Mute (66 page)

“The same. Nostra, at your service.” She looked again at the telekinetic. “You know me, Hoscow. I will not warn you again.”

“Throw your stars!” Piebald shouted. “Wipe them both out!”

The stars began to move—and a sheet of fire appeared. All three men on that side of the hall burst into flame. Their clothing and hair were burning. They danced in agony, trying to put out the blazes.

“Sorry I had to do that,” Nostra said calmly. “But I did give fair warning.”

“You certainly did!” Knot agreed, moving in on Piebald. All he needed to do now was overpower or kill the man, and the issue should be settled. The lobo had made a mistake, confronting Knot personally; he might be able to make Knot look like a fool in physical combat three times out of four, but the odds were worse than if he had his lobo minions do it for him.

Then the CCC fire-extinguishing system came on. Fog sprayed out of nozzles chokingly. Knot had to retreat, knowing that if Piebald recovered, the war was not yet over. But the chemical was irritating his eyes and lungs; he could not accomplish much in its midst, and might only be handicapped so that Piebald would kill him instead. Piebald was tough; he would surely be able to fight well in this medium, and would likely recover quickly from his burns. What harm could fire and chemicals do to his complexion, anyway?

At least Knot could use the fog as cover for his own getaway. He charged down the hall in the direction he had been going when intercepted. Finesse was somewhere ahead.

The encounter had been a draw. But Knot had lost his teleporter and psi amplifier and three remaining bees and, effectively, Hermine. She could not come within psi range of him without encountering the snakes. Which meant he could not utilize Mit’s clairvoyance either. He had to rejoin Finesse and get to that master switch before Piebald got back into action.

He slowed to a walk, letting Nostra the lady pyro catch up. She had really pulled him out!

But Piebald was already back in action. “Just so you know, Forgettable One,” the intercom system said. “I am burned but not out. My telekinetic will be out for the duration, and my clairvoyant is in difficulty, but now I have you pinpointed I do not need them. I have my loyal lobos, and you have, I think, very little to stop them. Gird yourself!”

“That is one nasty man,” Nostra observed. She seemed not too badly winded from the run. “But clever—extremely clever. He postures as though a stage-struck idiot, but do not be deceived.”

“Thank you, woman,” Piebald said, and Nostra put her hand to her mouth. Her voice had given away their present position. Her very expression of concern for the enemy’s intelligence had proved that intelligence. “You echo the sentiments of my wife. She lacks my propensity for violence, but endorses its results.”

“The intercom can pick up our footsteps anyway,” Knot said. “Stay close to me; I need you to keep those lobos at bay.”

“Be careful,” she warned. “There are limits. I cannot project fire more than a few meters.”

Knot lifted Mit to his face and tapped quickly on the shell. WHERE IS FINESSE? LEAD US TO HER. TELL ME HOT OR COLD.

Mit tapped his own shell with his large pincers, once. The pyro looked perplexed, but said nothing. Knot walked rapidly down the hall, while the crab clicked in single beats. This was not as effective as telepathic communication, but it would do.

Then the beats became double. Knot halted, backtracked to a cross-passage, and started down it. The single clicks resumed.

Suddenly Mit made a flurry of clicks. Knot looked at the roaches. They were invisible—unless he had lost them during the melee. He didn’t gamble on that; he ducked into the nearest opening, drawing Nostra with him and gesturing her to silence. He flattened himself against the wall. Sure enough, a group of lobos were hurrying down the hall, turning a corner into Knot’s former path; he heard their walking and talking. Had Mit precogged them? No, Harlan’s damping power evidently extended widely, stopping precognition throughout CCC. Mit had simply used his clairvoyance to pick up the lobos at a reasonable distance.

“He says they’re in this area, somewhere,” a lobo was saying. “Block off all passages here, then make a room-by-room search. Don’t handle anything you don’t understand.”

Good—the lobos weren’t any more familiar with these premises than he was. They had to feel their way around. That greatly increased his chance to avoid them. It would be best to have no direct contact with them; then he would be that much harder to pinpoint.

The lobos passed. Quickly Knot sidled out, following Mit’s clicks, Nostra following silently. Soon they had to hide again, but got through without real difficulty. It was obvious that the crab’s specific clairvoyance was more potent than the enemy’s perception. Piebald’s clairvoyant had been burned in that sheet of flame and was not too sharp at the moment. What was his name? Gwant. Probably Gwant’s information would be somewhat fuzzy for the duration, yielding only a very general notion of Knot’s whereabouts that had to be verified by details of lobos. Unless Piebald was tricking him again...

Then Mit’s clicks warned him; they were approaching a
CC
checkpoint. There was no safe, fast way around it, and without Hermine to translate Knot could not obtain a swift alternate route. The hot-cold method of following clicks was too cumbersome, in this case. They would simply have to touch off the alarm and move quickly. It might make no real difference, at this stage.

Nostra put her hand on his arm. “Let me trigger it, and mount rearguard,” she whispered. “You go on.”

With luck, the lobos would be distracted by her formidable opposition and forget him. That was another thing that was probably fouling up Gwant’s clairvoyance. How could a person orient on something he kept forgetting? Knot’s own psi was surely helping him in subtle but effective fashion, giving him much longer breathing spells than another person would have had. Yet Nostra’s aid was welcome. Knot thanked her with a squeeze, and moved on.

The alarm sounded. Nostra stood beside the bell, emitting little flying flickers of flame. Knot put his ear to Mit’s shell and hurried.

They took a small conveyor belt down through a factory area, then opened a warehouse door. And came face to face with two more lobos.

Knot reacted in his usual fashion. He charged them. His right shoulder caught one in the midsection—and pain flared, for that was the shoulder he had cracked into the wall when fighting Piebald so recently. He drew back, and drove his left fist at other lobo’ s gut. The man gasped, but shrank back, hitting Knot’s left jacket pocket.

There was a squeal. Oh, no! The rats had been struck! He had forgotten them, since they couldn’t help in this struggle.

Knot bulled into the lobo, shoved him back against the wall, grabbed the hair of his head with his right hand, and cracked that head into the wall. Once, twice, hard. The man sagged.

Knot ran on, following the clicks again. He ducked around another corner, then stopped to check on his pursuit. While waiting, he checked his pocket, half afraid of what he would find.

The rats were in sorry shape. The blow had pressed them against Knot’s ribs, and he feared there were internal injuries. Roto’s nose showed a drop of blood. THEIR CONDITION? he tapped to Mit. ARE THEY IN PAIN?

A single, affirmative tap: bad news.

ARE THEY BLEEDING INSIDE?

They were. And growing weaker.

WILL THEY SURVIVE?

That required precognition, and Mit could not answer. Knot feared he knew the answer, though: they would die unless properly treated, soon.

“I’m sorry, rats,” he murmured. He knew their fleas could nullify poisons, but this was sheer physical damage. “If I could heal you—”

Then he realized that he could do this, in his fashion. There had to be a psi-healer here, and he had one more psi coming to him. “I choose my second psi,” he announced loudly, for the benefit of the nearest intercom pickup. “I want a healer, now.”

“A healer will join you,” Drem’s voice came. The CC psis knew precisely where he was, of course, even if Piebald didn’t. “Lobos, you must give the healer safe passage.”

“I know!” Piebald snapped. “If the anony-mute is fool enough to choose a healer instead of a killer, I’ll not interfere!”

Probably the lobo was right, Knot thought. Who but a fool would squander his vital resources for the welfare of a couple of hungry rats?

In a moment the healer arrived: a small, thin young man with a large nose: not at all what Knot had expected. His image had been of a tall, benign, long-bearded man, vaguely Christlike, with an almost inaudibly gentle voice.

The healer checked the rats, his sensitive hands passing over them. Immediately the suffering creatures relaxed, their pain alleviating. “Yes, I can heal them,” he said, his voice somewhat nasal. “They will sleep several hours, and wake restored. And very hungry. My power guides the restoration, but their bodies do the work.”

“They can find food,” Knot said, smiling briefly. “Come with me; I may need you to restore me, soon.”

The man put his hand on Knot’s sore shoulder. Healing warmth seemed to flow from that hand, and the pain faded. What a massage this man might give! “I can do it, but you, too, would sleep while the restorative forces of your body mobilized. I don’t think you can afford that at the moment. My name is Auler.”

“Auler,” Knot repeated, fixing it in his mind.

“And is this an associate of yours?” the healer inquired. He lifted a finger to show a bee-fly perching on it. “I found it injured in the hall, and healed it, and it seems to be a telepathic creature, though its broadcast is too weak to be intelligible to me.”

“Pyridoxine—Bee Six!” Knot exclaimed. “I thought you were lost after the stasis!”

The bee flitted across to his shoulder.
Nearly,
she agreed.

Your thought is very strong,
Knot thought surprised. Aloud, he said: “The telepathy of a single bee may seem weak to you, but the telepathy of a hive of them becomes very, er, commanding. Thank you for rescuing this one.”

The healer made me well. I slept and recovered.

So your strength is as the strength of ten, because your honey is pure.

The humor was lost on the bee.
I have made no honey on this mission, there are no flowers.

Never mind. If we survive this, I’ll find you a whole field of flowers.

I would prefer to return to my hive.

You shall. Save your new strength, B6. I may need it soon.
Aloud again, he said: “I value my friends, Auler, and this is one.”

“And the rat is another,” the healer said gravely. “I could use a few friends like you—but I fear you require more than a telepathic bee at the moment.”

Mit clicked warning. More lobos were coming, having granted the healer his safe passage with a reasonable margin. The war was on again. Knot made a mental note: Piebald was a torturer and murderer, but he had honored the deal. For what that token was worth.

Knot drew Auler to cover. “I do have more than the bee—but probably not enough. I’m afraid I have drawn you into an awkward situation. When it becomes too obviously hazardous to your own health, get away from me and save yourself.”

“As you wish.” The healer actually seemed to be enjoying this. Perhaps be had not had experience with opponents like the lobos before. He would learn.

Mit clicked another warning, and they retreated farther. Without Mit, things would certainly have been more complicated.

They cane to another CC checkpoint. This time Knot barged on through, letting the alarm go off. He followed Mit’s directions, and finally caught up to the sub-complex where Finesse was supposed to be.

And Knot experienced abrupt and awful fear of what lay ahead. Auler, beside him, seemed to suffer similarly.

He had found Finesse, almost—and couldn’t get close to her!

Knot steeled himself, held his ground, and tapped the floor with his heel: KNOT in beat-code. Did she know that variant? It was not identical to squeeze-code, because it had no holds, but it was similar.

She did. Abruptly the fear subsided. Finesse appeared, visibly relaxing as she verified his identity. Then she was in his arms—and while they kissed, they conversed in squeeze.

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU? she asked.

STASIS FIELD CAUGHT COCKSURE. WE FOUGHT PIEBALD. LOST BOTH CHICKENS AND FOUR BEES. RATS ARE HURT AND HERMINE IS FLEEING SNAKES. HAD PYROTECHNIC PSI FROM CC POOL, WHO IS NOW SERVING AS DISTRACTION. MAN WITH ME IS A HEALER. WHERE IS HARLAN?

SLEEPING AROUND CORNER, she kissed back. YOU WERE VERY CARELESS WITH THE WELFARE OF OUR FRIENDS. I THINK WE’RE CLOSE TO THE MASTER SWITCH. IS MIT STILL WITH YOU?

Knot broke the contact at last and brought the little crab from his pocket. WHERE IS THE SWITCH? he tapped on the shell.

Mit clicked, and Knot started walking, with a meaningful glance at Finesse. She would have to guard them from the lobos. She fetched Harlan and followed.

The hot-cold trail led to a massive, locked door. “Just like that,” Finesse fumed. “A physical barrier!”

Now the lobos showed, just beyond the range of her psi. “It is sealed off,” Piebald’s voice came. “You are trapped at a dead end.”

“You have a clairvoyant animal,” Auler said. “Perhaps he can divine the combination.”

“We’ll try,” Knot said. “Here, healer, you hold the baby while Finesse protects us. I’ll see if Mit can work this out.”

Mit inspected the door, tapping it with his pincer as Knot carried him close. He became agitated. YOU CAN’T DIVINE THE COMBINATION? Knot asked with a sinking sensation.

NO—YES, the crab tapped.

YOU COULD—IN OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES?

YES.

Now it was the guessing game, perforce. Finesse stood glaring at the lobos down the hall, whose activity suggested they were preparing something unpleasant. Auler was murmuring to the baby, looking concerned. Knot knew he had to solve this riddle quickly. But he was at a loss how to proceed. What circumstances would affect the perception of a clairvoyant?

The question brought the answer. Harlan! He cut off Mit’s precognition, limiting his ability. HARLAN PREVENTS?