Artemis Awakening (32 page)

Huntress and puma fled light-footed down the steps that led to the beach. What they found was not encouraging. A towel was hanging from the gnarled tree they used as a rack. Beneath it was a small slate, a piece of chalk, a bottle of water, and a wrapped package from which ants were marching.

“I’ve told him never to leave food on the ground,” Adara muttered, unwrapping the napkin and seeing it contained a couple of slices of bread and cheese.

She traced along the beach, but the water was rising and any prints Griffin might have left going into the water had been washed away. The upper beach was a mixture of pebble and sand that didn’t hold prints well.

Sand Shadow was no hound, but her sense of smell was far better than that of a human. She looked up at Adara, her eyes like moonstones in the direct sunlight, then sent a series of images.

Griffin. A sense of puzzlement. The sun turning backward in the sky—that was Sand Shadow’s emblem for an older scent. Also, a powerful scent like leather and musky herbs.

Adara frowned. “You have Griffin’s scent, but you think it’s an older one. Then there’s this odd scent. Can you track it?”

Sand Shadow cast about, then hurried back to the stairs. She led the way along a major road toward the harbor, then to an overlook that was commonly used by those who wished to see if a certain boat was in. Her tail slashed back and forth in frustration.

“I understand,” Adara said, scratching behind the puma’s ears. “Whoever had that strange scent came up here. Then the trail ends.”

Someone,
she thought, shaping the idea into pictures so Sand Shadow could follow it,
was down on our swimming beach. Whoever it was had an odd scent. He then came up here where there’s so much coming and going that his trail would be ruined. I bet he dropped whatever created that smell into the ocean.

Sand Shadow agreed. She snarled by way of further comment, attracting the attention of people nearby, most of whom scooted nervously away. Adara forced a reassuring smile and started to jog back to the Sanctum.

Let’s keep this to ourselves for now,
she said to Sand Shadow.
I don’t like how this looks at all.

By the time they returned, Terrell had also gone down to the beach, seen the various items, and come to the obvious conclusion. He paced, tense and miserable.

“Some factotum I am,” he growled. “Every teaching of our lore reminds us that tourists are too stupid to know how to take care of themselves. I shouldn’t have left Griffin. We’ve told him not to go swimming alone.”

“Griffin may be fine,” Adara reassured Terrell. “He may have gotten caught in a current and swept along the shore. Remember how careful he is about public nudity. He could be waiting for evening to make his way back.”

“Why did you and Sand Shadow go rushing off?” Terrell asked.

“She thought she had a scent trail,” Adara said, “but it turned out to be nothing useful.”

Jean came in, twisting a dishcloth in her hands. “The Old One went to ask the harbor master to alert all vessels that we have a missing swimmer. Joffrey is making a round of the markets.”

“Let’s go over to the Trainers,” Adara said to Terrell. “Those kids of theirs will be sure to find Griffin, especially if he’s come up naked somewhere—they’ve got a gift for finding embarrassing situations.”

“Good idea. Maybe we can borrow a scent hound and follow up on what Sand Shadow smelled.”

As soon as they were away from the Sanctum, Adara told Terrell what Sand Shadow had scented and the conclusions she had drawn.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Terrell said. “It sounds as if Griffin has been kidnapped and whoever did it was smart enough to obscure their scent trail. I wonder if Griffin let something slip that made the loremasters wise to the fact that he’s from off-planet.”

“It’s possible,” Adara agreed. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. The Old One is too intimately associated with the loremasters for my comfort.”

Terrell flashed a grin, teeth white in the perpetual stubble of his not-quite beard. “And you don’t trust the Old One. Far as that goes, neither do I. His reactions to Griffin have been mixed. He values him, but envies him as well. You’re right. We’ll keep our mouths shut and hunt for a swimmer—or a drowned man.”

“And drowned Griffin might well be,” Adara said seriously. “I want to hope, but we cannot lose sight of the possibility that Griffin Dane voyaged across the void only to join the spirits of the seegnur who, if legend is to be believed, still haunt the islands.”

*   *   *

The walls of the room in which Griffin Dane awoke were of metal, but the cot on which he lay was made from peeled saplings that had been lashed together. The mattress was of homespun cloth over tightly packed straw. Adequate light came from a shaft such as those they had discovered in the lower areas of the Sanctum.

Griffin wasn’t quite certain how he had gotten here, but he was certain he was no longer in the Sanctum. Scattered sparks of memory told him he had been moved and no short distance. One clear memory was of the Old One Who Is Young, pale grey eyes glinting with cold amusement in the light from the lantern in his hand.

“I would have preferred for you to open any other door in this place,” he had said conversationally. “Any other. You’ve proven yourself too clever to dispose of. However, I cannot have you sharing this with Adara or Terrell. I fear that even if you do not die, you must.”

Then he had stepped toward Griffin. His free hand had risen and fallen, taking memory with it.

Tentatively, Griffin checked himself over. He was no longer dressed in his own clothing, but in a set of loose trousers and matching tunic, both made from some stiff and slightly itchy fabric. His feet were bare. None of his belongings, not even his little bag of marbles, were visible anywhere.

The marbles! Griffin felt a momentary flash of triumph when he remembered the sign he had left. But what would the others make of it, even if they found it?

Carefully, he swung himself upright, finding none of the weakness that had preyed upon him earlier. His stomach growled, informing him that it had been a good while since he had eaten. There were a pitcher of water and a small cup near the door. As he drank, Griffin confirmed that the door was locked from outside. He would have been surprised to find otherwise.

Other than the cot, the room held a small table, two chairs, and a covered chamber pot. He used the last, then went and sat in one of the chairs. It was woven from some flimsy reed, useless as a weapon but quite comfortable. By contrast, the table was so solid that Griffin would have needed to be on combat drugs to lift it, much less break off a leg to use as a weapon.

No one came for him. Eventually Griffin slept again. Confinement did not bother him as it might another man, for small ship travel conditioned one to accept long periods where one could not stir beyond tightly defined boundaries.

He awoke to the harsh clack of the door being unlocked. It opened about the width of a hand and a man’s voice spoke. “I have food for you. If you cause trouble, I have orders that you are to have nothing but water for the next two days. The choice is yours.”

Griffin felt a flash of anger. He might have chosen a scholar’s path, but he came from a family with strong military traditions. Fighting back was a natural response.

Remember,
cautioned Griffin’s inner self.
Winnie’s tale. You know the Old One is involved. If he will subject women to rape and forced pregnancy, he will think nothing of your not eating for a day or two if that bends you to his will.

“No trouble,” Griffin replied as politely as if he had encountered such situations every day in his life. “Will you join me?”

The man opened the door the rest of the way. “Move!” he directed someone. A tired-looking woman scuttled in and set a laden tray on the table. She departed before Griffin got a close look at her, but he had no doubt she was one of the Old One’s stable of brood mares. Fear radiated from every line of her bent body.

When the woman left, the man came in. He had thick brown hair and a strong nose. Based on Adara’s descriptions, Griffin thought this must be Julyan, Adara’s former lover. Julyan moved with a confidence that Griffin had no problem believing would be attractive to a young woman. Now he lowered himself into one of the chairs as casually as if he were visiting a long-time friend, rather than a potentially dangerous prisoner.

Again, Griffin felt a flare of anger for being so easily dismissed. He wondered how Julyan would hold up if he swept the chair out from under him with that sweep kick Siegfried had taught him …

Julyan may be deliberately baiting you. Remember, the Old One has had time to get to know you. He knows you are tougher than you look. Take care.

So Griffin merely lowered himself into the other chair and began to help himself from the food on the tray. The selection was quite good: eggs, bacon, sliced cheese, early cherries, and fresh bread, already buttered. It also contained nothing that couldn’t be eaten with a spoon or fingers.

“I had the kitchen prepare mint tea,” the man who might be Julyan said. “Let me know if you prefer another blend, ale, or wine.”

“I don’t usually drink ale or wine so early,” Griffin said, knowing he was well within the custom of the land, “but later in the day either is fine, chef’s choice to go with the meal.”

Did he imagine the slight, approving grin that flickered over Julyan’s face? No. He didn’t think so.

“I am Julyan,” the other said, “first assistant to the Old One Who Is Young.”

Griffin showed no reaction to Julyan’s name—Adara had mentioned him only in confidence to him and Terrell. However, he thought some reaction to the Old One’s name would be natural.

“So it wasn’t a dream,” he said softly, setting down the slice of bread and cheese he’d been about to bite into. “The Old One did bring me here.”

“He did. He has now returned to his Sanctum Sanctorum to create the impression that you went swimming alone. Later, ‘your’ drowned body will be found.”

“How long?” Griffin asked. “How long have I been here?”

“You slept through the remainder of that day and into the morning,” Julyan said.

“Ah,” Griffin said. He picked up his slice of bread and resumed eating, pleased that his hand did not shake although, in reality, he was deeply frightened.

Drowned … That explanation might just fool the others. He had gone swimming alone a few times before Terrell had given him a serious dressing-down, reminding him that the automatic tracking units Griffin had worn since he was a small child on Sierra didn’t exist on Artemis. If Griffin had a cramp or got caught in a current or tidal surge, there would be no automatic alert, no rescue unit dispersed to his aid.

Griffin had taken Terrell seriously, but that hadn’t kept him from going wading a few times when the heat had gotten too much for him. The others might find the weather still comfortable, but they hadn’t grown up with climate control in every building and vehicle. Griffin even joined in the jokes about his lack of tolerance for the natural fluctuations of the weather.

“The Old One may not be able to return for several days,” Julyan said, “since it would look unnatural for him to go about his normal business when a guest was missing. Therefore, he left me instructions regarding you.”

Griffin resumed eating, but nodded politely, not trusting his voice. Julyan accepted this.

“First, you should know that you are somewhere from which there is no escape. Nor should you expect rescue, since within a few days there will be ample evidence that you are dead. Therefore, choosing how you will live is up to you.”

“I see the logic in that argument. Continue.”

Julyan permitted himself a broad grin. “Very well. Simply put, you can stay in this room. Work will be brought to you. The quality of your food and drink will vary according to how well you fulfill your assignments. That’s choice one.

“Choice two is that you give your word to obey orders. If so, during the day you will have considerably more freedom. The Old One is interested in having you inspect this facility as you did the Sanctum. You would still be restricted to quarters at night, since we would not wish any harm to come to you. However, you would find the level of your comfort greatly increased.”

Julyan’s pause was expectant, so Griffin asked, “Is there a choice three?”

“I suppose you could decide to be difficult. In that case, your diet would be reduced to water. You would be moved to less comfortable quarters than these until you decided to labor in exchange for your meals.”

“I see…”

Griffin let himself appear to be considering the options, although in reality his mind was made up. Nothing was to be gained from remaining locked up, even in a very comfortable prison. He wanted whatever freedom he could get. Still, best not to seem too eager.

“I will admit to being interested in seeing this facility. The Old One may have told you that I have long had an interest in the things left by the seegnur.”

I wonder if the Old One confided in Julyan my extraterrestrial origin. No way of telling. I think I’ll keep that to myself.

“He did. He said you have considerable insights.”

“Then I may as well serve both my own interests and my own comfort. What would be the terms of my parole?”

Julyan looked pleased. “It would be easiest if I show you the facility. Certain areas will be clearly marked off-limits. If you go there…”

“I understand. No need to repeat.”

“Then, are you done with your breakfast? Very good. Come with me.”

Griffin obeyed, trying to project polite interest rather than eagerness.

“The Old One,” Julyan began, leading his way down a long corridor periodically interrupted by very large doors, “thinks that this facility was used for repair and rehabilitation of shuttle craft and other machinery. He has found old, old maps on which this area is called ‘Mender’s Isle.’”

“So this is an island?” Griffin asked, thinking of Adara’s investigation of the Haunted Islands.

“That’s correct. You’d guess easily enough, so I’ll tell you. We’re out in Spirit Bay, about two miles offshore. Various features make navigation in this area very dangerous, so you might as well be on the moon.”