Veriasse looked up at Everynne. His face was rigid, fearful, and Gallen seemed equally disturbed.
Veriasse powered down his airbike, leapt off, and surveyed the site. “The dead vanquisher was taken off guard,” he said after a moment. “Orick ripped out his throat, and the vanquisher pulled his incendiary gun and tried to club the bear off, perhaps fired in hopes of attracting attention. Then the vanquisher pulled a knife and drew blood, but by then it was too late.” Everynne looked at the frozen corpse. There was a certain look of surprise in the creature’s dead face, a blankness in his orange eyes. Veriasse took up the vanquisher’s bloody knife, cut open the creature’s belly, then stuck in his hand. “The corpse is still warm in the bowels. He can’t have been killed more than a few hours ago.”
“These tracks are crisp around the edges,” Gallen said, pointing to the tracks in the snow. “They had to be made last night.” He got off his bike, studied the site.
“It looks as if the vanquishers set an ambush here. They waited several hours, then Orick came up behind, killed this one. The other two ran that way!” He pointed north, shook his head. “But I can’t imagine them running from an unarmed bear.”
“They didn’t,” Veriasse said. “Those tracks are too evenly spaced, too confident. They’re not the tracks of someone sprawling headlong in fear. I think those two left before the battle took place. Perhaps they were drawn off, or were redeployed. In any case, they left their companion alone, and Orick attacked the vanquisher from behind.”
Everynne searched the hills above, scanning for more signs of the enemy; thick snow covered the rocks. The vanquishers could not travel through this terrain without leaving a clear trail, but Everynne could see no other footprints-only the one trail coming up from the road, and the vanquisher prints heading north parallel to the highway.
Gallen said, “After the battle, Orick didn’t bother to follow these other two. Instead he left us his message, then headed back down the trail.”
“Of course,” Veriasse said. “Orick knew he couldn’t win a battle against two vanquishers, but felt he had to leave us a warning.”
“What are these vanquishers doing here? How did they anticipate us?” Gallen shook his head in disgust.
Everynne was not surprised to find the vanquishers so alert. She and Veriasse had used their key to travel to over twenty worlds in the past six months, and many of those worlds had been under dronon control. It had seemed only a matter of time until the dronon caught them.
“You know,” Veriasse said as if to himself. “Maggie stole Gallen’s key and experienced a temporal loss on her travels once again. Given this loss, the vanquishers who met us on Tihrglas can only have come from our own future. Which explains why they are obviously searching for me and Everynne. Somehow, the dronon learned our identities. We will have to be doubly cautious.”
Veriasse wiped his bloody hand on the snow, put his gloves back on. “We’ll have to disguise you,” Veriasse said to Everynne. “On Wechaus, the lords do not wear masks, and this will make it difficult. Unpack your blue cloak, and tie the hood up to cover your face.”
Everynne dutifully pulled the clothes out of her pack, did as Veriasse said, even though with the bright sun the morning was not terribly frigid. When she finished, they started the airbikes, followed Orick’s bloody trail down to the highway and headed north.
They had not gone more than a few hundred meters when they saw bear tracks leave the road again to the east; other tracks showed where vanquishers had pursued Orick across the road from the west.
Gallen shouted when he saw the prints and took off following the trail with Everynne close behind. Not fifty meters from the road, they found the site of the last battle, and Everynne cried out in horror.
A heap of blackened bones was all that the incendiary blasts had left of the bear.
Chapter 15
Maggie and Orick got off their airbike. Maggie’s legs were so cold she found it difficult to walk, and for a moment she just stood shaking in the snow outside the hot springs, wrapped in her blanket. The place was obviously an inn of some kind. Bears and humans were playing in the water, leaping and splashing, while androids manned dinner tables in a large common room. But it seemed to Maggie to be an odd inn, a relic.
The inn was not a living thing like the trees on her home world or like the city of Toohkansay on Fale. Instead it was made from some poured material, perhaps, Maggie considered, so that it could retain the organic lines of a living hostel even in such a cold environment. It was designed much like the buildings found on other worlds, and if Maggie had not been wearing her mantle, she wouldn’t have recognized that Wechaus was Backward. The androids waiting on tables were ancient models, a few thousand years behind the times. Few human patrons wore personal intelligences, and even those who did wore unsophisticated models. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the inn itself, but Maggie imagined that if people here were any more relaxed, they’d have to be dead.
There was no sign of dronon or vanquishers on the premises, and Maggie took that as a good omen.
Maggie opened the front door for Orick. A golden android hurried up with a jaunty gait and said in a prissy voice, “Welcome to Flaming Springs! We’re so glad you could join us!” He eyed Maggie’s mantle and said, “May I set up an account for our honored guest in the name of…?”
“Maggie Flynn,” Maggie answered, somehow surprised that these people would require money for their services. This was new. She immediately began to wonder how much they would require, but knew that when Veriasse came, he would be able to settle the debt. At the very least, she could sell a knowledge token from her mantle. Each of the metal disks stored thousands of volumes of data, and would be valuable to anyone who wore a mantle.
“Of course, Maggie Flynn,” the android said, feigning that he recognized the name. “Let me show you to a room. You may order food at any time, and the pools are always open.”
He led them through a complex of small huts scattered like hills over the ground. Maggie guessed that steam piping kept the area free of snow. Around the grounds, alien treelike plants with purple fruit lived in containers.
The android opened a door, and Maggie suddenly saw why the rooms appeared so small from the outside. The upper room served as entryway to a luxurious submerged apartment below.
“Will this be adequate?” the android asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Maggie answered. “Do you have the time? And the date? Galactic standard.”
The android told her the time. They were one day and sixteen hours ahead of when they had left Cyannesse. Maggie made some quick calculations, realized that the temporal distortion was inversely proportional to the distance they jumped between gates. The shorter the jump, the more time they lost.
The android left, and Orick went out to the hot pools to swim. Maggie had had enough of the cold and darkness outside. A side room contained its own small pool where mineral waters cascaded down some falls. The room was decorated to look like a forest, with deep mosses and beds of ferns. Maggie retired there and lay in the water for a long time, letting the warmth seep into her bones. A startling thought struck her: she had left her pack out on the airbike, where it might get stolen.
She climbed from the pool, toweled dry, then dressed and ran out for her pack. It was still sitting in the dark, nearly frozen to the seat. She pulled it free, walked back into the common room of the inn. She had eaten a bite an hour before, but the smells were so enticing that she took a seat, asked an android for a steak dinner with mushrooms and wine.