Finally—Bren found himself increasingly scattered in his thinking, and mostly concentrating on not breaking his neck— his concentration lapsed. He managed to hook a dragging toe on a scrub root and took a stumble; he would have gone down a human-high edge, if not for Tano’s arm.
He looked around to nod a thanks, and that movement did it: his head went light, his vision went iffy, and his knees went to water.
This is going to hurt, he thought calmly. He was standing on a rocky slope, or falling onto one, except Tano wrapped his arms around him and steadied him, and the fall didn’t happen.
Sky replaced itself with Tano’s shadowed face.
“Bren-ji has to catch his breath,” Tano said to his partner.
Bren-ji had to catch a good deal more than that. A functioning sense of balance would help.
“Have to take the vest off,” he said.
“Sugar,” Algini said instead, and, Algini and Tano having all the baggage between them, got into one bag and came up with, of all things, a packeted soft drink.
Bren took it. It went down as sweet as fruit juice and hit his system like a hammer—
stimulant, among other things, probably a dose of minerals. He thought for a moment he was going to be sick, then that his breathing couldn’t possibly keep up with his heart rate, and then that it probably had helped him, once his body adjusted to it. He was not as dizzy, whether because of the stimulant or that he had had a little while to get his balance and catch his breath.
“I can walk,” he said.
And they did.
An atevi border was soft for about half a day’s walk, in a vague overlap of property rights.
But it got to be more the other side’s territory the closer you got to the middle. He thought if they had more of that fruit drink, and he could keep hitting it, he could keep going until morning.
Maybe that could get them to a safer place.
Tano kept a hand at his elbow, carrying a rifle and the baggage on the other side, hardly balanced, he told himself. They hiked down an increasingly deep ravine for a considerable distance, with Algini going ahead of them to find the way and occasionally, very occasionally, when they were stopped for a second, showing that spark of green that meant either Banichi or Jago was all right out there.
Three or four rests later, and when his legs had ceased to report accurately what footing he was on, a shadow rose out of the brush ahead, and the fact Algini had not taken cover or opened fire on it informed him that that was probably either Banichi or Jago.
Good, he thought, and didn’t try to ask questions. His bodyguard conferred together. Bren just half-sat against a rock and breathed for a while.
Jago came up to him then, and asked, “How are you faring, Bren-ji?”
She wanted, he told himself, no optimistic stupidity.
“Accurately, Jago-ji, one has availed oneself of drink from the baggage, and perhaps another one would be helpful. One is tiring, one has no idea where one is going, and one is a little light-headed. But one is doing fairly well—with Tano’s help. Alone, I believe I would make progress, but far more slowly. I do think—if I rest too long, I shall get stiff.”
She laid a hand on his arm, wanting to be sure he was focused, he thought. Human gestures of comfort were not likely when she was on duty. “We are one day, by foot, from the boundary, Bren-ji. We want to go until near dawn or until we find a defensible position. We are not yet in position to make contact with Guild forces. An attempt could attract unwelcome attention in numbers greater than we can deal with.”
“Understood. We shall just keep going, then. Is there more of that drink?”
“Best wait, Bren-ji. It could make you sick.”
“I shall make it, Jago-ji,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, thoroughly in Guild mode, and went back into the dark, leaving him to Tano and Algini. In a moment more, a trick of the eyes, she was gone.
He was glad they were not stopping and risking themselves because of him. Tano and Algini gathered up the baggage they were managing between them—maybe weapons, electronics, even explosives—given Tano’s and Algini’s special skills, the latter was not impossible.
They had, he told himself, enough to deal with without hauling him uphillc and he had gotten a little second wind.
It didn’t last beyond the next small valley and another climb. Near the top, he had to be pushed and pulled up the hill, by Tano, he supposed. In the ebbing of the boost from the juice, he was far too winded and dizzy to take account of who was ahead and who was behind him.
But he kept going once he hit the stony flat at the top, staggering a bit, until they encountered Banichi in the starlight. Jago, Banichi said, had gone somewhat ahead, and they should rest for the while.
That was good. Words were echoing in his ears. Details weren’t coming clear. He needed to rest.
“We are coming into a difficult area,” Banichi said, “and we are trying to find a way around it.”
Going around. He thoroughly agreed with that notion. If there should be gunfire at the moment, he would not have the energy left to take cover.
He just sat down on a convenient rock. And then there wasa gunshot, distant, echoing. Just one.
For the next few moments.
Then there were two. And one more.
Jago was all right. Jago had to be all right. If fire was still going on, she was fighting back.
And she wouldn’t be heading back to them, dragging a shooting match with her. If she was engaged with the problem, she’d settle it, and she wouldn’t come back until she had.
Banichi stayed with them. Algini had the bracelet with the green flashes. Surely he would get some kind of signal soon.
They waited. And waited. The gunfire had given way to a great, deep silence. And Bren didn’t ask questions to interrupt the stillness, because if Jago signaled she was in trouble, he was sure others had one try to catch that signal. That illusory green flash didn’t come. He might have been sitting among a group of statues.
The rest were worried, too, he thought. They watched that bracelet and watched the hill around about them.
Three fast flashes. Then one.
Banichi gave two fast handsigns, got up, and melted into the dark.
More waiting.
God, he hated this. People were almost certainly dead out there—he hoped the casualties were all on the other side.
And the only favor he could do his bodyguard was not to ask questions and let them think.
The chill of the rock began to get into his backside and up from his feet. He was sweating under the coat, far too hot under the damned vest, and his feet in the light house boots were numb from cold. He still didn’t move, except to shift his feet and make sure, if they had to get up in a hurry, that he could do it.
Then a couple more fast flashes came from Algini’s device. A flurry of five or six, so fast he wasn’t sure. Then three.
Algini didn’t move. Tano shifted stance a little, then gave a fast handsign and moved off.
That left him and Algini, who stayed still, watching that blip of a lifeline.
They were in cover where they were. Algini shielded that tiny light with his hand, keeping its view to the two of them.
How long had Jago been gone? He didn’t want to ask a question, which might distract Algini.
But it seemed forever. His backside passed numbness, and the numbness of his feet was traveling up to his ankles. Not good if he had to move. Very, very quietly, and determined not to let the sore ribs glitch the move, he pushed himself to his feet.
Algini rose up immediately, seized his arm, and drew him back against the rocks.
Then Algini shot him a sign. Quiet. Atevi eyes might have made something out. He couldn’t.