She set to work.
She could let herself down into the courtyard; and then what? Find Ravindra first and work things out from there. Asbarthi’s guests would all be occupied for a while yet, congratulating each other. At least the cloud cover precluded any moonlight. That would help.
Clumsy rope in hand, Morgan opened the window. It creaked, sending her pulse racing. A peel of muffled laughter floated from downstairs and her shoulders relaxed. She eased the window open a little further, tied her makeshift rope to an armchair and dropped the rest outside. It wasn’t as long as she’d hoped. Peering down, she figured she’d have maybe a meter and a half to fall. Doable. Sure. Easy. Of course it was.
Rope gripped firmly, she wriggled out the window and walked down the wall. It was wet from the rain and her foot slipped. Her muscles burning from the effort, she caught her toes on the masonry and pulled herself back to position. Soon, too soon, she ran out of rope. Her heart pounding, she let her body slither down the stone until she hung perpendicular. If she’d got this wrong… Get on with it, woman. She could almost hear Ravindra say the words. One last swallow and she dropped, curving her body to take the shock. As soon as her feet hit the ground she bent her knees and rolled onto her shoulder, head tucked in tight. Listening hard, she vaulted to her feet, leant her back against the wall and recovered her breath.
The sounds were the normal ones of a rainy night; the sough of branches blown in the wind, a steady drip… drip somewhere. Nothing else. The rain might be a hindrance, but in a way it was a blessing.
The rope hung above her, the tassels gleaming in moonlight peeping through a hole in the clouds. Only for a moment. The clouds drifted on and the rope was a formless shadow against the house. Sometimes bad weather was a blessing. Time to move. She padded away.
The heavy door that sealed off the walled courtyard wasn’t locked, although it was fitted with an alarm—which she’d turned off. She lifted the latch and slipped through, making sure she closed the door behind her.
A few slivers of light shining between the shutters on the kitchen windows striped the darkness at the back of the house. She forced herself to walk along as if she had somewhere to go. If anybody noticed her, with luck her blue clothing would be close enough in the dark to the outfits the workers wore. Laughter rang out from the kitchen as she passed, sending a tingle of fear through her nerves. Steady on, Morgan, that’s not about you.
The out-houses stood in a line beyond the formal garden. She would have to cross a pool of light at the side of the house to get there. She hesitated, standing in the shadows. Would it help if I crossed my fingers? Probably not. Nobody was about. Light rain had started to fall again. Pulse pounding, nerves twitching she scampered away from the house and into the shadows under the trees. She leant against the trunk of the nearest one and scanned the surroundings. So far, so good. Keeping under cover as best she could, she sidled around until she stood outside the converted store room that served as a guard room. The shutters on the windows were closed.
Now what? She didn’t even know how many guards there were. She’d seen a vent, hadn’t she? She slipped around to the back of the building. There it was, above her head, too high for her to reach. The rain flattened her hair, dripped from her nose, pooled on the ground. She stared around, looking for inspiration. The manor’s workshops were nearby. Surely they’d have junk, a box or a carton. Another scamper through the shadows brought her to the back of the workshops. The usual pile of discards formed a haphazard stack against the rear wall. She rummaged through and found a light, sturdy crate and a piece of broken iron bar. Crate in one hand, iron bar in the other, she slipped back to the vent. Water drizzling down her neck she scrambled up and stood on tiptoe, wishing she could see him but the vent was still above her head.
“Ravindra?” She whispered, loud enough for him to hear, but not the guard. She hoped.
“Selwood?” His voice was little more than a murmur.
A tingle of elation shivered through her. “Yes. How many guards?”
“One, I think. I heard one leave.”
“Okay. I’ll try to get rid of him.”
Great idea, Morgan. How? The only way she knew. She concentrated, reading the signal from the monitoring equipment through the solid walls. An emergency call-out to the front of the manor. Shivering with cold, she padded to the corner of the building. At least the rain had stopped for the moment. If she was lucky, he’d run and leave the door unlocked. She flashed the emergency to the monitor. A scrape, a scuffle, the door flung wide and he ran, his pistol in his hands. She darted inside.
The door to the cell had a lock, one of those old-fashioned ones that needed a mechanical key. “I’m here,” she called. “Looking for a key.”
Nothing on the table, nothing on the hook on the wall. The guard must have it with him. No choice, then. She flattened her back against the wall next to the door and hefted the iron bar. Footsteps crunched on the gravel. She lifted the bar over her shoulder. She’d have to be quick and decisive. No second goes. He stepped in the doorway, pulling the door closed after him. She cut the iron bar down with all her strength.
The blow glanced off his shoulder as he turned. He caught her wrist, his mouth an ‘O’ of surprise.
Fuck fuck fuck. She had a microsecond of advantage before he overpowered her. She dropped the iron bar, grabbed his arm with the other hand as well, pivoted and pulled him over her hip. Off-balance, he stumbled. She shoved and he let go of her arm to fend off the floor as he fell. She dropped her knee into his back. He struggled, trying to turn over. Groping blindly, her fingers fastened on the iron bar. She picked it up and struck hard. He collapsed, a limp bundle.
Chest heaving, weak with relief, she rolled him over. The guard wasn’t dead but the wound seeped blood. He’d be concussed at least. She lifted the key ring from his belt and went to the cell door. Fumbling from the cold, she tried the keys. The third one fitted, turning easily in a well-oiled lock. The door slid aside. Ravindra faced her, arms behind his back, uniform soiled, a bloody gash on his cheek. But his eyes still had that amber arrogance. God, he was gorgeous. Her heart fluttered. She’d thought she’d never see him again.
“Nice to see you.” He almost smiled as he stepped out of the cell. “Are there keys for these?” He shifted his arms.
She examined the key ring, looking for a smaller key. Right first time. A soft click and the manacles fell away into her hand.
“Will the monitors see this? How much time do we have?”
“I fixed the monitor. I’ll reset it before we go.”
“Good. Undress him,” Ravindra said, already unfastening his jacket.
She knelt and started work, trying to keep her mind on the job as Ravindra stripped down to white undershorts and pulled on the guard’s uniform. A bit small, short in the leg, tight across his shoulders but better than white. The boots didn’t fit, though. They’d have to mucky up his white dress boots. Ravindra checked the fellow’s pistol, shot him in the chest and put the weapon back into the holster at his belt with hardly a blink.
Just like that. She bit her lip. “Did you have to do that?”
He glanced up at her, already dressing the body in his discarded clothes. “Would you prefer he called for assistance before we are well gone? Help me with this.”
She guessed not. But even so. Then again, somebody had carved his face. And he wasn’t ‘nice’; never had been. She bent to help.
Ravindra manacled the corpse’s wrists and dragged it into the cell. “As close as this fellow will ever get to Darya rank.” He arranged the guard on his side against the wall, knees up, as if asleep, closed the door and locked it. Morgan reset the monitor’s feed.
He bowed from the neck and smiled down at her. “I am indebted. What now, Suri?”
Warmth stole through Morgan’s body. Idiot. No expectations, no attachments. This was about ending this revolution. “Now we steal a skimmer and get the hell out of here. Follow me, Admiral.”
; She locked the store room door, tossed the key ring into the undergrowth and loped along the back of the house, Ravindra behind her, around to where the skimmers were parked.
The front of the mansion blazed with light, spilling from the windows out onto the front patio. The circular driveway was more subtly illuminated, edged in soft uplights. Five skimmers belonging to Asbarthi’s guests stood in a row. The drivers had probably adjourned to the kitchen, flirting with the maids, keeping out of the weather. A guard paced along the patio, his boredom evident in his slouching gait. He strolled down to the end and turned to repeat the process.
Morgan gritted her teeth. Bored he might be, but he’d notice them for sure if they walked toward the skimmers. If he challenged them, what could they do?
A new shower of rain swept toward them, a grey mist from the darkness and she crouched against the wall of the house as the first spatters hit her face.
Ravindra leant over her. “The furthest one. Run.”
Head down, rain battering her body, Morgan sprinted.
She skidded around the vehicle’s front, opened the driver’s door and slid inside. Ravindra scrambled in beside her. These things didn’t need a driver; all they needed was a destination. She found the coordinates for Krystor Central space port and fed them in.
The skimmer lifted, automatically activating lights and the rain shield. Stupid. Think, woman. Morgan turned off the lights and hoped no-one had noticed. Her throat dry with tension, she resisted the temptation to increase the speed at which the vehicle slid down the drive between the trees. The last remaining water droplets rolled down the now-protected windscreen while the raindrops beating on the weather screen were swept aside.
She tuned in to the vehicle’s sensors. Damn and blast. “We’ve been spotted. They’re closing the gates.”
A face appeared on the display screen; one of Asbarthi’s guards, relaxed and condescending. “Bring the skimmer back,” he said. “You’ll never get away with it. We might be nice about it if you’d don’t put us to any trouble.”
Patronizing prat. The gate was already a quarter closed. She gunned the accelerator. The skimmer shot forward, but only for a moment. Her body lurched against the dash. Blast. The system had sensed the approaching obstruction and was making to stop the vehicle. She slammed the manual override and pulled out the steering column as the vehicle put on speed. The gate loomed through the rain, its tall metal leading post sliding to meet a stone pillar. In the end it was barely a squeeze; the skimmer rocketed through the gap and into the road, Morgan dragging on the steering column to turn the wildly slewing vehicle in the right direction.
****
“…and I’m expecting that Trimbal will do a wonderful job of employment.” Asbarthi frowned and turned away from his audience to the servant shifting from foot to foot at his side. “Yes, what is it?”
“A skimmer has been stolen, Hai Sur.”
“A skimmer? Where? Whose?” This was unexpected. And surprising.
“From the drive outside. I don’t know the details… Sur Barad said to fetch you.”
With a quick excuse to his companions Asbarthi strode out into the foyer where Barad hovered.
“Hai Sur Wensar’s skimmer was taken.”
“Who stole it?” Lakshmi said.
Asbarthi whirled. He hadn’t realized she’d followed him.
“We don’t know, Hai Suri, but we’re tracking it. It’s headed for the central space port.”
Lakshmi’s lips curled. “It’s her. I’ll bet it’s her. I told you she wasn’t happy.” She turned on Barad. “Is that woman in her room?”
“Suri Selwood? Yes, she is. In her bed,” Barad said, taking a half step backwards.
Lakshmi stuck her fists on her hips. “You’ve checked? Gone and looked?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Do it. Now.”
Barad went, hurrying up the stairs.
“I told you. You can’t trust her.”
Barad returned, running, feet clattering as he bounded down the staircase. “She’s gone. The window’s open. She made a rope out of the curtain ties.”
Lakshmi growled like an animal. “Bitch. Devious bitch.”
“Have you had the skimmer followed, Barad?” Asbarthi said.
“I called the police. They’re waiting at the space port.”
“I think we’ll track her ourselves.” Lakshmi was wrong, she had to be. Just a bit of a temper-tantrum over Unwyn. He was sure Selwood was happy to help them. Jones had been, too. She had no reason to support the Mirka, especially not here on Krystor. He had to catch her, find out what had happened. “Get the fortified skimmer ready.”
“I want to be there. I’ll go and change. Don’t you dare leave without me.” Lakshmi lifted her skirt in her hands and raced up the stairs.
Asbarthi returned to the drawing room and met Devagnam’s eye. Forcing a smile, he joined the host and his guests. “I’m very sorry, Hai Sur Wensar, but it appears some reprobate has stolen your vehicle. Our people are chasing it down as we speak.”
Wensar’s eyes bulged and his wife clasped a be-ringed hand to her chest. “My vehicle? Stolen? How is that—?”
“Some locals, I’m told, Hai Sur. Never fear, we’ll have them soon. In the meantime I’m sure Hai Sur Devagnam would be happy to offer you accommodation.”
“Yes, of course, my dear fellow. Not a problem. Look, why don’t you have another drink and I’ll have it seen to?” Devagnam smiled, not very convincingly, and went out with Asbarthi. “What’s going on?” he muttered, low voiced.
“Selwood has run. Don’t worry, we’ll catch her.”
Lakshmi strode down the stairs, dressed in black pants and shirt, a holstered pistol at her waist. “We’ll get her all right. Let’s go.”
The skimmer stood at the door, black and low. Asbarthi and Lakshmi climbed into the back.
“Where is the target?” Asbarthi asked.
Barad, seated in front beside the driver, switched on the screen. A red dot moved along a road. “She’s miles ahead of us, moving fast.”
“Can you catch her?”
Barad snorted. “Of course.” He pressed a control to set the powerful machine into pursuit mode, the target Hai Sur Wensar’s skimmer, throwing the passengers back in their seats.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Morgan set the skimmer back into auto. Might as well. They’d know where it was heading anyway. She sat back into the plush seat, rubbing absently at the sore spots on her arms where they’d scraped against the wall, while water dripped down from her hair and her soaked clothes.
“So, Suri,” Ravindra said in his soft baritone voice. “I take it you are not a Bunyada convert.”
She turned to look at him, at the half smile and gleam in his eye. The guard’s dark green uniform seemed somehow a little more than it had been. There was no doubt about it. You could take the admiral out of the uniform but you couldn’t take the admiral out of the man. He’d look to be in command wearing a sack. “No. I expect you thought I was.”
“I didn’t like the idea. But…” His eyebrows jerked. “The evidence seemed irrefutable.”
Of course. She felt foolish. “Mm. Pictures on posters with Jones. He was, though. A convert.” She couldn’t look at him.
“Hm. We can discuss this later. What did you propose to do from here?”
“They know this thing’s programmed for Krystor Central. I was hoping to steal a ship.”
He gave that sharp nod for yes. “I suggest we head for here.” He zoomed out the map and pointed at a spot beyond the mountains. “Zaffra Bay military base. It’s closer and they may be holding out.”
“The minute I program it, they’ll know.” Maybe she could fool around with the tracking satellites? No. Too many satellites, not enough time.
He shrugged. “We steal another vehicle.”
The rain had stopped. The skimmer began to slow down as it approached the line of street lamps that marked the village. She slowed it down
even more, eyes raking the sides of the road. Not many vehicles around at this time of night in this weather. Three vehicles stood, angle-parked, next to the local tavern. One was a skyvan. Perfect. She wouldn’t need roads for that.
“That one. The skyvan. When I say, jump out of this thing. All right?” Morgan shot a look at Ravindra.
He did the little neck bow. “Suri.”
As soon as the stolen skimmer had passed the tavern she slowed it to a crawl. She jumped out, slamming the door behind her and rolled to the edge of the road. Ravindra followed suit. He scurried over to where she lay, hiding in the bushes. The skimmer moved on, heading for Krystor Central, in automatic mode. It sped up suddenly, responding to her delayed instruction.
“Impressive,” he murmured as the tail lights disappeared.
He made to rise but she put out a hand. Something kept her in place, the same something that had led her to hide. She listened, enhancing her hearing. Ravindra’s steady breathing, the beating of his heart, she consigned to background. Muffled voices from the bar formed a backdrop to the wider sound-scape. Somebody laughed. The chink of glass, some footsteps, the plink of water drops falling into puddles, leaves rustling in the trees.
A low whine heralded an approaching vehicle, traveling too fast. Morgan crouched lower as the skimmer passed, black and mean-looking. When it disappeared she stood up and grinned. A rumble of thunder overhead signaled that the weather wasn’t over. Not that she’d needed a reminder; her clothes were wet and muddy and the wind nibbled at her ears and nose.
“Let’s do some skyvan stealing.”
Morgan's Choice Page 18