Green, Sharon - Mind Guest.htm

by Mind Guest

  at all to see the barbarian with Fallan's sword in him go down there were too many other barbarians still on their feet to worry about. Lord

  only knows where they'd come from, but they were suddenly all around,

  screaming and swinging away with an abandon that made everyone else I'd

  seen look reserved and dignified. I defended myself for the first few

  seconds of adjustment, then began eliminating opponents before I was

  eliminated.

  I'd accounted for a respectable number of barbarians before it came to

  me that I wasn't fighting alone. Strangely enough, some of the

  barbarians seemed to be fighting on my side. I'd just come to the

  conclusion that I'd blundered into the middle of some intertribal

  rivalry when I spotted something that cleared away the strangeness.

  Over the heads of the screaming, sweating barbarians nearest me, I saw

  the familiar features of the giant Leandor, head of Dameron's special

  section. I blocked a thrust from a determined barbarian and riposted

  cleanly, then paid attention to staying alive now that I'd finally

  reached my contact back to where I'd come from.

  It took many more frantic minutes before Leandor and his people were

  able to push the real barbarians farther away into the trees. I took a

  deep breath of relief at finally being in the, clear, stretched my

  aching arm and back muscles, then turned to look at "the mercenary

  Fallan." One of the barbarians had opened his thigh with a quick jab

  before I'd finished her, and the wound had obviously been the last of

  too many. The man lay sprawled on the ground unconscious, still alive

  but not doing very well. I felt the very long night and morning in

  every muscle and bone of my body, and squatted down close to stare at

  the face I'd learned too know so well. He'd shouted my name just before

  the barbarians had hit, and there was only one way for him to have

  known my name. I stared at the pale, drawn face that was still covered

  with the sweat of pain, and wondered which of Dameron's people he was.

  Five minutes later there was the sound of hurrying footsteps and I

  stood straight fast, glad I hadn't resheathed my sword, but it was only

  Leandor, coming back alone. He still had his reddened sword in his

  fist, but I was suddenly too tired to hang onto mine, so I wiped most

  of the blood off on the skirt of my riding dress and resheathed the

  blade before walking a few steps in his direction.

  "Girl, am I glad to see you!" he called as he got closer. "Up to a few

  minutes ago, we all thought you'd had it permanently!"

  "Why would you think that?" I frowned, looking up at him as he stopped

  in front of me.

  "When somebody's beacon goes off, it usually means they've gone with

  it," he grinned, his eyes moving all over me. "You seem to be one of

  the few exceptions to the rule. What did you run into?"

  "Nothing much to speak of," I muttered, holding down the rage that

  wanted to flame out at anything handy. If my beacon had gone out as

  Leandor said, it was a fairly safe, bet it had been planted in my side,

  in the spot I currently had a half-healed gouge. If Leandor hadn't come

  along, I would have waited for a pick-up till I died of old age! I

  picked out a few choice words to say to Dameron's medics and put them

  aside, then looked back up at Leandor. "How are you fixed for a firstaid

  kit?" I asked, moving my head around to nod at Fallan. Leandor

  followed my gaze and lost his grin, then moved past me to the

  unconscious ex-mercenary.

  "How bad is he?" he asked, bending down to see for himself without

  waiting for an answer. It was obvious Fallan wasn't good, so I shrugged

  at Leandor's back.

  "If he's faking, he's doing a good job of it," I commented. "He's lost

  enough blood to put him on anyone's critical list, and I'm fresh out of bandages. How fast can you get him back to base?"

  "We can't get either one of you back before dark,", Leandor said

  without looking up, "but I can give him a transfusion at my camp. It

  isn't far and it'll give us all the privacy we need."

  He wrestled Fallan off the ground and over his shoulder, then started

  off in the direction all the barbarians seemed to have come from. I

  collected my vair and Fallan's and followed, but it wasn't long before

  I mounted my vair, finding it easier following Leandor when I didn't

  have to match his stride. Leandor continued on through the trees, and

  before long we came to a larger clearing than the one I'd stopped at.

  There were tents pitched all over the clearing, and some of Leandor's

  team was still there, relaxing only a little when Leandor nodded at

  them before disappearing inside one of the tents. I just sat on my vair

  and slumped over its neck, feeling the soreness in my left side for the

  first time in days. I'd probably still be there if one of Leandor's

  team men hadn't come over to offer me a place to wait and something to

  eat. I half fell off the vair and plodded after the team member, and

  the tent I was led to was more inviting than many palaces I'd seen.

  Once inside the tent, I was able to collapse in peace. The thing was

  surprisingly spacious, with blanket like hangings on the skin walls,

  furs on the floor as carpeting, and a large fire burning in a deep hole

  in the middle of the floor, all of it fitting in very well with the

  "barbarian's" clothing. The men were wearing long, loose trousers in

  assorted colors, the legs of the trousers being tied tight around their

  ankles with leather, and the women had brief, vest-like halters to add

  to that. Both wore knives and sword-belts around their waists, and both

  were barefoot, riot needing boots for their saddleless vair. I picked a

  spot on the furs near the fire and stretched out, and didn't move until

  the food came. The meal was no more than grilled steak from some animal

  or other and a bowl of barbarian beer called gannas, but to me it

  tasted like the next thing to ambrosia. I swallowed it all, then leaned

  back to relax again.

  I was happily digesting what had gone down my throat when Leandor came

  in. he was carrying his own bowl of gannas, but waited until he was

  sitting near me before swallowing at it.

  "Just what I needed," he commented after lowering the bowl. "Sometimes

  this stuff is better for what ails you than anything the clinicians

  have."

  "How's your patient?" I asked, rolling onto my side in order to see him

  more easily. He swallowed at the gannas again, and waved a hand around.

  "Oh, he'll be fine," he assured me. "Nothing too badly wrong with him,

  and the transfusion will do the job until we can get him back to base."

  "Glad to hear that," I nodded, keeping my eyes on him. "Now for the

  next question: who the hell is he?"

  Leandor's eyebrows rose, and he forgot about the bowl in his hands.

  "What do you mean, who is he?" he demanded. "Didn't he tell you? And

  what kind of game were you two playing when we got there?"

  "He didn't tell me anything, and it was no game," I growled, holding

  his gaze. "And if you start beating around the bush, we'll see how long

  it takes me to pull this tent down around y
our ears."

  I hadn't raised my voice, but there was no longer a reason to swallow

  whatever annoyance I felt. Leandor looked surprised again, then raised

  a hand in a calming gesture.

  "Just take it easy," he soothed, a frown beginning to crease his

  forehead. "Nobody's beating around the bush. I don't know why he didn't

  tell you, but there's nothing secret involved. Granted, Valdon hasn't

  been in the field for a while." "Valdon!" I exploded, sitting up straight. "The man's a damned fool!

  How could Dameron send him?"

  "There wasn't much choice." Leandor shrugged, not very pleased with my

  reaction. "We got the chance to substitute one of our own for the real

  Fallan at the last minute, and Valdon grabbed the privilege. He is

  second in command, and doesn't usually abuse the position. When he

  insisted, Dameron gave in. I got back yesterday, and we were following

  his beacon for a pick-up when that tribe of barbarians jumped us. We

  didn't mean to drive them straight toward you, but we didn't have much

  choice about it."

  "Choices," I muttered, as if it were a swear word, as I leaned back

  again, then I thought of something else. "Every time I turned around I

  found myself tripping over that man. If my beacon was knocked out, how

  did he keep finding me?"

  "He must have been attuned to you," Leandor answered in an "everyone

  knows that" tone of voice. "Beacons are for long-range pick-ups and

  emergency spotting. Attuning is for close-up work, when your target

  might take off in any direction at any time. The base has your pattern,

  so attuning would be a snap."

  I shook my head sourly at his idea of a snap, then brought my eyes back

  to his.

  "If you knew someone was in that Paldovar Village because of Valdon's

  beacon, why didn't you show up there for a pick-up?"

  "You've got to be kidding!" he snorted, looking outraged at the idea.

  "We stay away from those places except in absolute emergencies." Then

  he eyed me curiously. "How did you two happen to end up there?"

  "It's a long story," I sighed, settling down flat in the furs. "If we

  ever get drunk together, I might let you in on it. Right now I'd

  appreciate a spare corner to sleep in. Does your hospitality extend

  that far?"

  "At least that far," he chuckled, moving slightly where he sat. "You

  can use the spot you're on, and forget about keeping one eye open.

  We'll look after you for a while."

  "Gee, thanks," I murmured, turning over to bury my face in the soft,

  warm fur. "But where were you when I needed you?"

  Leandor chuckled again but didn't say anything, and it must have been a

  good ten seconds before I conked Out cold.

  Getting back to base was as eventful and complicated as leaving it had

  been. Fallan-Valdon, I mean was hustled off to the hospital area, still

  unconscious from a shot Leandor had given him. After stepping out of

  the scouter into the docking area, I had just enough time to stretch

  once before an escort showed up to guide me through the base proper. I

  thought I was being taken to Dameron's office for their version of

  debriefing, but instead found myself being awaited by a hungry group of

  medics who were dying to get their hands on me. I enjoy popularity, but

  not of the medical variety, and politely declined their offer of

  attention. They took to insisting; I suggested what they might do with

  their spare time; they turned red then threatened to use restraints,

  and I rested my hand on the hilt of the sword I was still wearing. Just

  before the real bloodshed started, Dameron walked in.

  "I thought hospitals were supposed to be quiet," he commented,

  stationing himself between me and my admirers. "I could hear the bunch

  of you back in the residential wing."

  The stars of the medical profession knew as well as I did that Dameron

  was exaggerating, but they flushed anyway at the implied criticism.

  Then my most ardent admirer, the same little man I'd met when I'd first opened my eyes in the base, detached himself from the rest and faced

  Dameron.

  "Commander, it is our considered opinion that this young woman is badly

  in need of treatment and bed rest," he announced in that fussy way of

  his. "We will defer to others in any area but medicine. If we do not

  have the final word there, we can be of no further use to you. It is of

  course, your decision."

  I snorted an estimate of his considered opinion, a reaction he chose to

  ignore as he folded his arms and stared at Dameron, but the base

  commander didn't share my estimation. He seemed to be thoughtfully

  considering the little man's words, and when he moved his dark eyes

  over to me, my headache started coming back.

  "Dameron," I began, intending to make my position very, very clear, but

  Dameron wasn't waiting to hear what I had to say.

  "You've got to cooperate, girl," he rumbled, holding up a conciliatory

  hand. "They're only trying to help you."

  "I've had enough of people trying to help me!" I snapped, noticing that

  the golden haze was beginning to form again. "For a change, I'm damned

  well going to see a little disinterested neutrality!"

  My hand was at the sword hilt again, the golden haze thickening by the

  second, but that didn't keep me from hearing the hiss behind my back. I

  whirled around on the frightened medic who still held the pressure hypo

  and began drawing on him, but never got the chance to clear the

  scabbard. Dameron jumped me from behind, wrapping those oversized arms

  around me, holding me until the shot could take effect. I struggled to

  get free, intent on killing everyone in the room, but the dark took

  over before I could.

  Chapter 10

  A small click woke me first, intruding on a deep, dreamless sleep that

  seemed to have been a part of me for some time. I was lying on my side,

  all curled up, so I rolled over onto my back to stare at a flat gold

  ceiling. My eyes stayed with the ceiling for a while, moved slowly down

  blank gold walls, then settled on the soft yellow cover over me before

  I reached the point of wondering where I was. By that time I knew I was

  back in the base, knew where the base was, and knew that the gold walls

  meant the hospital area, but I wasn't quite up to remembering why I had

  to be in the hospital area. My head felt as though it should hurtthough

  it didn't and I was bothered by an annoying disorientation.

  I was still trying to sort things out when there was another click,

  this time accompanied by the door sliding open. Dameron came in, his

  steps over-quiet, his face preoccupied, and the door closed behind him

  again as he walked to a mound chair not far from my bed. I watched him

  sit down with more weariness than I'd come to expect from him, wondered

  what sort of a problem he had this time, and then saw his eyes come to

  me. He started when he saw me watching him, and leaned forward

  anxiously in the chair.

  "You're not supposed to be awake yet," he rumbled, almost in

  accusation. "How are you feeling?"

  "I've been worse and better," I admitted, looking him over. "If I'm not
/>   supposed to be awake yet, what are you doing here?"

  "I've been listing my sins and estimating penalties," he snorted, then

  leaned even closer. "Are you sure you're all right?"

  I took some time to roll myself into a sitting position before

  answering him. My head felt-tight, I guess you could call it, and the

  gears of my mind seemed to need a good oiling. "I'll probably live," I conceded thickly. "What did those fumblefingered

  idiots do to me?"

  "If you're referring to my medical staff, they probably did the best

  job of their careers," he chuckled, finally relaxing a little. "You're

  sounding more familiar by the minute. How anxious are you to get your

  hands on a sword again?"

  I was about to ask him what a sword had to do with anything when the

  tightness in my mind broke, letting in a flood of memories and

  associations. The time with Grigon, the time in the slave market,

  fighting, running, bleeding and Fallan. The man called Fallan who was

  really Valdon, a man who had tried to give me a hand, a man who had

  fought to protect me, a man who had saved my life at least twice. I

  tangled my fingers in my hair and bent over with a moan when I thought

  of what I'd done to him.

  "Why didn't he say something?" I choked out, not realizing that Dameron

  shouldn't have known what I was talking about. I kept my head down,

  rocking back and forth with the pain, and only vaguely heard Dameron

  get out of his chair.

  "Considering what went on between you two before you left, he thought

  at first that it would be better if you didn't know who he was,"

  Dameron's voice came, soft with compassion. "When you reached the

  woodsman's house he was about to tell you everything, but that 'bandit'

  attack came first. The next time you were alone together, you were in a

  Paldovar Village. The Paldovar already know about too many things that

  should be secret, so it was no place to go into explanations. But don't

  blame yourself for what happened-it wasn't your fault. You're the first

  one to react to impressions the way you did, and it couldn't have been

  anticipated. It simply wasn't your fault."

  "Then whose fault was it?" I demanded, looking up at him again. "Who do

  you think that was, cutting a man to pieces without giving him a

  chance? Not a swift, clean death, but cut by agonizing cut, trying to

  make him beg for his life!"