by Timothy Zahn
"They're all around us," Taneem whispered back, her tongue flicking out rapid-fire now. "But there are no Brummgas among them."
Slaves, then. Apparently, the universe wasn't going to let Alison avoid them as she'd hoped.
And if she couldn't avoid them, there was nothing to be gained by letting them find her skulking under bushes like a criminal. It was even possible she could persuade them she was just another slave who'd strayed out of her usual territory.
She caught a glimpse of movement straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, she stood up.
A pair of Compfrins came around the trees, bundles of sticks in their hands. They caught sight of Alison and stopped short. "Hello," Alison said. "I seem to be lost."
The aliens exchanged looks. Then, one of them gave a soft whistle.
Abruptly the other footsteps Alison had heard fell silent. Then, they started up again, more quickly this time, and growing nearer. A Parprin appeared through the trees to Alison's right, followed by a pair of Jantris to her left, then an Eytra beside the two Compfrins. "I seem to be lost," Alison tried again.
One of the Compfrins stepped forward, coming to within three feet of Alison before he stopped. He paused there, his eyes laboriously tracing every line of her face. Then, he seemed to straighten up. "You are she," he declared.
"I am she what?" Alison asked carefully.
"You are the human Alison Kayna," he said. "The friend of Jack Morgan, who came to us as Jack McCoy." Before Alison could decide whether to confirm or deny it, the Compfrin took her arm. "Come," he said softly, steering her toward her left. "We have a hiding place prepared for you."
Alison eyed him suspiciously. Still, if it was a trap it was too late to run now. "Thank you," she said.
The hut they led her to was small, run-down, and very much in the middle of nowhere. Definitely one of Jack's isolation huts, Alison decided. "Wait here," the Compfrin said as he opened the door for her.
"For how long?" Alison asked, stepping in and looking around. The hut included a small cot, enough extra space to turn around in, and not much more. Even her slave quarters back at the main house had been better than this.
"The Penitent will wish to see you," the Compfrin said. "He will come to you when he can."
"The Penitent?" Alison echoed, frowning.
"Our leader," the Compfrin said. "Wait, and do not fear. Someone will bring food and water for you soon."
"Just make sure he's not caught," Alison warned. "I'd rather go without than have him lead the Brummgas here."
"Do not fear," the Compfrin said again. He closed the door, and the footsteps again faded away.
"There's no place like home, eh?" Alison commented, sitting down on the bed. "What did you think of them?"
"I don't know," Taneem said. She peered cautiously out of Alison's shirt, then rather gingerly slid out into the other half of the cot. "They seem remarkably organized for people Draycos said would not even take freedom when it was offered."
"I was thinking the same thing," Alison said. "Which means this could be a trap."
"Should we not then escape?" Taneem asked.
"In theory, we can always do that," Alison reminded her. "After all, they still don't know about you." Carefully, she lay down on her side on the cot. The mattress was hard and stiff, but after spending the night sliding across rough ceramic, it felt as gloriously luxurious as her bed back home. "Besides, in theory, we also don't have anywhere better to go just now," she added.
"So we rest?"
"We rest," Alison confirmed, closing her eyes. "Maybe we eat and drink, too, if their courier makes it through."
She propped one eye open. "Mostly, you stay out of sight," she said.
"Until I'm needed?"
Alison closed both eyes again. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll let you know when that is."
They spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping. At least Alison did—she wasn't sure what exactly Taneem did with the idle time. As long as the K'da was quiet, she didn't really care.
The promised food and water arrived about midafternoon, delivered by the Parprin who'd been in the group that had escorted Alison to the hut. The food wasn't very good, but it was filling and Alison was ravenous. She and Taneem split the meal, and Alison went back to sleep.
It was dark outside by the time she awoke. "Any news?" she asked, stretching her arms carefully. Her back felt a hundred percent better, but the muscles and skin were still tender.
"No one has come close," Taneem reported. She was curled up on the floor beside a small crack in the wall, periodically flicking her tongue out to taste the air.
"I wonder if this Penitent got caught," Alison said, getting stiffly off the bed and taking a sip of the water they'd saved. "Or whether he just got cold feet."
"Jack used that expression once," Taneem said thoughtfully. "I'm still not sure—" She broke off, her tongue flicking twice through the crack. "They are coming," she hissed. "Many of them. No Brummgas."
"Great—a committee," Alison growled, glancing around. Aside from the single door, there was no way out of the hut.
At least, not any way the slaves could possibly anticipate. "Time to play backstop," she said, holding out her hand. "Hop on."
A second later Taneem was back on her skin. Five seconds after that, Alison had worked her fingers through another crack in the rear of the hut and Taneem had leaped off into the darkness. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Alison turned to the door and waited.
A minute later she heard soft footsteps approaching. There was a quiet knock, and she pushed the door open.
It was the Compfrin who'd first identified her as Jack Morgan's friend. Arrayed behind him was the committee Taneem had smelled: two Parprins, three Jantris, three more Eytras, and four other Compfrins. All of them were armed, either with kitchen implements or else with tree-branch clubs.
One of the Eytras was standing a little in front of the rest. It was, Alison knew, the position a leader would normally take. "Good evening," she said, nodding to all of them and then focusing her attention on the Eytra. "Do I have the honor of addressing the Penitent?"
A ripple of surprise ran through the group. The Eytra himself gave no visible reaction. "I am," he said. "Stronlo is my name. Yours is Alison Kayna?"
"Yes," Alison confirmed. "Why the name Penitent?"
A flicker of pain crossed Stronlo's face. "I was there when Jack Morgan offered us freedom. I failed to grasp that offer, and have spent two months repenting my foolishness."
He straightened up. "But now I have been given a second chance," he said firmly. "Now that you have come to free us."
Alison felt her throat go dry. Shoofteelee, back at the house, had had the same attitude. And the same assumptions. "That's not exactly the case," she said carefully. "I came on a mission of my own." She had a quick flash of inspiration—"At the request of Jack Morgan and the black dragon."
"She lies," one of the Jantris murmured. "She doesn't know the dragon. She's a spy."
"Be calm," Stronlo advised him coolly. "If she is a spy, she will not leave here alive. Tell me what this mission was that the black dragon sent you to perform."
"I'm not permitted to talk about that," Alison said, thinking fast. If Uncle Virge had been properly persuasive, a Malison Ring strike force should be here sometime in the next two or three days. "But I may still be able to get some help for you. Tell me what exactly you have in mind."
"Prove first that you're a friend of Jack Morgan," the suspicious Jantri countered.
This was getting sticky. "How do you suggest I do that?" Alison asked.
"Tell us something about him," Stronlo said.
Alison lifted her hands helplessly. "Like what? Most of what I know about him you won't know and can't confirm. Anything you do know, the Brummgas back at the big house probably know, too. That means nothing I can say will really prove anything."
"Then repeat for us the poem he spoke to the human Noy," the Jantri said.
"You must be joking," Alison protested. "That dragon has hundreds of poems swimming around his brain. I have no idea which one he hauled out for Noy."
"Then perhaps you do not know him after all," the Jantri growled.
"The poem begins this way," the Compfrin beside her offered helpfully.
"The night was calm, the battle near,
The enemy was set with fear.
Their eyes had hearkened,
The sky had darkened
Memories we held so dear."
"No," came a quiet voice from behind them.
The entire group spun around, their weapons snapping reflexively up into ready positions.
And there they froze as a muffled gasp rippled through their ranks.
Taneem was crouched above them on a large tree limb, her silver eyes shining like tiny moons in the darkness. "That was incorrect," she said into the taut silence. " This is the correct poem:
"The night was calm, the battle near,
The enemy was wet with fear.
Their ears were hearkened;
They had darkened
Memories we held so dear."
She twitched her tail, her eyes shifting to the Jantri. "I am not the black dragon," she said. "But perhaps I will do."
"You will, indeed," Stronlo said, and Alison could hear a trembling of excitement flowing into his voice. He turned back to Alison. "The dragons have returned. The time is right."
"Right for what?" Alison asked.
"For hope," Stronlo said. "For freedom." He glanced back at Taneem. "For rebellion."
Alison felt a chill run up her back. "Rebellion?" she repeated carefully.
"It has all been planned," Stronlo said. "We are many, and we are ready."
"And the Chookoock family has all the weapons," Alison countered.
Stronlo gave a wide Eytran smile. "We have you and the dragon."
Alison hissed between her teeth. Two months ago, Draycos had single-handedly cleared out an entire layered Brummgan defense across these grounds. Clearly, Stronlo and his fellow rebels were hoping for a repeat of that victory.
But Draycos was a trained poet-warrior. Taneem was a child in an adult's body.
Even worse, the element of surprise had been lost. The Brummgas had seen Draycos in action once. They would know how to deal with those tactics this time.
But Alison could see that none of that mattered. Stronlo and his people were so hungry for the freedom they'd missed out on once that they would brush aside any risk to avoid missing it again. Even if it meant their deaths.
"All right," she said with a sigh. "But not yet. There are people coming who can help us."
"More friends of the dragons?" one of the Eytras asked hopefully.
"Not exactly," Alison hedged. "But they'll be good allies just the same. They should be here in two to three days."
"That is a long time to keep her hidden," one of the Parprins said uncertainly.
"We can do it," Stronlo said firmly. "We will do it."
"Great," Alison said. "Then we'll stay here, and hidden, and you'll get everything ready from your end."
"How will we know when these allies are here?" one of the Compfrins asked.
"Don't worry," Alison said grimly. "If it works out the way I expect, everyone for ten miles will know they're here."
They talked together for another half hour, mostly about the slave compound and the Brummgas' patrol routine. By the time they were finished, Alison had a pretty good idea of what she was up against.
After that, the slaves made their farewells and slipped away into the night, leaving a fresh supply of food and water behind.
"A rebellion," Alison commented grimly as she and Taneem went back into the hut. "Sticks and kitchen knives against lasers, slapsticks, and machine guns. What have we gotten ourselves into this time?"
"You don't approve," Taneem asked, her voice oddly cool.
"I don't approve of people getting themselves killed for nothing, no," Alison countered, sitting down on the bed. "Because that's what's going to happen."
"You said the Malison Ring would help them."
Alison snorted. "I said that to try to stall Stronlo off for a couple of days," she said. "The strike force isn't going to care if a bunch of slaves get themselves slaughtered."
"The Malison Ring approves of slavery?" Taneem asked, her tail lashing.
"The Malison Ring has its own agenda, and that doesn't include playing white knight to every downtrodden group of people they run across," Alison said. "That's more Jack's and Draycos's style."
The tail lashed a little harder. "But not yours?"
Alison gazed into those silver eyes, her stomach tightening. What was she supposed to say? "We can't fix the whole universe, Taneem," she said. "No one can. Right now, we're in way over our heads. We're going to be lucky if we get out of here with our skins intact."
"I understand," Taneem said. "Like the Malison Ring, we have our own agenda."
Alison winced at the K'da's tone. "If it makes you feel any better, remember that part of that agenda includes protecting Draycos and his people."
Taneem's eyes glittered. "Draycos and my people," she corrected quietly.
"Right," Alison said, searching for a way to get off this topic. "Speaking of which, how in space did you know that poem of Draycos's? It wasn't something the Phookas sang together, was it?"
"Of course not," Taneem said, an odd mixture of pity and revulsion in her voice. "They weren't . . . that is, we weren't able to create such songs. Draycos taught it to me afterward."
"And happened to mention that it was the one he'd sung to Noy?"
Taneem turned her head away. "I asked him to sing that particular one to me," she said. "He had said it was a song of encouragement, and I was. . ." She trailed off.
With a sigh, Alison reached out and stroked the gray-scaled neck. For a moment Taneem seemed to resist the touch, then relaxed beneath it. "We all get discouraged sometimes," Alison said. "It's not a crime."
Taneem flicked her tail. "Draycos doesn't get discouraged."
"I'd bet you my left arm he does," Alison countered. "The trick is to get out of that pity pit as fast as you can."
She exhaled tiredly. "And speaking of getting out of things, we've got no more than three days before Stronlo and his people do a full-bore Light Brigade charge to their deaths," she said. "Let's have a little snack, maybe get a little more sleep, and then put our heads together and figure out how we're going to keep that from happening."
* * *
Chapter 29
The search for the two humans lasted most of the night, with Golvins and lights moving erratically across the canyon floor. By morning, though, the searchers seemed to have given up and gone back to their normal daily lives.
Which wasn't to say there was no danger. For over an hour around sunrise that first morning Jack huddled in the back of the apartment with Langston, hardly daring to breathe, as the Golvins with apartments above theirs climbed down the pillar's ivy coating on their way to their fields and other jobs.
Fortunately, Langston had lived there long enough to have left plenty of residual scent behind. Apparently, it was enough to mask the fresher scents of the fugitives.
Late that evening, for the same hour, Jack and Langston again had to retreat to the rear of the apartment as the Golvins reversed direction and headed back home.
The next three days passed slowly. Though the morning and evening rush hours were the most dangerous, a scattering of Golvins moved up or down at other times during the day, making casual conversation dangerous.
Besides which, after the first day of the limited food rationing Langston worked out, Jack's stomach was rumbling so loudly and so constantly that it was a wonder none of the passing Golvins heard it.
But of more concern to Jack than his stomach, or even his safety, was Draycos.
His biggest fear on that long first night was that the K'da would be so deeply unconscious that he wouldn't be able to retu
rn to Jack's skin when it became necessary. Jack and Langston had solved that problem by having Jack strip off his clothing and stretch out on the cold stone floor with Draycos lying full length on top of him. As the time limit approached, the K'da simply melted back onto Jack's skin.
But as Langston had predicted, the bandage came off when Draycos went two-dimensional. Every time after that, whenever he came back off Jack's skin, they found that a little more fresh blood had oozed from the wound.
And while the K'da soon came back to a sort of dreamy consciousness, he remained weak and unable to do much except eat and sleep.
"I just hope he didn't take any damage he can't heal by himself," Langston commented midmorning on the third day as he carefully wiped off the latest bit of blood. "If your numbers are right, the rest of his people are still over a month away."
"He's going to get well," Jack growled. "He is."
"I know, I know," Langston said quickly. "I'm just saying, that's all."
But he was right, Jack knew as he gazed down at his sleeping friend. Draycos was recovering, but slowly. Much more slowly than he'd bounced back from other injuries. He needed medical attention, and medical treatment.
And he wasn't going to get either trapped in the Golvin canyon. "You're right," Jack said with a sigh. "We need to get him out of here." He looked up at Langston. "Tonight."
"Let's not go off half-charged," Langston warned. "If he's got internal injuries or bleeding it might actually be more dangerous to move him than to let him just lie here quietly and heal."
"And starve to death?" Jack countered.
Langston grimaced. "Point," he conceded. "Okay: compromise. At current rations, we've got about three days left. Let's give him one more day to rest and heal. Tomorrow night, win, lose, or draw, you and I will sneak down the rabbit hole and see about grabbing that aircar."
"Deal," Jack said with a twinge of dread. If they moved Draycos too soon—or moved him too late—they could end up killing him.
He was just wondering if he should suggest they wait two days instead of one when he heard the sound of a distant explosion.