by Sharon Green
"But we still have to do something about those five people," Selendi said, no more satisfied than Kambil himself. "They seem to have found a way to get around the orders given under Puredan, and they've learned how to defeat large numbers of opponents. If we don't go to them, they'll probably end up coming back to us."
"Now that's something we've discussed before," Kambil said in glum agreement. "If they think they're supported well enough, they'll come back here sooner rather than later. We have to—"
His comments were interrupted by a knock on the door of the small audience room they were using, then one of the servants came in.
"Excellencies, Lord Rimen Howser begs an audience," the man told them very formally. "He has no appointment, but says the matter is extremely urgent."
"Oh, send him in," Kambil agreed crossly. He certainly was in no mood to hear about things that others considered urgent, but Howser had volunteered to help with the matter of the fugitives. There wasn't much he could have done here in Gan Garee, but considering the information he'd brought the first time ...
The servant bowed and stepped aside, and Howser came through the doorway without delay. But he was trailed by a raggedy, scruffy-looking specimen, and as soon as the servant closed the door again the man bowed and explained what he was about.
"Excellencies, my investigations may have borne some potentially interesting fruit," he began at once. "I had the idea to look into the doings of the fugitives while they were here in Gan Garee, hoping to find a clue as to where they went. Instead I found that one of them, the Earth magic user, attended the last challenge for Seated High in Earth magic. At first I considered that a matter of simple curiosity on the part of the animal, but my people questioned everyone who was there at the time, and learned that the fugitive spoke to one of the challengers. The way they spoke, the informant concluded that the two were friends."
"Lord Rimen, what point are you trying to make?" Kambil asked, fighting to control impatience. "Losing challengers in the various ceremonies are sent to augment the segments in our army, something you should know well enough yourself. At this point the man could be anywhere."
"Excuse me, Excellency, but that particular animal happens to be right here," Howser replied with cool amusement and a gesture toward the scruffy specimen. "One of our peers was at the challenge for simple amusement, but decided on the spur of the moment to claim this animal. Lord Nombin needed someone with strength to maintain his gardens and lawns, and so he had the animal tamed and put to work. I'm told that it's rather lazy, but Lord Nombin's overseers take care of that swiftly and sternly."
"Yes, I expect they do," Kambil murmured, now staring at the peasant who stood so uncomfortably and unhappily behind Howser. "And do you require a lot of correction, peasant?"
"They beat me because they're afraid to face me with talent," the peasant replied sullenly, trying not to show how impressed he was with his surroundings. "I'm better than all the rest and they know it."
"But you can't be better than that friend of yours," Kambil said, digging for the reason behind an odd, disconnected resentment that the man nursed in his private thoughts. "If you were, you would have been made a part of a Blending of your own, just as he was. So between you, he's the better man."
"He's not better in any way at all!" the peasant actually had the nerve to shout, showing that that was the basis of the resentment. "If I'd been in his place I would never have left him to be made into a slave! But all he did for me was do me favors, pretending he cared about our friendship! All he really cared about was playing big man, letting people think of him as a High, but me as nothing but a stinking Middle! He could have made things right for me but he couldn't be bothered, and I'll get even for that if it takes me forever!"
"You may have your opportunity sooner than you expect," Kambil said, not in the least disturbed by the peasant's outburst. In point of fact Kambil had been able to tell that the man saw things with the bias of disappointment and disillusion, and the Earth magic user most probably had been trying to be a good friend to this sorry example of peasanthood. That could come in handy if the five fugitives did return to the city. . . .
"Lord Rimen, you will certainly be rewarded handsomely for this piece of work," Kambil continued. "You may return the man to Lord Nombin for now, but make certain that Lord Nombin knows how much we value the peasant. He can work the man as he sees fit, but nothing of a permanently damaging nature is to be done to him. Also tell him to be prepared to turn the peasant over to us on very short notice, but not to worry about compensation. We'll see to it that he's repaid for the loss. And while you're at it, see if you can't find something of the same sort to link to the others."
"Excellency, I shall certainly do my best," Howser replied with a courtly bow and a smile of very deep satisfaction curving his lips. "If I learn more, I'll be in touch at once."
Howser bowed his way out, but not before ordering the peasant down on his hands and knees to crawl out of the august presences. The man's hatred of commoners was amusing in some ways, and merely useful in others.
"So we now have a hostage to use against one of the fugitives," Homin commented. "Considering the way they shared the information we gave them with their fellow commoners, the hostage should actually be useful against them. How many more do you think he'll come up with?"
"If he can't find any more, he'll probably manufacture one or two," Bron said dryly. "Howser's airs of superiority have always annoyed me, so I don't intend to let him get away with something like that. And simply having hostages won't be enough when those five finally do come back here. What else can we do?"
"There should be quite a lot, but we'll have to discuss it and make a list," Kambil said, deciding against sitting in his chair again. "We were supposed to have done this before, but something always came up to delay it. We'll go to my wing to do the discussing, and have a meal at the same time. I don't want us wasting any time in making these preparations, not when I have the distinct feeling that we don't have much time. We have to make sure that when those people come back here, they don't survive setting foot within city limits."
The others all said something to assure him that they'd find a way to do that, all of them, of course, but Delin. Their fifth wasn't looking terribly good, but he was certain to survive long enough for Kambil to find a replacement for him. As soon as they made their preparations against their greatest threat, there would be time to start interviewing potential Highs in Earth magic....
Delin, having been dismissed from joining the others in Kambil's wing, returned to his own as he'd been ordered to do. It became harder and harder for him to bear up under the oppression and humiliation of the situation which had been forced on him, but somehow he kept from going completely insane. Only the thought of escape and eventual retribution had made it possible, but the longer it took, the less possible the idea became....
Walking into the small sitting room, the only room Delin was permitted to occupy in his wing, nearly sent him into a fit of suffocation. It had been a cozy room to begin with, and now, with the hard, narrow cot which had been brought in for him to sleep on, there was barely enough room to turn around. But the place was spotlessly clean, thanks to the efforts of the servants he wasn't even permitted to order about.
"Excellency?" a voice said, and Delin turned around to see the servant he'd been hoping for, the one he hadn't been able to expressly request. Gella was an older woman, the kind of woman who usually found him extremely attractive, and who had struck Delin as the sort who was concerned about others to the point of softheadedness. At least she'd shown concern for him, and that could possibly be the key to his freedom.
"Excellency, are you all right?" Gella now asked, coming slowly and hesitantly into the room. "Forgive me for saying so, but you look worse than you did the last time I was on duty. May I get you something, like something to eat? The cook would like to make you something marvelous, not what you have been eat
ing. Please, may I fetch it?"
It wasn't difficult for Delin to let tears come to his eyes as he slowly sat in the hard wooden chair which had been supplied just for him. Hunger had become his constant companion, and he often dreamed of eating the way he'd always done in the past. The tasteless gruel kept him alive, but there was a very great difference between living and existing.
"By my word, you poor thing!" Gella exclaimed, seeing the tears and quickly coming over to pat his arm. "Something is wrong without doubt, but you aren't saying what it is! Won't you tell me about it so that I can help?"
Delin began to sob just a little, and as he did so he slowly shook his head. He needed the peasant to understand his meaning without hearing the words, but chances were excellent that she just wasn't bright enough.
"You won't tell me what's wrong?" she said, naturally giving his actions the wrong interpretation. "I don't understand why not, unless ... unless you can't tell me, rather than won't. Can that be it, that you aren't able to tell me?"
His nodding encouragement must have been pathetic, but that was exactly what Delin wanted it to be. Without someone's help, he would continue to be as much of a slave as that peasant who'd been brought by Howser. Gella brightened at seeing his nod, and took one of his hands before kneeling in front of him.
"So you aren't able to tell me what's wrong," she repeated, probably just to get it straight in her head. "That must mean you've been ordered by someone not to speak, which is a vile thing to do to someone. Is there any chance that they'll change their minds and give you permission to speak after all?"
Once again Delin shook his head slowly, then pointed to her. This was the crucial part of his plan, the part that had to be understood completely, otherwise he was doomed. She'd done surprisingly well so far, but this time ...
"Please don't cry even harder," she begged, tears appearing in her own eyes. "You're saying they won't change their minds, and you want me to do something about it. Does that mean you want me to talk to them, to try to get them to change their minds? We're discussing the other Excellencies, of course, and you think they'll listen to me?"
Delin shook his head again but this time almost violently, panic fleeting across his mind. If this woman let Kambil know he was trying to escape, he was completely done for. Only that one small corner of his mind, the corner that wasn't being controlled by the drug and the orders, had let him do even as much as he'd done. Kambil would find out about it and remove it, and then he would be lost forever. ...
"No, no, of course they would never listen to me," Gella said quickly, clearly trying to soothe him. "You know that even better than I do, so you must have meant something else. What can that something else possibly be?"
The woman began to wrack her brain, which increased the acid currently consuming Delin's entire stomach. His fate lay in the hands of an overweight, middle-aged, graying commoner, and everyone knew how stupid commoners were. How could he have ever expected that she would understand what was necessary and free him? He must have been insane to think—
"I know, you want me to give you the order to speak!"
Gella suddenly exclaimed, startling Delin nearly out of his shoes. "Is that what you want? Is it really likely to work?"
Delin nodded so hard that his head almost fell off, but he refused to allow relief to touch him. Not until he was back in possession of himself would relief be appropriate. And then there would be other emotions even more appropriate than that....
"All right, then I order you to talk to me," Gella said, sounding odd using so commanding a tone. "I want you to tell me exactly what's troubling you."
"The others all hate me, and this is their idea of a joke," Delin croaked, the first words he'd uttered in too long a time. "I've been given no choice but to obey them, and have even been humiliated to the point of needing to obey everyone else as well. But if you were to order me to forget all previous orders and from now on obey only myself... Would you do that for me? Even though it might get you in trouble?"
"You poor, dear man, of course I would," she responded immediately, tightening her grip on the hand she held. "Doing something like that to someone is cruel, not a joke, and I'm not worried about getting into trouble. I now order you to forget all the other orders you've been given, and from now on take orders only from yourself. There. Does that do it?"
"It does indeed, my very dear," Delin said, giving the woman his best smile. "I intend to see you rewarded beyond your wildest dreams, but not immediately, of course. It would never do if my groupmates found out that I'd escaped from their cruelty, so we'll have to pretend that everything remains the same. Or almost everything. Would you do me the very great favor of quietly bringing the marvelous meal you said the cook is ready to prepare? I'm positively famished, and after I've eaten I'll be able to give you something of your reward. But please remember: not a word to anyone about this. Tell the cook that you mean to try to talk me into eating the meal, but you don't expect to succeed."
"I'll return as quickly as I can," she promised, giving his hand a last squeeze before releasing it and rising awkwardly to her feet. "And since I haven't really done all that much, don't worry about rewarding me. Seeing you smile is reward enough."
The look she gave him was ludicrous, trying as it was to be coquettish and sexual. So that was what she wanted, to be considered for his bed so that she might be kept in appropriately high style. He nodded his thanks and hinted at agreement, but the woman really was a fool. Once she'd brought him the meal he needed so desperately, he would send her back to the kitchen on one pretext or another and then cause her to have a fatal heart attack. No one but himself could be trusted to keep this particular secret, and that one meal, which he would claim she ate, would have to do him for a while.
"Because, my very dear groupmates, you will not know that I'm free again until I want you to know," he whispered aloud after getting to his feet. "And when that time comes..."
Yes, it would be absolutely marvelous....