Pathspace: The Space of Paths

by Matthew Kennedy

  There was no way he could justify to himself what Brutus had overseen at the border farm. He knew that. But to return home with his father knowing he had gotten himself captured and had informed on his comrades, that was also hard to stomach. Bad enough that his father thought him weak and useless without adding thew word 'traitor' to the mix.

  But what sort of person keeps the secrets of murderers and rapists?

  No. He should report the commander's actions to his superior, the Honcho, and give his father the chance to do the right thing and make an example of the scum. But that would only be possible if he could get back before them. If Brutus reached Texas first, he would make his report, in all likelihood saying that his men had been fired upon and found it necessary to make an example of the farmer. The wife and daughter would not be mentioned.

  He urged the horse into a full gallop, leaning forward as it shifted into the four-beat gait. Too much of this would exhaust the beast, perhaps even lame it, but he had to get ahead of them as soon as possible.

  If he saw them, and rode past without slowing, would Brutus fire on him? No horse can outrun a crossbow. But if I slow down, one of his men could grab the reins and then there's no beating them back to Texas.

  Presently he was out of the city. He let the horse slow back down to a trot and began to look for side roads. He couldn't stay on the highway, much as he would like to. The paving materials used for the main roads of the Ancients had stood up well against the crumbling onslaught of time, but the best route south was also the most obvious one for pursuit to take.

  Surely Brutus and the other men had not kept to Highway 25. If he stayed on it he could make better time and arrive before them. But he would be safer off the main road.

  He saw a stand of trees ahead on the left. Slowing the horse to a walk, he guided it off the road and behind the trees, out of sight of the highway.

  While the horse rested, he tried to think. If only he could send a message to Dallas before Brutus beat him there. He didn't have to actually get there first in person, if his report did. From what he'd read of the Ancients, they'd had a communication system that circled the planet. Now all we have is smoke and mirrors...

  Wait! He had forgotten about the Bangers! Fool! He'd been so bent on getting away, he'd forgotten that he should be running to something. If he remembered right, the nearest access point was less than fifty miles from Denver. And of course that was where Brutus and the others must be headed at this very minute. They had a few minutes head start on him, but unless the secret had been compromised, they wouldn't expect the Rado forces to be looking for them there. With any luck, the Governor's men would be heading due south just as he had been. And Brutus would know that, so he wouldn't be driving his horses as hard as he could be. He'd be saving their strength for the journey home.

  And that meant Jeffrey had a chance of beating him to the access point.

  As he realized this, he heard a deep humming sound. It was hard to localize, seeming to come from all around him. It seemed familiar.

  Chapter 38

  Aria: “You are a proper fool, I said.”

  For a time she rode in silence, reviewing her actions, looking for the moment when she had gone wrong. Was it when she decided to ask the wizard for help? Or when she had settled for his apprentice? Perhaps her mother was right. She should have gone straight to the Governor and given her a chance to declare her opposition to any torture.

  But that would not have prevented the prisoners from escaping, though it might have kept her from getting caught up in the jailbreak.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “Isn't it obvious?” said Ludlow. “For a time now I might have thought that Xander would reconsider his decision and resume teaching me his secrets. But that's obviously not going to happen. He's found a more promising student.”

  “But that's no excuse! Being a wizard isn't the only thing you can do.”

  “It's the only thing I wanted to do,” he said. “Ever since he found me in Boulder. All he had to do is give me a little more time. But no, he was always in too much of a hurry to get his school started.”

  The school is important to him,” Aria said.

  “My life is important to me,” Ludlow replied. “Once he discontinued my instruction, what was left for me? To become some sort of minor official for your mother? Perhaps a filer of reports, a carrier of messages for more important advisors? I will be more than that.”

  “Yes,” she said. “You will be a traitor, an abettor of criminals and a turncoat. Such a grand destiny you are are stepping into. Do you really think the Honcho will welcome such a person into his entourage?”

  “He will welcome the man who brings him the daughter of his enemy,” said Ludlow.

  She considered that. “Are you so sure you'll make it to Texas?”

  “It may not take long for them to discover the prisoners have escaped,” he allowed. “But we have a head start on them.”

  “But you have only one crossbow,” she pointed out. “Two, if the other man rejoins you. The Governor will send an armed force. If you wait for the man you left behind to catch up, that will give them a chance to stop you.”

  “All it took to get us away was one knife,” he said. “Besides, I expect Texas will be sending an armed escort to reinforce us. They won't risk our getting recaptured.”

  “You are a fool. Taking me hostage won't change anything. My mother's not sentimental enough to surrender to the Honcho just to get me back.”

  “This isn't about you,” he said. It might surprise you to hear this, but your inclusion in this enterprise is entirely an accident. I would have preferred to have slipped out more discretely, but I couldn't leave you behind to raise the alarm.”

  “Then why am I still here? Why haven't you dropped me off somewhere along the way?”

  “You might still turn out to be useful,” he said, “if they catch up to us before the escort from Texas gets here.”

  “You are a proper fool, I said. There is no escort from Texas. The most they could know is that their scouts have not reported in. There is no way they could know where to meet you.”

  “We will soon,” he said, “be catching them up on recent developments.”

  Chapter 39

  Peter: “for those who chose and oppose”

  He knew that he should leave such things to those he had assigned to them, but he could not resist checking the preparations again. “You're sure all of the entrances are covered?”

  “Positive, sir,” said Lancer. “No one is going to get at His Holiness while he's here.”

  “That's what the last one thought, before they plugged poor Pope Rodrigo,” said Peter. But of course that wasn't here. His own residence was more secure. Wasn't it?

  “Someone's coming,” they heard.

  He glanced around the room another time. Katarina looked up as he did so, a question on her face. “I think he's here,” he told her, straightening his jacket.

  “You look fine,” she said. “Don't fidget. It makes you look weak.”

  Someone knocked on the door. He turned and opened it, but the man standing there was not the Pope, or even one of the papal guard. “What is it, Julio?”

  The man saluted and held out an envelope. “Message from Quintus, sir. He said you will find it both relieving and disturbing, sir.”

  “Did he, now?” Peter accepted the envelope and returned the salute, dismissing the courier.

  “Who is it?” Katerina asked.

  “Just a message,” he told the Honchessa.

  “He's not canceling, is he? The cook will be furious.”

  “No,” he said. He broke the wax seal and removed the papers enclosed within the envelope. “It's a report from the scouts.”

  “And about time! Is Jeffrey all right?”

  He read to the bottom, then started from the beginning again. “Yes, that's the odd thing. This report is from Jeffrey. Not from our usual banger.”

  “Are you
sure?”

  “Completely. It's signed 'Pelion' which is his personal call sign. He chose that because it's the name of a J-shaped mountain peninsula in Greece. I used to think it was his way of proving he remembers his Geopolitics lessons.”

  “Why didn't he have the usual man send it?”

  “He must have been in a hurry. Or he wanted to make sure no one else saw it.” And with good reason! He's accusing his Commander of war crimes...or what would have been war crimes, if a state of war existed. Which it obviously would, soon.

  “Why the hurry? And how is he doing?”

  “No so well, apparently. They were captured by Rado, but managed to escape. He doesn't mention any injuries,” he added, before she could ask. “But there are other problems he wanted me to know about before they sent the official report.”

  “What sort of problems?”

  “Nothing I can't handle,” he said. But as the old cliché went, the report raised more questions than it answered. How had he managed to send it without Brutus watching? Had the commander gotten himself wounded during the escape? It was going to be very awkward when they returned. Brutus was his most experienced officer. It would be bad for morale if he let this matter reach a formal court-martial...and bad for discipline if he didn't, if too many people knew.

  Just what we need: more complications.

  He slipped the papers into an inner pocket of his jacket and poured himself a shot of Balcones whiskey. Taking a sip pf the liquid fire, he reflected that Brutus and the Balcones were both products of Texas grain that took time to appreciate. Unfortunately, while his son had spent plenty of time getting to know firewater, he'd never taken a shine to Commander Glock.

  It had been Peter's hope that this scouting mission would rectify that a little. Brutus was like good booze. In times of stress you soon learned you could rely on both. No, the man wasn't sweet like pancake syrup. Like a good shot of Jack, he could make you rethink your willingness to acquire familiarity. Just as good bourbon could make you cough and bring tears to the eyes of a newcomer, Brutus could alarm new recruits with his callousness and disconcert them with his apparent fearlessness under fire. Yes, he could be a bully. But not a coward.

  Well, so much for plans of bonding. The Runt sounded like he wanted to bring Brutus up on charges, and that was likely to hamper the process. And as Honcho, he'd be square in the middle between his heir and his best officer.

  There was another knock at the door. It returned him to the present. Let the future take care of itself. “Yes?”

  “We've sighted the Pope's coach, sir.”

  How do I handle it all? The same way I always have. Plan for the future when you can, and the rest of the time deal with the present. “We'll be in the study.”

  Katarina accepted his arm and he led her into the study, where she ensconced herself in a rattan chair by the fireplace and busied herself with appearing idle, lifting a slim volume that she pretended to have been reading. He seized the poker, prodded the dimly glowing coals, and decided to set another split log on top of them. It had been getting colder lately, as Winter came on, and for all he knew the new Pope (what was his name again?) might be elderly and sensitive to the cold. The stirred coals shone a little more brightly as the fresh addition began to hiss, their ruddy glow reflecting off of the hundreds of hand-bound volumes and folios decorating the shelves of his study.

  He turned at the sound of the door. “Your Holiness,” he said, extending a hand, “so good of you to visit us on such a chilly evening. I trust you are well?”

  The man in white clasped his hand with a slight smile, evidently knowing he could not expect the traditional ring kiss from the Honcho. “Let's not be over-formal,” he suggested. “Here in private, please call me Enrique. How can we be of service to your Excellency?”

  “Peter, please, if we're cutting the bullshit. How are you settling in? “

  “As one of Pope Rodrigo's advisors, I've been in Dallas for a couple of years now, so I already know my way around, as it were,” said Enrique. “I was surprised at your invitation. I had expected our first encounter to take place at your headquarters in the 'scraper.”

  “Oh, my apologies, Ricky, I wasn't sure how old you were,” said Peter. “For all I knew the College of Cardinals had elected another geezer, and I didn't want to risk him climbing all those stairs and maybe forcing another election.”

  “Kind of you to be so concerned,” said Enrique, “but as you can see I'm younger than the usual successor. The College decided a bit more vigor is in order these days.”

  In other words, two years in Dallas was enough for you to establish an adequate power base. Despite himself, Peter was impressed. This new pontiff was just what the TCC needed to take full advantage of the expansion of the Lone Star Empire he was planning. “And rightly so,” he said. “Would you care for a shot of jack to warm your bones?”

  Enrique smiled. “It would hardly be polite of me to refuse the offer,” he said, and accepted the glass from Peter as he seated himself in one of the padded chairs. “Forgive me for observing,” he said, after a judicious sip, “that you haven't answered my question. How can we be of service?”

  Peter lowered himself into another of the chairs and regarded him over his own glass. “As one of the lamented late Rodrigo's advisors, I'm sure you know why I went to see him on the occasion of his regrettable demise.”

  “Yes,” said Enrique. “You need fuel for your rediscovered military machines, and you want to use swizzles and everflames to extract and distill it.” He took another sip. “As Pope, I am of course officially shocked at such a plan.. But as a man of the world, I see the necessity.”

  Peter showed some surprise. “You do? Excellent. I believe that poor Rodrigo was amenable to our intentions, but I had feared the change of leadership in the TCC might require the newcomer to establish his credibility with more conservative policies, at least at first.”

  “Yes, that doesn't surprise me. It is common to see the Church as a voice of restraint, telling people what they shouldn't do. But Jesus did not come to make more rules, you know. In fact, He showed how the commandments could be simplified. As He said, love God, and love thy neighbor, and all else follows from that. The rest is just details.”

  “More or less,” the Honcho agreed. “But it's not always that simple, Ricky. In order to bring peace to a warring land, we must first fight to unify it. We won't get Rado back into the arms of the Church by simply loving them. We both know their will be plenty of blood spilled before they pore out the sacramental wine.”

  “Indeed. And the sooner the fighting is over, the fewer lives will be lost. Therefore, your new mechanized army. And I understand all too well the need for swizzles to extract the oil and everflames to distill out the necessary fuels, just as you understand the Church has long opposed any continued use of the demonic magic of the aliens. In this time of need, the Church can look the other way as long as you do not embarrass us with too flagrant or too public a use of the alien technology.”

  You'll not make a fuss, he thought, mainly because you know my victories will also be yours. I'll get more territory and resources – and you'll get more worshipers and tithes. But there was no need to state the obvious. “With regard to that,” he said, “I did have a favor to ask.”

  Enrique met his gaze. “And what might that be?”

  “People like to gossip,” said Peter, “yet often stories told have their foundation in fact. Word has reached me that the Church has a storehouse of confiscated Gifts. It's said you have many swizzles and everflames and such, seized in ecclesiastical raids here and in Mexico, that could be of enormous help to the fuel effort.”

  “Ah,” said Enrique. “Were my advisors here with me, they would undoubtedly recommend that I deny such rumors as baseless slanders.”

  “I'm sure,” said the Honcho. “But are they?”

  “Let us be honest with each other, Peter,” said the Pope. “I will not waste your time with such transparent evasion
s. The warehouse exists – but I'm afraid it won't help you to know that.”

  Peter frowned. “Why not?”

  “You must understand,” said the pontiff, “that while the Church can avoid any official recognition of your use of alien witchcraft as you do not flaunt it publicly, it is quite another thing to actively supply you with such abominations.” He sipped and continued. “Your discretion with the use of your own Gifts would give the Church plausible deniability, and we could look the other way. But if we authorized the transfer of confiscated material from the Church warehouse too many people would be involved. Word would get out, and cast us in an unfavorable light of hypocrisy, I'm afraid. It is out of the question.”

  Damn it! Peter forced himself to appear placid. “I am sorry to hear that, Ricky.”

  “As I am sorry to say it. But we might be able to help you another way.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. There are some of these devices which have escaped our raids. We could point you in the right direction, so to speak, and let you act on such information as you will. For example, the Balcones distillery at Waco, I believe, has at least three everflames in continuous operation. You could acquire them.”

  “Heaven forbid!” Peter said, with a wry grin. “After all, some things are sacred.” he topped off the Pope's glass with more of the amber fluid.

  “True,” conceded Enrique. “but other locations on the list might be helpful.”

  “To a long and mutually beneficial relationship,” said Peter, raising his glass.

  Chapter 40

  Jeffrey: “And let my cry come unto Thee”

  It's hardly a surprise that this spot remained a secret, Jeffrey thought, looking at the pile of scree. Part of the hillside had collapsed, exposing the underground maglev tunnel. And then the rest of the hill had collapsed, covering it all up again, except for the two broken ends of the rails. No different than many hillsides remodeled by the quake a hundred years before; you had to know what you were looking for in order to find it. And a good thing too.