Nikol appeared to visibly relax.
“You know Marston?” he queried. “Making his acquaintance is not going to endear you to the Clan Warrion.”
“We’re not on Vultaire to suck up to any Warrions,” Lank retorted.
“Easy, Lank,” Kati said, placing her hand on his shoulder. What in Lank’s past had prompted the remark she did not know, but he needed to control his sensitivities on this mission.
However, Lank’s indiscretion drew Nikol completely out of his defensive posture. He let out a laugh.
“Just don’t let any of the Exalted hear you say that, boy,” he said after his laugh had died down. “Everyone, of course, has heard by now that the last spill was cleaned up by twenty-six, not twenty-four Klensers. Number twenty-five was picked up today; a girl who had been living with a group of prostitutes. They had taken care of her since her family had abandoned her; apparently they were too poor to hope to protect her. Number twenty-six has not yet been found, although the goons that the Warrions hire to do the searching, claim that he should be easy to find, once they get serious. The Exalted apparently know who he is.”
“Likely they do,” Kati conceded. “Mathilde took him home from the spill. She says that there was an Exalted supervising the cleansing so she was seen. And as a singer, she’s hardly an anonymous figure; the Warrions will have done the sums by now. For all we know, the goons you mentioned are ransacking her flat right now.”
“Has she got a cover story?”
“She’s been telling everyone that she has sent him away, and asked to not be told where he will be, so as not to endanger him. We had asked her some days ago to take this trip with us, so there’s a cover for her coming with us. We just have to hide Zass long enough to get him away from Warrion Territory—at least that’s what we have been advised to do.”
“You might want to get well out of town, before letting him out for fresh air,” Nikol muttered with a shake of his head. “Those damn Exalted can show up pretty abruptly in their flying machines, even on a deserted road with not another soul around.
“You do realize that you can’t bring him back here? The Exalted have very good memories; they forget nothing.”
Kati, a possessor of a memory just as good, nodded.
“It was suggested that we drop the two of them in Ithcar Province—sanity apparently prevails there, even among the Exalted.”
“You are a very well-informed young woman, Kati of Terra,” Nikol said. “No wonder Mathilde is trusting you and your friends with her brother’s safety.”
“We do what we can,” Kati replied. “There are quite a number of people interested in seeing Zass safe. What we’ve heard about the treatment of the Klensers is enough to make a person shudder.”
“There’s plenty to make a person shudder on this world of ours, if you have the propensity to shudder,” Nikol said, giving his head a shake. “Some of us are trying to change things, but it’s definitely an uphill battle.
“But, you want to buy a cart. The two-runnerbeast ones are in the back; I have three unsold ones at the moment. I’ll show you their features and you can pick the one that suits your purposes the best.”
*****
The two-beast cart that contained the secret compartment big enough to hold a Vultairian, was what Nikol referred to as his “deluxe” model. Its wheels were bigger and sturdier than the ones on the others. The canvas cover which kept the rain off the traveller’s possessions was brightly patterned, whereas the other carts were done in gray. There were also a few built-in amenities that the other carts did not have: a couple of lockable wooden boxes for secure storage, detachable lights apparently bought from some importer of off-world gadgets, and one of the clever little camp-stoves that Kati had learned to use on Makros III. It boiled water quickly while using up very little fuel, and Kati was somewhat surprised, if pleased, to find one on an old, established Federation Planet.
After displaying all these features, which, Kati guessed, were mostly there to justify the higher price to anyone not privy to the cart’s secret, Nikol displayed the hidden compartment.
“Because the box takes up some space, this cart does not have a higher clearance than the others, even though the wheels are bigger,” he explained to Kati and Lank. “You would do well to remember that, although it ought not to be a problem, since it does have as much as my other carts. So, wherever a standard cart can go, this one can, too. Just remember that this, like any cart, is meant for travelling on roads, not for cross-country adventuring.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem since we’ll be travelling from town to town, and putting on our show wherever there are enough people that we can hope to collect some coins,” Kati said.
“Town Squares,” Nikol told her. “That’s your best bet. In the smaller centres the drinking and eating establishments don’t usually provide entertainment, but every town has a Square which is where entertainers are accommodated when, and if, any show up. Usually a Town Square is surrounded by bars and restaurants, and somebody will be happy to help rig up some kind of lighting for a night’s show.”
“Ah. More useful information,” Kati said with a grin. “We’ll definitely put it to use.”
The secret compartment was accessed by the removal of a couple of boards from the cart’s floor. The boards were lighter in colour than the rest of the floor, and fit into the other boards in a clever manner which made them impossible to remove unless a person knew what he or she was doing. Nikol showed the trick of it to both Kati and Lank, making sure that they mastered it, before pronouncing them fit to hide a fugitive in the felt-lined box.
“Teach all the other members of your group to open and close it, too. That way if one or another of you runs into trouble....” He let the sentence trail off unfinished.
He even apologized for the amount he was charging them for the cart; it was a decent sum, but actually less than Kati had feared.
“The tires are what cost me,” he explained. “I can’t get them except from an Exalted-run outfitter, and anything that we have to buy from the nobility runs into money. For this style I have to have the bigger size, and that’s extra, but for the intended purpose there just is no substitute. The compartment’s uncomfortable enough as it is for the hider; I know because in the interests of doing the best job I can, I had my wife shut me up in one of these and go for a little trip. It wasn’t much fun for me, let me tell you, although my wife had a good laugh.”
Kati paid the sum he asked without quibbling, and queried if he could hang on to the cart until the next day when they’d be leaving early in the morning.
*****
Next, she and Lank went to the runnerbeast stables, and spent another substantial sum on two good-quality animals. Kati felt qualified to judge runnerbeasts since she was familiar with them from Makros III, and besides, her ESP sensitivity gave her a rapport with the animals. She was glad for these advantages, since the stable owner did not display Nikol’s generosity. As a matter of fact, Lank turned a bit stiff the moment they entered the premises, and hissed “Watch this guy!” as the man approached.
Heeding Lank’s warning, Kati asked that she be allowed to choose the two runnerbeasts that they wanted, from those for sale, and then left the haggling over the price to Lank. Lank did a creditable job, getting the man to throw into the deal one more night’s lodging and feeding. They did pay for the harnesses, however. As Lank explained to Kati afterwards:
“I did let him soak us a little bit on the harnesses. I figured that letting him think that he was getting away with some little thing was useful, since we got a fair deal otherwise. Guys like that, if you let them believe that they’re putting something over on you, are less antagonistic than if you insist that the deal be totally fair and square. And since we have to leave the animals there until tomorrow morning, it seemed smarter not to piss him off.”
“I agree with your reasoning,” Kati told him, and got a brilliant smile in return. “We’re not broke, and with any lu
ck at all, we ought to be able to live on our earnings during our travels. So spending a few extra coins to ensure decent treatment for our animals is sensible.”
*****
“My place was broken into this afternoon when I went out to buy some things for this trip,” Mathilde said, when she arrived for the show that afternoon. She was shaking. “At least they waited until I was out, and left before I got back; I guess I ought to be grateful for small mercies.”
“Do you think that they’re going to try to beat his location out of you?” Joaley asked angrily.
“The hired goons might. The Exalted wouldn’t be that crude, of course. They have more subtle ways of dealing with us,” Mathilde replied.
“Is it safe for you to sleep at home tonight?” Kati asked.
“Probably not,” the girl replied, her face pale. “But I have to. I don’t want to endanger anyone else, like my neighbours who have been so helpful. And I don’t want to draw attention to this place—for obvious reasons.”
“What if a couple of us spend the night with her, carrying contraband items in our pockets?” Joaley asked. “The break-in gives us a logical reason to be concerned for our ballad-singer’s safety. And as off-worlders we do have some advantages; the Warrions must know that if something happens to any one of us, the others will raise a ruckus with the Federation. The Federation may be allowing the Exalted to treat their own citizens like dirt, but Federation visitors are a different matter. And we all have connections to Lamania.”
“Only thing; we shouldn’t be attracting attention to ourselves, and using stunners is going to attract attention,” Kati objected.
“If Lank and I go, we may not have to use them,” Rakil said. “Not that I’d refuse to carry one. But I’m pretty strong, and Lank is a lot better at defending himself than you’d think, by looking at him. I know, since we did a little bit of practise sparring in a gym on Lamania. We wanted to see if we could count on one another if that was necessary.”
“Come on Rakil,” Joaley protested. “Bashing peoples’ heads in isn’t going to attract as much attention as stunning them? Get serious.”
“He’s not talking about bashing in heads,” argued Lank. “Rakil’s much more subtle than that.”
Lank and Rakil exchanged a look, but neither offered to explain.
Kati gave a mental shoulder tap to The Monk, and the Granda obliged her:
“The Borhquans practise a self-defence method that allows them to defeat an opponent without resorting to the use of weapons, or visible violence. Your home world had something similar in judo and karate, if I’m not completely misinterpreting your memories. From their expressions, I would judge that during their ‘sparring’ Rakil taught Lank some of the more basic moves, and found him an apt pupil.”
“Well then,” Kati said brightly, returning to the moment, “if you guys want to go and protect our investment in our balladeer and rhyele player tonight, who am I to deny you the opportunity? We do want our whole Troupe ready for travel as early as possible tomorrow morning.
“Let’s make tonight’s show a good one since it’s our farewell to Marita’s.”
CHAPTER NINE
The evening’s show did go well, although there were patrons who were not happy to hear that the Troupe would leave town. Batt and Mutt had to do a walkabout around the room and speak to a few of the noisiest, disappointed drunks who were of the opinion that Kati, as the Troupe Leader, had the obligation to change the minds of the group members, and keep them at Marita’s for at least another week. She did her best to sound both conciliatory, and adamant during her patter, unable as she was, to explain to the audience why it was necessary that the musicians leave the very next day.
“Don’t worry too much, Kati,” Mirry advised her. “Our customers rarely hold grudges. In a few days they will have made it past their disappointment, and will only remember how good the entertainment that you people provided, was. With luck, some locals will decide to imitate the sing-alongs, and Mom’ll be in business again.”
When, after the usual hearty snack had been consumed in Kati and Joaley’s room, Rakil, Lank and Mathilde headed into the city streets, quiet reigned around them. The bars had all closed, and their customers had stumbled home to their beds. Nevertheless, Rakil and Lank kept Mathilde between them as they walked swiftly in the direction of the rhyele-player’s apartment. There was always a slight possibility, as Lank pointed out, that the Exalted might decide to ambush the girl on a night-time street.
Nothing like that happened. They reached Mathilde’s fourth-floor flat without incident. By starlight, Mathilde showed the men where the door had been jimmied that afternoon, and left broken, so that now it could not be locked properly. But, apparently, no-one had been by since then; the half-packed bag which she had abandoned on the floor when she had left for work was still exactly where she had left it.
“I’ll finish my packing,” she said as soon as she sighted the bag. “Then I’ll be ready to leave as soon as something either happens, or doesn’t.”
“Good idea,” agreed Rakil, who, as the oldest of the group, had taken charge. “Do you mind if Lank and I move that bench under the window in front of the door? It’ll give us fair warning, if someone does come to the flat, and tries to get inside.”
It was a beautiful, heavy, wooden piece. Rakil, a Holanut Tree Family member, regretted the necessity to leave it behind in the apartment; he imagined that it had belonged to Mathilde’s parents and had perhaps been a beloved family heirloom.
Mathilde gazed upon it for a moment and sighed.
“We may as well put it to use,” she agreed. “There’s no way I can take it with me. I told my neighbour, Suse, and Didi, downstairs, who works at Marita’s, that they could share whatever Zass and I had to leave behind—assuming that anything’s still intact by the time the goons finish with this place.”
Rakil and Lank moved the sturdy bench to secure the door. Rakil thought that the bench might even survive the night, it was so well-crafted. He sent a mental thank-you to whatever Vultairian artisan had, long ago, built the piece.
“The bench’ll last the night,” he said to Mathilde evenly. “Even if it suffers, a competent carpenter will be able to fix it again. It’s a lovely piece of furniture.”
Mathilde almost managed a smile.
“We better set up watches,” Lank said, when the bench was in place. “It’s been a long day so each one of us should try to get at least a little bit of rest before morning.”
“I’ll take the first watch,” Rakil offered immediately. “I’m too wound up to sleep right now, anyway. “But you two, find spots to get horizontal, and grab some shut-eye. Tomorrow will be another long day.”
“Fine.” Lank shrugged. “Mathilde, it’s your bed; use it. I’ll crash on that rug pile; it actually looks pretty inviting right now. Rakil, keep your stunner handy, and wake me up the moment something happens—if it does.”
None of them wanted to go into the back room which had been Zass’s sleeping quarters. Instead, Mathilde obediently lay down on top of the bed in the room and Lank stretched out on the mat pile which must have dated from the days when Mathilde’s parents were alive and the family had lived in larger, more luxurious housing. Rakil set his stunner on the bench by the door, turned off the light, and settled down on the floor to exercise by starlight which filtered into the room through the windows. The night was well advanced.
*****
Loud crashing of booted feet on the outdoor walkway brought Rakil up off the floor to grasp his stunner. In the starlight he could see that the noise had brought both his companions instantly awake and into alertness.
Beams of light were directed into the room from the outside, someone tried the door, and then began to bang on it after failing to push it open.
“You damn bitch!” a male voice shouted. “Open this door or we’ll take an axe to it!”
Mathilde, getting up from the bed looked ashen in the dim light.
“La
nk, get into position to stun them as they come in,” Rakil whispered. “I’ll open the door just enough to let them in one at a time. Mathilde, answer them, tell them that you’re coming to open the door.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Mathilde called in a shrill, shaky voice. “I’m coming to open up!”
With the last words her voice almost cracked. Rakil drew her behind him, to where he and the bench would provide at least some protection for her. Lank readied his stunner to fire as soon as he could get a clear head or chest shot. Any qualms about using the contraband weapons had evaporated with the realization that the numbers were not in the off-worlders’ favour. Rakil hoped fervently that there were no knife-throwers among the goons; deadly projectiles would worsen the odds already stacked against them.
He used his muscular bulk to shift the bench enough for the door to come ajar—just open enough that a slim, tall Vultairian could struggle through it. Then he used his weight to stop it from opening further.
Lank stunned the first goon neatly, almost before he had made it into the room. He fell to the floor, his knife clattering next to him, unused.
“There’s an off-worlder with a stunner in there!” shouted the second man who was following on the heels of the first, to someone behind him.
He tried to force the door wider, but Rakil resisted with his full strength, and Mathilde added her weight to his, by sitting down on the bench. She still looked frightened but the success of their first efforts had helped her to recover some heart.
“Get the damn door open, then!” another male voice ordered on the outside. “Just keep your head and chest out of the line of fire. And all of you, better use your knives sparingly on the off-worlders! This ain’t worth triggering an interplanetary investigation, remember that!”
That had to be the boss goon, and, amazingly, he seemed to have a brain cell or two inside his cranium. Which was not necessarily a good thing for the defenders.
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 20