The Alliance (2 page)

* * * *

Rachael felt cold. Partly it was the river, but mostly it was her reaction to how close she’d come to dying on the scaffold. She fought more from the horror of what was happening than from the knowledge she must buy whatever time she could for the Federation to react and save them. The local girl said the others were safe, but Rachael remembered nothing. She had a hard lump behind her left ear with the skin broken and her head ached abominably so someone had knocked her unconscious. She had men around her fully occupied; she smiled at the memory, so it was probably the sergeant. There’d have been confusion during the rescue and they’d left her as dead. Her rescuer, the local girl, must have dragged her away.

She nodded unconsciously. The girl would know the river and slip away safely. She was probably on her way home now. The men-at-arms would know her too. They were all local and seemed reasonable until the ugly, little man in charge took offense and ordered the Federation party hanged at the crossroads bridge as an example. The site had been used before, the materials for the scaffold were in a shed beside the bridge. She had a vision of her body and those of the others hanging limply in death and shuddered.

“Over here.” She recognized the sergeant’s voice and squeezed herself further under the bank, dragging the pendent roots across her face for concealment. The flare of a torch lit the water. She closed her eyes and waited. Even when clods, broken from the bank above, splashed close, she kept her eyes closed. The girl was right; eyes caught the light and destroyed concealment.

“We’re wasting time,” the sergeant said. “We need to catch those bastards and ram their tricks down their throats before we hang the lot of them. The red-headed vixen will be with them. She couldn’t have escaped by herself.” He paused, as if looking around for a final time. “Come on. Trumpeter, sound the Assembly and we’ll get on with the real job.”

The notes of a bugle followed and the noise of the men retreated, but Rachael didn’t trust the sergeant. His speech had been a little too pat. She’d stay right where she hid.

An hour slipped by, then another and Rachael was slipping into a half doze of hypothermia when the touch of a hand startled her awake.

“Time to go,” her rescuer, the local girl, said.

Too stiff and cold to move easily, Rachael had to be assisted into the hide coracle and she lay helpless beneath its thwart as the girl covered her with dripping fish traps, thankful for the rough blanket they wrapped around her body first.

“Don’t move. They’re guarding the bridge and we have to pass under it.” Rachael felt the boat surge as it entered the main current.

A shout from outside the boat froze Rachael into immobility and she heard a seemingly endless conversation in the local dialect between the distant speaker and the man in the boat. It ended in laughter all round, her rescuer, the local girl, joining in, so Rachael relaxed a little as the boat bumped under the bridge and moved out of the torchlight.

“Another ten minutes and we’ll get you into some dry clothes,” the girl said. “Hang in there.”

Rachael mumbled a reply and slipped back into a half doze. Everything felt distant and unimportant now. She no longer felt cold and just wanted to lie there.

“What’s your name?” The girl’s voice sounded urgent. “Wake up and tell me.” Rachael felt her body prodded by something. “What’s your name?” The girl repeated the question and increased the prodding.

“Rachael. It’s Rachael. Leave me alone.”

“Is your hair color natural? We may need to dye it?”

“S’natural.” Rachael’s voice seemed oddly slurred. “Do you want me to prove it?” She giggled at the thought.

The girl chuckled, as if she understood Rachael’s thought. “I’ll see soon enough.” The boat rocked as the girl stood up to look around. “We can’t wait any longer.” She was speaking to their companion, probably the boat owner. “Take us in over there. There’s shelter enough.” Her voice turned urgent. “Rachael. How many brothers do you have?”

Rachael had begun to slip away again and she resented the question. “None of your business. They’re all married.”

“Good for them. How many sisters?”

“Too bloody many.” That seemed funny too and Rachael tried to laugh, but found it beyond her, mumbling to herself instead as she tried to recall their names.

The boat grounded, tilting enough to displace the fish traps above her and Rachael’s mumble became a grumble. “Watch it. I’m under here.”

“Not for long.” The girl was tossing the traps onto the bank in her haste to get at Rachael. “Help me get her ashore. We need to get her into dry clothes and warm before she slips away completely.”

“There’s a hut in the center, used by poachers. You’ll be safe there,” the man rumbled. “I’ll carry her. You tie the painter to that branch and bring the bundle of clothes.”

Rachael felt herself lifted and lay cradled like a child in strong arms. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“No you don’t.” The man shook her awake. “Stay with us.”

He kept it up as he carried her down a narrow forest path and into a tiny clearing at the entrance to a hut cut deep into the ground, with only the earthen sod roof showing, perfect camouflage in its surroundings.

“There’s dry wood over there. Make the fire small and the big trees will hide the smoke.” He was talking to the girl. Perhaps she wasn’t local.

“Put her on the bed. You’d better get back to your fishing. Thank you.”

“You saved our child. I could do no less.” The man laid Rachael on a bed of dried reeds. “Good luck,” he said, and left.

The girl stripped Rachael of her wet clothes, rubbing her dry with coarse sacking.

“Your red hair is natural,” she remarked conversationally as she wrapped her in a rug of soft fur and laid her on the bed once more. “Let’s have a look at you, and then I’ll light the fire and we can start warming you from the inside as well.”

“What’s your name? I haven’t thanked you properly.” Rachael struggled to appear gracious. It felt important.

“I’m Anneke and you’d better save your thanks until I succeed.”

The girl, Anneke, knelt by the bed and closed her eyes, as if in prayer, and Rachael fell prey to the oddest sensation that someone was probing and testing every fiber of her body. It wasn’t unpleasant, just strange.

“M-m-m.” Anneke rose from her knees and stood, looking down at Rachael. “Something warm inside and then some body heat should do the trick.” She nodded in self confirmation. “I needn’t bother Dael.”

She turned away and went to the fireplace, building a small fire of twigs and adding dried wood, one piece at a time, to limit the smoke. A small pot hung from a stand. She filled it with water and swung it over the fire. “While that boils, we’ll see what a little body heat can do.”

Anneke shed her clothes and slid into the rug beside Rachael, cuddling her face to face, legs entwined, arms around her and Rachael felt the warmth flowing into her body like a healing tide. Her arms wrapped around the girl and held her close, welcoming her.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you.” Her eyelids drooped…and this time Anneke let her sleep.

* * * *

Anneke felt her slide into sleep and smiled. She scanned Rachael’s body thoroughly and knew there was no permanent damage. Nothing she couldn’t allow to heal naturally, except the wrists. She’d give the rope burns a nudge in the right direction and then conceal them with bandages until the healing would seem natural. Dael would be proud of her efforts, particularly as she’d been an unwilling student more times than not. No one, apart from Jean-Paul, could match Dael’s healing touch because they could never care as much. Her mother loved Peter so completely; she had love enough for everyone.

She felt Rachael smile in her sleep and disciplined herself. She hadn’t meant to share her thoughts. Turning them outwards hid them from Rachael. Anneke monitored events both locally and in orbit above them by the simple expedient of selecting minds and scanning them.

The Federation assault group and the rescued negotiators had returned to their shuttle and lifted off to the mother ship perched in a geostationary orbit above. Everybody was playing the blame game about Rachael’s supposed death, accusations streaming down the lines of command and across departmental barriers with equal vigor. The self-styled Lord High Sheriff had called a levy, mustering his peasants into a rag-tag army for his sergeants and men-at-arms to beat into shape. The sergeant who commanded the hanging party, smarting under ill-deserved criticism, had vowed personal vengeance on the red-headed vixen he considered the cause of his trouble.

She must watch him. A very efficient soldier, a veteran of the border wars, he was occupied with his conscripts, making them fear his displeasure more than they’d ever fear the enemy.

Anneke shifted her focus to the mother ship, a modern Federation colonizer, as different from Gabrielle’s scout ship as possible. Anneke chuckled at the memory of her sister-in-law’s wrath when Karrel had taken her on a tour of a modern ship. Her anger should have blistered the paint on its walls, made even more vehement by the quiet tone in which she delivered her judgment. She’d never gone back and had muttered something about “reduced to taxi-drivers, with idiots for passengers.” Anneke thought she was talking about the crew but hadn’t dared to scan her thoughts lest she become the focus of Gabrielle’s anger. Even Karrel avoided his wife’s ire. “Let Peter earn medals, I just want a quiet life,” he claimed, to the open disbelief of those who knew his achievements.

Time to check her patient.

Rachael now slept normally, her body healing itself, helped along by Anneke’s subtle manipulations and her body heat. She should wake refreshed in the morning and they would begin the journey to the shuttle’s landing zone. Given the extent of the mobilization, it wouldn’t be without risk. Anneke was tempted to utilize Limbo’s portals, but the girl might wake at an inconvenient time. It was better that they travel normally. It would give her time to monitor developments. Peter would want a detailed report, before he decided on any response. He husbanded their resources zealously, applying them only where they could achieve a result. She had fun evading his iron self-discipline, knowing he sometimes indulged her against his better judgment.

Anneke did a final check of the area and composed herself for sleep, confident any dangerous development would wake her.

* * * *

Rachael woke to the tantalizing aroma of roasting meat and found Anneke barbequing sections of rabbit and two small trout on a hot plate held above the flames by an iron tripod.

“My father does this much better,” Anneke spoke without turning. “We’ll have to depend on hunger to make up for my poor cooking skills.”

“I’ve got plenty of that.” Rachael admitted. “It smells great from here.”

“Join me. We’ll have to use our fingers.” Anneke turned and grinned. “You look less like a drowned rat.”

Rachael unconsciously ran her fingers through her hair and winced when they met a mass of tangles. “I’m not sure what I look like, but, at least, I’m alive, thanks to you.”

Anneke smiled and shook her head. “You’re alive because you struggled so hard. They couldn’t control you and took the short cut of knocking you out. I just happened along in the confusion and saw your friends had left you behind. It didn’t seem fair, considering you’d saved the others by delaying the hanging, so I hid you in the river.”

Rachael reached for the edge of the fur rug, intending to rise, and noticed the thick bandage around her wrist. There was one around the other wrist as well.

“Rope burns.” Anneke had noticed her glance. “I’ve used wild honey to promote healing without scars. It will keep the skin soft and we have a hive close.”

“How long can we stay here?” Rachael’s body felt a mass of bruises and every movement woke new pains.

“Not too long. A day or two, perhaps. Depends how your people react.” Anneke shrugged. “Our presence puts the locals at risk.”

“Like your fisherman friend?”

“Yes.”

“Will I get the chance to thank him?” Rachael remembered the care he’d shown in lifting her from the coracle and the concern in his voice as he kept her awake on the journey to the hut.

“Probably not. He’ll keep away until after we’re gone and warn the others who use this hut.”

“You don’t sound like local. Who are you?” Rachael was puzzled. Anneke spoke as an outsider, but the things she knew were not casual knowledge, open to all.

“I’m a traveler. I move around a lot and get to know things.” Her grin was mischievous. “Particularly poaching and other activities best hidden from the powers-that-be.”

Rachael nodded. The gypsies hadn’t been included officially in the colony ships from Earth, but pockets of them occupied every world. It explained much about Anneke, from her knowledge of poachers to the way she casually defied authority. She’d found a valuable ally, one who might just succeed in getting her back to the shuttle and safety.

“The shuttle’s gone back to your mother ship. It lifted off while you were hiding in the river. Your landing ground is apparently deserted.” Anneke’s tone held sympathy. She knew how much a shock her news was to Rachael. “They probably think you died.”

Rachael nodded. Standard procedure called for physical proof of an agent’s death, or no communication for thirty days. She had no communicator, so she must lay out a ground signal for the camera to see. Somewhere near a landing zone would be best, preferably a beach.