The Sorceress of Karres (6 page)

A horrible thought occurred to her. What if they too were villains? She walked a little closer. No-shape—bending light around herself—was not something she had to consciously exert her mind to do. But it took energy. She was already tired and hungry again.

And then came the next problem. Someone had plainly called for a patrol-car. Goth realized that there was no way that she could fit into it, along with the three bulky policemen who seemed to believe that they'd gotten their man. She had to do something quickly. She had no idea where the local police station was and she had no intention of letting Pausert out her sight. She settled for the advantages of no-shape to reach in and remove the starter-bar from the vehicle's ignition, and dropped it down the grate of a nearby drain. It landed with quite an audible plop, but fortunately the policemen were too busy telling their comrade to radio for a tow for the crashed air-truck.

"You can do it when we're back at the station," said the driver irritably. "I don't know why you couldn't have walked anyway. I was just on my break."

"You're always just on your break," said one of the other officers, pushing his way in. "Come on, Hasbol. Get the kid inside, and let's get down to the station."

So they did. The door was closed. Goth waited and watched the searching and commotion. The door was opened again, and Pausert and the officers got out again. "So how do you think I got here?" yelled the driver irritably. "One of you must have taken it. Or him. You'd better search the kid."

They emptied out Pausert's pockets, which had all the useful things a fourteen year old boy might have in them—string, some odd bits of scrap metal, a bottle cap, a broken penknife, but no starter-bar. They patted him down but still did not find the missing starter-bar.

"We may as well walk back to the station," said one of the men eventually. "And you'd better call in, Bryton. There's something very fishy about all of this."

So they marched off together, escorting Pausert—who was struggling to hide a grin at their misfortunes. The captain that Goth knew would have been better at keeping a straight face. Goth was able to walk along behind them, having taken the step of light-shifting to the shape of one of the local constabulary. It was less effort than staying in no-shape indefinitely.

It was a mere two blocks away and round one corner, so, other than to protect the way their uniforms bulged over their belts, there'd really been no reason to call a patrol car out. Still, from what she could gather, Nikkeldepain City did not have much crime to entertain them. They were grumbling about the extra duties that the presence of the showboat lattice ship had put onto their poor overworked selves, and, so far, they'd been unable to arrest anyone for their troubles.

"That circus master—Petey. He'll be behind all this. Mark my words. I don't trust him."

Goth's heart leapt.
Himbo Petey? Here?
Then the lattice ship must be the
Petey, Byrum and Keep
, the Greatest Show in the Galaxy. Her friends here to help! And then she realized . . . 

They weren't yet her friends.

It was still comforting to think of them being here. Of course over the years, lattice ships did visit nearly every inhabited planet. Quite a coincidence—but one of the things that the people of Karres had learned about klatha force is that there really were no coincidences. Just patterns, some of them too enormous ever to see.

Pausert was stoical throughout all of this. Goth, who knew him well, could see that the boy was quite nervous despite his stolid expression. He just wasn't letting the police see it. Well, that was hardly surprising. She just wished that she could tell him that she was here, and that she'd see that he was all right.

A few minutes later, she discovered that she was not alone in her task of shepherding the young Pausert. His mother was quite a fearsome one-woman army herself.

"He happened to be in the same street as a car crash and you arrest him? He can't even drive yet! Anyway, where would he have got this vehicle from? Tell me that! Are you accusing my son of theft?"

"Uh. We're still following up on that," admitted the desk-policeman. "The vehicle was hired from Porklotta vehicle hire. But we've been unable to trace the ID of the person who signed for it."

"And who presumably was an adult, produced a driver's license, and paid a deposit," snapped Pausert's mother. "Even if my boy had the money, no one could take him for an adult. And where in Patham's name would he get a license that matched his ret-ID? They would have checked that, you know, or you should know, if you weren't a bumbling idiot."

"Who are you calling a bumbling idiot, ma'am?" demanded the bumbling idiot, drawing himself up.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'll leave you to think about that one. It might take you a week or two. In the meanwhile I am taking my boy home. You have no reason to keep him here. I gather that there was somebody else in the truck, and that they have been taken to the hospital. Why don't you go and check on their ID? They can probably tell you what happened."

"Uh . . . As to that, the patient seems to have absconded," admitted the desk sergeant.

"Oh. And I suppose that was somehow caused by my son, although you had him here."

"Well, there is also the matter of the starter-bar from the patrol vehicle."

She raised her eyebrows. "And just what is Pausert supposed to have done with that? From what you told me on the telephone you found him at the scene of the accident. I presume that the patrol vehicle managed to arrive after that. Or did it cause the accident?"

"Of course the vehicle arrived after the accident, ma'am. But we believe he managed to make the starter-bar go missing."

"But how did he do that? Turn himself invisible and walk around the vehicle and snatch it out? Put it in his pocket? Toss it down a drain?" she said sarcastically. "This is all about my uncle, isn't it? Well, Pausert isn't Threbus. He's just a very ordinary little boy. I wish you would leave him alone. Now. He's coming home with me."

And, a few minutes later, after a little bit more verbal bludgeoning, Pausert's mother proved correct. Goth was very relieved, and decided to use their bathroom before following her. It was a little childish to express her relief by blocking the basins in the officers' bathroom and removing the washer that allowed the faucet to seal. She left quietly in no-shape.

There was a startled exclamation, and Goth looked back to see an officer staring at the row of wet footprints that she was leaving behind her. Sometimes behaving like the Leewit just wasn't worth it.

Goth ran for it. Fortunately, the officer seemed more stunned than quick on the uptake, and she was out of the door before he had time to do more than make incoherent noises and point.

Outside she ran to a nearby piece of public parkland. The grass didn't show wet footprints, and in no-shape she was happy enough to ignore the sign that said that she should keep off it. Two of Nikkeldepain's constabulary did follow the rapidly drying footprints.

"Must have taken their shoes off, whoever it was," said one, scratching his head, looking at the sign and then peering at the pavement. It appeared that if one lived on Nikkeldepain, one took rules very seriously.

"Wonder where the water came from?" said the other.

Goth discovered the second problem with behaving like the Leewit. She had to stuff her own sleeve in her mouth to stop from betraying herself. After a few moments, the answer plainly dawned on the two and they turned to run back to the station. It was then that she realized the third problem. She had lost sight of young Pausert and his mother. She was in a strange city, on a strange world, with absolutely no idea how to even start looking for him. She'd have to find him before those others got to him. And then she'd have to deal with them.

Right now, however, wet feet or not, she desperately needed to eat and rest. But could she afford to do either or should she rather immediately try to find Pausert?

She decided, after a few moments' consideration, that while he was in the custody of his mother, he was probably reasonably safe. Whoever was trying to kidnap him without witnesses would probably not risk it while his mother was with him. Goth slipped into a public restroom and undid the no-shape. That at least saved her some energy. She went off in search of food and ideas of where she could find Pausert.

She got help with both from the sausage seller. "Aren't you the kid," he said, in friendly tone, "who was here with the boy from the botanical place? The Threbus Institute?"

He seemed no more than idly curious. "Yes," admitted Goth, "but he's gone home now."

"I used to have a stand near there. Saw the kid most days back then. Nice polite boy, not like some of the rich riff-raff at the academy. I hadn't seen him for a while."

"Oh," said Goth artlessly. "And where did your stand used to be?"

"Pilking Street. Over toward the old power station."

Goth set out, armed with a street name, a direction, and the energy from digesting some greasy sausage. The lights were coming on across Nikkeldepain City. It was a rather flat and uninspiring place. In the distance beyond her destination she could see the trails of multicolored fairy lights flickering seductively from the lattice ship. That called to her, but her duty now was to find and protect Pausert.

So she studiously avoided thinking about the lattice ship, about the journey they'd had across the Empire with the
Petey B
. It was like not thinking of pink fanderbags.

She was so busy not thinking about it that she nearly walked into the woman whom she'd last seen wearing a cone-shaped blonde wig. She had curly auburn hair now, but it was the same woman. She also plainly recognized Goth.

"Hello, little girl," she said, clutching Goth's arm. "You look thirsty. Can I get you something to drink?"

Goth shook the hand off. She hated being called "little girl" at the best of times. Her look made the woman start back. "No," she said coldly.

And then it occurred to her that she might be able to extract some information from her. Best to play it cautiously, for now. "I am not thirsty. Thank you."

"It's very late for you to be out. It's not really safe for a young girl to be out the street after dark."

Huh. Not with you around
, thought Goth. But, in general, she thought Nikkeldepain was probably one of the safest worlds she'd ever been on. It was the kind of place where even the thought of crime was just too complicated.

"I'm fine. I live near here," she said crossly. "And they're expecting me. Goodbye." She walked off, around the corner, and then used light-shift to make herself look like an elderly man she'd seen earlier.

A few seconds later the woman appeared, talking into her wrist communicator. She looked up when she saw the light-shifted Goth. "Hello, gramps," she said curtly. "Have you seen a young girl come this way. Brown eyes. Sharpish chin?"

Goth didn't want to try imitating an old man's voice as well as his appearance. The more klatha powers of imitation you used, the harder it was to do each of them properly—and the energy requirement was exponential, not simply additive. So she just pointed toward a side street and continued shuffling on her way.

The woman did a rapid U-turn and was back around the corner in a few seconds. Goth followed in no-shape. Now, maybe, she could get close enough to listen in on the woman's communicator conversation.

"—snooping around here," said the woman. Goth listened but could not hear the reply. "The reason you can't find her on the police records system could just be that she's working with them, Mirkon."

Her informant replied.

"That leaves the lattice ship," said the woman, "although why the circus people would have an interest in the target is beyond me. I admit it's good cover, though. Look, I think tonight is off. There's only one window and unless you've got the Rubilon three to dope them—"

Mirkon plainly interrupted. "Don't make your problems mine!" said the woman crossly, getting into a parked air car.

Goth waited for her to drive off, but the woman stayed there, continuing her conversation. Only now Goth could hear neither side of it. Goth pondered her next step. It would be fairly easy to deal with this woman. But that was just the surface of the plot. It seemed that they planned no further action that evening, and she couldn't follow Pausert everywhere in no-shape forever. She was already pushing her energy reserves too far.

In fact, Goth found herself nearly swaying with exhaustion. Traveling back here by the Egger Route, not to mention everything else she'd done since arriving on Nikkeldepain, sure took it out of you. She needed a safe place to lie up for the night. In the morning, she'd find out just why they were after the captain, and just who they were. She had a feeling that could be vital information. But now, she had to rest. And burgling Pausert's home seemed just too hard.

The
Petey B
was close enough. She knew where to find a quiet spot in the props store for a bit of sleep, and there were always cushions and some fabric for a bed there. The "props" had been a veritable treasure house, as well as the perfect hideout for her and the Leewit, when they'd traveled with the lattice-ship circus. So she walked towards its lights, trying not to think just about how tired her feet were.

The ship was secured and guarded, of course. The
Petey B
did not want stowaways or petty thieves. Well . . . it would take stowaways, sometimes. But Himbo Petey was a man with a conscience and Goth didn't plan to test it. She knew how the security system worked, and she still had enough energy left to use no-shape in a pinch.

As it turned out, she made it to the old hulk that was the second props store with no problems or incidents. Despite the fact that she was a decade and a few years early, the setting was so familiar, so comforting, that she might have indulged in a happy snuffle or so when she reached its sanctuary.

It was dark and warm and comfortable in the bed she'd made for herself. It easy to sleep here.

Too easy.

When she awoke it wasn't dark anymore. And the crimson-faced man staring down at her was not pleased to see her.