Part 5 (1/2)

”Train station!” she commanded the driver in Vonahrish, amending in Hetzian, ”Toltzcentraldepotrailwaylines!”

The Stornzof equipage had departed. Not five minutes into the race and she was already falling behind.

”Top speed!” she shouted, then realized her own folly. She already held a ticket for a seat on the southbound Ilavian Whistler Ilavian Whistler, which wasn't scheduled to leave Toltz for another hour and a quarter. Risking life and limb to shave five minutes off the trip to the station was absurd.

The driver took her at her word, however, and the cab rattled off at a dangerous clip. Before it had advanced more than twice its own length, a series of sharp bangs, like the explosion of firecrackers, peppered the morning air. The horse snorted and s.h.i.+ed, while the driver cursed and plied his whip.

Luzelle stuck her head out the window, craning her neck to see around the angle of the building. She beheld vast clouds of dense black smoke billowing over Irstreister Square and she heard the m.u.f.fled cries of a panicked mult.i.tude. Even as she watched, a second series of sharp reports crackled and the smoke clouds darkened. Choking, soot-grimed citizens came stumbling from the square, tendrils of black vapor swirling in their wake.

”Was anyone hurt?” Luzelle called out, but received no answer, for the cab was bearing her away at top speed, as she had commanded.

Girays. Back there in the midst of that smoky chaos, perhaps injured? Probably not. M. v'Alisante, that superior person, was more than capable of looking after himself. Moreover, the smoke-bomb a.s.sault upon Irstreister Square seemed more designed to create confusion than to inflict real harm. In any case, what concern was Girays v'Alisante's safety to her? No more than hers was to him. Let him cough his smoke-filled lungs out, served him right. Back there in the midst of that smoky chaos, perhaps injured? Probably not. M. v'Alisante, that superior person, was more than capable of looking after himself. Moreover, the smoke-bomb a.s.sault upon Irstreister Square seemed more designed to create confusion than to inflict real harm. In any case, what concern was Girays v'Alisante's safety to her? No more than hers was to him. Let him cough his smoke-filled lungs out, served him right.

She wouldn't let herself think about him; there were other matters to consider. The explosions, the smoke, the resulting tumult. What or who was the cause? She couldn't know, but one point was certain. The commotion in Irstreister Square had delayed the majority of Grand Ellipse compet.i.tors, and benefited any racer leaving the city hall by way of a side exit.

3.

SHE REACHED THE STATION with time to spare, and the with time to spare, and the Ilavian Whistler Ilavian Whistler departed on schedule. Luzelle relinquished her ticket to the conductor and settled back in her seat with a sigh. Nothing to do now but sit watching the quaint Lower Hetzian scenery roll by. She would not allow herself to worry about Girays. departed on schedule. Luzelle relinquished her ticket to the conductor and settled back in her seat with a sigh. Nothing to do now but sit watching the quaint Lower Hetzian scenery roll by. She would not allow herself to worry about Girays.

It had been startling-almost shocking-to meet up with him in Toltz, and her nerves were still jangled. But it was not likely to happen again. Along with the rest of the Grand Ellipse contestants delayed in Irstreister Square, he had missed the Ilavian Whistler. Ilavian Whistler. He would have to wait at least a couple of hours for the next southeast-bound train, and by the time he boarded, he would already have missed the best connections to carry him on to the Ilavian coast. She would not see him again before the end of the race, because she'd drawn well ahead and he hadn't a prayer of overtaking her. He would have to wait at least a couple of hours for the next southeast-bound train, and by the time he boarded, he would already have missed the best connections to carry him on to the Ilavian coast. She would not see him again before the end of the race, because she'd drawn well ahead and he hadn't a prayer of overtaking her.

Resolutely she unfolded the newspaper purchased at the station, and for a while managed to distract herself with it. No mention of the smoke bombs outside city hall, of course-that news would not hit the headlines before the next edition. Plenty of front-page s.p.a.ce devoted to the Grand Ellipse, however, and she saw her own name mentioned more than once. Lots of war news. The hurricane Grewzian conquest of Haereste was already complete. Many pages given over to accounts of local happenings uninteresting to a foreigner, but Luzelle made herself read them all, plowing laboriously through the tangled Hetzian syntax, and in this manner whiled away the hours.

The Ilavian Whistler Ilavian Whistler chugged its way southeast, stopping at town after town. Time pa.s.sed slowly until the late afternoon, when a couple of villagers clad in their relentlessly starched finest boarded Luzelle's car at Ploysto, and took the seat across the aisle from her. Their conversation caught her attention at once, for they spoke of an extraordinary occurrence unmatched in all the years of the town's history. Hours earlier an outlandish vehicle had pa.s.sed straight through the center of Ploysto, traveling at fearsome speed. The conveyance, indescribably bizarre in appearance and driven by a woman of correspondingly eccentric aspect, seemed to generate its own power of movement in the manner of a locomotive, but it was no locomotive-it resembled nothing in the world that anyone had ever seen. Belching black smoke and demonic fire, the thing had roared into the market square around midmorning, to the terror of the local poultry; swerved hard, just in time to avoid collision with the town well; barely missed overturning the infirm Grandmother Deederkint, out to take the air; and sped off in a cloud of stygian vapor. One might have thought the uncanny apparition some sort of dream or delusion, had not a host of witnesses testified to its reality. chugged its way southeast, stopping at town after town. Time pa.s.sed slowly until the late afternoon, when a couple of villagers clad in their relentlessly starched finest boarded Luzelle's car at Ploysto, and took the seat across the aisle from her. Their conversation caught her attention at once, for they spoke of an extraordinary occurrence unmatched in all the years of the town's history. Hours earlier an outlandish vehicle had pa.s.sed straight through the center of Ploysto, traveling at fearsome speed. The conveyance, indescribably bizarre in appearance and driven by a woman of correspondingly eccentric aspect, seemed to generate its own power of movement in the manner of a locomotive, but it was no locomotive-it resembled nothing in the world that anyone had ever seen. Belching black smoke and demonic fire, the thing had roared into the market square around midmorning, to the terror of the local poultry; swerved hard, just in time to avoid collision with the town well; barely missed overturning the infirm Grandmother Deederkint, out to take the air; and sped off in a cloud of stygian vapor. One might have thought the uncanny apparition some sort of dream or delusion, had not a host of witnesses testified to its reality.

The countrified accents weren't always easy to comprehend, but Luzelle picked up enough to know that Szett Urrazole and her Miracle Self-Propelling Carriage were drawing farther ahead with every pa.s.sing hour. Perhaps at some future point in the race the Miracle Carriage would break down, or better yet, run head-on into a tree.

Otherwise, she's already won.

Her fingers drummed. Deliberately, she stilled them. No point in fretting.

Luzelle's attention returned to the Hetzian newspaper, the pa.s.sing scenery, the pa.s.sengers boarding or departing at each stop. The hours pa.s.sed, the sun set, and the scenery disappeared. At eight in the evening she sought the dining car, which was well appointed and well filled. The moment she entered, her eyes lighted upon the Overcommander Karsler Stornzof, sitting opposite his usual silver-haired, square-jawed companion. Stornzof saw her at the same time. Their eyes met, and for the longest moment she found herself unable to look away.

Idiotic. She was making a fool of herself. She could only imagine what the Judge would have to say. Tearing her eyes from his face, she seated herself, deliberately presenting her back to the Stornzof table, which removed all temptation to stare. Or so she thought until she happened to notice the high polish upon her soup spoon, whose convex bowl reflected most of the car, affording a tiny, distant image of a blond male head.

She ordered, and the prompt arrival of her soup deprived her of her mirror. Before she finished dining, Stornzof and his companion exited. Presently Luzelle returned to her seat and, not long thereafter, repaired to her berth in one of the sleeping cars.

She slumbered soundly and woke early. Around eight in the morning the Ilavian Whistler Ilavian Whistler reached the Beroussean frontier and paused there puffing as the customs officials boarded to check pa.s.sports. Luzelle's doc.u.ments received the appropriate stamp. The inspectors completed their work and withdrew, and the train pa.s.sed from the Low Hetz into the tiny duchy of Berousse. reached the Beroussean frontier and paused there puffing as the customs officials boarded to check pa.s.sports. Luzelle's doc.u.ments received the appropriate stamp. The inspectors completed their work and withdrew, and the train pa.s.sed from the Low Hetz into the tiny duchy of Berousse.

Luzelle examined the customs stamp with satisfaction. A tangible sign of progress, with many more to follow. A succession of such stamps would testify to her advance along the curve of the Grand Ellipse. Her satisfaction died a quick death when the train pulled into the station at the Beroussean capital of Huizigar, where a forty-five-minute stopover afforded time to purchase a newspaper, books, a puzzle block, and lemon drops in the station. The newspaper was printed in Hetzian, official language of the duchy, and the front page proclaimed the previous evening's blazing pa.s.sage through Huizigar of the eccentric Szarish inventor and Grand Ellipse contestant Szett Urrazole in her Miracle Self-Propelling Carriage.

Luzelle tossed the paper aside with a scowl.

Her dissatisfaction deepened around lunchtime, when she lurched her way forward to the dining car and there caught no golden glimpse of Overcommander Stornzof. She was either too early or too late. She ate slowly, dawdling over countless cups of tea, but he did not appear. At length abandoning the vigil, she returned to her own seat, heated with annoyance at her own folly.

Little Berousse was past in a matter of hours, and the Ilavian Whistler Ilavian Whistler crossed the border into Dinsifise, first of the Mid-Duchies. Another stamp upon her pa.s.sport, this time adorned with the circular Endless Fire of the Grewzian Imperium, for this was the first of the territories along the Grand Ellipse route to acknowledge Grewzian rule. A particularly close examination of her travel doc.u.ments, an annoyingly thorough investigation of her belongings, told her that a Vonahrish pa.s.sport drew suspicious notice within the confines of the Imperium, but n.o.body detained her. crossed the border into Dinsifise, first of the Mid-Duchies. Another stamp upon her pa.s.sport, this time adorned with the circular Endless Fire of the Grewzian Imperium, for this was the first of the territories along the Grand Ellipse route to acknowledge Grewzian rule. A particularly close examination of her travel doc.u.ments, an annoyingly thorough investigation of her belongings, told her that a Vonahrish pa.s.sport drew suspicious notice within the confines of the Imperium, but n.o.body detained her.

The train whistled southeast through the mill towns of Dinsifise, and the Endless Fire emblem turned up everywhere-on station platforms, on warehouses edging the tracks, on railway overpa.s.ses, on the caps of the Grewzian soldiers now glimpsed with increasing frequency. Here upon subject soil the demeanor of the Grewzians waxed lordly, but Luzelle scarcely noted the alteration until the Ilavian Whistler Ilavian Whistler paused for half an hour in the town of Glozh, and she made the mistake of venturing from the train. paused for half an hour in the town of Glozh, and she made the mistake of venturing from the train.

Strolling to the end of the platform, she halted and drew a deep breath of springtime air blighted with smoke and cinders. There was little to see from her present vantage point-just a nondescript station house, shadowy copse behind the station, flat-topped hills, and drab wooden houses and shopfronts-for Glozh was neither interesting nor picturesque. Before her, however, the tracks stretched on into the distance, curving their way southeast through the hills toward Ilavia, with its coastline bordering the Sea of Silence, its great port city of Ila, its merchant freighters and pa.s.senger vessels, one of which would bear her on along the Grand Ellipse to the great island of Dalyon.

Thanks to the minions of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, her pa.s.sage aboard the steamer Persistence Persistence was already booked. was already booked. Persistence Persistence was scheduled to embark from Ila early tomorrow morning, and the timing seemed impeccable. Barring freak disaster, the was scheduled to embark from Ila early tomorrow morning, and the timing seemed impeccable. Barring freak disaster, the Ilavian Whistler Ilavian Whistler should be pulling into the port city around midnight. Her room at the s.h.i.+pwreck Inn was reserved, and there would be time enough for several hours of sleep. All was going well; or would be, but for a certain d.a.m.nably gifted Szarish inventor. should be pulling into the port city around midnight. Her room at the s.h.i.+pwreck Inn was reserved, and there would be time enough for several hours of sleep. All was going well; or would be, but for a certain d.a.m.nably gifted Szarish inventor.

She strained her eyes southeast, as if by effort of will her vision might overtake the Miracle Self-Propelling Carriage speeding for the coast. But Szett Urrazole remained elusive and inscrutable.

Luzelle's reflections were interrupted by the creak of the platform boards behind her, the flicker of a shadow, the intrusion of a voice.

”You come with us.”

The words were spoken in Grewzian, a tongue she comprehended imperfectly. Surprised, she turned to face a couple of soldiers, ordinary conscripts clad in the grey of the Imperium. One of them-short, meager, dark haired, and palely rat faced-was impossible to place. The other-tall, burly, fair, expressionless-was cla.s.sically Grewzian.

Her expression must have communicated incomprehension, for the big one repeated clearly, ”You come.”

”We will take a walk,” the white rat added. His broad gesture encompa.s.sed the shadowy copse behind the station house.

Luzelle's brows rose. In the course of her solitary travels she had often encountered just such overly hospitable young military men, and she knew how to handle them.

”No. I cannot, thank you,” she replied firmly, in her awkward Grewzian. ”I return to the train now.” She took a step toward the Ilavian Whistler Ilavian Whistler, and halted as a large hand closed on her arm.

”Come,” commanded the big one, and she noticed then what an unusually stingy mouth he had-nothing more than a tiny, lipless slit, almost lost in the wide white-skinned wilderness of his face.

”Your hand-make it to go away!” she exclaimed, bad Grewzian deteriorating. Strange men rarely presumed to touch her, but when they did, firm measures were required. ”Do not make the hands, or else difficulty! I return now train!” Her frown and the sharpness of her tone should have made her feelings clear, but the Grewzian soldiers seemed remarkably obtuse.

”Shut your trap, b.i.t.c.h,” the short one advised. She knew just enough of the language to understand the colloquialisms he employed, and her eyes widened in amazement. ”Pick up your feet.”

”Go away! I will call the stationmaster!” she threatened. Both soldiers guffawed and the first twinge of fear shot through her. Still, it was broad daylight, the train waited a few yards away, and the platform was well populated. No harm could befall her here.

”Come on.”

Each of them had her by one arm and they were hurrying her along the platform, their purpose all too clear, but absolutely unbelievable. Were they stupid, or mad? Did they imagine for one moment that they could get away with this?

Filling her lungs with springtime air and cinders, she yelled for the stationmaster. The cry was piercingly audible, and she expected her a.s.sailants to react, but they were stone. Her eyes raked the platform, jumping from face to alien face, and everywhere her gaze lighted, strangers looked away. She realized then that these people, townsfolk and travelers alike, were altogether cowed by the Grewzian soldiers. They might pity her, but they wouldn't dare to help. Real terror shot through her then, but the incredulity remained. She stood in Dinsifise, a civilized duchy. These were modern times. Moreover, she was no subject of the Imperium, no citizen of a conquered nation.

”I am Vonahris.h.!.+” Luzelle exclaimed. ”Do you understand? Vonahris.h.!.+”

”Vonahrishwomen-wh.o.r.es.” The white rat nodded his comprehension.

She aimed a kick at him, but her long skirts defeated the effort. A sharp twist failed to free her wrist. She pulled back, but could not slow her own swift march from the platform. Dozens of eyes followed her reluctant progress, but n.o.body intervened.

Unbelievable. The persistent sense of dreamlike unreality seemed to paralyze her intellect, but instinct told her to dissemble, and breathing a sigh, she let herself go limp. Her knees buckled and her body sagged, held upright only by the force of her captors' grip.

They were not deceived.

”Get up,” commanded the lipless bruiser. ”Now.”

”You want it here, then?” the white rat inquired.