Ties Of Blood And Silver Part 17

Hmm... that could be done easily.

In any case, even if they failed to fool the Elwereans, the worst possible result would be David's temporary return to the city. No danger; just some inconvenience in getting it out again, perhaps a delay of a few years.

Hmmm... actually, leaving Oroga had its virtues.

But that would require getting the child past the Protective Society guards near the 'port. It would also require persuading David that leaving Oroga was the best thing to do.

And it would also be necessary to decide whether or not leaving Oroga was the best thing to do. Here, David was at least around members of his schtann and members of his species; on Schriftalt, the child would have only members of his schtann to deal with, and they would not recognize him as such. The child still felt no cherat with the rest of the schtann.Eschteef leaned back and tasted the deep cherat, reveling in its warmth. Something would have to be done about the child; it was not right that David couldn't feel this.

There was no way of telling how long it would take for cherat to develop between David and the rest; there had never been a human member of the schtann before. Perhaps it would have to grow into the bond, into the mindlink.

That might take some time. In the meantime, there was still Amos van Ingstrand to worry about.

Possibly van Ingstrand would leave David alone out of fear of retribution from David's provider-of-the-moving-part-of-the-egg. But that might not result in van Ingstrand's leaving the child alone; it might merely make it careful.

Not good; not acceptable.

But the child was of the schtann, and van Ingstrand would fear the schtann... but only if the human truly believed that.

And how could it believe that David is of my schtann? How can I make Amos van Ingstrand believe it, when even Hrotisft does not?

But there had to be a solution. The child had cost Amos van Ingstrand both prestige and money. The money could be replaced, but not the prestige.

Eschteef's eye fell on its chrost.i.th. Unless...

CHAPTER ELEVEN:.

"We Heard You..."

I woke slowly in the morning light, Gina still asleep beside me. Dawn sunlight streamed through the windows and splashed on the bed.

I was only half awake, but my mind was already starting to work.

I wasn't going to go back to Elwere. That was just another prison. Safer than living with Carlos, more comfortable than living with Carlos, but just another cage.

I couldn't stay here, not after Eschteef and I killed van Ingstrand; his people wouldn't take kindly to that, and I could hardly call upon my father for his protection. For that matter, I could hardly call upon my father at all. He wouldn't understand. Elwert: felt right-maybe it was right-for him, for Emilita.

But not for me. I let my head loll back on the pillow. Not for me.

Might as well sleep in for a while, I thought. I wouldn't be able to talk to Eschteef until he finished whatever project he was on. Besides, before leaving I'd have to send Gina out to buy some supplies; going out without makeup was just asking for trouble.

I slept.

I dreamed, and as I dreamed, the room I was in shrank, the fat human in front of me becoming smaller than I was, instead of larger.

Why were my arms bound behind me? For some reason or other, I was bargaining with van Ingstrand for my freedom, trying to buy his vengeance with something that no human had ever possessed.

That seemed silly; buying off vengeance wasn't a human sort of thing to do.

He knew that. He smiled, raised a knife, and stabbed it into my leathery chest, again, and again.

I came awake with a start. Eschteef! "No." It wasn't a dream. Van had Eschteef; he was hurting it.

But how? Why?

It didn't matter. I threw on my tunic, belting it tightly, then slipped the powergun into it, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the spare clips and tucking them into my pouch as I sprinted from the room.

Vague visions of a knife rising and falling superimposed themselves over my eyes as I ran through the hall and down the staircase; I staggered, and almost tumbled headlong down the steps.

By the time I reached the street, the mindlink was gone.

Eschteef was dead. I was all alone again.

No-watt. Maybe it was just unconscious. I didn't have enough experience with cherat; maybe it couldn't break through to an unconscious mind.

I felt cold and miserable. Normal.

Gina called out after me as I ran down the street, the dirt hard and cold under my bare feet, the occasional pebble sending me into a half-run, half-hop.

I ignored all that. I had to think it through. If Eschteef wasn't dead, I'd have to get to it quickly. If I could do it. If I could get inside the house, if I could get past van!

Ingstrand's guards, if one of the schtann could save its life-if, if, if-Lives shouldn't always have to depend on those G.o.ddam ifs.

Wait! I couldn't feel myself part of the schtann, but Eschteef wasn't a cripple. Even if the mindlink wouldn't work while it was unconscious, the schtann would have heard Eschteef before, when I had; others would already be on the way to help it.

I allowed myself to slow down, glaring at the pa.s.sersby as they gave me curious glances. I had to work this out. Maybe I should just leave things be, for now. When the schtann rushed van Ingstrand's house, it might be best for me not to be there at all. The schrift wouldn't necessarily recognize me as friendly; they might not recognize me at all.

I stopped at the fountain and splashed some water on my face. Across the square, Arno the mannafruit vendor shouted and waved at me, careful not to call me by name.

Maybe I should go over to Arno, talk to him. Just let the schtann handle van Ingstrand. Let them get revenge for me, for Marie, and Eschteef, and even for Carlos.Right. That's all I had to do. Just let them handle it. After all, what did I owe Eschteef? It had chained me, and threatened my life.

And forced me to learn how to create beauty and wonder, and had tried to break me out of the prison of my mind. Eschteef had believed in me and trusted me, and was likely dead because of me.

No. I wouldn't leave van Ingstrand for the schtann.

I ran.

Van Ingstrand's house was just beyond the end of Baker's Row, one of a dozen similar buzh homes, this one separated by ten extra meters from its neighbors, as though the other houses were shying away in fear.

I ducked behind a neighboring porch and tried to catch my breath, tried to stop my heart from beating a triphammer staccato in my chest.

How could I get into the house? There was no obvious way; the windows were barred, shuttered and likely bolted from inside. The large front door was closed, and certainly guarded.

And where the h.e.l.l was the schtann? There was n.o.body out on the street here. There should have been at least dozens of schrift breaking down van Ingstrand's doors.

Maybe they hadn't heard Eschteef? Maybe Eschteef's mindlink with me interfered with cherat with the rest of the schtann? Was that possible?

I didn't know. I just didn't have enough information. But I couldn't rely on the schtann to get Eschteef out of there, if he was still alive, or even to avenge him, if he was dead.

I'd handle it. And not just for Eschteef. For Marie, and myself-and even Carlos.

I ran around behind van Ingstrand's house. The brickwork here was pitted. Plenty of finger and toe holds. Wishing for my climbing gloves, I worked my way to the roof and pulled myself over the edge, gasping for breath as I lay there.

No time to rest. I forced myself to my feet. The top of the roof was empty, save for a trapdoor. A swift tug persuaded me that it was securely bolted.

I shrugged, drawing the powergun. Bolts and hinges could be broken.

But I'd have to move fast, get inside as quickly as possible, as soon as I blew off the door.

I thumbed the power on and the safety off, taking a spare clip from my pouch and holding it in my mouth.

When the tiny electrical charge tickled the first of the weapon's silcohalcoid rounds, the hair-thin wire would stretch almost instantly, springing back to its normal shape, zipping out of the barrel as part of the recoil brought the next round into firing position. It would have quite a kick; I'd have to be careful to keep the weapon trained on the target.

I barely touched the trigger; the gun jerked in my hands, drawing a skittering line across the roof, not damaging the bolt at all.

Not good. I held the gun more firmly, pointing it directly at one of the trapdoor's hinges, and tried again.

This time it worked; the stream of wires tore the hinge to shreds. I adjusted my aim and fired again, shattering the other hinge with one continuous blast.The clip was running low; I slipped it out of the handle, slammed a fresh clip home, and thumbed the safety off again before moving next to the trapdoor. I had to do this just right.

I kicked the trapdoor; it sagged. Another kick, and it fell into the building. I jumped in after it.

Directly into a net. A fist came out of nowhere, knocking the powergun out of my hands. The last thing I remember was feet kicking me, over and over.

The one time in my life I woke quickly, it was to see Amos van Ingstrand leering down at me, a broad smile creasing his fat face.

"It is good to see you, David." A flipperlike hand patted my cheek. "I have waited a long time for this moment." His smile broadened.

I was flat on my back, staring up at him, my hands tied over my head, my waist, knees, and ankles strapped. I could see myself in the full-length mirror above and behind van Ingstrand's head.

I didn't look any too good. The right side of my face was swollen and purple; blood from minor wounds dotted my tunic. I moaned as my cheek pulsed with pain; I tasted salt, and felt the fragments of shattered teeth in my lower jaw.

Van Ingstrand turned to look at someone outside my field of view. "Quiet, isn't he?" He smiled down at me. His face, broad and almost cherubic, gleamed with sweat in the candlelight. "Don't you have anything to say? Anything at all?"

I spat broken bits of teeth up at him, choking on a piece that didn't go in the right direction. No point in saying anything; it would just make him enjoy it more.

"Nothing to say, eh?" he tsked. "And I was so looking forward to you saying something about how your father won't tolerate my hurting you, how I can't get away with this."

Hope brightened. That was right! My father wouldn't let him get away with this; if I just disappeared in Lower City he'd attribute it to van Ingstrand. And van Ingstrand knew that; he wouldn't dare- Van Ingstrand smiled. "But I can, and I will." He produced a flat plastic rectangle. "A ticket off Oroga, David. Your ticket. Officially, you're going to be leaving in just a few hours. Actually, I expect you'll be around for many days. Many days."

His broad face was beatifically innocent. "Your son, senhor? Of course I wouldn't dare touch the young lad, senhor. Would you like help in finding him? Every resource of the Protective Society is at your disposal-" The mask dropped. "Bring the candle closer," he said. "Don't worry if a few drops fall on little David here. That might be a nice touch. He will be with us for a long time."

"We will have plenty of time with this one, Mr. van Ingstrand," the other said. "It won't be like it was with Owen. I promise."

Van Ingstrand nodded. "I have an Elwerean medikit here, David. You will certainly last days.

Perhaps"-he clapped his hands together with a meaty thunk-"weeks. Perhaps no one except Mikos here will know what I did to the boy who stole from me, but that isn't important. Everyone else already knows how I dealt with Carlos and the little girl; what happens to you will be our little secret."

He picked up a scalpel and stuck it into my arm. He did it casually, just the way I'd pick up and use afork. I opened my mouth to scream; van Ingstrand wadded a cloth inside, almost choking me.

"You won't tell, will you?" His friendly facade dropped as he turned to his a.s.sistant. "What is it, Mikos?"

"Umm, Mr. van Ingstrand, I'm a bit nervous about having this other body around. Would you like me to get rid of-"

"Be silent, Mikos. I've always thought this schrift telepathy was overrated. Just tell the guards to keep their eyes open and their weapons ready. If any of the lizards try to break in, they can join David on the table."

"Yes, sir."

Amos van Ingstrand waddled out to my line of sight. "I have something to show you, before we begin." A power blade whined.

"Do you want me to tilt him up?" Mikos asked.

"A good idea." Van Ingstrand's voice practically glowed. "Let him see all of it."

I heard catches unlatching behind me, and the table swung up. If I hadn't been strapped to it, I would have fallen; as it was, I sagged against the straps.

In front of me, Amos van Ingstrand, panting from the exertion, merrily sawed at Eschteef's neck. Blood flowed slowly from the cuts.

"Oh, he's crying, Mikos. Wipe his eyes. I want him to see this. All of it."

I closed my eyes tightly. Make it go away.

A knifepoint p.r.i.c.ked my neck. "Open your eyes. Mr. van Ingstrand wants you to watch."

My lids snapped open.

The room was dark, windowless; most likely we were in the bas.e.m.e.nt under van Ingstrand's house. The door was made of steel, and bolted. The only light was from a candelabra overhead and another on the table to my right.

No escape. Even if I wasn't tied down, I wouldn't have been able to make it to the door before Mikos or van Ingstrand grabbed me. Ribs grated as I breathed; I wasn't in any condition to fight or run.

Van Ingstrand looked over at me and chuckled. "I could have electric lights down here..." The saw whirred. "... but the effect of the candles is pleasant, no?"

He picked up the head and held it in front of me. Eschteef's eyes, once bright and alive, stared gla.s.sily up at me.

"Look at the reward for stupidity, David. Your schrift friend came to me; he wanted to buy off my revenge against you, said he would give me gold, and silver, and jewels. Promised that he'd see to it that you didn't bother me for having your friends killed. All I had to do was to give up on hurting you. He thought it was just a matter of business with me."

Van Ingstrand set the head on the ground. "It isn't just business; it isn't even my hobby. Not with you, David. This will be something... special."Even if I'd had my blade, and even if I could have snapped it into my hand, and even if I could hav started to saw myself loose, it wouldn't have saved me.

I was going to die here, strapped to this table, and I was going to die alone. Alone. The way I'd lived.