He did not react when a hand grasped his shoulder. He was too tired even for surprise. He simply stopped, and after a moment turned, to see, with relief, that Simon had come after him. They continued together. Anything could happen now, with Val and the others guarding Subtwo and his raiders. The underground people were terribly vulnerable to public outcry, even in this sparsely populated section of the city's outskirts. If a mob were raised against them, they would be trapped between it on one side and Subone's group on the other; and Subtwo would be bound to his bargain with Mischa only by his word. Jan knew he should have stayed with the others, but he did not want to leave Mischa to a confrontation all alone.
The dimming lights at the far limit of Jan's vision sparkled in his fatigue, and he had an odd feeling of observing but not comprehending. Simon was a blur at his side. Jan stared down at the stone floor, watching his feet move one step, another.
Simon grasped his arm again; Jan stopped obediently and glanced around, blankly, until Simon shook him and pointed.
A hundred meters ahead, Crab stopped his headlong gallop toward them, lumbered a few steps back the way he had come, stopped again, and waited, moving a few steps this way, a few steps that.
He led them down the tunnel, and into a branch that Jan thought he himself would have passed, a narrower, dimmer place with a musty, fetid smell. A few minutes later they met Mischa, carrying and dragging a young girl with her. The child was half-naked and her movements were uncoordinated, reflexive, aimless. Seeing Jan and Simon, Mischa stopped. The stress of fatigue and frustration was plain.
"She never learned to walk," Mischa said. "She never could."
Simon bent down and picked up the dragging end of the melted chain.
"I can get that off," Mischa said. "I just need a little time."
"We haven't much time," Jan said.
"We will free her." Simon threw down the chain and picked Gemmi up easily. "She is one of us."
The Circle was very quiet, as though hibernating until its patrons came back from their quest. The few people who saw the raiders and their captors, and recognized what they saw, stopped, and backed into shadows, and crept quickly away. Gradually, the path before Mischa and the others became more and more deserted, as an electrified current of knowledge passed before them.
The underground people drew closer together, fearing what they had never seen. Crab held Mischa's hand, watching, interested in all the new places they passed. Jan continued doggedly forward with no resiliency left in his step at all, and Val walked with Simon, her nervousness increasing, but her pride and her confidence restored. She spoke occasionally in a voice too low for Mischa to hear, and once Simon answered. Subtwo led the group, still naked, for he would not touch the ill-assorted filthy garments his people had to spare.
Why Val and the rest had decided to enter the city was still a mystery. They were curious, but Mischa sensed more purpose in their actions, a purpose that overcame their fear.
Subtwo stopped before the closed door of the pseudosibs' section of the Palace. This was the first time Mischa had ever seen it shut, and she imagined that it might not open, that someone inside had been warned they were coming and closed them out. But Subtwo unlocked it with his voice and they entered. Mischa secured it again behind them, but there was no way to lock Subone out.
When she turned back, Subtwo was facing the small group, blocking the corridor. "How do I know our bargain has not already been broken? How do I know he is not dead?"
"He's alive! If we don't hurry, he'll be here."
Subtwo did not move except to lower his head, glaring; he would renege if he was not sure his pseudosib was alive.
"Call him, then," Mischa said. "He's near, he must be around antenna leads."
Subtwo scowled more deeply, suspicious, but unable to find deceit in her suggestion. He led the way to his quarters: through the long, carpeted halls, past a residence wing, in which the raiders were locked, disarmed but with access to food and medicine. They did not even protest. In the foyer, the light-fountain sparkled brilliant white. The underground people followed, into the paneled corridor that led directly to Subtwo's rooms, touching strange things gently; they seemed to have no need or desire to take or destroy. In Subtwo's workroom, they stood in a tight group, like small creatures who had blundered into the interior of a machine.
Subtwo sat down at the console, slowly, almost reluctantly. "If I cannot reach him, our agreement is void."
"I never lied to you," Mischa said.
He turned on his equipment. They heard static, scrambled Family chatter, channels of sensory input, as Subtwo scanned the frequencies for a clear calling band.
He called, paused, called, paused, and the response returned. "Is that you? Where are you?" Subone's voice: he sounded surprised.
"I am in our quarters."
"At the Palace! But—"
"Where are you?"
"Coming home. But you—"
"You were to wait for my return."
"I felt stronger—we decided—never mind me. Did you—?"
"I found them."
There was a hesitation, as of surprise. "Good!" Subone exclaimed. "Excellent! I knew you would avenge me, brother." The tone was not one of satisfaction in revenge, but of gloating in power. Mischa heard it; everyone in the room heard it: even Subtwo. He raised his hand as though to smash it down on the controls, wavered, and slowly closed his fingers into a great fist.
"We are no longer brothers."
As Subone's voice, in confused protest, spilled from the receiver, Subtwo turned it off, very, very carefully. He faced the people in his quarters as though they all were honored guests. "He will return soon. We must hurry."
He seemed, to Mischa, as afraid as she was that Subone still could influence him, but now, at least, he was certain of the motives.
"Then let's go."
That infuriating, tolerant expression slipped over his face. "In a moment. Is there nothing you want?" He let his gaze wander over the room; he walked to his desk and touched bits of equipment.
"No, nothing. Nothing at all. Except to leave." She was becoming exasperated with him, and dreading that he would, in the end, delay until Subone arrived. Her fingertips brushed the sculpted handle of the lance. Jan turned her a little. "Give him a minute," he said. "I want to get a few things too, if they're still in my room."
She acceded, reluctantly, not really wanting to let him go alone, he looked so tired, but afraid to trust Subtwo, afraid everything would fall apart again. She sat on the floor and put her arms around Crab, telling him slowly, gently, that she was leaving, right now, not in his indeterminate and unimaginable personal future. He had seen—and understood, for an infinitesimal bit of time—what she was doing and why, and though the understanding had faded, he retained the memory of it. He did not try to convince her to stay.
Val padded over to them. "Is Crab going with you?"
"He's going wherever you and Simon go," Mischa said. "But I don't know what to tell him."
"We haven't changed our minds. We're staying here."
"Will you be all right without Subtwo as a hostage?"
"We'll be all right. Don't worry." Her eyes smiled; her aura sparkled with excitement.
Mischa leaned down to Crab again. He was, after all, very young, and preferred events to go as he pleased. In the end, she told him she would try, someday, to come and see him again. When she looked up, the underground people stood around her. "Now it's time to say goodbye," Val said.
Mischa stood up. "Good-bye, then." She hugged Val and Simon. "Good-bye, Simon."