He reached for his spoon.
“Kati just told me that she is being picked up by Gorsh’s men. Max’s flyer has been forced to land on the shore; the two of them had just crossed the ocean on their way back. They’re letting Max go, once they have her; she said that she agreed to go peacefully.”
For a moment the table was bathed in stunned silence. Then:
“Now, if that ain’t a stink bomb,” Karn said, his voice unsteady. “How’d Gorsh find her?”
“All she said was that a child slave recognized her. At the carpet factory, I presume. She said that Max would fill in the details.”
He spooned up the last of his fruit, no longer tasting it. His companions were doing the same.
“Is there a park, or another place filled with natural flora around here, close by?” he then asked. “I’ll have to get in touch with the Planetary Spirits, to get them to look in on Max, for one thing. And I’ll have to contact the Wise Woman, Seleni, and through her, Mikal—who by the way has worked himself, free, I don’t know how—and Lank and Chrysalia.”
He sorely regretted the limitations that working within the human form placed on him. If he had been in the natural state of a Guide he could have seen to all of these things at once. But, then, he couldn’t have, he sighed to himself. Most of the humans involved would not have known he was around.
While Karn stayed behind to deal with the finances, Cassi took Llon to a nearby quiet garden which was a part of the Government Complex grounds. It was a place where workers often came to eat their lunches on summer days, but which, now, when most workers had gone home, was empty. It was surrounded by massive trees, there were flowers and grasses everywhere, and a few benches next to the paths which meandered through it. There was even an old fountain shooting water from the middle of a discoloured basin, at what Llon took to be one of the focal points of an oval shape.
He chose a bench near the fountain, and sat down, making himself as comfortable as he could. The Nature Spirits of the garden seemed to be quite approachable; they regarded him with curiosity. They had separated from the usual whole into a tribe of myriad sprites; an indication that the Spirits were comfortable in this place, willing to play and gambol, not worried about any threats to their integrity.
He smiled at Cassi who had sat down on the next bench to watch without disturbing him; she had brought him to a good place. He could work here, just as comfortably as he had on Max’s property.
He closed his eyes, and approached the sprites closest to him, asking for their help in communicating with the Spirits and some people in other parts of the world. The sprites were immediately willing; this was new to them, and they were curious as to what this not-ordinary human wanted. He could see with his inner vision as they came together to form a communication thread of sorts, one that would connect him with all the Planetary Spirits—or perhaps the one Planetary Spirit which was the union of them all.
First he sent off an image of Max, and of Max and Kati separating by a flyer next to the ocean, with Kati being taken away by faceless men (he did not know who exactly had come for her).
“The man is all right; he’s coming this way in his flying machine. The machine is slightly damaged, but it can still travel, and he’s coming as fast as he can,” came the answer, unexpectedly quickly. “The woman, we could have spoken with her, but the men put her in the one of their flying machines which is like a black, closed box. We cannot talk through that.”
“That’s as I expected,” Llon sighed in response. “They don’t want her communicating with anyone except themselves.
“Now I need to get in touch with the Wise Woman Seleni, in the Salamanka River Valley.”
“But, of course,” replied the sprites. “We will find the Wise Woman for you.”
*****
Seleni told Llon that she would drop the bomb on Mikal. He had been busy all afternoon, flying in the rented flit with Lank, around Salamanka, the two of them trying to figure out (using their sense of how far the dark murkiness had crept) the extent of Gorsh’s holdings in the city, and how many people he would be able to muster up for his operations. At the same time, they were counting what equipment he might have on hand, judging from the garages which were protected by not just ordinary locks but with the murk spewed by the Cellar Creature in the Citadel.
“Handy creature, that Mosse’s Demon,” Mikal had muttered at one point. “I guess it must like to exude that depressing aura, whatever, exactly, it is. I didn’t sense, while I was in that cellar, that the Creature felt in any way beholden to either Mosse or Gorsh; it just did whatever it felt like doing. Apparently what it feels like doing and what Gorsh wants it to do are one and the same thing.”
“It’s somewhat like the Cellar Child was on Vultaire,” Lank had opined. “Although older and more established. But I bet it, too, likes having company, and Gorsh provides that, what with Mosse and his girls, the prisoners in the back room where you were, and even the unfortunates that Gorsh throws in the lowest dungeons. Plus it gets to spread bits of itself elsewhere, either for a short time or, sometimes, permanently. Hey, if you were an ugly, murk-spewing thing, hated by most people, wouldn’t you cooperate with the guy who continuously filled your need for companionship?”
“You know, Lank, that’s really good. I hadn’t thought of it in quite that way. And because it’s a destructive creature, the people in its sphere of influence have shorter than normal life-spans, so new people are always necessary. Wonder how long the prisoners in the dungeons last? I bet it’s not very long.“
This Mikal had thought about. A new sense of urgency was growing inside him, as a result.
“That’s probably part of why Xanthus was falling apart when Xoraya and I were brought into that cellar. He’d been worked hard, what with all the navigating he had done for Gorsh, and whenever he was off that duty, he was kept in the murky mental prison. Murra was in better shape because he was young, and free to be himself whenever they were travelling; those trips were probably what kept him in reasonably good shape. The sooner we get the three of them out, the better.”
“The jini that’s in there will help to restore their energies,” Lank had said, to soothe Mikal’s tension. “You felt what it did for you. And the other one healed my shoulder. So let’s not get too up-tight about Xoraya, Xanthus and Murra, yet. We’ve got Seleni on our side, and she and her Nature Spirits are looking after everyone quite competently.”
“Right you are,” Mikal had agreed, giving himself a shake at the flit’s controls, dismissing the sudden feeling of wrongness which had unexpectedly swept over him.
It was true that the first jini had stayed in the Citadel cellars to be of assistance to the three still left there. It could infuse them with energy when necessary, and keep them communicating with Seleni. They would be all right.
So why was he having a strong premonition that things were about to take a very bad turn, very soon?
The question did not resolve itself until the two of them had returned to Seleni’s cottage, hauling baskets of take-out food from a local bistro. Mikal and Lank did not want to make too much of a dent into Seleni’s supplies, what with Shyla staying at the cottage, and Chrysalia spending the afternoon there as well. Plus, Mikal was going to have to sleep somewhere, and the safest place seemed to be Seleni’s couch. He thought that it was a good idea to try to be as helpful and undemanding a guest as was possible; one who was quite willing to pitch in with the chores and the expenses. He knew that Kati would have agreed with the sentiment, and not begrudged a single coin that the attitude cost.
Shyla helped Lank sort out the contents of the baskets while Seleni and Chrysalia got out eating utensils, plates, and glasses, without speaking. Mikal stared at the two of them, his appetite disappearing.
“Okay,” he said, nailing Seleni with his eyes. “What is it?”
“Maybe you ought to wait until you’ve eaten to hear it.” This suggestion came from Chrysalia.
Mikal turned his e
yes on her for a moment. She was settling the flatware on the table, arranging the place settings very carefully in sets of knife, fork, and spoon, each set an exact distance from its neighbours.
“I think not,” said he, turning back to Seleni. “It would be a very uncomfortable meal, I suspect. I might as well know what it is on an empty stomach.”
Seleni nodded.
“I understand,” she said. Then she took a deep breath before continuing:
“Llon contacted me. He said that Kati was picked up by Gorsh’s men, in a flyer, a short while ago.”
“What? Where? How?”
Mikal’s head reeled. He had contacted her—well, it was a number of hours ago, and she had been ensconced in a flyer, above the ocean, then! What had happened between then and now?
“Llon didn’t have the details yet, but he said that she had gone with Max Lordz to Suderie, on the Continent Sud, to check out a rumour that a carpet manufacturer there had a couple of dozen boys hand-knotting carpets for him, and that he had gotten them from Gorsh. When she contacted him, Max’s flyer had been swarmed by several flying machines, almost at the Continent Nord shore, and had instructions to land. They had offered to let Max go if Kati came with them peacefully; otherwise they were going to shoot Max’s flyer down. Kati, of course, agreed to go, and got in touch with Llon, but she had not had much time to explain anything. She had said that a slave boy recognized her at the carpet factory, and seemed to think that it may have been enough to out her to Gorsh.”
Mikal slumped into the nearest chair, and buried his face in his hands.
“Ye gods! And to think I was so glad to be out of that prison!”
He realized that his cheeks were dampening with tears. To have come so close to connecting with the woman he loved—and now she had been snatched away by that disgusting man! Kati at Gorsh’s mercy—he couldn’t bear to finish the thought!
The Wise Woman wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Calm seemed to emanate from her, and into him.
“Llon said that Kati charged us all with keeping you from losing it,” she said. “She had said that you should remember that Gorsh won’t kill her. She’ll come out of this alive.”
“But he will rape her,” Mikal objected, the acids in his empty stomach roiling.
“If Milla lets him,” said Shyla, picking up a stick of dry, spiced meat, and attacking it with gusto.
“And what would you know about that?” Chrysalia asked, arching her eyebrows at the girl.
Shyla shrugged.
“I spent some time on the Estate. Did some of that tuber-digging that she so loves to make every one whom she doesn’t like, do. You’d think that someone would invent a machine to do that job; heck, maybe someone has, but Milla won’t have anything to do with it. Not as long as she’s got unwilling bodies she can torture. She likes to be the boss, even of Judd Gorsh himself. If it’s true that he is really hot for this Kati, Milla’s going to try to keep him from having her, if there’s any way that she can.”
She stopped to take another bite of the meat, chew it, and swallow.
“He’s going to have to take her to the Estate,” she added. “If it’s true that she has to be contained by the murk because she’s got ESP and can communicate with all sorts of people otherwise. He won’t put her in the Citadel, because he, himself, doesn’t like to be inside as much murk as there is in there. He wouldn’t be comfortable visiting her there. He and Milla have a cabin on the Estate which is murk-protected, but clear inside—don’t ask me why—so that’s where he’ll stash her, for sure. And once he does that, he’ll have to deal with Milla, whether he likes to or not.”
“Well, we’ll have no trouble finding out whether or not she ends up in the Citadel cellars,” Seleni said. “We do have a jini in there. All I have to do is ask it to keep watch for her, and let me know the moment she shows up. And if she doesn’t, I guess this cabin on the Estate is the likeliest place for him to stash her.”
Mikal seemed to be taking heart from the conversation swirling around him. He had sat up straight, and had wiped the wetness off his face with the wipe Seleni had handed to him. He reached for one of the same spiced meat sticks which Shyla was consuming, and began to chew on it.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s pool together all the information we have, and figure out what this disaster does to our hopes of dealing with Gorsh.”
*****
The atmosphere in the flyer was oppressive. Kati slumped in a back seat, breathing in air that smelled bad, and tried to keep herself from scratching her body all over. It felt to her like waves of invisible insects were assaulting every scrap of her exposed skin. Worst of all, it seemed that her mind had been stuffed into too small a box, and its lid had been snapped shut. This was way worse than what she had experienced in the cellars of the Prison Complex of the Capital City on Vultaire.
She stared at the nape of the pilot, and the man beside him, wondering how they could possibly appear as unconcerned as they did. They seemed to be completely unaware of the oppressive power of the murk that was pressing down so heavily on her.
Possibly she was unusually sensitive to this sort of a thing. She remembered that no-one in her group had complained about the atmosphere in the Vultairian Prison cellars, until she had reacted to it by trying to psychically break out of it. Even Master Healer Vorlund had accepted the pressure without a complaint, although everyone in the group had acknowledged the clearing of the air, once Kati had succeeded in pushing the Cellar Child to retreat for a time.
That had to be it. Surely Mikal, Xoraya, Murra, and Xanthus Hsiss could not have managed to function inside the Citadel Cellars if they had felt the whole time the way she was feeling now. How was she going remain functional, under these circumstances? If she was to have even a shred of hope of helping herself, she was, somehow, going to have to get used to being uncomfortable, and limited. And help herself she must! There was no way she was going to accept as her fate Gorsh’s plans for her!
The flight seemed to last forever. But, of course, she was being taken to Salamanka, or its environs, not to Strone where she and Max had been headed. Salamanka was a fair distance north of Strone, if her memory of the maps in the information banks of The Spacebird Two was correct. With her mind squashed in a box, the way it was, she seemed to have lost her usual, easy relationship with her node.
Was the Granda still there, within her nervous system, she suddenly wondered. Or had The Monk been squished out of the box into which her mind had been forced? She tried to grope for him, disgusted with how slow her thoughts flowed.
“I’m here,” The Monk subvocalized. “Squashed like a bug against a wall of that box you’re imagining. There’s no help for it, though, your psyche seems to react really badly to this particular version of mental torture. I suspect that everything about you that makes your head such a good place for a node to function in, is also what makes co-existing with this creature hell for both of us.”
Well. Did surprises ever cease? The Granda was admitting that he found her a highly compatible host! Okay, so he had his back against a box wall! All the same, the knowledge was gratifying, even under the circumstances. Kati made the effort to give a mental thumbs-up sign to The Monk, knowing that, familiar as he was with the contents of her mind, he would understand it.
Then she settled down to merely endure, and to wait for the ride to end. She refused to dwell on what might be waiting for her at the end of the trip. Although, she did note wryly to herself, and the Granda, that if Gorsh tried raping her within the murk, she would not be able to stop herself from vomiting all over him.
“Serve him right,” muttered The Monk.
Kati could tell that he was chafing over his inability to ease her discomforts. They were his discomforts, too, of course.
*****
“We got her for you,” the pilot of the flyer with the ferrying duty said to Gorsh, as soon as he stepped into his office.
“Yeah, I know. Morg was on the com to let me know
, as soon as she was in the flyer,” Gorsh replied. “How does she look?”
“Not good. She’s sick, and when I asked her what was the matter, she said that she must be allergic to that murk that you use to block off communications. She’s not playacting either, the way women often do; her colour’s pretty green, and she slumped in her seat the whole way, the whole long flight.”
He looked out the office window at the dark night. Then he turned to eye the girl who sat in a chair by a small table in one corner of the room. The Boss was still keeping her with him, by the looks of things. What did he have in mind? A threesome, with himself, the Kati woman, and this Jaqui, the Whore, creature? Nah, Gorsh didn’t have enough imagination for that. He must have some other use in mind for Jaqui.
“Well, isn’t that interesting. The murk sickens her. Funny thing is, I’ve never liked being in heavy concentrations of it, either. It makes me want to scratch incessantly. Can’t stay in the Citadel; I’d have no skin left within a week. We’ll have to take her to the cabin on the Estate. It’s specially built to keep the murk ringing the place, but unable to enter the actual premises. I meant to take her there anyway—for my comfort, not hers—but now it makes doubly good sense.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to do more piloting tonight. That was a long day’s work, and I’m beat. I want to find some food, and my bed.”
Since he doesn’t need Jaqui anymore, he could pass her on to me for one night, as thanks for a job well done, he added to himself. Not a chance, though. The Boss wasn’t much for showing gratitude.
“Well, that means that I have to find someone else to fly the thing,” Gorsh said doubtfully. “I can’t do it myself since it’s bathed in murk. I suppose I can wake someone up.”
“You don’t have to do that,” the girl piped up. “I can pilot flyers and flits. And the murk doesn’t bother me any more than is normal. I’ll get her to the cabin for you. I’ve spent enough time on the Estate that I won’t have any trouble finding my way, even in the dark.”
Showdown on the Planet of the Slavers Page 46
