Cobra Gamble (7 page)

The group had made it another two blocks before an odd thought suddenly struck Daulo.

Why was Haafiz still with them''.

He stared at the back of the Shahni's head, frowning as his chair bumped its way down the street. One of the Trofts' first objectives in their invasion had been the Palace, with the clear intent of capturing or neutralizing Qasamans leaders.

Yet now, with one of those Shahni standing a meter away, they'd failed to take him. Could the aliens really be so careless or gullible that a simple change of clothing could deceive them?

"Clever, wouldn't you say?" Omnathi murmured from beside the bouncing wheelchair.

Daulo looked up, startled. "Excuse me?"

"The invaders' tactic of waiting until we were well away from the exit passage before searching us," Omnathi said, nodding behind them. "By letting us first get out of sight of the subcity exit, they were able to avoid the risk of a coordinated attack from that exit or others nearby."

Daulo thought about that. "Unless they happened to pick a spot for their search that was in view of another exit, one they knew nothing about."

"At which point such an attack would have given them the location of another exit," Omnathi said. "All warfare involves risks. The goal is to balance potential losses with potential gains."

"I see," Daulo said. Jin Moreau, he remembered from all those years ago, had also been able to think that way. So had he, once, at least to a limited degree.

Right now, though, that gift seemed to have deserted him. Probably it was the medication still flowing through his not-yet-healed body.

Maybe that was why he couldn't figure out why the Trofts hadn't plucked Haafiz from the midst of the group.

"Tell me, Daulo Sammon," Omnathi said into his thoughts. "When we leave the city, where would you recommend we go?"

Daulo felt his eyes widen with surprise. "You're asking
me,
Your Excellency?"

"I am," Omnathi said, and Daulo was startled by the sudden dark edge to his voice. "Our friend up there, he whom we will not name in public, may think nothing of a brisk walk to the next town down the road. He might even make it all the way to Purma before the supplies ran out. Unfortunately, for some of us that isn't a practical solution."

Belatedly, Daulo noticed the slight limp in Omnathi's step. How old
was
the man, anyway? Somewhere in his eighties, certainly, possibly even in his early nineties. A long, wearying trek to the next major town or minor city along the Great Arc was out of the question.

There were, of course, a number of smaller towns along the road that would be much easier to reach. But given the quiet and apparent lifelessness of the Sollas neighborhoods around them, Daulo suspected that all of those towns were already filled to capacity with earlier refugees.

"The problem is that all the towns along the main road will probably have all the newcomers they can handle," Omnathi continued, echoing Daulo's own unspoken musings. "In addition, the invaders will most likely maintain a presence there, certainly in the larger towns. I'd prefer to avoid any additional scrutiny."

"Understood," Daulo said. "I suppose that leaves only the outlying villages. But travel through the forest carries its own set of risks."

"True," Omnathi said. "Though the forests are safer than they were even ten years ago. So you think one of the forest villages would be our best hope?"

Daulo frowned. Had he said that? "They'll certainly be less crowded," he said cautiously. "Though I'm not sure how many of us a single village could take. Even this close to Sollas, most of them are pretty small."

Omnathi was silent for a few more steps. "Do you know anything about a village called Windloom?"

"Yes, I think so," Daulo said, searching his memory. "It's about thirty kilometers northwest of Sollas. Decent-sized place—maybe nine hundred residents—on the bank of the Westfork River."

"That sounds correct," Omnathi confirmed. "I gather you've visited the place?"

"A few times, but the most recent was several years ago," Daulo told him. "They support a small artists' community which makes metal and carved wood jewelry and trinkets, mostly for sale to the citizens of Sollas. At one time they bought some of the more exotic metals from our mines."

"Do you think they'd accept strangers into their midst?" Omnathi asked. "Especially city dwellers?"

"No," the doctor pushing Daulo's wheelchair said.

Daulo twisted his head around to look up at the other. "Your pardon?" Omnathi asked.

"If you're thinking of dragging us all into the forest, the answer is no," the doctor said firmly. "We have women and injured men who need the kind of medical facilities that can only be found in a town. A
real
town, not some dirtback village." He looked down at Daulo. "So does this one, for that matter."

"The nearest sizeable town is Tazreel," Omnathi said. "Nearly forty kilometers away. Windloom's closer."

"Tazreel has proper medical facilities," the doctor countered.
"And
it lies along a wide, well-maintained road that predators have learned to avoid. There's also a way station about halfway from Sollas where we can rest for the night."

"And the invaders?" Omnathi asked. "They'll be certain to be watching all such towns and way stations."

"I seriously doubt the invaders will have the resources to examine each individual refugee," the doctor said. "Besides," he continued, lowering his voice, "you wouldn't need to stay in Tazreel for long. You could commandeer a vehicle there and go to Purma or anywhere else you wished."

"If
there are still any vehicles left, and
if
there's still fuel to run them," Omnathi said.

The doctor sniffed. "It's still better than a village."

"Perhaps," Omnathi said. "At any rate, you must do whatever you feel is best for your charges."

The doctor's mouth dropped open.
"My
charges? But you're—"

"Your charges," Omnathi said firmly. "I hereby place you in command of this group of refugees. As for my companions and me, we shall attempt to join up with Daulo Sammon's friends in Windloom."

The doctor looked down at Daulo, then back up at Omnathi. "If that's your decision, I will obey," he said. "But I strongly advise against it." He gestured a hand up and down Omnathi's body. "Especially for a man of your years. One never knows when immediate medical care will be required."

"Perhaps it would be more proper for a man of my years to graciously step aside and allow what medical care still exists to be given to the young," Omnathi said. "But I appreciate your concern." He gestured ahead. "For now, though, I suggest we concentrate on getting safely through the city."

From somewhere to the north came a muffled
crack
and the stuttering rumble of yet another building coming down. "A point well taken," the doctor said grimly. "Watch your step there."

Fifteen minutes later, they reached the southwest gate.

There were more Trofts standing guard there, and Daulo felt himself tensing as the little clump of refugees approached. But to his relief, the aliens merely stood by watchfully as the humans filed between the vehicle barriers that had been set up.

Daulo half turned in his chair as they passed through the gate, moved by some obscure impulse to have one final look at the once-proud capital of his world.

One way or another, he doubted he would ever come here again.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky by the time the group reached Bay Grove Road, with no more than two hours before dusk and perhaps two and a half before full dark. There, Daulo's doctor made one last effort to persuade Omnathi to continue on with them to Tazreel. Once again, Omnathi quietly but firmly declined.

"Now what?" Haafiz demanded in a low voice as they watched the rest of the refugees disappear around a bend in the road.

"Daulo Sammon?" Omnathi invited.

"What?" Haafiz cut in before Daulo could answer. "You're putting
him
in charge?"

"I am," Omnathi said calmly. "Daulo Sammon has been to this village. More than that, he's the only one among us with extensive forest experience." He turned to Daulo and raised his eyebrows. "Daulo Sammon?"

Daulo grimaced, running his eyes over the group. Six young Djinn, warrior-trained but unarmed. Two old men, plus one more—Akim—who had prematurely aged after years of dosing himself with enhancement drugs. And Daulo himself, still recovering from near-fatal injuries. With the daylight rapidly diminishing, the plan looked a lot less feasible than it had in the bright sunlight inside the Sollas wall.

But it was the forest or the Trofts. Under the circumstances, razorarms and baelcras were still the better bet. "It's still almost twenty kilometers to Windloom," he said. "There's no way we're going to make it that far before dark."

"I don't suppose there are any way stations as there are on the
real
road," Haafiz growled.

Daulo shook his head. "There weren't the last time I was there."

"But there's a large flood-control culvert under the road about five kilometers ahead," Akim said. "It's large enough to accommodate all of us, and we should be able to get there while we still have enough light to put together some sort of barriers at the ends to discourage predators."

"A
culvert?"
Haafiz echoed, sounding outraged. "You expect me to spend the night in a
culvert?"

"Not at all, Your Excellency," Akim said courteously. "You're welcome to remain outside in the forest instead."

Haafiz glared at him. "There will be payment for this day, Miron Akim," he said, his tone dark. "And for you as well, Moffren Omnathi." With an effort, he straightened up. "If this is our path, let us get on with it."

"Very well, Your Excellency." Akim half turned and gestured to one of the Djinn. "Kavad, you'll be first on wheelchair duty. The rest of you, screen formation."

"And watch for danger," Omnathi added as they all set off together. "In every and all directions."

They headed off, Akim and Omnathi in the lead, a glowering Haafiz a few steps behind them, Daulo and Kavad bringing up the rear. The rest of the Djinn formed a sort of moving circle around them, their eyes continually sweeping the landscape.

And as they reached the edge of the forest and continued on beneath the canopy of branches and leaves, Daulo found himself wondering if this really had been his suggestion, the way Omnathi had said.

And wondered, too, how exactly Akim knew about a culvert five kilometers up a lonely forest road.

CHAPTER FIVE

Jin had wanted Warrior to fly the demesne ship over Milika as they headed out into the forest, arguing that they needed to get a better look at what the Trofts were doing in and around the village.

But Siraj had argued that such a move might be seen as provocative or at least suspicious, and that the last thing they could afford was to spark a reaction from one of the invaders' warships. Warrior had agreed, and had ordered his pilot to give Milika a casual but wide berth as they headed to the drop point.

From Zoshak's description of the clearing, and Warrior's response to that description, Jin had already concluded that it was the same place where she and Merrick had been dropped on their clandestine arrival two and a half weeks ago. That conclusion turned out to be correct. The demesne ship was considerably larger than the freighter she and Merrick had traveled in, but Warrior's pilot managed to squeeze it into the available space with only a single stand of crushed bushes at one end.

Having seen firsthand the extensive subcity the Qasamans had created beneath Sollas, Jin had expected Zoshak's watch station to be a similarly extensive system of rooms and corridors and defenses, though of course on a much smaller scale. It was a slight disappointment to find that the station consisted of a single large room with living facilities at one end, an empty weapons rack at the other, and a set of blank monitors in the center.

But of course, the station
was
thirty years old. The Qasamans had probably been new at this whole rabbit burrow thing back then.

The watch station entrance was a simple trapdoor leading to a narrow fold-down stairway, the station itself wasn't exactly spacious, and the Isis gear consisted of a hundred good-sized crates. But Jennifer McCollom, the amateur linguist that Harli Uy had sent along with the expedition, turned out to be a master of packing. With her diminutive frame darting around everywhere, directing the Cobras and Djinn as she just barely managed not to get trampled underfoot, they were able to fit everything inside.

And then, to Jin's surprise and dismay. Warrior announced it was time for him to leave.

[Two hours on Qasama, the Tua'lanek'zia demesne has limited our stay,] he explained as his crew resealed the ship's cargo compartments. [Our departure, we must take it immediately.]

"I don't remember hearing anything about a time limit," Lorne said. His tone was respectful enough, but Jin could hear the suspicion lurking behind the words.

[The limit, it was not imposed by the Balin'ckha'spmi demesne upon our arrival,] Warrior explained. [The limit, it was given later. The unloading, you were performing it at the time.]

"Wait a second," Lorne said, frowning. "You just said it was the Balin demesne who we talked to, and that the Tua demesne is kicking you out. But on our way in you said it was
Drim
invaders who'd returned. Just how many demesnes have we got on Qasama, anyway?"

[Three demesnes at the least, they are represented here,] Warrior said. [The demesne that rules, its identity I cannot say]

"But you must have
some
idea who's—" Lorne began.

"However the order came, you'd better obey it before your time limit runs out," Paul interrupted, shifting the arm he had resting for support on Jin's shoulder. "Thank you for getting us here."

[Your future, it lies now in your own hands.] Warrior's arm membranes fluttered. [That future, do not allow it to slip and fall to destruction.]