“That’s for sure,” Hoggles agreed fervently. “Come on . . . Let’s go.”
“In a minute,” the runner promised, as he produced a folding knife and fl?icked it open. “We’re taking the woman with us.”
Norr looked on as Rebo began to cut Phan free. Now, when it was too late to do any good, the dream came fl?ooding back. She had seen the room and the bloodied face before. And, for reasons she wasn’t sure of, the variant knew that the woman in front of her was evil. “I think you should leave her,” the sensitive suggested emphatically. “She’ll slow us down.”
“That’s right!” Logos interjected shrilly. “Leave the woman where she is! We have no need for her.”
The runner heard the words but continued to saw at one of two ropes that crisscrossed Phan’s naked chest. The male part of him couldn’t help but take note of the fact that the woman in question had shapely breasts. The whip marks were plain to see. “Normally I would agree,” Rebo replied evenly, “but she’s a runner.”
The sensitive frowned. “A runner? How can you tell?”
“Take a look at her back,” Rebo replied as a piece of rope fell away. “See those tattoos? Each one represents a successful run. Okay, Bo . . . Can you carry her? Thanks.” Then, with Rebo leading the way, the four of them, fi?ve counting the semiconscious woman who had been slung over the heavy’s shoulder, exited the building. There was no resistance. Shaz, who had stationed his team in the passageway that ran between Techno Society headquarters and rug merchant next door, watched them leave. He wasn’t looking forward to the long trek that lay ahead, but that couldn’t be helped, and Phan would be there to protect Logos from harm. It was a good plan, one worthy of Tepho himself, and Shaz was confi?dent of success as he led Dyson and a small band of heavily robed androids out into the icy rain.
The animals snorted, and the cart creaked as the travelers followed the narrow road down out of the hills and onto the plain beyond. The area was far too rocky for farming, which meant that what few huts there were belonged to lonely angen herders or antitechnic hermits. Once on level ground, the ancient thoroughfare ran straight as an arrow toward the point where the light gray sky met the eastern horizon. Winter had arrived, frost glazed any rock not directly exposed to the hazy sun, and cold air nipped at their faces as Rebo, Norr, Hoggles, and the woman named Phan put the last of the hills behind them.
Three days had passed since the raid on Techno Society headquarters, and a great deal had changed. Having purchased a large quantity of supplies in the market, plus a twowheeled cart to carry them in, the group left New Wimmura during the cover of darkness. The plan was to make the long trek to the city of Feda, where the original foursome intended to access the local star gate or lift on the next ship. But that was a couple of months away. In the meantime there was a potentially hostile environment to deal with—
not to mention a shift in the way members of the group related to each other. And, as Norr and Hoggles sat side by side on the cart’s bench-style seat, the cause of that change could be seen riding stirrup to stirrup with Rebo, chatting about who knew what. Runs probably, since both were members of the runner’s guild, or were they?
According to Phan she had been hired to bring a small techno artifact to a wealthy merchant who lived in New Wimmura, a medical device, if the runner’s suspicions were correct, that could be used to relieve the headaches that plagued his wife. But Phan arrived too late. The woman was dead and buried by the time Phan landed, the merchant was no longer willing to bear the risk of owning a proscribed object, and the runner was left holding the bag. So, being in need of funds to live on, and with no likely customer other than the Techno Society, Phan approached them. But, rather than purchase the object as she hoped, they took the runner prisoner in hopes of learning more about the artifact and its origins. And that’s where Phan had been, locked in a dark room, when the shuttle landed and lifted again. Fortunately for her, or so Phan claimed, Rebo, Norr, and Hoggles chose to invade Techno Society headquarters while she was being tortured. Otherwise, they might never have been aware of her. That’s what the woman claimed anyway, but the dull colors that ebbed and fl?owed around the runner suggested that she was lying. Of course no one could see that except Norr, which meant there was no way to substantiate her suspicions, leaving the sensitive feeling frustrated.
The cart lurched as the team of two draft animals pulled the right wheel up over one of many ridges in the ancient pavement. The sensitive swayed and made a grab for her armrest, as the boxy conveyance rolled onto a smooth section of road. Then, with Hoggles handling the reins, Norr pulled the gray woolen cloak around her shoulders. There were two problems to contend with. The fi?rst problem was Phan herself, meaning the possibility that the runner was lying, and the second problem was the way Norr felt about the other woman. What was her motivation anyway? A legitimate concern regarding Phan’s veracity? Or just a case of plain old jealousy?
Not that the sensitive had any rights where Rebo was concerned, because even though she felt sure the runner had feelings for her, the exact nature of the relationship had never been spelled out. Worse yet was the fact that she couldn’t talk to Rebo about it, since the runner was almost sure to interpret her concerns as a manifestation of jealousy, thereby nudging him toward the very relationship the variant feared. Norr’s musings were interrupted by Hoggles, who raised a massive arm to point at an object beyond the riders ahead.
“Look! Could that be the bridge?”
The sensitive looked, failed to see anything, and came to her feet. The cart swayed, Norr put a hand out to steady herself on the heavy’s shoulder, and shaded her eyes. Finally, by squinting just so, the variant thought she could see what looked like a tiny ladder. “I think you’re right, Bo. . . . Although it’s too far away to be sure.”
An hour later Norr was sure, and so were her companions, as two pillars of rusty steel rose to silhouette themselves against the darkening sky. A series of cross braces linked the uprights together, making the structure look like a gigantic ladder. A framework that had successfully withstood more than a thousand years of wind, rain, and snow, it stood as a mute testament to long-lost knowledge and skill. Then, as Rebo and Phan paused to wait for the cart to catch up with them, Norr saw that a cluster of stone-walled huts had grown up around the approach to the bridge, one of which leaked tendrils of dark gray smoke. The scene appeared serene, but it didn’t feel right, and the sensitive said as much as the cart came to a stop. “I don’t like the feel of it, Jak. . . . Something’s wrong.”
The runner knew better than to ignore her premonitions and nodded. “Let’s hope for the best—and be ready for the worst.”
If Phan was concerned about what might lie ahead, the runner gave no indication of it. The bruises and cuts had already begun to heal, revealing a very pretty face and an inner centeredness that made Norr feel inferior somehow. Phan wore a long black riding cloak that served to hide the rest of her body, but the sensitive already knew it to be more curvaceous than her own and resented that as well. Meanwhile, if the other woman harbored feelings about her, they were well hidden because her face remained empty of all expression. “Good,” Norr affi?rmed, hoping that her demeanor was equally cool. “We’ll follow your lead.”
Meanwhile, more than a thousand yards away, Mia Tova allowed a cold stone wall to accept most of her considerable weight as she used a splinter of bone to pick at her badly yellowed teeth. One of them ached and needed to be pulled, but that would have to wait. Thanks to the fact that the bandit chieftain had excellent vision, she could see that only two of the approaching travelers were male. Of those she fi?gured that the heavy posed the most signifi?cant threat since he’d be diffi?cult to take down. But only if the group put up a fi?ght. Fortunately, most of the pilgrims, merchants, and other travelers who had passed through the checkpoint during the last few days had been relatively cooperative. The others were dead. Satisfi?ed that she knew what to expect, the bandit turned to enter the fuggy warmth of the hut behind her. It smelled of unwashed skin, wet wool, and the angen stew that bubbled in an iron pot. Earlier, prior to her arrival, the stone cottage had been home to a group of four antitechnic monks stationed at the bridge to absolve travelers of sins automatically incurred as they crossed the high-tech marvel. In exchange for a fee of course, since it was impossible to fi?ght evil without money, which the church had no choice but to extract from its adherents. Of course the friars were dead now, having been forced to surrender their pot of grubby gunnars, prior to stepping off the very artifact they had been assigned to guard. All but one of them had gone gladly, thrilled to join the ranks of the antitechnic martyrs, shouting God’s name as they plunged into the canyon below. The single exception soiled himself as he was hoisted out over the abyss and was blubbering for his mother when the downward journey began. A sad affair and one that Tova planned to report to the next vizier who happened along.