Part 12 (2/2)
The door gave way and a squad of Grewzian soldiers burst into the room, revolvers in hand. The Lanthians shrank back and one of them, not of the Select, made a desperate dash for the exit. Three or four revolvers spoke simultaneously, and the fugitive dropped in his tracks. A couple of shots flew wide of the mark to strike the walls, marring the gla.s.s of the Mauranyza Dome with a complex network of new cracks.
All of this Luzelle glimpsed imperfectly through the thickening mists. She saw one of the black-robed savants gesture in a manner that must have struck the soldiers as threatening or annoying, for they shot him down at once. And she saw that Crinkle-beard, wholly absorbed in his Cognitive endeavor, appeared unaware of the Grewzian presence. His chanting syllables flowed forth smoothly, and the blast of gunfire never so much as shook his rhythm.
”Cognizance Oerlo Farni of the Select,” the Grewzian sergeant, leader of the squadron, addressed the preoccupied Crinkle-beard, ”I arrest you and your fellow enemies of the state in the name of the Grewzian Imperium.”
Crinkle-beard, or Cognizance Oerlo Farni, seemed deaf. His voice flowed, and the vapors whirling about the ophelu waxed in solidity and velocity. A distant wailing of arcane winds ghosted upon the mists.
”Hands atop your head, and keep them there,” commanded the sergeant. ”Turn slowly and face me.”
Farni spoke on. The ghostly wail drew nigh and the white mists funneled intensely above the hexagonal gla.s.s.
”Silence. Turn. Now.” The sergeant c.o.c.ked his gun.
If Oerlo Farni heard the command, he ignored it. The syllables gushed, the wail of the wind rose to a howl, and the sergeant fired.
Luzelle heard the report echoing under the domed ceiling and dimly discerned the bearded victim's body falling, but the vapors veiled the scene. The mists shuddered and convulsed, for one moment fading to the verge of invisibility, and in that moment she saw the savant, p.r.o.ne in a puddle of blood. Her shocked eyes rose to meet those of the Grewzian sergeant.
”You three-” he began.
His words drowned in the renewed roar of the Cognitive storm. Oerlo Farni lived yet, mind and will intact for a final moment.
The room and all its furnis.h.i.+ng seemed to s.h.i.+ver, and then Luzelle felt herself s.n.a.t.c.hed up and hurled headlong into wild white chaos.
6.
SHE WAS TUMBLING HELPLESSLY, as if caught in a breaking wave; overwhelmed and overpowered. Her white-blinded eyes snapped shut, and her cry of alarm lost itself in the roar of the supernatural gale. Then it was over, and she was set down brusquely in a different place.
Luzelle opened her eyes. She stood on a hexagonal slab of black gla.s.s set into the floor of a quiet stone chamber. A mild, fresh breeze blowing in through the open window carried the scent of open s.p.a.ces. She was still clutching her valise in one hand, and Girays v'Alisante's arm in the other. She released him at once. Beside them stood Mesq'r Zavune, a little disheveled, but upright and seemingly confident as ever.
The stone room was well populated. Bav Tchornoi was there along with the Festinette boys, all manifestly whole and sound. With them stood a brace of strangers, one young and the other middle aged, both female, both arrayed in the dark robes with double-headed dragon insignia. Both appeared troubled, even alarmed.
”Something happened,” the elder stated without preamble and without doubt. ”What was it?”
The three on the ophelu hesitated, and the younger, almost girlish-looking savant added, ”The transference was disrupted in midprocess and nearly aborted. So severe a disturbance suggests trouble, perhaps an accident or sudden illness.”
”Was Cognizance-was our colleague at Mauranyza Dome injured or otherwise distracted?” the first speaker demanded.
”Shot by the Grewzians, even as he transported us. Severely wounded or dead,” Girays reported. ”And he wasn't the only one. I am sorry.”
The shock showed on both the women's faces, but neither gave way to emotion, and the elder requested simply, ”Explain.”
Girays obeyed, describing the arrival of the Grewzian soldiers, the gunfire, and its consequences, in terms clear and economical. Luzelle listened in surprise, for he was not only reliably factual, as she would have expected, but diplomatic as well. The Girays she had known years ago would probably have told them exactly where their confreres back in the Mauranyza Dome had gone strategically wrong, and exactly what should be done to forestall future repet.i.tion of the disaster. Or maybe he wouldn't have really, maybe moldy indignation clouded her memory.
”...two of your friends left alive in the hands of the Grewzians,” Girays was concluding, ”which I fear may jeopardize both of you Cognizances, together with other members of your organization.”
”The prisoners will reveal nothing,” the older woman stated. He started to protest, and she silenced him with a gesture. ”It is not your concern. You have informed us, there is nothing more you can do. And we of the Select possess ample means of self-defense.”
Didn't seem to work so well for the Cognizant Oerlo Farni. Or for Preeminence Cezineen, Luzelle thought, but said nothing aloud. She caught Girays's eye for an instant, and sensed that the same thought was pa.s.sing through his mind. Sometimes with him, she just knew.
”Send us on our way, then, and we kick Grewzian a.s.s around the Grand Ellipse for you,” Bav Tchornoi suggested. ”We make those chitterling-sucking b.a.s.t.a.r.ds look like s.h.i.+t.”
Tchornoi might lack a certain polish, Luzelle reflected, but he possessed a real talent for cutting straight to essentials.
Their hostesses seemed to agree.
”Come with us,” the senior ordered. ”Everything is prepared to speed you from this place.”
Everything? What now-another white whirlwind? But Luzelle ventured no comment, following meekly as the black-robed women led the Ellipsoids from the chamber of the ophelu, down the stairs, and through the great hall to emerge from the castle into blinding afternoon sunlight. Standing in the courtyard was a sizable, st.u.r.dy carriage, drawn by four strong-looking horses. The driver waited in the box. The conveyance was almost disappointingly mundane. But Luzelle ventured no comment, following meekly as the black-robed women led the Ellipsoids from the chamber of the ophelu, down the stairs, and through the great hall to emerge from the castle into blinding afternoon sunlight. Standing in the courtyard was a sizable, st.u.r.dy carriage, drawn by four strong-looking horses. The driver waited in the box. The conveyance was almost disappointingly mundane.
”Are we not to carry on by way of that perfectly smas.h.i.+ng hither-and-yon magical thingamajig that brought us here?” Stesian Festinette wanted to know.
”Seems a bit faster,” Trefian opined.
”The two sundered halves of the gla.s.s that brought you are capable of transporting cargo back and forth between Mauranyza Dome and Castle Io Wesha, nothing more,” the senior savant informed him.
”Cargo?” Stesian sniffed. Stesian sniffed.
”Castle Io Wesha,” Luzelle echoed. ”I can't help but worry about the risks you run on our account. Do the Grewzians know-”
”The Grewzians know that this structure has been owned or occupied by members of my family since it was erected, over seven centuries ago,” the other informed her. ”They also know of my family's traditional connection to the Select of Lanthi Ume, but that is all they know, and it is not enough to do them much good.”
”But it's not as if they needed actual proof to-”
”As for the risks we run,” the savant cut her off, ”be a.s.sured it is not on your account.” She turned to the Festinettes, whose pretty brown heads were c.o.c.ked at identical angles. ”And you, gentlemen, take heart-your confinement to the carriage will be brief. The device that carried you here is not the only such to be found in this land.”
”Oh, outstanding,” Trefian comprehended. ”You mean that we are being taken to-”
”I mean that it is more than time for you to go.” The flick of a finger urged the Ellipsoids on toward the carriage.
Who's the driver? Luzelle wondered. Luzelle wondered. Can she be trusted? I just hate having to depend on people I don't know, and somehow it seems to happen so often! Can she be trusted? I just hate having to depend on people I don't know, and somehow it seems to happen so often!
She entered the carriage and the other five climbed in behind her, squeezing themselves carefully into the small s.p.a.ce. Luzelle found herself trapped between the window and Bav Tchornoi, who sat with his ma.s.sive thighs spread indolently wide, forcing her to flatten herself against the carriage wall in order to avoid contact. She thought about speaking up, to order him out of her s.p.a.ce, but could not find the nerve to do it.
Only a few hours, she a.s.sured herself. Only a little while to put up with this gigantic, hairy, smelly, crude, rude Rhazaullean drunkard, and then it'll be over- Only a little while to put up with this gigantic, hairy, smelly, crude, rude Rhazaullean drunkard, and then it'll be over- Why didn't Girays have the decency to sit next to me?
How could he know that I'd want him to?
She stole a glance at Girays. He had his head out the open window, and he was optimistically attempting a last exchange with the impenetrable savants.
”Cognizances, if I might request a final kindness, please tell us where we-”
”There will be guides,” the older woman told him. ”They are allies. Try not to fear them.”
”Why would-”
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