Betrayals

by Sharon Green

  "But Alsin, you can't!" I protested, now trying not to sound frantic. "There was something between Valiant and me and there will be again, so I don't want to see you hurt. I'm really not interested in—"

  "Hush, little one, and listen to me for a moment," he interrupted gently as he took my hand. "I saw the way Ro was treating you, and that's no way to behave with a woman you have feelings for. All I'm going to do is show you how I treat that sort of woman, and leave you to make the com­parison. If, after you have, you decide you're not interested in me, well, at least I tried. But you can't in all good con­science deny me the chance to try, can you?"

  "Why not?" I countered weakly, but all that got me was a chuckle from him. Then he kissed my hand and walked away, leaving me to wonder how I always seemed to man­age to get into that kind of position. I'd told the man the truth about how I felt, just as I'd told Valiant, but neither of them had believed me. Could I somehow be saying it wrong . . . ?

  Taking a deep breath made me feel only fractionally bet­ter, especially since I suddenly remembered that Naran had warned me about Alsin's feelings. He'd been interested for more than a couple of days, then, which made the situation worse. I could see it now, me chasing after a fleeing Valiant, with Alsin chasing me in turn. All we needed now was someone for Valiant to chase, who could then chase Alsin while he chased me—

  I had to close my eyes for a moment to drive away the picture I'd inadvertently painted, and then I was able to make my way toward the box stall that was our group bed­room. If we Blended again before we slept and checked the area for enemies as far as we could reach, we should be able to eliminate the need for people to stand watch. It hadn't done any good to have people on watch earlier, so it just made sense to do something else. And once again it was obvious that I had no wish to think about anything really relevant, so I'd found something else to take my attention.

  I paused to pick a straw out of a handy bale, and took it with me to the box stall. Tomorrow I would speak to Jovvi again, and if what I held didn't turn out to be the last straw, I was afraid to consider what would be....

  Thirty-seven

  Lorand stood among the trees not far from the road, waiting for Alsin Meerk to reach him. The man was on his way back from Quellin after looking the town over, and should get to where Lorand waited in just a few minutes. Meerk had insisted that the Blending remove all memory from him of where their camp was, so that if he happened to be taken he would not be able to betray them. Lorand had worried that Meerk's paranoia was returning, but Jovvi had assured him that it was just a commonsense precaution. Meerk could have been caught, and they were camped less than an hour away from Quellin.

  It had been Meerk's suggestion that they set up camp on the far side of the town, to keep from boxing themselves in between the forces in Quellin and the next group of pursuing guardsmen. They'd all considered that a good idea, but it had taken time to work their way around the town without being detected. But at least they hadn't had any trouble find­ing a good place to camp. Less than an hour beyond the town there was a very pleasant glade near a fast-running stream, with small stands of trees separating the glade into what could almost be considered private rooms. Between that and the supply wagon, they were more comfortable than they'd expected to be.

  And he and Jovvi had actually had some privacy the night before. The men had strung rope between some of the trees and then had hung blankets on the rope, providing separate accommodations for the women among them. Jovvi hadn't hesitated to share hers, and he'd made love to her for a very long time before falling asleep while holding her in his arms. And their lovemaking had been more confident than des­perate, showing that they both believed that things would work out for them. They still didn't know exactly how, but simply being together made the details something they would find out about later.

  Lorand sent his talent out along the road, only to discover that Meerk was still a few minutes away. The man had rid­den out of town toward Gan Garee, and then had circled around to reach the road he was now on. But he expected to soon find something to tell him it was time to turn around again, to circle back a second time to the road on the far side. He believed that that was where the group had camped, on the road leading back to Gan Garee, and he was simply making sure that he wasn't being followed. Once he was certain he'd gone far enough, he would turn around and really go in the proper direction.

  But speaking about being followed, Lorand suddenly had the strangest feeling. He extended his talent again, finding

  Meerk easily—and then he found the rider a short distance behind Meerk. The second man wore nothing in the way of a uniform, but there wasn't much doubt that he followed rather than simply rode. It was something the group had been hoping would happen, and they were prepared to make use of the break.

  Reaching out toward Jovvi with his mind had become as easy as breathing for Lorand, so he did it now as they'd agreed he would. She responded immediately by forming the Blending, and then it was the entity which found the second rider. The man's thoughts were smug and uncon­cerned until the entity took control of them, and then they were merely obedient. The entity withdrew again and dis­appeared when they severed the Blending, and Lorand stood alone again to wait until Meerk rode into sight.

  When he did so, Lorand stepped out of the trees and waved his hand, signaling the man to stop. Meerk was sur­prised, of course, which his first words confirmed.

  "Lorand, what are you doing here?" he demanded. "Is everything all right? I hope you haven't come with bad news ..."

  "Relax, Alsin, everything is fine," Lorand hastened to assure him. "I'm here to tell you that you don't have to turn around again, because this is where we're camped. You had us take our true location from your mind, just in case you were captured by our enemies."

  "Yes, that sounds like something I would suggest," Meerk agreed with a grin, "And all this time I thought I was just trying to find out if anyone was following me— which they aren't."

  "Ah ... as a matter of fact, someone is," Lorand said as tactfully as possible under the circumstances. "You proba­bly didn't notice him because he has Spirit magic, and has learned how to make himself all but invisible. If I'd been as close to him physically as you were, I probably wouldn't have noticed him either."

  "I didn't know it was possible to do that with Spirit magic," Meerk responded, more startled than embarrassed. "It looks like we'll be learning a lot of new things before this is all over."

  "And everything we learn adds to our strength," Lorand said, echoing what Meerk himself had been saying since they left the hidden farm. "While we're waiting for your shadow to get here, tell me what Quellin is like."

  "It's like your average small town," Meerk replied with a shrug before beginning to dismount. "It has shops and a tavern and a smithy, with people going about their own busi­ness. The only obvious difference is the stockade on the south side of town, along with the number of uniformed men you see everywhere on the streets. And there seems to be a lot of wagon traffic going in and out of the stockade. The main street leading from the place has been lined with stone, which is a dead giveaway."

  "Well, we know what's in some of those wagons," Lor­and said, a part of his attention on the road again. "Hope­fully we'll know more before too long, and then we'll be able to firm up our plans."

  "Are you just going to stand here until the man following me sees you?" Meerk asked, pausing in the act of leading his horse into the trees. "If we just let him ride on past, he'll never know at which point he lost me."

  "He won't be going past," Lorand said, glancing at the man he spoke to. "We used our Blending, and once he gets to the camp with us he'll tell us everything he knows. That information I mentioned—remember?"

  "Yes, of course," Meerk said with a sigh. "Things like this still disturb my sense of the proper, but my opinions have become a bit more flexible. When you're dealing with people who are willing to do anything necessary to destroy you, worrying about infringing on
their rights as human be­ings is childish. If they really were human beings, you would not have the problem in the first place."

  "You're using the term 'human being' in a way most people don't," Lorand observed as he kept one eye on the road. "Are you suggesting that the title should be earned, rather than bestowed on anyone who happens to be born of human parents?"

  "Why not?" Meerk countered, now also watching the road. "If your actions earn you the title of 'good' or 'bad,' why shouldn't the same thing be true of 'human being'? Was it human beings who hanged every member of those farm families, including small children and infants? If so, then I want to be called something else—so no one ever confuses me with that sort."

  "You and me both," Lorand muttered, then he stepped forward to gesture and say in a raised voice, "Over here, friend. Just ride up and dismount."

  Meerk's shadow had ridden into view, and when he saw Lorand he came over as ordered. His dismounting showed him to be of average height, which meant both Lorand and Meerk were larger. He was also of average appearance with brown hair and eyes, and even his horse was brown and nondescript.

  "For some reason I had the impression that you were... more imposing, I suppose," Lorand said to him. "By your looks you would be lost in a crowd, but your thoughts don't reflect that."

  "Of course not," the man answered with a small laugh. "I am imposing, as my position makes me more than a little important. You people don't realize it, I know, but my being here is a very great compliment to you."

  "Let's find out just how great a compliment," Lorand said as Meerk simply made a rude sound. "Come this way."

  The man nodded pleasantly and followed after Lorand, leaving Meerk to bring up the rear. As they went, Lorand was able to hear the small sounds made by the linked Air magic and Earth magic people. That particular link was brushing away the horses' hoofprints and the men's foot­prints, leaving nothing that even the best tracker in the world would be able to follow. Once the ground was taken care of, fresh air would be brought down from high up to dis­perse the scent of man and animal alike. They'd captured this man from Quellin very easily, which meant the whole thing might be some sort of trap.

  Everyone in camp stood waiting when Lorand and the others walked in, as nothing the five did was being kept secret from the people who had joined forces with them. The least those people were owed was honesty, as some of them might not survive to see the end of the fight. And their numbers included two more than they'd expected it to, since only two people had gone their own way instead of four. The woman and one of the three men had changed their minds and stayed, a decision they still seemed pleased with.

  It remained to be seen how long they stayed pleased.

  "Just leave your horse there, where he can graze," Val­iant said to their visitor as he looked the man up and down, gesturing to the edge of the glade. "You yourself can come over here and sit down."

  Once again the man obeyed without hesitation, and soon everyone had taken a place either on the ground or on the edge of a blanket. No one spoke, of course, as everyone wanted to hear what their visitor had to say.

  "You can start by tellin' us who you are," Valiant said to him, using that commanding tone that seemed so natural to him. "After that we'll want to know why you were followin' Meerk."

  "I'm Fladir Sord," the man answered smoothly. "My actual rank is colonel, but most people think I'm no more than a corporal or a private. It's my job to know exactly what's going on around Quellin, and to make sure nothing interrupts the smooth flow of segments to where they're needed. I followed your friend there because I was certain he was one of those all those messages from Gan Garee spoke about."

  "You know about the messages?" Valiant put next, his eyes narrowing. "We had the impression that no one from Quellin was supposed to know anythin' about them."

  "Oh, I knew about them even before that fool came rac­ing back in hysterics," Sord replied with a laugh. "For a supposedly tough guardsman, the man was closer to tears man I like to think about. All his people were gone, he kept saying, gone without a trace. My nominal superior tried to calm him by pointing out that they'd probably gone off in an unexpected direction after the fugitives, but he refused to accept that. They finally had to put him to sleep and sedate him to keep him under."

  "And is that all they did?" Valiant pursued. "Didn't they also send word about his claims to Gan Garee?"

  "Well, of course they did, but only to cover themselves in case something actually came of his raving," Sord an­swered. "They didn't believe him for a moment, and I cer­tainly didn't. Those fools from the city most likely lost track of their fugitives, so they arranged to 'disappear' for a while. It's hardly likely that anything else happened to them, not against what reason says has to be a rather tiny force. If even half the segments they 'rescued' stayed with them, I'll eat my horse."

  "You seem very familiar with what you call segments," Jovvi put in, speaking more softly than the look in her eyes would suggest. "Just what do you mean by that? What are segments?"

  "Segments of our army, of course," Sord responded with a faint sound of exasperation. "How could you not know that? Do you think the backward fools in Astinda have been just giving us parts of their country for the last three years? A year ago we began to move seriously against Gracely to the east as well, so even more segments were needed. When they find out how many segments you people are respon­sible for stealing, they'll probably kill you very slowly in­deed."

  "Whoever they are, they're welcome to try," Jovvi re­sponded, not the least bit of warmth in her voice. "So they are using our people to extend the empire by force. Tell me how they control the Highs they drug and enslave."

  "They use Puredan, of course, but the segments aren't just Highs," Sord said with a small shrug of unconcern. "Every once in a while the shipments include a few strong Middles, ones who for one reason or another weren't sent back home. After that the segments have to obey orders, and there's never any trouble."

  "That should have changed with some of the last people brought in here," Valiant said, exchanging a glance with Jovvi. "If I'm not mistaken, our friends in the other chal-lengin' Blendin's were sent here when they lost in the com­petitions. Do you happen to know if the last shipments have been sent anywhere yet? And why don't your bosses use Puredan right from the beginnin', instead of sendin' the peo­ple here unconscious?"

  "We've learned that there's a difference in attitude when people suddenly wake up in a place they can't remember coming to," Sord told them. "It disconnects them from their past lives in some way, and it makes it easier for us to adapt them to the new one. Obedience all by itself doesn't do the job, you know, not when you're dealing with humans. You can order them to be calm and to keep up their strength with the food they're given, but then they have hysterics on the inside, and the food ends up doing nothing to keep them healthy. You'd be surprised at how many link segments we used to lose, just because they were homesick or some such nonsense."

  "Nonsense," Jovvi echoed with a growl which would have sounded more fitting coming from any of the others of them. "You call it nonsense because you don't have any place to be homesick for. But that's beside the point. You avoided answering the first part of the question put to you, which you shouldn't have been able to do. Answer it now, and then tell me why you avoided it."

  "How can you be so obscenely strong?" Sord com­plained even as he colored a bit. "You're a nothing, and a woman besides ... All right, the answer to your question about the last shipment we got is that I don't know. I'm entitled to know, but those fools running the place consider me less than they are because I'm just an illegitimate son of nobility. But that still makes me nobility, so they have no right to keep things from me! I usually find out on my own, but this time there were ... distractions."

  "He probably means us," Valiant said to Jovvi, then turned his attention back to Sord. "How many people man that stockade? And for that matter, how many men will they be bringin' against us when we attack? An
d is there any way they expect us to attack?"

  "Don't be ridiculous," Sord replied with a snort. "At­tacking the stockade is out of the question, so how could they be expecting it? They have more than three hundred and fifty men to oppose anyone trying, and that doesn't count the segments—which they'll use to add to their de­fenses. You fools don't stand a chance, and they know it even if you don't."

  "They say you can teach people who don't know, but not people who know," Tamrissa commented with what struck Lorand as a very ... feral expression. "I think we're about to change that, in the only way it can be changed—by force. Especially since we'll have help on the inside."

  "You mean me," Sord said with a nod. "Yes, with me helping you, your chances are much improved. Those fools don't know the half of what I'm capable of... What will you want me to do?"

  "We'll tell you that after you give us every detail about the stockade," Valiant responded, this time exchanging a quick glance with Tamrissa. "But before we go into that, I'll ask if anyone else here has any questions. Don't be shy and hang back because you have no experience with this sort of thing. None of us has experience, and you could well think of somethin' we're missin'."

  "My question won't help in that particular way, but I'd like to ask it anyway," Meerk said, speaking up for the first time. "I'm the one you were following, you sludge, and I'd like to know how you spotted me—and what you meant to do when you finally caught up to me."

  "Spotting you wasn't hard," Sord said with a ridiculing smirk. "You came into town claiming you were heading to Gan Garee, and were looking for some work to add to your stake. You sounded too stupid for anyone to want to hire you, but the way you looked at everything said you weren't as stupid as you pretended to be. And that accent you used—it's typically poor-section Gan Garee, but you claimed you'd never been to the city. Careless of you, I'd say."