Maeve (28 page)

“Native?” Grey dropped beside her, looking appreciatively at the pleasant sunlit garden.

“A cerdd.” She tapped her fingers on her thighs. “How much longer do we have to wait?”

Grey ran cool, ironic eyes over the slumping figure. “Your friend over there looks sour.” Then he caught her drumming hand. “Calm down, Amber.”

“My name is Aleytys.” She jerked the hand loose. “Don't patronize me. I'll jitter if I damn well want to.”

He laughed, then sobered and frowned toward the blank archway. “You're right, I'm afraid. Time's getting short.”

“How much longer before the thing spores?”

“You know as much as I do.”

“How long till the bombs?”

“No.”

“I don't see … Tipylexne!” She jumped up and ran across the grass to greet the cludair. Behind him, Qilasc smiled at her.

Gwynnor came quietly from behind the cludair. Ignoring Aleytys' rapid chatter with the forest people, he crossed to Sioned and sat down on the grass beside her. She reached out, touching him with tentative fingers. He pulled away. “I'm sorry about last night,” he muttered.

“You were tired.”

“I was useless.”

“No!”

He shook his head. “She still disturbs me. I'm sorry, Sioned, but that's the truth.”

“You'll get over it.” Her fingers closed forcefully on his. And this time she didn't let him pull away.

“I have to, don't I.” He looked back at the man sitting relaxed, but wary, under the tree. “He's her kind,” he muttered. A sick, dark pain burned under his heart.

Hunter Grey was a tall man, a half meter taller than Gwynnor. His skin was a coppery russet, like polished wood. His hair was black and straight, blowing in tufts about a strong face with high, wide cheekbones, a narrow beaky nose, and a wide thin-lipped mouth. He sat relaxed, but there was a feeling of alertness about the long wiry body in the worn black shipsuit. He looked tough and competent. Watching him, Gwynnor felt weak and unsure of himself, dominated to insignificance. He forced himself to remember the sense of maturity he had gained on his trek with Aleytys, and the respect his older brother had shown him. But when he opened his eyes, the casual force of the starman shriveled him back to nothing.

Sioned wriggled closer to him. “He makes me shiver,” she whispered. “I don't like him. I wish the Synwedda hadn't asked him to come here. Or her.” She scowled at Aleytys.

Gwynnor moved impatiently, turning his anger on her. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

The Synwedda came quietly through the arch. She stopped and waited until all eyes were focused on her. “Aleytys.”

Gwynnor jumped to his feet, watching the starwoman talk quietly to the Synwedda. After a short, inaudible conversation, she broke away and went across the grass to the Hunter. Gwynnor hesitated, then went across to the old woman. Dropping a hand on his arm, she drew him into the middle of the oval grassy plot. “Sit here, minstrel. In contact with the earth.”

She brought Sioned to sit beside him and rapidly placed the others until they formed a rough circle on the grass. Synwedda. Qilasc. Tipylexne. Grey. Aleytys. Gwynnor. Sioned. Synwedda, again, to close the circle—a round of diverse beings who felt a little uncomfortable with each other. Gwynnor had a chill, uneasy shaking around his stomach.

Aleytys smiled at him, touched his knee. He pulled away and she shrugged and turned to the Synwedda, saying, “Do you know what changed the Company men's behavior to the cerdd?”

“I only know that it has changed.”

“Hunter Grey knows the cause.”

The Synwedda nodded but said nothing. Gwynnor turned to look with curiosity at the hunter. Hunter. It suited him. The others stared at him also, but the barrage of eyes brought no change to his cool composure. Since he could speak neither the cludair tongue nor the cathl maes, he sat quietly, watching them as a detached observer.

“Company Director Chu Manhanu, who has total control over the activities of the Company men, has been invaded by an intelligent and inimical parasite. This parasite will be sporing soon. If it is allowed to do so, it will eventually have the bodies of every man, woman, and child of Maeve and reach out from Maeve to other worlds. It is amoral and willing to do anything at all to assure its physical survival.”

“And the maranhedd?”

“Maranhedd means power and wealth, both useful for survival.”

“A number of young cerdd have been stolen from their homes.”

Aleytys looked briefly at Grey, then spoke rapidly, translating this new information for him. He frowned, then nodded. She faced the Synwedda again. “I … we didn't know that. It's more evidence that the parasite is about to spore. The cerdd were stolen for their bodies. They are to furnish hosts for the spores.”

Gwynnor shuddered, sickened to his depths by what he heard. He could feel a similar sickness in Sioned and reached for her hand, finding comfort himself in the cool, clean touch.

“There's more.” The Synwedda's quiet voice brought his attention back to Aleytys. Her bright hair shifted as she nodded.

“I'd stop it if I could.” She paused, looked at the Hunter again, then stared down at her hands. “If the parasite sets its spores before we can destroy it, there is a ship …” She tilted her head and stared somberly at the brilliant blue sky. “Up there. A warship. Set to burn the life off this world if we fail.”

Gwynnor sucked in his breath and stared up at the blue. Beside him, Sioned struggled to swallow her horror. Her fingers closed on his with painful strength. He could feel her tremble and wondered if she could feel the shaking in his bones. At the same time, the threat seemed strangely unreal.

The Synwedda nodded quietly. “I understand.”

Gwynnor was shocked. He opened his mouth to protest, met the Synwedda's stern gaze and subsided. He turned back to Aleytys. She was staring at her hands again, silent and unhappy. The Hunter touched her shoulder and spoke to her softly. For the first time, Gwynnor was forced fully and finally to understand that no matter how gently and kindly she treated him, he had no place in her life. Somewhat to his surprise, now that he saw her as alien, he didn't want any part of her. Though he still felt pain around the heart whenever he looked at her, he knew he would be utterly miserable at her side. She was too strong for him. She would swallow him whole, leaving nothing behind. He felt Sioned's hand move in his and he smiled at her, settling back, content at last to be who he was and where he was. With quiet curiosity he scanned Grey, wondering if the Hunter was strong enough to avoid being absorbed. Because he no longer envied the starman, he could look at him without the distorting veil of jealousy.

The Synwedda cleared her throat and ran her eyes around the circle, demanding their attention. “The problem, then, is to bring Manhanu here. Get him here, then destroy man and spores both.” She paused, then spoke slowly and forcefully. “With your support, with your strength which I shall borrow, I shall try to summon him.”

Aleytys lifted a hand slightly and the Synwedda waited for her to speak. “Tell him who's waiting here.”

“You think that will bring him?”

Her mouth twisting into a self-mocking smile, Aleytys nodded. “Where else would he find a collection of such fine hosts? Of beings with such a concentration of power?”

The Synwedda pinched her lips together, distaste strong in her ascetic face. “I agree. Tell the Hunter what he's expected to do.”

Gwynnor watched Aleytys lean toward the man until the bright and dark heads were nearly touching. The Hunter listened a minute, then he spoke. Aleytys shook her head. He protested.

She turned to the Synwedda. “Hunter Grey wishes to have his weapons here.”

The Synwedda shook her head. “Not in the circle.”

“I understand that. But …” She ran her hands through her hair, looking distracted. “I think he should be armed before Chu Manhanu gets here.”

“Those things are disturbing.”

“Manhanu will be armed.” Aleytys spread out her hands. “If he comes willingly, then the Hunter can be excused from the circle. Can you be sure the parasite won't be stronger than all of us?”

“I cannot,” the Synwedda said reluctantly.

“Then we'll need the backup. His gun might not be necessary, but we'd be fools to take the chance.”

The Synwedda sat with her head down, staring at her hands. The two cludair moved closer together while Sioned and Gwynnor openly clung to each other for support. Grey sat frowning and annoyed. Finally the old woman jerked her head in a brief nod. “Agreed,” she snapped.

Aleytys smiled, then explained the situation to Grey. He straightened and nodded grimly at the Synwedda. “He accepts the stipulation, recognizing that he is dealing with something he knows little about.”

The Synwedda reached impatiently for Qilasc's hand on her left and Sioned's on her right. “Take hands all.”

When the circle was complete, Aleytys lifted her head. “Before we begin, tell Chu Manhanu to bring another man with him. One called Han Lushan. Don't ask why right now. You'll see later.”

The Synwedda's brown-gold eyes searched her face. “Very well.” Then she moved her eyes around the circle. “Lend your wills to me. You will feel the power coming up through your bodies. This you will direct to me. Tell the Hunter, Aleytys.”

As the Synwedda began a humming chant, Gwynnor felt the down on his body begin to crackle. Then, as the power flow increased, he smelled burning, the ends of the hair on his head and body crisping as the power flooded over and through him. He felt the flow build, passing from him to Sioned and from Aleytys into him. Around and around the Circle. Around and around. Building. One to the other. Faster and faster. Faster and faster. Building …

Until …

Until …

… the seven-fold entity stood suddenly in Chu Manhanu's office, a glass-walled room high on the tallest turret of the Director's citadel.

Manhanu stared at the intrusion, then reached for an alarm. Then froze, unable to move, as the seven-part being moved at him, its fingers gently touching his arm.

“What do you want?”

“We wait for you on the island.”

“Who?”

“Synwedda. Cerdd Gwynnor. Cerdd Sioned. Cludair Qilasc. Cludair Tipylexne. Hunter Grey. Starwitch Aleytys.”

Chu Manhanu relaxed and leaned back in the chair, which hummed musically and adjusted to his altered center of gravity. “Interesting. Why should I walk into a trap?”

“Why not?” The seven-part entity drifted back from the man. “Aren't we what you want? Bring what weapons you choose. We can't stop you from arming yourself.”

“You confess to a weakness?”

“You may count it a weakness.”

“I do. I will come. Armed.”

“When you come, bring another with you, Han Lushan, or you will not be permitted to land. The starwitch will see to that.”

“What guarantee do I have that she won't blow the skimmer to pieces around me?”

“Our word. We will not.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“You quibble. You trust us. And we don't have to trust you.”

“What good are weapons against the witch?”

“That's for you to say. She's not omnipotent.”

“What man did you say?”

“Han Lushan.”

Chu Manhanu narrowed his dark almond eyes, then nodded.

“Come. Today.”

He swung the floating chair around and touched a button. A holograph image of a young male face appeared over the desk. The head bowed obsequiously, then straightened.

“Find Han Lushan and bring him here.”

Chapter XII

The acolyte stepped through the arch, still anonymous in the white robe with its overhanging cowl and too-long sleeves. She came in a silent glide across the grass and bowed before the regal figure of the old cerdd. The Synwedda acknowledged her with a small movement of her head while her old gold eyes watched the two starmen blinking in the sudden brightness of the garden.

Ignoring the acolyte as she slipped past him and disappeared into the building, leaving Han Lushan hesitating inside the archway, Manhanu strode across the grass toward them. He stopped in front of Aleytys and lifted a stunner, pointing it at her. “This worked on you before.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Planning to use it?”

“Do I need to?”

“That's for you to decide.”

The Synwedda lifted a hand, drawing his cold, dark eyes back to her. “We know what you are.”

“I see.” He looked past her at Grey, sitting in the shadow of the oak, the dull, heavy energy gun resting unobtrusively on his lap. One hand curled around the butt, a forefinger hovering above the firing sensor. “You're supposed to be dead.”

Grey shifted slightly on the bench. “I'm not.”

“I find it difficult to understand your present lively condition. Two purportedly fatal wounds, heart and stomach, my man said. I suppose he lied.”

“No.”

“Ah.” His eyes moved back to Aleytys. “Healer?”

“You already know that. Psi-freak. Like the doctor said …”

Moving impatiently, the Synwedda snapped, “Form the circled. Aleytys, stand in place. Quickly. We waste time.”

The corners of Chu Manhanu's mouth curled in a sardonic smile as he watched them drop onto the grass and reach out for hands to complete the circle around Aleytys, who stood alone in the center. He ran his eyes over the grim-faced figures. “The cerdd cub. My men went to the village for you. How'd they miss?” Gwynnor glared at him without answering. “No matter. This must be the female who got away. Mmmmm.” He smiled at Sioned, visible relishing her nervous pallor. “A waste of effort.” His eyes moved on to Qilasc. “I remember you.” His smile stretched into an exultant grin. “Xalpsalp, of the cludair. I owe you some humiliation, hairy beast.”