Rediscovery (40 page)

“I’ll try,” David said grimly. “But I don’t think anything I tell him is going to make much of an impression.”

She closed her eyes, as another breath of that resinous air washed over her and

made her head spin for a moment. And in the wake of that dizziness, she was suddenly inside David’s mind, as she had been—that night her baby had been conceived.

But she had no chance to think about that; she concentrated on David’s questions, and the man’s reply.

“What do you want with us?” David asked. “We came in here for shelter from the

wind. We meant no intrusion, and if you wish, we will leave.”

“I don’t think so,” the man answered shortly. “You are wealthy, whoever you are, with your horses and your fine clothes and packs. We will have ransom from you, before you depart from here.”

David shook his head. Without speaking, Elizabeth understood what he was

thinking, that they had somehow gotten involved in Darkovan politics.

But no, she thought, shivering so from fear that she could not have spoken if she wanted to. It wasn’t politics—it was greed. These men were nothing but robbers; they wanted money. And when they had it, there was no guarantee that these bandits would let her and David go.

But David persisted in his assumption. “I beg your pardon, sir, but you don’t

understand. We are not associated with Aldaran, nor do we have any relationship with the Hasturs. My wife and I have no quarrel with you or your people.”

The man laughed, harshly. “That may or may not be true, stranger—but whoever

your kin is, your red hair and your
laran
proclaim you to be allied to the Hastur-kin.

And we have you. The agreement is plain; we will have the customary ransom. Your people may not come beyond the river—when you do, you break the old agreement, and you cannot escape without just payment.”

David grimaced. “Liz, I’m going to try the truth. Surely these people must have

heard about us by now.” He turned back to the bandit leader. “I fear that your trap is missprung, for I pledge you, we are neither folk of Aldaran nor of what you call the Hastur-kin. We are visitors here, and surely you have heard of us—we come from a world which circles one of the stars in the sky—”

The man interrupted with a gesture of disgust. “What do you think I am, a fool?

Do you think to dazzle me with some fantastic tale? Do you truly expect me to believe such nonsense? Even I know that the stars are no more than distant balls of fire!”

David tried to reply, but the man cut him off with an impatient gesture.

“I can see I waste time with you,” the man spat. “You must certainly think I am a drooling idiot, to try to fool me with such stable-sweepings. You will go to our leader, and you may try, if you like, to think up some more believable story for him.” He grinned wolfishly. “But don’t try that fool’s drivel about being from some other world on him. He is a
laranzu,
and he will know at once if you are trying to make a fool of him.”

Laranzu?
David’s linguistic mind made short work of the unfamiliar word—it obviously had something to do with
laran,
which should mean that the man had telepathic powers, like Felicia and Kermiac.

“He says their leader is a telepath,” David replied, “At least there’s this much, there’s no way to lie to someone with
laran.
He’ll have to believe that we’re telling the truth.”

“Let’s just hope he not only believes that, but he’ll believe it when we tell him that it’s Terran policy to pay no ransom,” she replied, still shivering. “If he understands that there’s no benefit in holding us, maybe he’ll let us go.”

David subsided into silence while they rode, the bandits’ hands keeping firm hold of their bridles, into one of the half-ruined buildings inside the walls. Elizabeth rode silently in David’s wake, with a growing feeling of certainty that their troubles were only beginning, and that it would not be that simple.

Her premonition was right. Their guide stopped their horses before a tent, and

made it very clear that if they did not dismount on their own, they would be “aided” to do so. The horses and gear were taken away—probably never to be seen again —and

they were “escorted” into the tent. There was a young man there, clothed much like their talkative guide, seated cross-legged on a stack of folded blankets. His hair was almost as red as David’s and he had the same fierce grin as their captor.

“Well, cousin, what have we here?” he asked the first man.

“A jester,” the man replied, “for when he knew he was caught, he tried to tell me some tale of having been dropped here from one of the stars in the sky. I told him that he might try that tale upon you, and that if he insists on it, you will know of what to make of it.”

“Christ,” David swore under his breath. Aloud, he said, “If you are truly a

laranzu,
you will know from my mind that I speak the truth. We are visitors from another world, we are no kin to any man on this world, and we are of no worth to anyone.”

The man stared fixedly at David for several seconds, then spat. He turned to the first bandit, ignoring David and Elizabeth. “One of two things is true; either he is a poor madman who believes what he is saying, or else Aldaran and his
laranzu’in
have found some way to shield the mind, and this is one of his
laranzu,
a man with such surpassing skill he thinks to make us believe this nonsense.”

“Or else to believe that he is mad, and worthless,” the first man said. “For who would ever care to ransom a madman? Rather, they would be glad that such an

embarrassment was gone.”

The second one snorted. “Well, he did not reckon to find me too old and wily a

fox to see through his tales.” He gestured abruptly. “Take them to the prisoner’s tent, and put a damper on it so that they cannot reach their fellows at Aldaran. Let them think over their tale in solitude for a little time, and perhaps they will think better of telling us where they come from.”

Before either of them could move, several men had David prisoner, and two men

had taken Elizabeth’s arms as well. David began to swear and struggle, but without avail. A few moments later, they had thrown David ungently down inside another tent, and Elizabeth had been deposited beside him. The men left, then, but Elizabeth had no doubt that several of them were waiting outside, guarding them. She kept feeling a dull kind of vibration that gave her a headache; she guessed that it might be the “telepathic damper” the bandit chief spoke of. After a moment, she realized that she had real proof of this, for she no longer sensed anything of David’s thoughts.

“Well,” David said at last, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “We’ve

certainly gotten into a mess now. I thought that when Kadarin and Zeb went off and left us that we were in trouble—but now we’re
really
in trouble. Got any ideas?”

Elizabeth shook her head, helplessly, and began to cry. David moved to hold her

in his arms to give her the little comfort he could. She had taken for granted, since they had landed on this world, that if she were ever in trouble she could always call on Ysaye

—or even one of the natives—with her telepathy. Now she couldn’t. They were on their own, in the hands of men who were probably so steeped in violence and hatred that they would certainly stoop to anything to get what they wanted—men of the sort she had only encountered in books and records, never in person. She had no idea what, if anything, she could do to appeal to them. Nor, clearly, did David; his life of shelter and privilege, and all his scholastic and scientific training, had left him as unable to deal with criminals as was she.

And she was terrified.

Leonie floated in a warm and comforting darkness, as if she were lying in a deep featherbed. Yet there were voices disturbing the darkness.
I
cannot save them both,
Leonie heard, as from a vast distance.
I
do not think I can do much for the other except
to hold off death for a little longer, and while I do that, she drains the youngster. Yet if
she dies, her death will affect Leonie. It will shock her, and leave her weak and unable
to continue her training for some time, a tenday or so, at least.

Leonie considered that, in an oddly detached state of mind. A little rest might not be such a bad thing…

Then save Leonie, cushion her as best you can, and let the other die,
replied a voice sharp-edged with impatience and heavy with authority.
So long as she can
continue her training eventually. She is too valuable
—
and the other is nothing to us.

Leonie was confused; it seemed she was listening to the Terranan doctors

discussing the fates of Ysaye and her child.

If her own people cannot save her life, why should you even try?
Leonie knew that voice; it was Marelie, the Keeper of Arilinn Tower. And with that recognition, memory returned, and she knew who the “other” must be.

Ysaye!

When the man called Ryan Evans had seized Ysaye, they had been so tightly

linked that Leonie had reacted to the attack as if it had been to herself. And reflex provided the response that had been drilled into her for the past several weeks.

For no Keeper could continue to work after she had lost her virginity—or at least, not without a long time of reconditioning and cleansing of her channels. So the Towers decreed that any man who dared to lay hands on one must serve as an immediate and horrifying example to anyone else who contemplated such violence. Every Keeper was taught the defense that Leonie unleashed on Evans, a defense that literally called fire up within the man, and charred him to the bone in a matter of moments.

But Ysaye was no longer virgin—and had never been properly trained to allow

the energies of
laran
flow through her channels anyway. So the power had backlashed on Ysaye as well, and Leonie had shared her agony as she burned with Ryan Evans.

And it must be that Ysaye still clung to life only through that link they shared.

As Leonie realized this, she also felt it, draining away her energy, leechlike—and felt the Arilinn chief healer and the best monitor, working together, slowly severing that bond.

“No—” she whispered to herself, but she was given no more choice than Ysaye

had been. The last thread holding them together snapped, whiplashing back into Leonie, and flinging her out of the strange darkness into which she had awakened, and out into the overworld.

She knew it for what it was immediately; the restless gray mist, the vague hints of Arilinn Tower where her body lay, and other Towers farther away—Neskaya, Dalereuth, Corandolis, Thendara. But she was not alone here. Another woman stood before her, a very thin, tall, dark-skinned woman with features never seen on a Darkovan.

With a shock, she recognized Ysaye from the few glimpses she had gotten when

the star woman looked in a mirror. And beside Ysaye, clinging to her hand, was a very young girl, in whose face Leonie read both Ysaye’s heritage and Hastur blood. Both Ysaye and the child were slightly transparent, and the far-off bulk of Neskaya Tower could be seen through Ysaye’s insubstantial body.

Well, Leonie,
the apparition said.
You were right.

Leonie shook her head, still trying to recover from the shock of being suddenly

snapped into the overworld.
Right about what?
she asked.

That my child wouldn’t stop crying until I joined her.
Ysaye seemed very calm, very detached—inhumanly so. As if human concerns no longer mattered to her.
You owe
me a blood-debt, you know. If it hadn’t been for you…Lorill never would have come to
Aldaran in the first place, he never would have returned, and when I confronted Ryan
Evans, it would have been with someone from Security at my back.

Leonie shivered, realizing what she faced could command almost any blood-debt

from her that Ysaye cared to name. For it was very true that Leonie was as guilty of Ysaye’s blood as Ryan Evans was. Perhaps more so; if Lorill had never played a part in this tragedy, it all might have ended very differently. And Lorill had gone to Aldaran only because Leonie wanted him to do so.

What do you want from me?
she asked, shivering and submissive. This was not the Ysaye she knew; it was an Ysaye stripped of all the things that made her human.

There was no telling what she wanted.

My friends Elizabeth and David have been taken prisoner, by bandits living in the
old keep of Scorpion Point,
Ysaye replied dispassionately.
You must see that someone
learns this, someone who can tell it to my people.

Who?
Leonie cried out, relieved to have gotten off so easily.
The Keeper of
Arilinn? The Keeper at Aldaran?

Ysaye shook her head, but was already looking off into the distance, as if she

were impatient to be somewhere else.
Most of the Terrans don’t believe in
laran
at all.

They will not believe a source like that. No
—
Kadarin and Zeb Scott are somewhere
near where David and Elizabeth are being held, and with a Ghost Wind blowing, they
are as open to a sending as any worker in the relays. They can determine the truth of the
matter, and go for help.
She looked directly into Leonie’s eyes, and Leonie shivered again at the cold light she saw there.
Enough,
Ysaye said.
We must go.

And with that, she picked up her child, turned, and walked away, covering

incredible spans of distance with each seemingly-ordinary step, until she dwindled into the distance, and was gone into the mist. Leonie stood where she had been all along, too frozen to follow, even if she could have found the courage.

Then, abruptly, there was another feeling of something snapping back on her, and she found herself back in her body in the Tower, with the motherly face of Ysabet, Arilinn’s best healer, bending over her.