He watched the lights of the Gatehouse flicker ahead through the trees of the park. He only had a few minutes more. He thought he could manage it, but he would have to go alone. He would have to leave Coll and Morgan. There wasn’t any choice.
Voices sounded from ahead, other soldiers waiting for their return. The line began to string out and some of the guards were straying a bit. Par took a deep breath. He waited until they were passing along a cluster of scrub birch, then used the wishsong. He sang softly, his voice blending into “the sounds of the night, a whisper of breeze, a bird’s gentle call, a cricket’s brief chirp He let the wish song’s magic reach out and fill the minds of the guards immediately next to him, distracting them, turning their eyes away from him, letting them forget that he was there...
And then he simply stepped into the birch and shadows and disappeared.
The line of prisoners passed on without him. No one had noticed that he was gone. If Coll or Morgan or any of the others had seen anything, they were keeping still about it. The Federation soldiers and their prisoners continued moving toward the lights ahead, leaving him alone.
When they were gone, he moved soundlessly off into the night.
He managed to free himself almost immediately of the ropes that held his hands. He found a spike with a jagged edge on the ravine wall a hundred yards from where he had slipped away and, boosting himself up on the wall, sawed through the ropes in only minutes. No alarm had gone up yet from the watch; apparently, he hadn’t been missed. Maybe they hadn’t bothered to count the original number of their prisoners, he reasoned. After all, it had been dark, and the capture had taken place in a matter of seconds.
At any rate, he was free. So what was he going to do now?
He worked his way back through the park toward the Tyrsian Way, keeping to the shadows, stopping every few seconds to listen for the sounds of the pursuit that never came. He was sweating freely, his tunic sticking to his back, his face streaked with dust. He was exhilarated by his escape and devastated by the realization that he didn’t know how to take advantage of it. There was no help for him in Tyrsis and no help for him without. He didn’t know whom to contact within the city; there was no one he could afford to trust. And he had no idea how to get back into the Parma Key. Steff would help if he knew his companions were in trouble. But how would the Dwarf find out before it was too late to matter?
The lights of the Way came into view through the trees. Par stumbled to the edge of the park, close to its western boundaries, and collapsed in despair against the trunk of an old maple. He had to do something; he couldn’t just wander about. He brushed at his face with his sleeve and let his head sink back against the rough bark. He was suddenly sick and it took every ounce of willpower he could muster to prevent himself from retching.
He had to get back to Coll and Morgan. He had to find a way to free them.
Use the wishsong, he thought.
But how?
A Federation patrol came down the Way, boots clumping in the stillness. Par shrank back into the shadows and waited until they were out of sight. Then he moved from his cover along the edge of the park toward a fountain bordering the walk. Once there, he leaned over and hurriedly splashed water on his hands and face. The water ran along his skin like liquid silver.
He paused, letting his head sink against his chest. He was suddenly very tired.
The arm that yanked him around was strong and unyielding, snapping his head back violently. He found himself face to face with Damson Rhee.
“What happened?” she demanded, her voice low.
Frantically, Par reached for his long knife. But his weapons were gone, taken by the Federation. He shoved at the girl, trying to rip free of her grip, but she sidestepped the blow without effort and kicked him so hard in the stomach that he doubled over.
“What are you doing, you idiot?” she whispered angrily.
Without waiting for an answer, she hauled him back into the concealing shadows of the park and threw him to the ground. “If you try something like that again with me, I will break both your arms!” she snapped.
Par pulled himself up to a sitting position, still looking for a way to escape. But she shoved him back against the ground and crouched close. “Why don’t we try again, my beloved Elf-boy? Where are the others? What has happened to them?”
Par swallowed against his rage. “The Federation has them! They were waiting for us, Damson! As if you didn’t know!”
The anger in her eyes was replaced by surprise. “What do you mean, as if I didn’t know?”
“They were waiting for us. We never got past the wall. We were betrayed! The Federation commander told us so! He said it was one of our own—an outlaw, Damson!” Par was shaking.
Damson Rhee’s gaze was steady. “And you have decided that it was me, have you, Par Ohmsford?”
Par forced himself up on his elbows. “Who better than you? You were the only one who knew what we were about—the only one not taken! No one else knew! If not you, then who could it possibly have been?”
There was a long silence as they stared at each other in the dark. The sound of voices nearby grew slowly distinct. Someone was approaching.
Damson Rhee suddenly bent close. “I don’t know. But it wasn’t me! Now lie still until they pass!”
She pushed him into a gathering of bushes, then backed in herself and lay down beside him. Par could feel the warmth of her body. He could smell the sweet scent of her. He closed his eyes and waited. A pair of Federation soldiers worked their way out of the park, paused momentarily, then started back again and were gone.
Damson Rhee put her lips close against Par’s ear. “Do they know you are missing yet?”
Par hesitated. “I can’t be certain,” he whispered back.
She took his chin with her smooth hand and turned his face until it was level with her own. “I didn’t betray you. It may seem as if I must have, but I didn’t. If I intended to betray you to the Federation, Par, I would have simply turned you over to that pair of soldiers and been done with it.”
The green eyes glittered faintly with moonlight that had penetrated the branches of their concealment. Par stared at those eyes and found no hint of deception mirrored there. Still, he hesitated.
“You have to decide here and now whether you believe me,” she said quietly.
He shook his head warily. “It isn’t that easy!”
“It has to be! Look at me, Par. I have betrayed no one—not you or Padishar or the others, not now, not ever! Why would I do something like that? I hate the Federation as much as anyone!” She paused, exasperated. “I told you that this was a dangerous undertaking. I warned you that the Pit was a black hole that swallowed men whole. Padishar was the one who insisted you go!”
“That doesn’t make him responsible for what happened.”
“Nor me! What about the distraction I promised? Did it come about as I said it would?”
Par nodded.
“You see! I fulfilled my part of the bargain! Why would I bother if I intended your betrayal?”
Par said nothing.
Damson’s nostrils flared. “You will admit to nothing, will you?” She shook back her auburn hair in a flash of color. “Will you at least tell me what happened?”
Par took a deep breath. Briefly, he related the events that surrounded their capture, including the frightening disappearance of the outlaw Ciba Blue. He kept deliberately vague the circumstances of his own escape. The magic was his business. Its secret belonged to him.
But Damson was not about to be put off. “So the fact of the matter is, you might as easily be the betrayer as I,” she said. “How else is it that you managed to escape when the others could not?”