Snare (89 page)

Time burst back upon her. Soutan screamed and dropped the handgun. It dangled useless from the cable, and Ammadin grabbed it and pulled. The power pack came free of Yarl’s shoulder and skittered across the floor to lie under the illusion of Sibyl’s feet. When Ammadin let Soutan go, he staggered up, panting, swearing, and cradled the broken wrist in his other hand. He stank of fresh urine. Arkazo hauled himself up to kneel on the floor between them. For a moment Soutan stared at Ammadin, his eyes as wild as the dying saur’s. Then he turned and bolted, staggering and stumbling down the tunnel that led back to the entrance cave.

‘Let him go,’ Sibyl said. ‘The others will capture him easily, since he no longer has a hostage.’

‘Tell me something.’ Ammadin paused to lay the pistol down on the floor. ‘You loved Raynar, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. You are very perceptive. We had been together for sixteen years when he shot himself.’

‘I’m sorry you lost him.’

‘All love affairs are tragedies in the end unless the lovers die at the same moment. We were not fortunate enough for that. I wanted to go with him, but he reminded me that my place was here, guarding the indigenes.’

Despite the calm face of the image, her voice relived her grief, just briefly, in those words.

‘I hadn’t thought of that before.’ Ammadin said. ‘About love affairs and tragedies.’ For a moment she felt sick and cold, but the moment ended. ‘Do you know how to get that restraint off Arkazo’s hands?’

‘Yes. If he’ll stand up, I’ll instruct you.’

In the hot sun Warkannan stood below the entrance, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet a little apart to steady himself. He felt as if his long life of discipline and obedience, those years he had spent forging his soul both as an officer in the cavalry and a worshipper in the way of Islam, had been nothing but training for this one moment, when he would have to stand still while knowing that Arkazo’s life hung on the slender thread of Soutan’s sanity. If he rushed inside, as every muscle in his body longed to do, he would cause his nephew’s death. He told himself that repeatedly. Just behind him Jezro and Zayn stood on guard. He knew he could trust them to grab him and haul him back if the discipline broke, but he was determined to keep it from breaking. Sweat ran down his back and soaked through his shirt.

Off to one side, Loy Millou waited with Water Woman, watching the entrance. The Chiri Michi waved her hands in the air and made a whimpering sound now and then, but Loy stood still, cradling a long metal tube connected to a dangling length of black cord and a box on her back. What it was and why she held it, he didn’t know. Perhaps it comforted her in some way.

Inside the cave, someone shrieked, the sound too faint to be identified as one voice or another. Jezro swore. No one moved. Warkannan began to count seconds, as if he could turn himself into a clock and feel nothing but time passing. No more sounds, no voices reached them. Jezro muttered something under his breath. Warkannan ignored him and kept counting. Two minutes passed, if his count were accurate. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. This could go on for hours.

‘Someone’s coming out,’ Jezro whispered.

Warkannan allowed himself one step forward just as Soutan staggered out of the shadows onto the lip of rock. He was clutching one arm, pressing it against his chest with the other hand.

‘Arkazo!’ Warkannan called out. ‘Where is he?’

For an answer Soutan began to laugh, a high-pitched chortle that rose and fell in a sprung rhythm. He must be dead, Warkannan
thought. That’s the only thing that laugh could mean. He glanced back and found Jezro furious, as if he too were thinking Arkazo dead; Zayn laid his hand on the hilt of his long knife. Warkannan heard Loy Millou cough, clearing her throat.

‘Lock,’ Loy said. ‘Fire.’

Something slithered past him through the air, a flash of light from a signal mirror, maybe. Warkannan spun around to look at Loy, who was pointing the metal tube at the cave. He turned back and realized that Soutan had no head. Blood gushed over his chest and shoulders as the headless body crumpled to its knees, swayed, and fell backward onto the grey stone.

‘God preserve us!’ Jezro whispered. ‘What happened?’

‘Vengeance, that’s what.’ Zayn sounded perfectly calm. ‘Good shot, Loremaster.’

Warkannan turned to Loy, who was staring wide-eyed at Yarl’s corpse. Dimly he realized that what he’d taken for some odd bit of metal had to be the most powerful weapon he’d ever seen.

‘Are you all right?’ he said to Loy.

She turned a white face towards him.

‘I knew it would be easier the second time,’ Loy said. ‘Killing a predator, I mean. And it was. Not easy, but easier.’ She sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Oh god, your nephew!’

‘He must be dead, yes.’

‘No, you idiot! That’s what I thought, but look!’

Someone was walking out of the deep shadows at the entrance, two people walking into the sunlight, Ammadin and Arkazo. Warkannan stared, afraid to believe his own vision until Zayn started laughing.

‘I should have known that Ammadin would get things under control,’ Zayn said. ‘She’s a spirit rider, after all.’

At the top of the path, Arkazo hesitated, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked down at the people below, turning his head this way and that, searching for someone.

‘Kaz!’ Warkannan called out. ‘Get down here! Of course I forgive you!’

Arkazo burst out laughing and ran, racing headlong down the path. Warkannan ran to meet him, but when they met he contented himself with grabbing Arkazo’s right hand in both of his.

‘He would have killed me,’ Arkazo stammered. ‘I could see that he meant it. He really would have killed me.’

Warkannan hesitated, then decided that moral lectures could wait. ‘I’m damned glad he didn’t,’ he said instead. ‘And I’m damned glad to see you.’

Arkazo tried to grin in his old insouciant way, then began to weep. A dismal scatter of tears ran down his bruised face and left muddy tracks in the dust from N’Dosha. Warkannan let go his hand and flung an arm around his shoulders.

‘Let’s get you something to eat, Kaz.’

Arkazo nodded, and they turned back towards the camp to find themselves face to face with Zayn, standing with his thumbs tucked into his belt. Arkazo wiped his face on his sleeve.

‘I know what it feels like now,’ Arkazo said, ‘having someone ready to kill you. I realized I’d do anything to get free of that, even killing someone myself.’

‘Thanks for telling me,’ Zayn said softly. ‘I appreciate it.’ He turned and strode away before Arkazo could say anything more.

Arkazo watched him go. ‘Uncle?’ he said. ‘I had a chance to shoot Hassan when they – the Chur I mean – caught me and Yarl in front of the cliffs. I had the pistol, and I looked right at him, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill someone, not even him. I’m going to make a pretty shitty officer.’

‘Battles are different,’ Warkannan said. ‘You’ve got everyone else to carry you along, and besides, the enemy’s out to kill you. You’ll see.’

Arkazo nodded, but he shoved his hands into his trousers pockets, as if he were hiding the shakes. He’ll get over it, Warkannan thought. You’d have to be insane not to be afraid at first. But yet he wondered if he really knew Arkazo as well as he thought he did, this young man now, no longer a boy, who had been so easily entranced by tales of strange machines and ancient knowledge.

‘We go-soon or not go?’ Water Woman said. ‘Jezro Khan, he returnmust to Burgunee, he tell me, and say-must farewell to his friend Marya Dookis before they leave-next for Kazrajistan.’

‘We all need to get on the road, yes,’ Ammadin said. ‘But Zayn’s promised to memorize something for me, something Sibyl will tell him, I mean. It’s going to take hours.’

‘Ah.’ Water Woman considered this. ‘We leave tomorrow then. And Sibyl, she have-maybe things to tell Zayn Recaller. He
need-maybe the talk more than any else of us. You take him there now, I think. I discuss-next some plans with Loy Sorcerer.’ Water Woman raised coy pseudo-hands in front of her eyes. ‘I think loremasters come-next-soon to N’Dosha again. And Loy Sorcerer, she want-not leave with us.’

Zayn was more than willing to finally get his chance to see Sibyl. Hand in hand they walked up the path together. The Chur had taken Yarl’s body away, leaving only a rust-coloured stain. Ammadin had decided against asking them what they were going to do with it. They stepped into the hallway, and Ammadin called out to let Sibyl know she had visitors, but when they walked into the circular room, the dais was empty.

‘Sibyl?’ Ammadin said. ‘Are you functional?’

A bell chimed behind them. When Ammadin turned round, she saw a section of the circular wall sliding back to reveal a storage area. Cubical grey boxes stood stacked to the ceiling, hundreds of them, Ammadin realized. Printed on each were symbols, or letters and words, she supposed, and Zayn confirmed her guess.

‘Accus,’ he said, ‘a lot of those, lamps, lightwands, and crystals. Some say medical supplies.’

‘I doubt if the actual medications are still valid.’ Sibyl’s voice came from directly overhead. ‘There are, however, some pieces of equipment that might someday become valuable again. They require a reliable source of power and the knowledge of how to use them.’

Ammadin spun around, but the dais still stood empty.

‘I have switched my audio function to the ceiling above you,’ Sibyl said. ‘I know the locations of other storage areas onplanet as well, but you will not be able to take all of these things with you as it is.’

‘That’s very true,’ Ammadin said. ‘We don’t have a whole caravan of pack horses.’

‘When you are finished here, you may take what you wish. Return now to the interface area.’

‘The what?’

‘Where my hologram appears.’

When they walked out, Sibyl reappeared on the dais in a shimmering fall of light.

‘Very well.’ Her voice seemed to be coming from the image’s mouth. ‘This is your Recaller, then?’

‘Not mine precisely,’ Ammadin said, ‘but he’s the man I told you about.’

‘I apologize. I had failed to cross-file the new data and so assumed that the situation that prevailed on the Rim was still current here. That is, a Recaller would have a place on the staff of some powerful person.’

‘No,’ Zayn said. ‘Maybe that’s going to change, though.’

‘Zayn’s doing me a favour,’ Ammadin said. ‘I asked him to record the data in Dallas Jenz’s archive for me, if you remember that.’

‘Of course I do.’ Sibyl’s expression turned haughty. ‘I will begin voice transfer of data whenever the Recaller is ready.’

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Ammadin said, ‘but answer one more question for me first. Why did your people create minds like Zayn’s when you had machines that could record everything? If they could make AI units like you, why did they need H’mai Recallers?’

‘For several reasons.’ Sibyl leaned back in her chair and folded her hands over her stomach. ‘The H’mai of the Rim were in contact with a great many alien races who were not part of the Council system. Such beings greatly resented having their conversations and the like recorded or spied upon by electronic means. A Recaller could easily serve as an ambassador’s aide or bodyguard and remain undetected while he or she recorded everything said or done. Likewise, a police operative could go unnoticed among the criminal element and record information.

‘At root, though –’ Sibyl paused, looking away. ‘I predict that Zayn will not like their most compelling reason. They did it because they could, and because they wanted to see what would happen if they did. Recallers, Calculators, Augmented Gunners, Musicians, Astrogators – those and all the others were the result of experiments carried out because the experiments could be done. The goal was to advance the sum total of knowledge available to sapient beings.’

Ammadin could smell Zayn’s anger, a sudden acrid burst of it. His face smoothed out into his mask.

‘Sibyl?’ Ammadin said. ‘Do you think that was a good reason?’

‘I did when I was part of the Rim civilization, when I lived aboard ship and was surrounded by those who shared the same cultural assumptions. Bio-engineered functionaries, those Inborn who were not soldier-clones, held high-ranking positions in that culture. They were usually rich and always sought after and
envied. But –’ Sibyl paused and seemed to be studying Zayn when she continued. ‘But we are not back home on the Rim. I doubt if anyone ever considered what would happen to the Inborn under primitive conditions, and especially in a culture where their roles would be forgotten.’

‘No,’ Zayn spoke quietly. ‘I don’t suppose the bastards did consider it, and may they rot in Hell.’

‘You are bitter,’ Sibyl said.

‘Yes, I am. I feel like a spare part – an extra wheel for a wagon, brought along just in case one breaks. But I’m not bitter just for my own sake. The Inborn traits crop up all the time, and in the khanate we’re either killed or we go crazy from hiding it.’

‘This is not what the Councils intended.’ Sibyl turned her artificial gaze to Ammadin. ‘But you are not bitter.’

‘That’s because I had the training I needed.’

‘I have in my databanks information about the training procedures for all the various Inborn traits. If disseminated, this information will ease at least some of the problems associated with the traits. Doubtless Loremaster Millou will be willing to inform her college of the need for a tutorial programme.’

‘Yes, I’m sure she would,’ Ammadin said. ‘And you know, you’ve just given me an idea.’

Ammadin left Zayn in the Analysis Lab and went looking for Jezro Khan. She found him damp and half-dressed by the canal. On the grass his wet shirt lay spread out to dry.

‘Looking for me?’ Jezro said. ‘That’s always flattering.’

Ammadin smiled, then got to the point. ‘Back in Herbgather Woman’s village, you told me that you wanted to give me a reward for saving your life.’

‘I remember that, yes,’ Jezro said, ‘and I meant it.’

‘I never doubted it. Those children with talents, the Inborn – can you get your people to stop mistreating and killing them?’

‘I certainly intend to try, but it’s going to be difficult at first. New laws will keep them from being killed, but they’re probably going to be hated and feared. I can’t police every bully in the khanate.’