One of the bullets from the bandit chieftain’s gun had blown air into Phan’s right ear as it whizzed past her head. Now, as she looked at Norr, it was with a newfound sense of respect. “Well,” she said calmly. “The spook has teeth. . . . Who would have guessed?”
Norr thumbed the power switch into the off position and returned the weapon to its wooden scabbard while wondering if she’d done the right thing. What if the killing blow had been withheld for two seconds? Would Phan lie dead? And would she be happy rather than sad?
Rebo looked from one woman to the other. The animosity was clear to see. That meant he would have to take sides at some point. Norr was the obvious choice. Hell, Norr was the only choice. So why not signal his allegiance now? A snowfl?ake twirled before landing on his nose, and the question was left unanswered. “All right,” Rebo said, as his breath fogged the air. “Let’s take a few minutes to search both the bodies and the huts for anything we can use or trade. . . . I want to cross the bridge before nightfall. Who knows? There could be more bandits on the other side.”
It was an unpleasant albeit necessary task because travelers who failed to scavenge what they could were likely to regret the omission later. It took a full fi?fteen minutes to complete the job, and by the time it was over Rebo noticed that not only had Phan retrieved all of her throwing spikes, but appropriated the bandit chieftain’s revolvers as well. There was something cold-blooded about the way the other runner went about the chore, but Rebo knew it was hypocritical to criticize Phan for carrying out his orders, and made a point out of thanking her for what she’d done. The female runner smiled warmly, and once the others were ready, the twosome rode out onto the bridge deck together. It was diffi?cult to see the bottom of the canyon without venturing out to the edge of the ancient span, but Rebo had an impression of a ribbon of white water, bordered by sheer rock walls. Norr had saddled the fi?fth angen by then, but rather than attempt to ride with the runners, she chose to follow behind them instead. The cart brought up the rear, and it wasn’t long before a swirl of thickly falling snow swallowed them all.
What remained of the fi?ltered daylight was nearly gone, and the dead lay under a layer of shroudlike snow by the time Shaz, Dyson, and the four metal men arrived at the bridge. Shaz pulled back on the reins, brought his heavily encumbered angen to a halt, and eyed the wild sprawl of bodies. “Check the huts,” he said coldly. “Bring anyone you fi?nd out to me. . . . And let me know if you come across any food. We need to make our supplies last.”
The heavily armed robots scattered in response to the combat variant’s orders even as the operative dismounted and handed his reins to Dyson. Then, starting with the nearest corpse, Shaz made a careful examination of each body. The task was gruesome, but necessary, in order to determine whether any of the AI’s escorts had been killed. The inspection was useful in another way, too, because after looking at the means by which the bandits had been dispatched, it quickly became apparent that Phan had been responsible for most of the kills. That meant the assassin was earning her pay—something that pleased him. Dyson sat atop his animal with both eyes closed as a mantle of white continued to gather around his shoulders. Most of the spirit entities forced out of their bodies during the battle had chosen to depart the physical vibration by then, but one, a woman who identifi?ed herself as Mia Tova, still remained. She was confused, especially about the loss of her head, and wondered if that would present a problem in the spirit planes. The sensitive counseled the woman that it was within her power to adopt any appearance that she chose—and urged her to leave the scene for life in the higher realms. After a moment of hesitation, and in the company of a spirit she seemed to recognize, Tova departed. That was when Dyson opened his eyes to discover that Shaz was standing a few feet away staring at him. The combat variant seemed to blur before rolling back into focus.
“Are you with us?” the operative inquired. “Good. We’ll spend the night here. The metal men will take care of the angens. Our hosts left some stew simmering in a pot—so we might as well take advantage of it.”
The sensitive slid to the ground, handed both sets of reins over to one of the heavily cowled androids, and followed Shaz toward a stone hut. When he passed Tova’s snow-frosted head, the bandit’s deep-set eyes seemed to follow him. That was impossible, of course, but Dyson was careful not to disturb the bandit leader’s headless body as he stepped over it, and was grateful when the hut opened to receive him. Meanwhile, many miles away, a night slider howled. The sound seemed to fl?oat on the cold air before being echoed by other such creatures, as if to herald the full fall of darkness.
SIX
™
The Planet Derius
Even though sensitives can see that which others cannot, theyoften seem blind where their own lives are concerned, andmake the same sort of mistakes that norms do.
—Grand Vizier Horga Entube,
The History Of My People
The road to Feda was long and hard. Especially during the winter. Having emerged victorious from the confrontation with the bandits on the west side of the bridge, Rebo, Norr, Hoggles, and Phan crossed the span ready to do battle again. Fortunately that wasn’t necessary since the holy men assigned to the eastern approach had either been chased away or killed. So the fi?rst night was spent there, within the relative comfort of two huts, while the snow continued to fall beyond the stone walls.
The storm had passed by the time a dimly seen sun rose in the east, but it was bitterly cold, and the angens complained loudly as they struggled to pull the heavily loaded cart up onto the road. Then, with Rebo, Norr, and Phan breaking trail for the animals, the huge disk-shaped wheels cut deep grooves into the virgin snow.
There was a long way to go, but Rebo managed to put that out of his mind, as his mount carried him up through low-lying hills, through a stand of bristle trees, and onto the plain beyond. It was slow work, but the runner had learned to accept such things over the years, and fell into a plodding reverie that lasted until the pale yellow sun hung high in the sky. Eventually, the group paused for what Hoggles referred to as “a brew-up” in the lee of the cart. The hot caf not only tasted good but served to wash down the fry cakes that Norr made up each morning. They consisted of cooked cereal, dried fruit, and nuts. The cakes tasted better hot, but none of them wanted to go to the trouble of making a fi?re, so the rations were consumed cold. The sensitive noticed that Hoggles consumed six of them, Rebo ate two, and Phan barely nibbled at hers. Once their stomachs were full, it was time to rotate the animals so that the team that had been harnessed to the cart had a chance to recuperate. As soon as that chore was complete, Hoggles whistled through his teeth, the single axle squealed, and the angens issued a series of throaty grunts as they made their way forward.
There wasn’t much traffi?c on the road, although tracks were visible from time to time, especially as they entered or left one of the tiny farming villages that crouched between protective hills. Most houses were low one-story affairs that were made of rammed earth and could withstand even the worst storms. Smoke dribbled from their chimneys, and the occasional mongrel gave chase as the group plodded past, but people were rarely seen. It was a rare stranger that brought something good to the farmers’ footsteps—so they had learned to be wary.
There were other sightings, too, some of which harkened back to ancient times, when gigantic machines rode gleaming rails, electric power jumped pylon to pylon, and powerful rivers were held captive behind canyon-spanning dams. Such artifacts weren’t operational of course, but often served as media for semiliterate antitechnic diatribes, a fact that struck Norr as ominous. Especially given the true nature of the coat she wore beneath the long poncho-style cloak. But most of the scenery was simply monotonous. The road was an endless ribbon of crusty snow, the wind moaned like a lost soul, and time seemed to crawl by. Eventually, after what seemed like an eon but was only about twelve hours of riding, the foursome began to look for a place to spend the night. An inn would have been nice, but the only one they’d seen was two hours back, which left the travelers with no choice but to take advantage of whatever shelter they could fi?nd. In this case it was the ruins of what had once been a farm. What remained of the tumbledown house provided protection for the cart and animals—which left the humans to take up residence in the stone silo that stood next to the main structure. The presence of a rudimentary fi?re pit located at the center of the circular space suggested that the structure had been used for that purpose before. And, when Rebo volunteered to gather fi?rewood, Norr offered to accompany him. Phan, who was occupied unpacking the pots and pans, watched from the corner of her eye.