Part 11 (1/2)

'And crushed! me to death! in the bargain,' Gregor said, grinning at his brother. They were brothers now, if they had never been by birth. Hards.h.i.+p had removed the 'step' from their relations.h.i.+p.

'How do you feel?' the Shaker asked the neophyte-Shaker.

'Fine. I'll slow us up some, but otherwise, everything seems normal.'

'Pain?'

'Surprisingly little,' Gregor said, his arm around Mace's shoulder to support himself.

Sandow knew he was lying. The pain he suffered was there, just beneath the sheen of calm that covered his young face. But the old magician remained silent. There was actually very little they could do for the pain, aside from administering brandy to make the boy less aware of his suffering. If he forced Gregor to admit the extent of his agony, nothing would be gained-and Mace would be made more morose than ever.

'Shaker,' Commander Richter said, laying a hand on the magician's shoulder to gain his attention and, perhaps, to indicate the friends.h.i.+p that had grown between them, an unspoken friends.h.i.+p that needed no words. 'Would you come with me a moment?'

'The boy here-' Sandow began, indicating Gregor.

'This will take but a moment,' Richter said.

He led Shaker Sandow to the slumped bodies of the men who had died outside the s.h.i.+elding bamboo with no chance of reaching cover fast enough. They stopped before one hunched form which was balled up more than most. The tangle of clothes and the film of rich blood which covered the man made an identification from the back impossible.

'Who?' the Shaker asked.

Richter stooped and, very gently, turned over the dead man. It was Fremlin, the bird master. Half a dozen shots had struck home through his torso, and his face was blank and empty and dead, dead-though oddly at rest. Beneath him, a partially crushed wicker cage contained the shattered bodies of his last two Squealers.

'He fell on them to protect them, and they were killed anyway, for the bullets went directly through him.'

'I had not yet begun to understand, fully, the relations.h.i.+p of the birds and their master to one another,' Sandow said. 'But it was far more than a man and his pets.'

'Legends say the man who loves the Squealers becomes a black bird himself when he dies.'

'Let us hope,' Shaker Sandow said. 'It would be fitting for him, not such a waste as it stands now.'

'You realize that now you will be our only eyes in advance of our eyes? Since we've been spotted, they'll send search parties after us to kill the last. Your powers have become invaluable to help us avoid those hunters. Without you, we won't make it.'

'I had realized that. I'll do what I can.'

'Will the wounded boy, your Gregor, make a difference?'

'My powers are strong without him. Indeed, I feel they are now stronger than ever. Perhaps imminent death does something for magic talents that no amount of practice can.'

'I'll detail two men to help Gregor.'

'No,' Sandow said. 'I think Mace would rebel at that, He'll want to do it himself.'

Richter nodded. 'We have to get moving now,' he said. 'We'll be slowed by the wounded. I had thought of putting young Barrister out of his misery. But I keep thinking that if we hang onto him, even if he slows us, we might reach the city. And reaching the city, we might discover some traces of ancient medicine that will heal him. If there are such wonders as flying machines!'

'Two men and a stretcher can move swiftly,' Sandow said, sensing the commander's need. 'You've decided correctly. A mercy killing can sometimes become a murder when salvation shows later.'

'Most of the food is in good shape. All the water containers have been punctured, most more than once. We'll have to hope we have water all along the last part of the journey. It can't be far.'

'The sooner we get moving, the safer,' Sandow said. 'And, too, the sight of so many dead in such a brutal fas.h.i.+on cannot help but play upon the nerves of those remaining.'

'Forgive my rambling,' Richter said. He began shouting orders to the men, and in a very little time, they entered the bamboo again, moving while the darkness was on their side.

Later in the night, three aircraft pa.s.sed over them, streaking for the place they had left behind.

'Search parties,' Mace said. 'They'll be putting men on foot to give chase.'

'Perhaps,' the Shaker said.

And they walked faster.

20.

In the morning they were exhausted, and they paused tt rest only shortly after first light. The way had been difficult. After only an hour of their march, making less than a third of a mile in all that time, weariness overtook them. In two hours, they were exhausted. In three, they felt incapable of going on. In four, they were zombies. But still they managed to pick feet up and put feet down, over and over in what seemed an endless ritual to some long-dead G.o.d. Richter had suggested that movement by day would be even more difficult, for they would have to be especially careful not to disturb the reeds enough to make their movement obvious on the surface of these bamboo stalks. And that was enough of an excuse, even at this early hour, to drop and recover some of the strength which the land had drawn from them.

To make matters worse, they had found no water on their journey thus far. The bamboo stems contained nothing but a damp punk which could not slake the thirst at all. Though they scooped collection pots into the earth, no dampness rose and no water filled them. They were fortunate in having with them some dried fruit which yet contained moisture and which drew saliva from their dried cheeks to wet their throats. But such could not sustain them for long.

Gregor was unconscious. His broken foot had swollen seriously, until his boot had to be cut off. His leg was growing blue, and all of them knew what that meant: rot and death. And they had no facilities for amputation. Death!

Mace attempted to force some syrup into the boy's throat, syrup procured by squeezing handfuls of dried fruit into a cup. There were only one or two sips, but Gregor could not even come round long enough to gain interest in those.

The Shaker pretended that all would be well when they reached the city, though he had grave doubts. First, even upon reaching the city, they would have to find some way of taking it. And there were but twenty-one whole men among them. How many would the Oragonians have on those great battlements? Hundreds? Thousands? Too many, in any case. And even, if by some strange quirk of fate, they should capture the city, there might be no medical equipment there. Or if there was, it might be decayed and inoperative. And if it worked- well, to h.e.l.l with them, none of them really would know what to do with it. It would be alien machinery that would take time to master.

And Gregor did not have time.

Richter settled beside the unconscious boy, next to the Shaker. 'How is he?'

'Poisoned,' the Shaker said. He peeled back the trouser leg to show the angry welling blue-black in the boy's flesh.

'The city cannot be far,' Richter said.

'Perhaps just a bit too far, though,' Sandow said.

'No. It is dose,' Richter said, refusing to share anyone's pessimism. 'I wonder if you could do a reading for us.'

To find?'

'Several things,' Richter said. He wiped a hand across his grimy face, as if to strip away the exhaustion there. He was ten pounds lighter than he had been, though he had never been a particularly beefy man. He looked gaunt, beaten, but still in there, fighting whatever was thrown at him. His voice, cool and clear, showed no signs of fatigue, and seemed to emanate from the throat of a much younger man. 'First, we should know if we are being followed and-if we are-exactly where the pursuers are. We should know whether we are still headed toward the city; these d.a.m.n plants make it easy to alter course without knowing it. And we should also know exactly where we should come out of the bamboo to give us the best tactical advantage.'