She didn’t want Headmaster Albans to face such a terrible fate, but felt helpless to save him. She wanted him to find some way to escape and flee into obscurity as Toure Bomoko had, while the rest of the CET members were executed in his stead. She wondered if the same thing would happen here. Gilbertus was a very smart man.
“If Headmaster Albans were to escape,” she asked, “wouldn’t Manford still want someone to die instead?”
“All of the other students, I expect,” Erasmus said.
“I don’t want them all to die, and I don’t want the Headmaster to die either.”
“All humans die. The only variable is timing. Come — we must hurry.”
“Where will we go afterward?” Anna asked.
“I have not calculated that yet.”
Anna picked her way around the tangled roots, careful not to fall into the water, where glints of silver showed night-prowling razorjaws, like reflections from shattered bits of mirror. Her progress was painstakingly slow.
“The water is not deep,” he said. “It will be faster if you wade through the channels.”
“The fish would eat me,” Anna said.
The robot core said, “I can fix that.” A pulse of blue light crackled through the water, a power discharge that lit the marshy streams with cold fire. Like bubbles rising in a cauldron, hundreds of silvery fish bobbed belly-up, dead.
“Gilbertus placed many defenses around the school, but I considered them insufficient, so I added more. The channel is safe for you now. I’ll tell you when you need to climb back up on the roots.”
Trusting him entirely, Anna dropped into the cold water and waded along. Now she made better progress through the sangroves, safe from razorjaws, but she knew there was still danger from Butlerian scouts who roamed the swamps.
As she sloshed along, a buzzing sound came close — a cloud of stinging night-gnats. Anna plunged her head underwater, trusting that the razorjaws were still incapacitated. The swarming insects swirled low, dusted the top of the water in search of blood, and then flew away. Finally, Anna raised her head and shoulders out of the water, dripping wet, and kept moving.
After several more minutes, Erasmus said, “I suggest you climb up on the roots now. I am recharging the pulse-batteries through the waterways, but more razorjaws may come soon.”
Anna hoisted herself onto the suspended roots and climbed along, carefully choosing her footing. Around her, the sky began to brighten with the approach of dawn. Looking back in the direction of the Butlerian camp, she spotted a shadowy figure moving through the sangroves — and in the same instant the man saw her, too. He had broad shoulders, and a square of fabric was wrapped around his head. His eyes were bright in the swamp shadows.
“You’re the girl Manford wants, the Emperor’s sister.” The man sprang toward her with a careful grace, bounding from one sangrove elbow to another. “Come with me, and you’ll be in time to watch the Headmaster’s execution.”
Holding on to a branch, Anna scrambled backward and swung to another root. Sharp sticks scratched her, but she didn’t feel the pain. Erasmus couldn’t help her now.
The Butlerian man was swift and nimble as he chased her. He might have been an experienced hunter, accustomed to being outdoors, and he was intent on catching her. He grabbed Anna’s arm, yanked her close. She started to scream, then bit it off, knowing the noise would only attract more attention from the siege camp — and she didn’t know how to fight such a muscular man.
She was about to ask Erasmus to save her when in her mind she heard a roar of whispering voices from generations of women, all long dead. They surged into her thoughts like a school of telepathic fish, showing her what Erasmus could not. Her muscles acted of their own accord, like loaded springs.
She ripped her arm free of the man’s grasp. Moving as if another person were controlling her body, Anna planted her other hand squarely on his chest and shoved hard, knocking him off-balance. Surprised, he splashed backward into the channel. In a panic, he thrashed in the water … but when no razorjaws struck, he laughed. “I’m wet, but unharmed.” He flashed his teeth.
In her ear, Erasmus said, “Allow me.”
A wash of blue electricity exploded through the water, like an aurora distilled into the marsh. The Butlerian man jittered, convulsed, and fell backward into the water, belly-up like the fish.
“We need to keep moving,” said the Erasmus voice in her ear. “Let me direct you now. My peripheral spy-eyes have detected an unexpected visitor who can aid us in our escape.”
Anna didn’t ask questions. “Tell me where to go.”
IT WAS STILL dark, shortly before dawn, when Anari Idaho entered the tent. The three dead guards had been taken away, the gash in the fabric of the back wall stitched shut. Eight Butlerian guards now replaced the ones Draigo had killed, even though Gilbertus showed no inclination to escape.
“When the sun rises, Headmaster, you will meet your death at the blade of my sword,” she said. “It was wise and honorable of you not to flee when you had the chance.”
“I made a promise,” he said. “I explained that to my well-intentioned student who tried to rescue me.”
“He murdered three of the faithful. He is marked for death as well.” Anari’s face darkened. “We will hunt him down and kill him.”
“I don’t think so.” He had faith that Draigo would carry out his mission; Gilbertus had gambled everything on that hope.
Anari waited in heavy silence for a long moment, but didn’t argue with him. “Leader Torondo knows who and what you are. He will never rescind your sentence.”
“I wouldn’t expect him to. He is a man of clear-cut convictions. He follows a path that allows no room for learning or growth, to his detriment.”
“He follows a holy path. I came to tell you to prepare yourself.”
Gilbertus was relaxed, calm. He had meditated for hours and visited his Memory Vault that held all the bright spots of his life. “You’re the one who is about to kill a man. Shouldn’t you prepare yourself?”
“I am merely meting out justice. My sword is sharp. What more do I need to prepare?”
Gilbertus found it amusing. “And my mind is sharp. What more do I need to prepare?”
Flustered, Anari shook her head. “You were raised among the demon machines. They made you strange.”
She left the prisoner tent, and Gilbertus returned to his meditation. Curiously, he found that he was able to focus better than he ever had in his life, and he understood why. He needed to cram all of his important thoughts into very little time.
AFTER TRYING TO rescue Headmaster Albans, Draigo spent most of the darkness eluding the Butlerian hunters. They chased after noises in the swamps — but he hardly made any sound at all. The hunting parties shouted back and forth, so that he knew exactly where they were. Overanxious for revenge, they blundered along, and the Mentat easily eluded them.
Still, he felt an emptiness in his chest. This wasn’t sport. The Headmaster’s life was on the line … and he had refused to be saved! If what Gilbertus said was true — that the Erasmus memory core still existed, and Anna Corrino needed to be rescued along with it — Directeur Venport would be very interested in both. Draigo had come to Lampadas in the hope of finding powerful allies against the barbarians. Even more important, he had promised his friend and mentor, Headmaster Albans, that he would keep Anna Corrino and the Erasmus core safe.
It was nearly dawn by the time he circled back toward the besieged school complex. He made his way through the sangrove swamps, threading the safe path through the hazards.