Part 21 (1/2)

Ahira sat back in the flickering light of the overhead oil lamp, ignoring the fire in his shoulders. The chains' mounting had been designed for security, not the comfort of its victims; hours of keeping his arms over his head had left his shoulder joints painfully inflamed.

We wait.

It couldn't be helped. Even if they could break out of their chains earlier, retrieve the weapons, and charge outside, the odds were just too heavily against them. Ohlmin was probably their best warrior, and almost certainly the rest weren't anything near as good as Karl or Ahira, but it was still fifteen to twoa”Hakim wasn't very good in a fight; he'd be needed to find and try to free Aristobulus.

And if he can do that, maybe we have a chance.

But there had to be some time for the slavers to drop their guard. Just a bit. And the screams from the wagon ahead of them? Ignore them, or try to, at least. This wasn't the time for a gesture; it had to work.

So we wait.

But not until dawn; Hakim's skills weren't nearly as useful in daylight. In the day, bowmen could spot them easily, fill them all full of arrows before they were halfway out the door.

In the day, a dwarf's darksight was superfluous.

So we wait. But not long, now.

In the game, going berserk would have been a simple procedure. ”I'm going to try to go berserk,” you'd announce, rolling a four-sided die. If it came up with a zero, one, or two, the attempt would fail. You'd try again, next turn, if you wanted to.

And if it came up with a three, it would still be simple: Your Strength would double, going well past the maximum possible for a mortal, under normal circ.u.mstances. Intelligence and Wisdom would drop drastically, as would Manual Dexterity and Weapons Proficiency. Speed would be unaffected, as would Charismaa”but your Endurance level would rise to the point where only a deathblow could slow you down.

There'd be a penalty to pay later, of course. For many turns after you had slipped out of your berserk state, you would be weak as a kitten.

But until you slipped out of it, you'd destroy, and break, and smash.

Or die trying.

Ahira fondled the thick chains. Possibly he couldn't break them, even berserk.

Never mind. It's ha”it's our only chance.

He raised his head. ”Karl. It's time.”

”Right.” Cullinane nodded slowly. ”Try to remember to break us loose, too.”

”I will. But one thing: While I'm out of it, you're in charge. Make sure you get everyone away you can. But don't worry about me; I'lla””

”No.”

”Don't argue with me.” This wasn't a game anymore. Amateur heroics were fine for around a mahogany table at the Student Union. But not here. ”Once I set myself off, you won't be able to reason with me. I won't run. I won't be able to run.”

Cullinane chuckled thinly. ”I thought you said that once you're out of it. I'm in charge.”

Ahira sighed. ”Hakim, reason with him.”

The thief shook his head. ”I won't have to. Once he's got your responsibilities, he'll see it for himself. Which is why you picked him to take over, instead of me. Eh. m'friend?”

”Sure.” Ahira leaned back against the rough surface of the wall. ”It's time; we've waited long enough. Take care.”

There was only one way to do it. Reach deep inside, find a core of hot anger, of raging fury...

And let it burn.

Special cla.s.sesa”that's what they called them. As though being a feeb were some sort of prize. Special cla.s.ses, exceptional childrena”didn't that sound just dandy?

Mrs. Hennessya”that was her name. A short, pinch-faced redhead, always dressing just a little too well, oozing the slimy unction that the best special ed courses could teach. But the courses had never been able to purge from her n.o.ble head the reflexive notion that a bent body must hold a crippled mind.

She raised her head from the desk next to him, where she'd been patiently explaining to little Jacqueline Minelli, probably for the thirtieth time, that the little purple block indeed went into the little purple hole. ”What is it, Jimmy?”

He always hated that nickname. Even his parents had started calling him James Michael when he began First grade. And that was six years ago.

But you didn't call a r.e.t.a.r.d by his proper name. A nickname, preferably one that ended in a vowela”that was the protocol. And if the r.e.t.a.r.d happened to be a mentally normal boy with muscular dystrophy? Didn't that call for a different protocol?

No, of course not. ”I'm done with this nonsense.” With the heels of his clumsy hands, he pushed at the math problem, sending the papers fluttering to the floor.

She stalked over and wearily began collecting the scattered sheets. ”Jim-my, that was a bad thing to do.”

”My name is James Michael. And I've been solving simple G.o.ddam algebra problems since I was ten years old.”

”That isn't a nice word toa””

”And I'm G.o.ddam tired of being treated like I was half a person. f.u.c.k you. b.i.t.c.h.”

She slapped him.

And, of course, clapped her hand to her mouth in self-disgust, then spent the rest of the school day apologizing.

On reflection, that slap was the nicest thing a teacher had ever done for him.

Ahira tugged lightly at the chains. Then harder, and harder. No, not yet.

There was a shout out in the dorm hallway, ”Hey! Anybody want to go out for a beer?”

His roommate-slash-keeper had already tucked him into bed, then headed out to the library. Granted, he could ask someone to help him out of bed again and dress him, but James Michael had invested many uncomfortable hours in the common room downstairs, putting up with corner-of-the-eye stares and hidden shudders until some of them had started to see past the crumpled body in the wheelchair.

But his roommate was gone. And if he went out for a beer with the rest, he'd have two choices when they came back. Either ask someone to carry him to the toilet three, maybe four times until the beer worked its way through his system, or...

Or spend the next few hours lying in his own urine.

Not yet. Try harder. Get through the wall of fire, and into the core.

Doria dropped into a chair, visibly considered the possibility that it would seem to him to be too far away, took a half-second to fight her own fear of James Michael Finnegan, and compromised by wiggling herself a scant inch closer.

d.a.m.n it, Doria, can't you treat me like a person?

Nothing. He tugged at the chains. Not even a dwarfs normal strength could break them, and he couldn't go berserk, he couldn't do it.

Here I am, just as helpless now as I've been all my lifea”

Just his heart pounded, a beat like a ba.s.s drum as helpless a red film descended over his eyes, a fire in his head as I've been his skin tingled with a rush of blood, his tendons sang a hymn of power all my life.