“Aw, no, he’s for real,” the old man replied. “Was through here not far back. Too bad you missed him. He probably won’t be back until after the harvest, several months from now.”
I looked surprised. “Where would he go?”
“Other Keeps,” the old man replied matter-of-factly. “He’s probably just getting to Mola Keep, way off to the west there, right “bout now. He’s a good man, though I don’t take much stock in his beliefs.”
“How long ago was he here?” I pressed. “I mean, when did he leave?”
“Day before yesterday—say, what’s that to you?”
I sighed. “Because I’m Cal Tremon,” I told him, and while he was still looking surprised, I killed him —as quickly and painlessly as I could. Killed him and carried his limp and lifeless body back to the bush so that, perhaps, he wouldn’t be missed for a while.
The map in my head clicked again and I saw where Mola was—another thirty kilometers, by a side road. Not a long ride, no more than two days by ak-cart, the method Bronz likely used, but another long, wet, itchy, hungry walk all the same.
I felt bad about killing the old man. Certain people wouldn’t bother me in the least—the upper classes here in particular, ones like Artur and Pohn and Tiel and Marek Kreegan. I felt no remorse for Kronlon, yet I mourned the old man, so casual and friendly, so totally innocent in all this. Mourned him, yet accepted the necessity of doing what I had done. I could hardly have walked-back to the village with him, and any other behavior would have had him telling stories about me, stories that would be all too plain if he were pressed by a supervisor.
Still, I couldn’t forget the look in his eyes when Td said my name, a look that would haunt me for a long time. A look that said he hadn’t the slightest idea who or what a Cal Tremon was.
Another two days of cautious walking. Another two days of insect bites, rotten fruit, stale water, thunderstorms I couldn’t hide from, mud I couldn’t avoid, bruises, and sore feet. The only good point about leaving Zeis Keep was that now I could really see the sky, which was a deep blue streaked with hints of red and violet, filled with but not totally blotted out by brownish clouds. By night you could sometimes see stars, a sight both reassuring and sad as well. Stars I could never again reach. Stars forever closed to me.
I was still three or four kilometers from Mola Keep when I spotted a small camp just off the road. This was highly unusual. I was curious to see what this was all about, curious and suspicious as well. Were they perhaps throwing up roadblocks now?
There was a small campfire, out now and glowing slightly, and a fairly fancy-looking bedroll. I looked at the ak, the huge rounded creature with the tiny head you could barely see almost dwarfing the cart it normally pulled. Though it was still, it looked alive and in good shape, as did the cart. Not a breakdown, then, I told myself—but one person alone, asleep out here in the wild. One person of some rank—a Master, probably.
Leaving Ti again in the protection of the bush, I crept as close as I dared,’ wanting to check out who or what this person might be. Definitely a man, snoring fit to wake the dead. I felt hope rise within me. It couldn’t be, I told myself. He’d be too far ahead, and in any event wouldn’t have any reason not to make Mola—but sure enough, there he was.
I had found Father Bronz.
In my excitement I made a rustling noise that, considering the level of snoring, shouldn’t even have been heard. Suddenly his eyes opened. Lying still, he cocked his head, a slightly puzzled expression on his face.
“Father Bronz,” I called to him in a loud whisper. “It’s me—Cal Tremon!”
The priest chuckled, sat up, yawned and stretched, then rubbed his eyes and looked around. I stepped cautiously out into the open. I had no real reason to trust the man, but all things considered, I had no choice but to place myself in his hands.
“Tremon!” he croaked, still sounding half asleep. “About time you got here. I’d about given you up.”
Chapter Fourteen
Savages and Amazons
I just stood there dumbstruck, staring at him. Finally I managed, “You were expecting me?”
He looked around. “Why else would I stay in such a wondrous natural hotel?” he grumbled sarcastically. “Come on over and sit. I’ll put on some tea.”
I walked toward him, then stopped. “I’ve forgotten Ti!” I exclaimed, mostly to myself.
“I have tea here,” he responded, sounding confused.
“No, no. Ti. The girl.”
He laughed. “Well, well! So you did take her! There was some question as to what happened.”
I decided to fetch her before getting the details. At least I was no longer alone, and I hadn’t been incinerated or otherwise molested, so whatever game Bronz was playing was in my favor.
I carried her back to Bronx’s camp and he rose and walked over to her immediately, doing a fairly good imitation of Dr. Pohn but with far more compassion and concern. “That bastard,” he muttered. “May he rot in hell forever.” He closed his eyes and placed his hand on her forehead.
“Can you do anything for her?” I asked, genuinely concerned. “She’s nothing more than a living robot right now.”
He sighed and thought for a moment. “If I were a doctor, yes, I could. If I knew my biology a little better, maybe. I can see where he’s meddled, all right, but I don’t dare risk doing anything myself. I might cause permanent brain damage or even kill her. No, we’ll have to find help for her, that’s all.”
“Not at a Keep,” I responded hesitatingly. “All they’d do is give her back to Dr. Pohn.”
“No, not at a Keep,” he agreed, thinking. “Not you, either. We have to get you someplace safe where you can get some help and Ti can get some expert care, though. I did anticipate the problems we’d have finding friends and allies and a hideout, although I didn’t realize I’d have this kind of difficulty.” He sighed again and went back over to the rekindled small fire, taking the gourd of water from the flame and adding some ground leaves from a pouch on his belt—one of several, I noted.
“Come on over and sit down,” he invited. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes and we have some time to kill anyway.”
I did as instructed, already feeling a little better. I wanted to know a little more about Father Bronz, though.
“You said that you anticipated our needing a hide-out, that you were waiting for me,” I noted. “Maybe you better explain a little.”
He chuckled. “Son, I was late getting out of Zeis. They had all the bigwigs coming for a party and it was decided that I should attend. Besides, the Duke and I are old Mends—I occasionally do him some favors.”
“I remember the night,” I told him. “It was the night I killed Kronlon and graduated, you might say. I thought you were long gone, though.”
“I’d intended to be,” he responded, pouring tea into two smaller, nicely carved gourd cups. “Politics is everything around here, though. Well, that got me a couple of days late into Shemlon, and I was still there when couriers from Zeis arrived with the news that you had been condemned to death but had escaped and were now a wanted fugitive. You are really hot, as they say, my son. Any pawn that even helps them get you won’t ever have to work or feel a supervisor’s wrath again.”
I nodded: Just what I expected, but it eased my conscience a little about killing the old man.
“Anyway,” Bronz continued, “it didn’t take much in the way of brains to figure that you’d need a friend and I was the, only friend outside the Keep you had. So I was very noisy in spreading word around where I was going next. I didn’t want you to try finding me in Shemlon, considering how much of a single entity the whole village setup is, so I traveled down the road about halfway to Mola, then camped here some time yesterday. I was willing to wait until somebody asked questions or until you showed up, whichever came first. But I do have to put in at Mola, if only for appearance’s sake, you know.”