6
Well asked,” Gar said. “Her lord and his enemy have probably both sent hunters after them. It doesn’t help that they’re both sure of defeat.”
“Yes, they seem to be convinced they’re only postponing the inevitable,” Alea said with a wry smile. “Mira is quite sure that some magician somewhere will claim her for his plaything. Probably right, too—she is a beautiful creature, and every inch of this land seems to belong to one magician or another.”
“True so Blaize is convinced his master’s enemy will find him sooner or later, and even if he doesn’t, the boy will have no future but that of an outlaw.” Gar sighed and shook his head. “They’ve both lost their battles already, and for no better reason than being convinced they can’t win.”
“They might at least try,” Alea grumbled, “but it looks as though we’ll have to do their trying for them.”
“I don’t think they’re all that rare, either,” Gar said. “I think we can assume that if they’re so thoroughly cowed, all the people are—or most of them, at least.”
“Yes, we do seem to have stumbled across two of the more spirited ones,” Alea admitted. “They both had the nerve to try to escape-but where to? There doesn’t really seem to be any safe place for them, unless you count the greenwood.”
“The bandits there will probably be just as cruel as the lords.” Gar looked up, frowning around at the trees. “I could have sworn I heard somebody clear his throat.”
“Probably just some animal with an odd kind of cry,” Alea said. “Of course, you never know. The bandits might be sympathetic.”
“Even if they are, it’s a dangerous life,” Gar said. “No, if there isn’t any kind of refuge for these two, we’ll have to make one.”
Alea eyed him askance. “You’re not thinking of building another resistance movement, are you?”
“Of course,” Gar said in surprise.
“I was afraid of that,” Alea sighed. “It was too much to hope you’d find a rebellion already simmering. Well, if you’re going to start a revolution, you’d better sleep while you can. Good night.”
“Good night?” Gar stared. “I always take first watch!”
“Yes, but it’s the middle of the night, and that’s when the second watch always starts.” Alea grinned. “Too bad, soldier boy. My turn to stay awake.”
Gar argued for only a few minutes before he gave in with a sigh and said, “Mind you wake me in four hours.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll wake myself, of course.” Gar lay down and wrapped himself in his cloak. “Good night, Alea.”
“Good night.” She watched as he rolled over in his pine nest, broad shoulders rising up like a hill, and wondered when she had become so certain that her life was wrapped up in this reserved, distant man. Perhaps it was the stream of verbal assaults she had heaped on him in the year she had known him, and his never responding with anger, but only a deeper and deeper concern.
Concern for what? For her? Why should he be concerned for her instead of for himself? She felt a fluttering within her at the thought and tried to force it back. Surely it was the martial arts practice sessions that made him endure her, or the shared danger on the planet Brigante, her guarding his back, helping to achieve his goal—never mind that she had burned to overthrow the warlord as hotly as he.
She shook off the mood irritably and turned back to the fire. It was burning low; she added some more wood, then frowned at it, watching fairy castles build and transform into cities of crystal until, with a start, she jerked her gaze to the dark woods about her, wondering how much time had passed while she rested in trance—minutes or hours?
A huge round silhouette bulked out of the night. Alea rose clutching her quarterstaff, heart in her throat, ready to scream for Gar, but the huge form drifted into the firelight and with a sigh of relief she recognized Evanescent.
With recognition came memory—and the realization of its loss. “You made me forget you again,” she accused.
“Of course,” the alien said, sitting its stunted body down with feline grace. “What would your male think if you’d told him you had long cozy chats with a huge-headed catlike telepathic alien?”
“He’d believe me in an instant,” Alea snapped, “and they’re not cozy chats, more like prickly inquisitions. Besides, he’s not my male.”
“Never mind, dear, you’ll admit it some day,” Evanescent said. “You might offer a body a dish of tea, you know.”
Alea stared. “When did you begin drinking tea?” She frowned. “Come to that, what are you doing here? You’re one of Brigante’s natives, and this is the planet Oldeira.”
“I decided to see the new worlds you planned to visit,” Evanescent said. “Life has become dull this last century or two, but you and your … Gar livened it up immensely. I came along to see if you were as much fun on somebody else’s planet as on my own.”
Alea knew that Brigante rightly belonged to Evanescent and her kind, and that they tolerated the Terran colonists for amusement. “I’m glad to know we’re so interesting,” she said with irony she hoped Evanescent would detect. “Really, though, I was asking how you had traveled ten light-years.”
“I stowed away in the cargo hold of your spaceship, of course, and tried brewing some of the tea I found there—while the robot wasn’t looking, that is.”
“Herkimer is always looking—everywhere on his ship and around it!”
“Not when I encourage him not to.” Evanescent gave her a toothy smile. “Of course, I had to search your male’s mind to learn what to do with those funny little leaves. I quite liked the flavor.”
“I told you, he’s not mine.” Alea held on to her patience only by great effort. “Call him Gar, at least. You might give me bad ideas.”
“Or good ones, but you’re not recovered enough for those yet.” Evanescent stared at the bark kettle.
Alea sighed, taking the hint and swinging it over the fire again. She poured in more water from her canteen. “This will take a while to boil, you know.”
“I can wait,” the alien said equably.
She could indeed, as Alea well knew. “We might wake Gar and the youngsters with our talking.”
“No need for concern there,” Evanescent assured her. “I’ve seen to it they’ll sleep soundly till we’re done—and you don’t need to worry about predators, human or animal.”
“No, I don’t think any will come near while you’re around.”
Alea eyed Evanescent’s double row of shark’s teeth. Curiously, she herself wasn’t at all afraid, even though she had some idea of Evanescent’s powers. As soon as she saw the alien, of course, Alea remembered all their earlier conversations—and remembered also that as soon as those chats had ended, she had forgotten about them completely. No doubt she would forget this one, too, though she would act on the ideas Evanescent gave her, thinking them her own. The thought of such power should have been daunting, but perversely Alea only felt indignation. She wondered if she were really that brave or if it were only more of the alien’s manipulation.
The thought made her wonder about her own strength of mind. “It wasn’t me alone who banished those ghosts, was it?”
“I did give you a bit of help,” Evanescent admitted, “though only by strengthening your mental thrust a bit. The anger was yours.”
“I suppose that’s reassuring,” Alea said, then frowned. “My waking mind may have forgotten, but there was some memory you buried in me that made me certain I would be able to command those specters, wasn’t there?”