“Valadrakul?” Pel asked.
The wizard frowned deeply, then winced as the movement affected his injured jaw.
“The brotherhood of magicians is scattered and broken in these sad times,” he said. “A handful survives here, another there, but we’ve no central councils, no trustworthy messengers, canny or otherwise. For the most part, we dare not use the greater lines of power, for those are Shadow’s. The portal spells are likewise Shadow’s; they were stolen from Shadow, and taught quickly to those few who could learn them well, who could draw down those strands from the web of powers; there was Elani, and likewise Taillefer, who served us betimes, but of others, I know not. ’Twas thought unwise that any should know too much of others’ skills, lest we be captured and questioned by Shadow.”
Prossie nodded slightly to herself; she had known that. While the wizards didn’t follow the system of revolutionary cells as carefully as the other members of the resistance did, they did keep plenty of secrets.
“This Taillefer,” Pel asked, “where can we find him?”
Valadrakul considered that carefully.
“You don’t know,” Amy said. “Do you?”
“Nay,” Valadrakul admitted, “I do not.”
The Earthpeople accepted that, but Prossie, watching Valadrakul carefully, wondered if the wizard might be concealing something. She was no expert at reading facial nuances, really, because she had never had to resort to such crude methods in her own universe, but still, something seemed wrong about Valadrakul’s answer.
Could she be remembering something she had learned from Valadrakul’s mind earlier, without realizing it?
“Well, damn it, if you can’t find him, we better start looking for him!” Amy shouted.
“You go right ahead,” Dibbs said. “Meanwhile, I’ll be rounding up my men and calling for pick-up. Wilkins, Moore, Dawber, I want you three to take a look around, see if you can spot any sign of where our missing men went. Stay in sight, we don’t know what’s out there; you see anything moving, you call it in, don’t play hero.”
“Right, Lieutenant,” Wilkins said. He picked a direction and started walking; the other two Dibbs had chosen followed him.
“Uh… permission to speak, sir?” Prossie said uneasily, glancing after the three.
“What is it, Thorpe?” Dibbs stepped away from the rest of the group, and Prossie followed.
“I’m not sure there’s going to be a pick-up, sir.”
“You aren’t,” Dibbs said. “Why not?”
Prossie hesitated, wishing she felt better and stronger; what she really wanted to do was curl up somewhere and rest, not argue.
But she had to warn Dibbs if she could.
The real reason she was fairly sure there would be no pick-up was that Bascombe had shown her once before that he felt no compunction about abandoning a failed mission, rather than risking further complications; the Under-Secretary had left Prossie and the rest of Joshua Cahn’s crew in jail on Earth without a second thought, and in that case there hadn’t even been evidence of incompetence or mismanagement, where the current expedition had been a disaster right from its inception.
Telling Lieutenant Dibbs this did not seem like a good idea, though. He didn’t like cynics-and for that matter, he didn’t like telepaths. A telepath accusing a superior of callous political gamesmanship was asking for trouble.
“Technical reasons, sir,” Prossie said.
Lying really wasn’t very hard at all, she was finding, despite all her years of training.
“Go on.”
“The Department of Science has confirmed earlier theories, sir-anti-gravity cannot operate outside normal space. This world we’re on is not in normal space; that’s why Christopher went down. And any rescue ship would lose all lift, too. We’d need a vehicle that can fly in the distorted space here, and Base One hasn’t got any. So they can’t pick us up.”
“You sure of that, Thorpe?”
Prossie hesitated. She had sinned once; she would resist the temptation this time. “It’s not relayed, sir, it’s my own conclusion,” she said.
Dibbs nodded slowly. “Got a reason they can’t just drop a rope through that space-warp up there, Telepath?” he asked sarcastically.
“No, sir,” Prossie answered truthfully. She had no idea whether a rope was possible or not. She could see no reason that it would not work, but then, she didn’t understand space-warp science. If the warp was as open as that, wouldn’t air from Faerie be boiling off into Imperial space right now?
She didn’t know. Maybe a rope would work.
But she was quite sure nobody would be sending one.
* * * *
“As you wish,” Raven said, with a tight little smile. “We’ll away, then, in pursuit of Taillefer. For that, we must make our way westward, as there lies the fastest route from these woods, to clear air where Valadrakul’s spells might best work, to summon his compatriot, that a portal to your Earth might be opened. An you be safely home, we’ll arrange a thousand of these ‘guns’ be sent. Then see we will whether the things of Shadow can withstand them!”
“You’ll not be marching hence to beard Shadow in its lair, then?” Stoddard asked. “If this be Sunderland, Shadow’s hold lies to the west.”
“Nay,” Raven answered. “What good of that, with a band such as this-fools and fainthearts and women, with only you and I and the wizard that would stand fast? We fare west only to be free of the forests.”
Stung by Raven’s words, Pel said, “It’s not my fight, you know-there’s nothing wrong with my running away. And I’ll do you a lot more good buying guns back home than getting myself eaten by monsters here.”
Raven turned to face the Earthman, caught sight of his battered and bloody appearance, and hesitated. Then he smiled ruefully. “True enow, friend Pel,” Raven admitted, “and you’ve my apology that I spoke ill of you.”
“Where are you going to get a thousand guns, Pel?” Amy asked. “And where are you going to get a thousand men to use them?”
“I’ll buy them,” Pel replied. “A few at a time.”
“I’ll help,” Susan said.
“And for men,” Raven said, “perhaps the Empire has better than our friends to offer.” He waved his bandaged hand at Dibbs and his men. Dibbs was talking quietly with Prossie; the others were chatting amongst themselves, leaving the Earthpeople and the natives alone.
Amy looked at Pel, at Susan, and at Dibbs, then shrugged. “I guess you’re right,” she said, “and what do I care, anyway? As long as I get home.”
Pel frowned.
Getting home was what he cared about, too. He intended to keep his promise to buy guns, but then, why shouldn’t he? If he didn’t, Raven and a couple of oversized swordsmen like Stoddard might walk out of his basement wall at any time and drag him away on more idiotic, dangerous, deadly adventures.
And when he got home…
The house would be empty, just him and Silly Cat-wouldn’t it? Nancy and Rachel wouldn’t be coming home with him.
Unless Ted was right, in which case they already were home, waiting for him
He knew they weren’t, he knew they were dead, he really did know that.
But he had to see. He had to see for himself. He had to get home and see.
* * * *
“All right, Thorpe,” Dibbs said. “Unless we get orders telling us otherwise, we’re going to sit right here and wait for a pick-up. That clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Prossie knew better than to argue. If she were to suddenly manifest an order from Bascombe or Hart at this point in the argument, Dibbs probably would reject it outright. Maybe later, when the men started to get bored, she could “receive” an order to move on.
Or maybe she could leave without Dibbs and the rest, go with Raven and his group instead; certainly, they would be more interesting companions.
That thought was treasonous, she told herself; she didn’t dare think it.
Dibbs turned away, and shouted, “Raven, all the rest of you! We’re staying right here until Base One sends someone to get us. Anyone who wants to stay, that’s fine with us. If the rest of you want to go, we won’t stop you-it’s your world, you’re not Imperial citizens.”