Malin were ahead of the women. Maric was still leading the procession with two Warriors bracketing him, and followed by Hector, Kelt, and Jorun.
They neither saw nor heard anyone. Except for the sounds that they themselves made as they trekked, silence reigned. There was something depressing about the silence, something which inhibited needless talk, made each of them retreat into themselves, to brood wordlessly, and to look around at the shadows about them suspiciously. In spite of the apparent emptiness, was someone or something noting their passage, and not happy to see it?
Jael could not remember having the feeling on her previous trips in the underground passageways. Even the last time with Maric, the two of them had been chattering away, for most of the excursion. And when she and her brother Nimo had explored the cellars, whatever ghosts might have existed had not paid the least heed.
Kati took a few deep breaths as she walked, and then tried to enter a partial trance which would allow her to contact the Forest Spirit, the Ocean Sister, or the Spirit of the Land—whichever essence was nearest to them—even as she kept up the necessary walking pace. The presence of one of those energies would be comforting, and, perhaps, would help her lighten up the mood of the rest of the group.
Aah. She had managed to synchronize her steps and breathing, although at the speed at which she was travelling, each breath was accompanied by three or so steps, sometimes four. But there was a sense of unity between the two actions; she had managed to link their rhythms together, at least inside her psyche.
“Now, Old Monk,” she subvocalized, “let’s see which friendly Vultairian Spirit we can reach. Let’s leave a portion of you to mind the physical store while we do this.”
They left Kati’s body to tramp on beside Jael, while they entered the mental atmosphere around them. They sensed the humans around them, recognizing the unique sparks, noting especially the strong, steady light that was the Master Healer, but aware, also, that all were somehow lacking in their usual brightness and exuberance.
“
Do we try to get through the ground above us, or go back to the door through the passageways?” Kati asked The Monk, noting that the aura about them had grown even murkier.
“The door, I think,” the Granda answered. “I don’t think that I want to try penetrating that ground. It’s steeped in something—unpleasant.”
Kati agreed.
“Let’s go,” she said—and found herself forcibly slammed back into her body!
She heard herself cry out, and then came to, sitting on her ass on the corridor floor, Jael on her knees beside her. Mikal was hurrying towards them, ashen-faced. The Torrones of the rear guard, including the Master Healer’s mount had begun to circle her, and Rakil and Lank were leaning over her.
“What just happened?” Jael was asking.
“What were you trying to do, Kati?” came Vorlund’s voice, even as she began to feel herself back in the normal world.
Kati drew in a couple of deep breaths before responding. Funny, unpleasant as the experience had been, it had broken the spell of the murk around them, at least for her.
“I thought that I’d try to contact The Spirit of the Land,” she replied to the Master Healer’s question. “It seems that I’m not to be allowed to do that. The Old Monk and I were unceremoniously crashed back into my body, as you can see.”
“Was that necessary?” Mikal asked her, in his most annoying (to her), officious tone of voice.
“Oh, don’t tell me that the murky depressiveness wasn’t affecting you, Mikal,” she snapped. “When I was out of body I could see that your mental spark was benighted, just like everyone else’s. I was trying to do something about that.”
“You felt that dragginess, too?” Jael asked, searching Kati’s face with her eyes. “I’d never felt it when I was down here before.”
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 80
