Ashling

by Isobelle Carmody

  XXV

  Thunder growled in the distance and it began to rain.

  I felt a prickle of unease, for lightning played havoc with farseeking powers and it would make retaining a link with one of the slaves that much more difficult.

  As usual, Matthew's emotions caused his shielding ability to deteriorate sharply. This, combined with our close physical proximity, meant that I was shortly awash in his remorse over Dragon's coma.

  Strengthening my shield to block his emanations, I felt a touch of anger that he would wallow in his guilt, after having treated Dragon so shabbily.

  "Get down now," I said. We were still several streets from the warehouse, but I wanted to take no chances. "You had better get your mind fixed on what is ahead of us, rather than on what cannot be helped."

  I ignored the farseeker's sudden rigidity and the belated mortified strengthening of his mental shield as he dismounted.

  "I have farsought the warehouse. So far as I can make out, no one is paying any attention to it but, just in case, you had better walk from here. After a bit I will follow. I will farseek you when I am in place to find out where Brydda's people are waiting."

  Matthew nodded, then he shuddered violently.

  "What is it?"

  "I dinna know. I felt as if someone walked over me grave. Maybe ye should come inside too. Anyone might spot ye in th' street."

  Touched by his concern, my irritation at him faded.

  "I will make sure no one sees me," I promised. "I have to stay out here so I can get away without being seen, to let Brydda's men know where the slaves have been taken."

  Matthew still hesitated.

  "Go on," I urged, giving him a push. He turned to go. On impulse I called, "Be careful."

  "You be careful too," he called in a low voice, and loped off.

  I let a small farseeking probe drift with him and, when he had got inside the warehouse, signaled Gahltha, who turned into a lane a short way along the street. I dismounted and he moved swiftly into the shadows at the end of the lane. It was a single-ended alley with no doors opening out into it which meant no one would come up behind me. On one side the sloping roof of an adjoining building had sagged into a dip at the center, and thereby cast a deeper pool of shadow. This was where Gahltha positioned himself.

  I stayed at the street end of the lane and leaned against the corner in the shadows. From this point I would be all but invisible even without coercion, and I could see both ways along the street leading to the warehouse. There was no sign of life. I set loose a general farseeking net which would alert me to any movement in the streets, then shaped a probe to Matthew's mind signature and sent it flying in the direction of the warehouse.

  As soon as he felt me, the farseeker opened his mind to permit me access to the synapses and nerves that would enable me to see through his eyes.

  I occupied these only passively for the moment, taking in the cavernous warehouse lit by a single lamp as Matthew looked around slowly to show me the interior of the warehouse. The view was wavering and indistinct as if I was peering through a stream of water, but the image would sharpen if I took active use of his sight.

  Dimly, I watched Brydda approach. The big man's face looked slightly less battered than usual and it took me a moment to realize Matthew's hero worship of the older man was coloring his view. If I took over his sight, I would see Brydda clearly. Or rather, I would see him as I saw him. Intrigued with this thought, I wondered how much my own view was shaped by my emotions.

  They spoke for some minutes, but I could not hear what they were saying, then they came down to the end of the warehouse.

  "He is taking me to see the slaves," Matthew sent.

  The five men stood passively in a little group and I was puzzled by their stillness until Matthew sent to me worriedly that they had been drugged by Brydda to prevent their being questioned by whoever came for them, and giving the whole thing away.

  I suppressed a surge of consternation at this news. After all, it was my fault I had not thought to warn Brydda that drugs would bar me from the slaves' minds.

  Matthew and Brydda spoke again at some length. Through the farseeker's eyes, I saw the rebel's look of surprise. Then he shrugged and nodded.

  "What is he saying?" I asked Matthew curiously.

  "He is saying the drug will take about three hours to wear off."

  "I will have to ..."

  I broke off at the touch of Gahltha's soft muzzle against my shoulder. At the same time I became aware of the warning tug of my farseeking net. I had been so engrossed in what was going on inside the warehouse that I had not felt a thing. Thank Lud for Gahltha!

  "Funagas come," he sent succinctly, before moving back into the inky shadows at the end of the alley.

  Of course, whoever was coming might be nothing more than an innocent passer-by, but it was the middle of the night. My senses told me that there were two people walking swiftly along the street toward the warehouse, talking in low, intent voices. I poked my head out a fraction. They were some distance away but I could see in the light of the single street lantern that they were both men; one was small and slender, while the other was at least twice his companion's size.

  I shaped a probe and tried to enter the larger man. He was a Misfit, but not Talented. His mind was buckled and distorted—hopelessly defective. I could pick up nothing more than a miasmic desire to cause pain, but I could not enter it.

  Shuddering I withdrew, and entered the smaller man's mind. It was something of a relief that he was neither defective nor naturally shielded. It was a moment's work to learn that he had been hired by Salamander, but when I searched deeper for a memory of the incident that would show me what the slavemaster looked like, there was nothing to be found. He had simply been approached in an inn by a beautiful, dark-haired woman bearing a note with Salamander's mark. It offered a relatively large amount of coin for what seemed to him to be a minor job. He had hired the defective because of his strength and brutish appetites, and because it never hurt to have a bit of muscle on your side.

  His thoughts showed mat he admired the ruthless efficiency of Salamander, as much as he feared him. Apparently the slavemaster had a reputation of being generous with those who performed their given tasks well, and utterly vicious to those who failed.

  He did not expect to fail, though.

  His instructions were simple. Just before midnight, he was to go to the warehouse where he would find a man named Bollange waiting with five men. Though it had not been said, he understood that these were to be sold as slaves. The woman had given him a bag of coin, which he was to give to Bollange once an examination of the slaves had pronounced them sound of limb. He was to bind and gag the slaves, then bring them outside where a wagon would collect them.

  His final instruction was to kill anyone who tried to follow or stop the wagon.

  I mouthed a curse at the realization that here was another dead end. He did not know who would come to take the slaves, nor where* they were to be taken. Withdrawing, I sent out a roving probe.

  Several streets distant, I found what I was looking for— a man sitting in a closed wagon, waiting.

  I was relieved, knowing there would not now be any need to track the slaves. I could simply read their destination from the wagon driver's mind.

  Unfortunately, when I tried to enter him, a strange buzzing vibration distorted his thoughts so that I could not negotiate them. I tried again to enter at his subconcious level and, though this was also slightly distorted, I gained entry to him, and rose up through the levels to his conscious mind. His thoughts at this level were chaotic and only by chance did I encounter the driver's thought that the slightly hallucinogenic quality of the Sadorian spiceweed he was chewing was pleasant. It had been gifted him from the same dark-haired emissary from Salamander. That explained the queerness of his mind.

  Unable to gain a hold, my probe slithered loose without being able to learn the slave's destination. When I tried to re-enter, his mind ba
rred me even at the subconscious level. This suggested that the spiceweed produced a certain sensitivity to mental intrusion.

  Glumly I withdrew into myself; if I could not gain a hold on the driver's mind when he was stationary, I had no hope of keeping track of him once he began to move! How unlucky that he should be eating the spiceweed.

  The only solution now was to track the wagon physically, using my coercive powers to hide myself and Gahltha from any watchers. With this decided, I made up my mind to move further from the warehouse as soon as the two men had gone inside, to ensure I would not be seen when I moved to follow the wagon. There would be no time to inform Brydda's waiting rebels.

  By now, the two had almost reached the part of the street where I was hidden. I drew back slightly into the shadows, willing them to hurry up.

  To my consternation, they stopped right in front of the lane where I was concealed. At first I thought they had spotted me, but when they began to converse, I realized they had simply stopped to confer.

  A slight coercive enhancement of my hearing enabled me to make out their words.

  "If something goes wrong, Salamander'll have our guts," said the smaller of the pair.

  His huge companion wagged his great shaggy head. "Salamander angry. Bad," he grunted.

  "Yes. Bad enough. You'd better stay out here and keep watch. I'll go inside and see Bollange. If anyone comes along, kill them."

  "Kill," the hulk echoed.

  "Exactly. Now when I come out with the slaves, you stay where you are. Understand?"

  "Stay?" "

  "Stay and watch, I'll pretend to leave and you stay and watch for a while. That way we'll see if this fellow has traitoring on his mind. If he has, we'll get a bonus for putting him out of the picture. You got that into your skull, Lill? You stay and watch until I come back."

  "Lill watch?"

  The second man nodded. "Yeah. And if anyone so much as pokes their nose out the door, you know what to do."

  "Stay?"

  "No, stupid! You kill. Get it? If anyone comes out, kill them."

  "Wait. Watch. Kill," the brute repeated the words lugubriously.

  "Right. And don't mess up or Salamander'll kill both of us. Now go and hide. That alley looks like a good spot."

  He pointed straight toward the lane where I was hidden!

  Frantically I tried to coerce the shambling giant against the idea, forgetting that he Was defective and therefore impenetrable. By the time I thought of coercing the second man to change his instructions, he had already gone striding off toward the warehouse.

  There was nothing but for me to remain utterly still as Lill bore down on me. I dared not even shift back to where Gahltha was.

  My heart was yammering and I wondered that the brute could not hear it as he entered the lane, a mere step or two from where I was standing.

  For a minute we were literally face to face and I thought my heart would batter its way right through my chest.

  Fortunately, he barely glanced down the dark end of the lane. Turning as I had done at the corner, he set himself up to face the street and the warehouse.

  "Stay. Watch. Kill," he muttered to himself.

  Behind him in the shadows, a bare handspan away I could feel the crawl of sweat down my back. Trying to be calm, I shaped a probe and sent it to Matthew to warn him that I was trapped in an alley by a man whom I could not coerce, and dared not confront physically without alerting Salamander that his network had been contaminated, setting off the very bloodbath we were at pains to avoid. I told him swiftly about the second man approaching the warehouse, and about the carriage driver.

  Dimly, I registered the sound of knocking at the warehouse door.

  "Tell Brydda not to send the slaves because I have no way of tracking them. Have him quibble about the coin..." I sent urgently, knowing Matthew would have to speak to Brydda before the hired thug was inside the warehouse. After that he would have no opportunity.

  I slid along my probe and into Matthew's waiting mind. The interior of the shed swam dimly into focus. I was startled to find that Matthew seemed to be standing behind the Councilfarm workers. Was he trying to keep himself out of sight?

  "What is happening? Did you tell Brydda?"

  "Everything is fine," Matthew sent with admirable calmness, and my panic subsided slightly. "Are you all right out there?"

  "I am so long as I don't move a muscle or make a sound."

  "Lucky ye've no need to move with a farseekin' probe."

  My heart began to thump again. Could he have possibly misunderstood me? "Matthew, I told you I can't farseek the carriage driver and the slaves are drugged."

  "You can now," the farseeker interrupted calmly. I've taken th' place of one of th' slaves. Ye need nowt blame Brydda," he said, feeling my anger. "I told him ye'd changed yer mind. As things transpire, it's lucky I did."

  I could not deny that but, even as my fury faded, I was filled with a terrible foreboding.

  "Matthew, if something goes wrong ..."

  "Nothin' will go wrong. Ye'll trace me, an' when ye can move, ye'll lead Brydda to me an' th' slaves."

  I bit my lip. It sounded simple, but life seldom went according to plan. On the other hand, we had no choice now. The slave supplier's hired thug was inside the warehouse, and Matthew was committed to his course of action. It was not the time to tell him that sacrificing himself was no way of atoning for his treatment of Dragon.

  The slave supplier's man was now examining the slaves, feeling their limbs and making them walk about to ensure they were not lame. Matthew's eyes did not look at him directly and this annoyed me until I realized he was deliberately letting his gaze wander as if he were drugged like the others.

  I had a single clear glimpse of the squat fellow with his mouthful of blackened teeth as he peered right into Matthew's face. As his lips moved, I wished I could hear through Matthew's ears as well, but we had not yet found a way to achieve that.

  "What is happening?" I asked Matthew.

  "He is talkin' to me an' I'm pretendin' not to hear or understand," the farseeker reported.

  The man turned away and spoke to Brydda at length.

  "He's claimin' we're all defectives. Brydda is arguin' that we are drugged," Matthew sent after a brief pause. "Now th' slaver is sayin' he has no instruction to say we're meant to be drugged. He says there'd be no need since he's supposed to gag an' tie us."

  There was another pause.

  "Brydda's makin' th' fellow think he's a coward. He said he was nowt takin' any chances on us tryin' to run away or fight him. It looks as if he's bought it. Yes, he's givin' Brydda the bag of coin."

  Abruptly I withdrew from the farseeker's mind conscious of a warning tug on my senses. At once, I became aware of the clatter of carriage wheels on the cobbled street.

  The carriage driver had come for his passengers.

  In front of me, Lill flattened himself to the wall as the wagon rattled past the lane opening. It was a square closed rig without windows; once Matthew was inside, there would be no using his eyes to orientate myself.

  I crossed my fingers hard that nothing would go wrong.

  I returned to Matthew's mind and found he had now been bound and gagged along with the other four. "The slave supplier has told Brydda to stay inside the warehouse until daylight. If he comes out before that, Salamander will have him killed."

  My heart sank at the thought of being forced to stay perfectly still in the lane all night.

  "Now he's bringing us outside.... "

  Through the farseeker's eyes, I saw the wagon and the surly carriage driver. He said not a word as he climbed down and unbarred the back of the carriage. The slave supplier's hired man loaded in the five, including Matthew, and slammed the door shut, plunging the interior of the wagon into darkness.

  I left a probe with Matthew and withdrew to my own mind to watch the carriage trundle past again.

  The slave supplier's hired thug strode off down the street, and Lill shifted
forward stealthily to watch the warehouse. I prayed Matthew had warned Brydda not to leave and waited with my ears peeled for any sound in the street.

  "Wait," the brute muttered in a disgruntled tone after some time, and he relaxed slightly. Only then did I relax too, realizing Brydda must know not to come out. There was nothing more to do but to wait until the other man came back for him.

  My probe was still securely locked into Matthew's mind, and I tested it for the thousandth time.

  "Dinna hold on so tight," he protested, with a mental wriggle.

  Apologizing, I loosened my grip.

  "I think we're stoppin,' " the farseeker sent suddenly. "Perhaps..."

  The carriage door was flung open so I was as blinded as he was by the brightness of a lamp; Matthew blinked rapidly, trying to restore our vision.

  As his eyes adjusted, I saw the face of the man holding the lamp and a feeling of terror assailed me, for it was the very same soldierguard captain who had seemed to recognize Dragon in the market!

  "Who's there?"

  The surly grunt dragged me instantly back to my own body as the hulking Lill turned to peer into the shadowy lane. I realized with dawning horror that I had gasped aloud!

  He dropped a great paw to his belt and withdrew a longbladed knife, squinting to see more clearly as he took a careful step forward.

  One more step and he would literally fall over me, but his eyes were on the end of the lane. He had no idea how close I was. I was paralyzed with terror.

  "Move/shift," Gahltha sent sharply. A split second later he gave a shrill whinny and charged the thug.

  The man issued a bellow of fright and stumbled backward, dropping the knife as the black horse leapt at him and over into the street. He turned his head to watch Gahltha gallop away into the night and, as he did so, I sprinted lightly to the sagging roof and hauled myself up onto it. The sound of hoofs on the cobblestones drowned any noise I had made, and I lay completely still.

  There was a long silence as the thug got to his feet and retrieved his knife. He turned and came down the lane, brandishing it purposefully. Fortunately it did not occur to him to look up and when he found no one in the lane, he shrugged in bafflement, muttering to himself about abandoned horses as he returned to his position at the head of the lane.