The Ship Who Won ккп-5

by Энн Маккефри

  Brannel, following the secondary dialect with evident difficulty, replied haltingly in that language, which surprised the magiwoman as much as his daring to speak out in her presence. «I can understand. Mage Keff has agreed to give me a chance to help. I will do whatever Mage Keff wants,» he said staunchly.

  Carialle made her image step forward. «Lady Plennafrey, you are suffering from a preconceived notion that all the people who have had the finger amputation are stupid. Brannel is the exception to almost any rule you can think of. He has superior intelligence for someone brought up with the hardships he suffered. I think he's far smarter than the favored few who live in the mountains with you mages. You're not that different. You belong to the same species,» she said, reaching for an example, «like . . . like Keff and I do.»

  «You?» Plennafrey asked.

  Almost amazed that such a thought had come from her own speakers, Carialle had to pause to consider the change of attitude she had undergone. Much of it was due to seeing the division of a single people on this world into masters and slaves. She now realized that it was counter-productive to separate herself from her parent community. Yes, she was different, but compared with everything else she and Keff encountered, the similarities were more important. Acknowledging her humanity at last felt right and proper. In spite of the way she always pictured herself, she knew inside the metal shell and the carefully protected nerve center was a human being. She felt warmed by the perception.

  «Yes,» she said, simply. «Me.»

  Keff beamed at her pillar. Her Lady Fair image beamed happily back at him. Plennafrey fumed visibly at the interplay. If Carialle was human, then the Ozran had a genuine rival. This, combined with her lovers liberal attitude toward the lower class, obviously dismayed the young woman. As she had proved before, she was resilient and adaptable. Plenna seemed to be considering Keff's point of view, but she thoroughly disapproved of Keff having another woman in his life. To disarm the magiwoman, Carialle made her image step back onto the wall. Plennafrey relaxed visibly.

  «So I think you should understand that Brannel deserves an explanation if he is to help us.»

  «Well . . .» Plennafrey said.

  «I heard that some of the mages are descended from Brannel's kind of people,» Keff said persuasively. «Isn't Asedow's mother one like that? I heard Potria call her a dray-face.»

  «That's true,» Plenna said, nodding. «And he is intelligent. Not good at thinking things through, but intelligent.» She smiled ruefully at Keff. «I don't wish to make things harder for my people or for myself. I will cooperate.»

  «For what am I risking myself?» Brannel asked hoarsely, looking from one mage to another.

  «For a sheaf of papers,» Keff said. «I need to see them. Magess Plenna will describe them, and Carialle will create an image for you to see.»

  Brannel seemed unsatisfied. «And for me? For what am I risking myself?» he repeated.

  «Ah,» Keff said, enlightened. «Well, what's your price? What do you want?»

  Plennafrey, losing her newfound liberalism, drew herself up in outrage. «You dare ask for a reward? Do the mages not give you food and shelter? This is just another task we have given you.»

  «We have those things, Magess, but we want knowledge, too!» Brannel said. Having begun, he was determined to put his case, even in the face of disapproval from an angry overlord, though somehow he was begging now. «Mage Keff, I . . . I want to be a mage, too. For a tiny, small item of power I will help you. It does not need to be big, or very powerful, but I know I could be a good mage. I will earn my way along. That is all I have ever desired: to learn. Give me that, and I will give you my life.» Keff saw the passion in the Noble Primitives eye and was prepared to agree.

  «To give a four-finger power? No!» Plenna protested, cutting him off.

  «Not good for you, Brannel,» Carialle said, emphatically, siding unexpectedly with Plennafrey. «Look what a mess your mages have made of this place using unlimited power. How about a better home, or an opportunity for a real education, instead?»

  «What about redressing the balance of power. Cari?» Keff asked under his breath.

  «It doesn't need redressing, it needs de-escalating,» Carialle replied through her brawns mastoid implant. «Could this planet really cope with one more resentful mage wielding a wand? We still don't know what the power was for originally.»

  Brannel's long face wore a mulish expression. Carialle could picture him with donkey's ears laid back along his skull. He was not happy to be dictated to by the flat magess, nor was he comfortable being enlisted by a genuine magess.

  «No one speaks of what went before this,» he said. «The promises of mages to other than themselves always prove false. I served Klemay, and now he is dead. Who killed him? I know whoever kills is not always the newest overlord in a place.»

  Plenna's mouth dropped open. «How do you know that? You're uneducated. You've never been anywhere but here.»

  «You talk over our heads as if we aren't there,» Brannel said flatly. «But I, I understand. Who? I wish to know, for if it was you, I cannot help.»

  Plennafrey looked stricken at the idea that she could willingly commit murder. Keff patted her hand.

  «He doesn't know, Plenna,» Keff said soothingly. «How could he? It was Ferngal,» he told Brannel. «Chaumel said so last night.»

  «Yes, then,» Brannel said eagerly, «I will do what you want. For my price.»

  «Impossible,» Plenna said. «He is ignorant.»

  «Ignorance is curable,» Keff said emphatically. «It wasn't part of his brain that was removed.» He made a chopping motion at his hand. «He can learn. He's already proved that.»

  Brannel looked jealously at Plenna's long fingers. «But I cannot use the power items without help.»

  Carialle was immediately sorry Keff had mentioned the amputation. «Brannel, there's nothing that can be done about that now. Some of the other magimen use prosthetics—false fingers. You can, too.»

  «If we were home,» Keff said thoughtfully, «surgery could be done to regrow the fingers.» He glanced up to find Plenna gazing at him.

  «I must see these wonders,» Plenna said, moving closer. «Should I not come back with you? After all, you said you are here to learn about my people on behalf of your own. I can teach you all about Ozran and see your world. Someday we can come back here together.» She laid one long hand on his arm.

  «Uhhh, one thing at a time, Plenna,» Keff said, his smile fixed on his face. Her touch sent tingles up his arm. Her scent and her lovely eyes pulled him toward her like a magnet, but the sudden thought of having a permanent relationship with her had never crossed his mind. Evidently, it had hers. He reproached himself that he should have thought of the consequences before he took her to bed. «Carialle, we may have a problem,» he subvocalized.

  «We have a problem,» Carialle said aloud. «The eyes are back. They're circling around outside.»

  «Oh!» Plenna ran to the screen. «Nokias, Chaumel, and the other high mages. They are trying to decide what to do.»

  «Have they figured out that we're in here?» Keff asked.

  «No,» Plenna said, after listening for a moment. «All of their followers are still searching.» Carialle confirmed it.

  «Then we'd better make our move, pronto, if we want a chance at those papers,» Keff said. «All that remains is for our agent here to agree to fetch them for us.»

  Brannel had been standing beside the console, listening to the three bare-skins talk. He folded his arms over his furry chest.

  «I would do anything for you. Mage Keff, but such a chance comes only once to one such as myself. You asked me my price. I told you my hearts desire. Will you pay it?»

  Keff appealed to Plennafrey.

  «I think he deserves a chance.»

  Clearly uneasy, Plennafrey eyed the Noble Primitive. «If all goes well, I agree he will be worthy of an opportunity,» she said slowly. «I do not know where to find him an object of power yet, but I will try.�
�

  «All right, Brannel? Magess Plennafrey will teach you how to use a power object. She'll be your teacher, so she will control what you do to a certain extent—but you'll have your chance. She'll also teach you other things an educated man needs to know. Agreed?»

  «Agreed,» Plennafrey said.

  Brannel, his eyes shining, fell to his knees before the magiwoman. «Thank you, Magess.»

  «There may be no power left for anyone,» Carialle reminded them. «If those power drops have been increasing in frequency over time, it may mean that whatever's powering the magic here on Ozran is finally running down.»

  «What do I look for?» Brannel asked meekly.

  Following Plenna's instructions, Carialle created the holographic image of a sheaf of dusty documents, yellow with age, and rotated it so the Noble Primitive could see all sides.

  «They are very fragile,» Plenna said. «They could shiver to dust if you breathe on them.»

  «I will be careful, Magess, I promise.»

  «We're left with only one problem,» Keff said. «How do we get Brannel to Plennafrey's stronghold?»

  Carialle's Lady Fair image drew an impish smile. «It might be worth a try to count on one of those power drops. If we can attract everyone's attention again, I might be able to break loose when the lights go off. After all, I'm not dependent on the Core of Ozran. I only need a moment. I can be set to launch at any second, and you'll have your diversion to teleport there in peace.»

  «How can we do that?» Keff asked, bemused.

  «By letting them know where you are,» Cari said. «You zoom outside and start the Wild Hunt all over. That will bring everyone here with a view-halloo, and if I'm right, overload the power lines. As soon as the tractor beam on my tail lets go, I'll take off and distract them away from you. I'll lead them on an orbit of Ozran while Brannel is getting your papers.»

  «Do you have enough fuel?» Keff asked.

  «Enough for one try,» Carialle said, showing an indicator of her tank levels, «or we may not have the wherewithal to get home. I burned a lot trying to break loose before. Don't fail me.»

  «Did I burst my heart in the effort I never would, fair lady,» Keff said, kissing his hand to her. «We'll rendezvous here in two hours.»

  With a final reproachful glance at Carialle's image, Plenna took her place on her chariot. Keff crouched behind her like the musher on a dogsled, and Brannel, hunched on hands and knees, clung to the back, white knuckles showing through the fur on his fingers.

  «Ready, steady, go!» Carialle threw up the airlock door, and the chariot shot out the narrow passage.

  «Yeeeee-haaaah!» Keff yelled as they zoomed over the Noble Primitives' cave. The spy-eyes froze in place.

  Suddenly, the air was full of chariots. The mages in them looked here and there for Plennafrey, who was already kilometers away from Carialle.

  «Look!» shouted Asedow, pointing with his whole arm, and the mob turned to follow them.

  Chaumel blinked in, with Nokias and Ferngal alongside him. Like well-trained squadrons, the wings of mages fell in behind. Keff turned and thumbed his nose at them.

  «Nyaah!» he shouted.

  Two hundred bolts of red lightning shot from two hundred amulets and rods toward their backs. Plennafrey threw up a shield behind them, which deflected the force spectacularly off in all directions.

  «If its coming, its coming now,» Carialle said in Keff's ear. «Building . . . building . . . now!»

  «Hold tight!» Keff yelled, as the floor dropped out from under them when the power failed. Plennafrey's shoulders tensed under his hands, and Brannel moaned.

  Shrieks and shouts echoed off the valley floor as the other mages were deprived of their power and fell helplessly earthward. Some were close enough to the ground to strike it before the blackout ended. One magess ended up sitting dazed, in the midst of broken pieces of chair, staring around in complete bewilderment.

  As before, the power-free interval was brief, but it sufficed for Carialle to kick on her engines and break loose from her invisible bonds. With a roar and an elongating mushroom of fire, she was airborne. As one, the hundreds of mages swiveled in midair, ignoring Plennafrey and Keff, to pursue her. Her cameras picked up images of astonished and furious faces. Chaumel was hammering his chair arm.

  «Catch me if you can!» she cried, and took off toward planetary north.

  ***

  Another fifty meters, and Plennafrey transported them from Klemays valley to an isolated peak. Brannel, a huddled bundle of knees and elbows at her feet, was silent. Keff thought the Noble Primitive was terrified until Brannel turned glowing eyes to them.

  «Oh, Magess, I want to do this!» he exclaimed. «It would be the greatest moment of my life if I could make myself fly. I could never even imagine this out of a dream. I beg you to teach me this first.»

  Keff grinned at the worker males enthusiasm. «I hope you'll feel as energetic when you find out how much work it is to do magic,» he said.

  «Oh, it feels so good to be free again!» said the voice in his ear. Carialle, knowing in advance where they were going, reconnected instantly with Keff's implants. «I have to keep slowing down so I don't lose my audience. They're such quitters! I've almost lost Potria twice.»

  «Any unwanted watchers out there, Cari?» Keff asked, pointing his finger so the ocular implants could see.

  «No spy-eyes here yet,» Carialle's voice said after a moment.

  Plenna shot in over the balcony, which was a twin to the one at Chaumel's stronghold, and hovered a few centimeters above the gray tiles.

  «I mustn't land, or the ley lines will indicate it,» she said.

  Brannel hopped off and dashed inside.

  «Good luck!» Keff called after him. Plenna lifted the chair up and looped over the landing pad's edge to wait beneath the overhang.

  ***

  Brannel felt the floor humming through his feet and forced himself to ignore it. The discomfort was a small price to pay for associating with mages and having them treat him as a friend, if not an equal. Even a true Ozran magess had been kind to him, and the promise Mage Keff had made him—! The knowledge put a spring in his step all along the corridor walled with painted tiles. At the green-edged door, he turned and put his hand on the latch.

  «Ho, there!» Brannel turned. A tall far-face with five fingers strode toward him. He had a strange, flat-nosed face, and his eyes turned up at the corners, but he was handsome, nearly as handsome as a mage. «You're a stranger. What do you think you're doing?»

  «I have been sent by the magess,» Brannel said, leaning toward the house servant with all the aggression of a fighter who has survived tough living conditions. The servant backed up a pace.

  «Who? Which magess?» the servant demanded. He eyed Brannel's prominent jaw with disdain. «You're not one of us.»

  «Indeed I am not,» Brannel said, drawing himself upward. «I am Magess Plennafrey's pupil.»

  That statement, and the casual use of the magess's name, shocked the house male rigid. His tilted eyes widened into circles.

  Brannel, ignoring him, pushed through the door. The room was lined with hanging cloth pictures. He went to the fourth one from the door and felt behind it at knee level. Gently, he extracted from the hidden pocket a thick bundle. He forced himself to walk, not run, out the door, past the startled house male, down the hallway, and out onto the open balcony.

  The chariot appeared suddenly at the edge of the low wall overlooking the precipice, startling him. Keff cheered as Brannel held up the packet and waved him onto the chairs end.

  «Good man, Brannel! Where are you, Cari?» Mage Keff asked the air. «We're on our way back to the plain. Yes, I've got them! Cari, I can almost read these!»

  The chair swept skyward once more. Now that his task was done and reward at hand, Brannel indulged himself in enjoying the view. One day, he would fly over the mountains like this on his own chariot. Wouldn't Alteis stare?

  «Are those what they look like?»
Carialle asked, from her position over the south pole.

  «Yes! They're technical manuals from a starship,» Keff said, gloating. «One of our starships. The language is human Standard, but old. Very old. Nine to twelve hundred years is my guess from the syntax. Please run a check through your memory in that time frame for,» he held a trembling finger underneath the notation to make sure he was reading it correctly, «the CW-53 TMS Bigelow. See when it flew, and when it disappeared, because there certainly was never a record of its landing here.»

  Keff turned page after page of the fragile, yellowing documents, showing each leaf to the implants for Carialle to scan.

  «This is precious and not very sturdy,» he said. «If anything happens to it before I get there, at least we'll have a complete recording.» The covers and pages had been extruded as a smooth-toothed and flexible but now crackling plastic. In a tribute to technology a thousand years old, the laser print lettering was perfectly black and legible. He wondered, glancing through it, what the original owners would have said if they could see to what purpose their record-keeping was being put.

  «Are these documents good?» Plennafrey asked, over the rush of the wind.

  «Better than good!» Keff said, leaning over to show her the ship's layout and classification printed on the inside front cover of the first folder. «These prove that you are the descendant of a starship crew from the Central Worlds who landed here a thousand years ago. You're a human, just like me.»

  «That makes everything wonderful!» Plennafrey said, clasping his wrist. «Then there will be no difficulty with us staying together. We might be able to have children.»

  Keff goggled. Without being insulting there was nothing he could do at the moment but kiss her shining face, which he did energetically.

  «One thing at a time, Plenna,» Keff said, going hastily back to his perusal of the folders. «Ah, there's a reference to the Core of Ozran. If I follow this correctly, yes . . . its a device, passed on to them, not constructed by, the Old Ones, pictured overleaf.» Keff turned the page to the solido. «Eyuch! Ug-ly!»