Danny Blue set the raft down on the balcony outside the door to his room. Before he could knock, it swung open and Trithil Esmoon came out. She raised her brows, mimed a question.
“We got it,” he said. “Any trouble here?”
“Not even an insomniac roach.” She looked past him at Felsrawg and Simms. “They dead?”
“Them?” He shook his head. “Sleeping.” He glanced at his chron. “Be dawn in an hour or so, we won’t wait. I think I can nurse this thing as far as the horses. Once the Wokolinka wakes up to what happened, she’s going to shut this city down and shake it hard.”
##
Working quickly, they loaded the gear onto the pallet, stowing it about the recumbent figures of the two thieves. Trithil Esmoon produced a reel of silk cord and helped Danny rope the pouches in place. She started to tie Felsrawg’s ankles, but Danny stopped her. “No need,” he said. “They’ll both be out till around mid-morning.”
She straightened, gave him a small tight smile. “Me?”
“Keep your hands to yourself.”
She twiddled her fingers and laughed at him, her eyes flirted at him, very blue even in the dim fringes of the lamplight. “A promise; I swear it. Until you ask, Laz.”
“Take off your rings.”
“What?”
“Take them off or join Felsrawg and Simms.”
“I gave you my word.”
“Fine. Now, put the rings away.”
She looked at him a moment, looked away. “If I must.” She folded back her left sleeve, stripped the rings off her fingers and thumb, dropping them into the hem-pocket and turned the sleeve back to fall in graceful points about her knuckles. “Are you satisfied?”
He grunted. “You’ll sit on my left, that arm away from me.”
The door was still open, the pale yellow light streaming out to lose itself in the drizzle. She stood in the light, her body outlined by it, her fine hair shining like silver silk. The yellow light slid off her elegant cheek, put a liquid glimmer between her lashes, gilded her upper lip, her chin. She was unreal, beauty like that was unreal. He stared at her; he was tired, so tired he was looking at her through a haze. He had no desire for her, no need to touch to take her. He simply looked and kept on looking because he couldn’t turn away. Her hands were lifted, unmoving yet indescribably graceful in their stillness. She dropped them to her sides and the spell was broken.
“Climb on,” he said. “Be with you in a minute.” He turned his back on her and went to the end of the sled. As she settled herself in front of the pouches, he squatted beside the energy sinks. Despite having to wrestle stormwinds during the trips to and from the Henanolee Heart, the sled hadn’t used much power; the sinks were still two-thirds full. He was the empty one, exhausted in both senses of the word. He flattened his hands over the cells, drew power from them into his own accumulators; he’d bleed it off later, use it to wash out some of the fatigue poisons clogging his mind and body. He had to stay awake; he had to watch the trau Esmoon. He trusted Trithil Esmoon less than the thieves, though her weapons were easier to combat-as long as he kept away from those venomous rings. He broke the contact and stood.
The rain had diminished in force until it was hardly more than a heavy mist. The towers rising around the Inn were dark; he couldn’t see the streets, but he knew from the silence that they too were dark and empty; the island was sunk in its end-of-season weariness. There were no lights anywhere-except in his bedroom. He scowled, snapped his fingers, muttered a word; the lamps went out, making the dark complete. He wiped fog off his face, walked briskly to the front of the sled and settled himself behind the console.
9
The sled broke through into a silver-gray world of moonlight and starlight and boiling cloud floor. It was cold up there above the rain. Danny shivered, sneezed, swore. He released energy into his body, flushing out some of his fatigue, reinforcing his immunities. It was no time to catch a cold, he had enough problems with that poison eating at him. And three efficiently murderous companions.
It was as quiet as it was cold, as if they flew in a reality all their own, as if they were the only beings alive in it. His eyelids grew heavy, it was harder and harder to stay awake though he knew if he slept with Trithil there, sitting loose and ready, he’d wake up hitting the water below. He blinked at the direction-finder, made a small adjustment to the course and sat scowling at his hands because he didn’t want to scowl at Trithil and let her guess what he was thinking.
“Lazul.” Fingers touched his arm.
He looked down, then at her. “Hands in your lap, if you don’t mind.”
She dropped her eyes, looked momentarily distressed-which he didn’t believe at all. “Do you know the attributes of Klukesharna?”
“Why?”
“She cleanses and heals. She unlocks possibility. If you use her properly, she will leach the poison out of you.”
“And you, of course.”
“Oh no, for me there’s no need. I came into this under other pressures.”
“Oh?”
“Which I do not plan to enumerate.”
“Then why’d you say that?”
“I don’t want to go back to Arsuid.” She bit her lip, stared unhappily at a heap of clouds rising like whipped cream in front of them, a little off to one side. He watched her, appreciating the performance. It was flawless, but he didn’t believe a word or a nuance. “I want Klukesharna.” Her voice was low and musing, liquid lovely tones blending with the nearly inaudible hum of the liftfield. “I think it will be easier to take it from you than from the Ystaffel. I’ll do whatever I can to get us beyond Coquoquin’s reach, you can trust that, Lazul or whatever your name is. I don’t play games with gods, they make up the rules as they go and the rules always favor them.” She smiled at him, her blue eyes even bluer in the light from the console. “Like the Ystaffel, in their despicable way. There isn’t any antidote, did you know that?”
“I suspected it.”
“I’m a fool.” She shook her silver head. “You planned all along to use Khikesharna.” She brooded a moment, then looked startled. “Even the fight over the horses? Twisty man.” A trill of laughter, another shake of her head. “You conned them. Got them to set up relay mounts at five stages along the river. You aren’t going to use any but the ones at Kuitse-ots, are you. The rest are dust in the eyes.”
He shrugged. “Whatever happened, I’d need transport.
Horses can go where you point them, a river sticks to its bed. What are you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“A Great Talisman is useless to most people, except for its symbolic value. And when I say symbolic value, I do not mean gold; you haven’t a hope of selling it. And you’d have to be witch, wizard, magus or sorceror to milk its power. You’re none of those. We know our own kind. We smell the Talent on those that have it. And none of the Talented would follow your particular profession or, to be blunt, be any good at it. You’re very good.”
“I don’t see why you say that. I’m no good with you.”
“Circumstances, trau Esmoon. The discipline of my craft. You did some fancy footwork round my question. What are you?”
“Call me a visitor who wants to go home.”
“Demon?”
“It’s a matter of definition, isn’t it. I prefer visitor.”
“No doubt.” He spoke absently. There was a new note in the field hum, a whine that appeared and disappeared, appeared again. His Reshaping was starting to unravel. He scowled at the counter; the reading said they’d come about twenty kilometers, which meant Waystop Kuitse-ots was still about ten kilometers off. It’d be a long walk if he had to set the sled down now, though at least they were finally over land not water. The whine started again, louder this time; it was like a circular saw chewing through hardwood.