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Ran-Del spent his second night in captivity much as he had the first, except that the grass was still wet from the rain. He pulled the covers from the bed, took them outside, wrapped himself up, and lay down upon the grass to sleep.
The next morning, he washed and used the strange cream that shaved his face so smoothly. Once he was ready, he performed the morning ritual, and then he sat and meditated for quite a long while. He had lost all sense of place or time when he felt a tiny tingle on his arm, and then abruptly samad state was gone. When his eyes focused, Stefan Hayden stood over him with a small meetal tube in his hand.
Ran-Del let his anger show. “What did you do? The First Discipline couldn’t have hurt me or even slowed my heart.”
“I’m aware of that,” Stefan said. “But you had been meditating for most of the morning, and I needed to talk to you. I only gave you a tiny bit of empranimine. It should wear off within a few minutes.”
Reassured but far from mollified, Ran-Del glowered. “You have no more patience than you have fairness.”
“All right, I’m a barbarian,” Stefan said equably, sitting down next to him. Ran-Del was aware of movement behind them, and he knew that Stefan’s guards were there, as always. “You can call me all those nasty names that you called me yesterday,” the Baron went on. “Just pay attention for a few minutes. I want to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“That.” Stefan tapped the band on Ran-Del’s arm. “You’ve hurt your arm trying to get it off.”
Ran-Del glanced down at the bruises on his right arm. “So?”
“So I’m prepared to take the resuscitator off—under certain conditions.”
“What conditions?” Ran-Del asked, suspicious. “Is this another trick?”
“Not exactly.” Stefan smiled, rather like a peddler who wanted to bargain for his wares. “I want something from you, and you want that thing off your arm. Maybe we can both have what we want?”
“What is it you want from me?”
“Two things,” Stefan said promptly. “‘The first one is that you swear not to try to stop your heart again.”
“What’s the second thing?” Ran-Del asked. Under clan law, a simple oath given to an outlander who held him prisoner wouldn’t be binding.
“The second thing is that you also swear not to hurt Francesca. She’s damn stubborn, and I can’t count on her to be sensible. I’d rather know that you wouldn’t hurt her, even if she were foolish.”
“Very well.” Ran-Del nodded once. “I swear to both things. Now take this off of me!”
“Not so fast,” Stefan said, grinning broadly. “I wasn’t born this season, you know. It’s not a simple oath I want. Give me your caste bracelet, please, Ran-Del.”
Ran-Del sat motionless. How had this city dweller learned so much about Sansoussy customs?
“Unless, of course,” Stefan said, his voice as sleek as a timber cat’s hide, “you weren’t planning on keeping your oath?”
Ran-Del weighed his options. If he didn’t give his true oath, Stefan would leave the evil thing on his arm, and it would interfere with his ability to reach samad state. If he did give his true oath, he would be bound not to use the Fifth Discipline, but all the other Disciplines would be available to him, even the Fourth. And he had no desire to hurt the woman.
He slid the knot to loosen his caste bracelet, slipped it from his wrist, and handed it to Stefan Hayden. He wasn’t surprised when the other man laid the bracelet on the paving stone and then pulled three smooth, triangular pebbles from his pocket. He placed one so that it touched the red warrior bead, a second so that it touched the three blue beads that represented the Jahanpur family, and the third one so that it touched the carved stone that stood for the Falling Water clan. Self, family, and clan, the three facets of Sansoussy identity, were all clearly marked.
“Put your right hand over the bracelet, please, Ran-Del,” Stefan said, “and swear to me that you will not use the Disciplines to take your own life, and you will not harm Francesca in any way.”
Ran-Del laid his hand on the triangular pebbles and spoke in a clear voice. “I swear by myself, my family, and my clan, that I will not use the Disciplines to take my own life while I am your prisoner, nor will I inflict any injury upon your daughter.”
Stefan smiled with relief. He handed the bracelet back to Ran-Del, and then he reached up and adjusted the dials on the underside of the band. Ran-Del felt a sense of freedom when Stefan slipped the device from his arm.
“There,” Stefan said. “Now we can both be comfortable.”
Ran-Del gave him a steely stare as he tightened his caste bracelet. “Just remember, outlander, I never swore not to hurt you.”
Stefan nodded. “I know quite well that if I didn’t have armed guards standing within range, I’d be dead on the grass in seconds.”
“The knowledge doesn’t seem to disturb you.”
Stefan laughed. “Of course not. It’s one reason I brought you here.”
Ran-Del gritted his teeth at the man's arrogance. “When will I find out the other reasons?”
“Soon,” Stefan said. “Sooner than I had thought. Things are going well. You might even find out tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” Ran-Del asked, suspicious again. “Another test?”
“In a way. You’ll see.”
Stefan got up from the ground and brushed feathery bits of grass off of his trousers. The two guards moved also, and Ran-Del saw that he didn’t recognize either of them. How many guards did Stefan Hayden employ here in his own little village? The Baron didn’t seem worried that his employees knew he had abducted a Sansoussy from the forest.
“Do you want to go back to meditating,” Stefan asked, “or would you like to go up to the tower again?”
Ran-Del was torn. He wanted to get out of the two rooms of his prison, but he didn’t want to risk another attack of apprehension such as he had had the day before.
“You can take it as slow as you like,” Stefan said. “If you panic again, we’ll just come back downstairs.”
Ran-Del stood up almost reluctantly. He followed the other man back through the sitting room and into the corridor. This time he was prepared for the feeling of rising abruptly, and he wasn’t surprised when the doorway opened and the city of Shangri-La was laid out below him.
Ran-Del walked slowly to the window and looked out more closely. It was still overpowering, but he didn’t feel so threatened. He stared for a long time at the buildings on the horizon, looking to see how the transition from open countryside to city was accomplished, and noting that they weren’t far from the western edge of the city. Next he studied the other towers, complexes, streets, and shops. The Jordan River caught his attention quickly; he had never seen a river wide enough for large vessels.
Finally, he looked down into the Hayden complex, making a note of the distance from the main house to the front gate and the number of people walking about in the grounds. He sensed Stefan Hayden’s amusement and knew that the man must be aware of the motive for his scrutiny.
“The exterior wall is quite high,” Stefan said, “and there’s a force field net over the whole complex. The net lets in the air, and the rain, and even small day bats, but not flyters, and not people.”
Ran-Del didn’t answer.
“It’s lunchtime,” Stefan said. “Why don’t you sit down and eat with us?”
The invitation took Ran-Del aback. “Did you kidnap me so you’d have someone to practice your manners upon?”
Stefan smiled. “Not exactly. But now that I’m not worried about anything happening to Francesca, there’s no reason you can’t join us for a meal.”
“Why would I wish to share food with the people who’ve imprisoned me?”
“Because you’re bored all by yourself. And if you go back to your quarters and eat alone, you’ll miss a chance to see more of the house. It’s no good planning an escape if you don’t know where you’re going.�
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Ran-Del decided he had nothing to lose. “All right. I’ll eat with you.”
“Good!” Stefan looked pleased as he led the way back down the lift. This time the doorway opened onto a still very long but wider room that led to another room with a window that looked out over an elaborate garden. Francesca stood waiting beside the window, looking out at the view. When Ran-Del followed Stefan into the room she turned, her jaw dropping in surprise when she saw them.
“What’s all this?” she asked, as the two guards took up positions against opposite walls.
“Ran-Del is joining us for lunch,” Stefan said. “Sit down, sweetie.”
“I’m not your sweetie,” Francesca said, but she took a chair at one end of the table. “Sit here, please, Ran-Del.” She indicated the chair to her left that had a view of the window.
One servant brought another plate and utensils, and another served the food. Stefan kept up an exuberant flow of chatter but Ran-Del ate quietly, watching the others for a clue to city table manners. City dwellers seemed not to pick up any piece of food with their hands except for the bread set out on a board; other than that, it was much the same as eating in the forest.
Francesca frowned as Stefan deftly slipped the knife off of the bread board before passing Ran-Del the bread. “Have you thought about what we talked about yesterday, Pop?” she asked abruptly.
“Yes,” he said, his tone pleasant. “I’m still thinking about it.”
Ran-Del sensed deception from the Baron. He wasn’t lying outright, but he was hiding his real meaning from his daughter.
“When will you decide?” Francesca asked, her tone insistent.
“You’ll know my decision tomorrow,” Stefan said.
This, at least, was the full truth. Ran-Del looked from one face to the other, wondering what they were discussing. As amazed as he was at Francesca’s lack of respect for an ancestor, he was more intent on sizing up his own chance of escape. Both guards watched Ran-Del closely. On the other hand, Stefan Hayden seemed relaxed enough to be careless.
The bread knife looked serviceable as a weapon, its blade long enough to inflict a fatal wound. The knife lay on the table right in front of Stefan. Ran-Del didn’t let his eyes linger there, but he was always conscious of its location.
Near the end of the meal, Francesca changed the subject to business. “Nisa was worried about the problem with the broken harvesters. Did it get settled?”
“Yes,” Stefan said. “We got the parts, and the machines are all fixed. There won’t be any difficulty bringing in the first wheat crop.”
Francesca went on to ask questions about the management of the Hayden estate. Ran-Del deduced that they must plant a lot of land in crops. She spoke of many workers and several types of produce.
Stefan grinned at his daughter. “You’re very agriculturally-minded all of a sudden. Are you showing off for Ran-Del?”
Francesca looked annoyed. “I've always known where my livelihood comes from, thank you.”
“Apparently,” Stefan said. “But you tried to hide it until now.” He turned to Ran-Del. “The Sansoussy farm, don’t they, Ran-Del?”
Ran-Del nodded. “We plant vegetables and fruits, but we have no room to grow grains.”
“Why not?” Francesca asked. “I understood that the forest was very empty. Couldn’t you clear enough room to plant what you want?”
“We never clear the forest,” Ran-Del said, shocked at the casual way she made the suggestion, as if cutting down trees was of no consequence. “We live in it as it is. We grow our vegetables among the trees, and also harvest berries and grasses and other things that grow wild.”
Stefan smiled benevolently at him. “I’ll have to show you our fields. We grow things on a much grander scale.”
“Pop,” Francesca said, a sharp note in her voice, “what are you talking about?”
“Just being hospitable,” Stefan said. “Don’t get worked up over it.”
“Remember what I said last night,” Francesca said. “Don’t you go making plans.”
He raised his eyebrows as if he were hurt by her comment, but Ran-Del could tell his feelings were uninjured. “Now, sweetie, don’t make a mountain out of a paca’s burrow.”
She snorted in a very inelegant fashion, and rose to leave the table. Her father got to his feet, and Ran-Del followed their example. The two guards were already moving toward the door. Ran-Del lingered by the table as if he were waiting politely for Francesca to precede him. As soon as she was between him and the guards, Ran-Del lunged across the table and grabbed the bread knife.
“Move away, Francesca!” Stefan shouted, as Ran-Del seized him from behind. Ran-Del used his left arm to pin the Baron against him while his right hand held the knife to Stefan’s throat. Ran-Del dragged his erstwhile host backwards, keeping the sharp edge of the bread knife against the Baron’s skin. The two guards both crouched with their weapons drawn but didn’t fire.
Francesca stood staring at Ran-Del, her face drained of color, and her features frozen in a horrified expression. “No! No, please, Ran-Del! Don’t hurt him!”
“Keep back.” Ran-Del pressed the knife lightly into Stefan’s flesh, and a narrow line of blood appeared across his throat. “Move any closer, and I’ll kill him.”
“Do as he says.” Stefan’s voice held only calm assurance. “Both of you, put your weapons down.”
The two guards hesitated. The taller one moved first, bending down to place his shock pistol on the floor. The other one followed suit immediately after.
Triumph surged, but Ran-Del suppressed it. He wasn’t even out of the house yet, let alone the compound. “Move to the corner, away from the door. Now!”
The two of them moved slowly in the direction he had indicated and stood waiting. Ran-Del inched his way sideways, moving towards the door to the corridor. If he was lucky, he might be able to get to the front gate. Or maybe he could drag the Baron to one of his own flying machines?
“Stay here, Francesca,” Stefan ordered.
She stood staring at him, her eyes huge with distress.
Ran-Del had made it to the doorway when he sensed that there was someone there already. He didn’t even have time to glance over his shoulder before the blast caught him. He tried to pull the knife back in a fatal slash across Stefan’s throat, but he no longer had any control over his muscles.
Stefan pulled away from him, and Ran-Del fell to the floor. He was still grasping the bread knife as he writhed on the carpet, the charge from the weapon expending itself on his nervous system.
Francesca ran to her father and clutched him. “Are you all right, Pop?”
“I’m fine, sweetie.” Stefan pulled away from her long enough to bend over Ran-Del and pry the knife from his clenched fingers.
Ran-Del saw the guard called Toth standing in the corridor. Toth lowered his rifle with a satisfied expression on his face.
Ran-Del fought for control, beginning the mantra for the Third Discipline in an effort to stop his body’s movements.
“Thank you, Hiram,” Stefan said. “You saved my life.”
“My pleasure, sir,” Toth said. “What do we do with him now?”
“Put him back in his quarters, for now,” Stefan said. “I have plans for him later.”
Ran-Del could only grit his teeth and endure the guards’ handling. He had failed but there would be other chances.
The Sixth Discipline Page 13