WARP world (37 page)

Ama’s legs gave way; she stumbled to the bed to sit.

“Will he give us up? Do we need to move?” Seg turned to the small pile of equipment he now possessed.

“Easy now, your Lordship,” Viren raised a hand for Seg to stop. “Your secrets are safe. Brin knew this would happen. He’s a Kalder, after all.”

“What about Perla? And the kids? Geras?” Ama gripped the edge of the bed.

“Don’t worry little Captain, they’re all safe. Now, as to your leaving, that will happen tonight, which is why I am here. Not that the company of a pretty girl isn’t reason enough for the visit. My name’s Viren, by the way.” He sat down next to Ama. His weight created a small well and she tilted in his direction.

Seg sat on the other side of Ama; he gave Viren a stern glare to warn him away. “So what is the plan?”

“You know, I have a banger wound too,” Viren said, ignoring him and shining his scoundrel charm on Ama as he nodded to her bandaged shoulder.

“From fighting in the resistance?” Ama asked.

“No,” Viren shook his head, “no, from a woman. Two, actually. Very long story.” He rubbed his chin and squinted, “Three women, I suppose, if you want to get technical about it. And the wound is on my left buttock. Now where was I?”

“You were failing to impress anyone with your competence,” Seg said, his voice tart. “We have an urgent matter to consider. Brin sent some men after my people. Unless you want your people quite dead, you need to call them off.”

“Sorry,” Viren said, standing, “that’s the boss’s call. I’ll make sure to pass along the message though.”

Seg leaned forward, “Listen, my people are trained soldiers. They can see in the dark, they can hear heartbeats, and they will kill your people without mercy if they detect them.”

“Is he always this high strung?” Viren asked Ama, as he wandered to the table where the maps were spread out.

“Seg is right. But it’s not just those men who are in danger, it’s all of the Kenda,” Ama said.

Viren gave them both a serious, and appraising glance. Then nodded his agreement. “Fair enough. Now, come gather round,” he waved Ama and Seg to the maps, “and let me show you how you might escape being torn and hung before you reach your destination.”

“Thank you,” Ama said. “I know I’ve caused a lot of trouble for everyone.”

“Oh, I excel at trouble,” Viren said, with another swipe of charm. “Now, on to your daring escape. Brin’s sent runners ahead. You’ll have shelter as often as we can give it. Which won’t be much, I’m afraid, but you’ll find safe houses here,” taking up a pencil, he drew circles on the map, “here, here and here. Anyone who displays the blue and yellow signal flag will give you food and shelter. They’ll also expect to hear the code from both of you.”

“What’s the code?” Seg asked.

“
Blood for water
,” Ama said, in Kenda, then repeated it for Seg in S’ora, the common tongue. “I’ll teach you some of our language. Only the Kenda speak it, which can be useful for passing messages.”

“Or for cheating at cards,” Viren added, with a wink.

Seg rested his hand on the table edge, and faced Viren, “Has your
friend
replaced his deck? I expect you had to lift some coin off another mark to afford it.”

“Don’t think of them as marks, think of them as patrons of the resistance,” Viren said.

Ama’s right eyebrow rose as she looked between Seg and Viren. “Have I missed something? Do you two know each other?”

“Brin’s lackey tried to drug and rob me,” Seg said. He knew that he should have been more cooperative, but something about the man set him on edge and he didn’t particularly trust him.

“Is that true?” Ama asked Viren

“Sadly, I am every bit the scoundrel he paints me,” Viren said, hanging his head in mock remorse. “But not his Lordship here. No. A paragon of virtue he is.” He moved to Seg and placed a hand on his good shoulder. “You would have been astounded. Not only did he outsmart my devious assistant and lay low one of the very unsavory men who attacked us, but he was beyond loyal when it came to you.
Ama, I only want Ama. I must find her!
He would touch no other woman and, believe me, the beauties I threw in his path are immensely touchable. The poor fellow is either insane or completely smitten with you.”

He offered Ama another toothy smile, then removed his hand from Seg and pointed to a stack of weapons in the corner. “Have a suspicion we’ll need these soon,” he said, and gathered up an armload of crossbows. “Oh! And that,” he added and bent down to scoop up a small barrel. “Shasir’s ‘magic’ black powder, took years to pilfer it. And now, I’d best return to the gutter, lest I be missed. You leave tonight, pack those bags!”

Seg busied himself with their paltry stock of equipment. He felt a flush creep up his cheeks and wondered why this Outer’s needling got to him. Ridiculous.

Loaded with weapons, Viren stepped into the tunnel, grasped the tether that pulled the ‘wall’ closed, and winked once more, “Until we meet again!”

Ama set to work gathering the meager supplies Brin and Perla had left behind. Seg snuck a glance in her direction and considered providing an explanation of what had occurred at the Port House that evening to counter Viren’s absurd assertions.

Just then, Ama stopped in place, the wooden plates she had gathered slipped out of her grip and dropped to the floor, bouncing and clattering around her feet. “What have I done?”

“What is it now?” Seg asked.

Ama’s face lost whatever color remained. “Dagga… He went after Brin because Brin’s a Kalder. My brothers, he’ll go after them too. And my father. Fa…” she ran to the false wall, the auto-med beeped continuously as she tried to pry the wall open.

“Wait!” Seg ran behind her, wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her back. He grunted as the motion jarred him; the painkillers had worn off some time earlier. “You can’t do anything for them right now. Except be captured.”

“You don’t understand, I have to—” she relaxed against his grip, obviously surrendering to the futility of the situation. “I feel sick.” she wavered, and Seg did his best to steady her. She turned her face to his, worry hemorrhaging from her eyes, “You don’t know what this man is like, you don’t know what he’ll do.”

“I have some idea. But there’s nothing we can do right now.”

She stared at his hands around her waist. “I wish you’d never come to our world.”

“I could wish I didn’t have to,” he said, with a scowl, as he released her and turned away, “but it wouldn’t change anything.”

Hours had passed. Seg had slept briefly and woken groggy and stiff with pain. Ama had paced, worried her nove, and checked the contents of her pack four or five times, he had lost count. Now her ear was pressed to the false wall. With a fist, she hammered against the wall, then drew in a sharp breath and raised her hand to the wounded shoulder.

Seg rolled his head to look over at her. “You won’t make it go any faster. Settle down.”

“Your family isn’t out there being hunted,” she snapped.

“And I’m sure yours will be relieved by your banging on the wall and panicking,” he retorted, his tone thick with sarcasm. “For my own part, I’m cut off and wounded and the closest thing I have to kin on this world are out of contact and may or may not show up for the rendezvous that I may or may not show up for myself. Shall I join in the futile bleating?”

Ama opened her mouth, ready to fire back a reply then stopped and crumpled to the bed, where she sat and stared at her pack.

“My father,” she swallowed, then lowered her head, “I wish those weren’t the last words he heard from me.”

“What words?”

Ama turned to face him and shook her head, “What do you care?”

“If you don’t wish to talk, then you can remain silent,” he said, waving his hand at her.

She pressed her lips together, as if she would not respond, then: “My mother died when I was very young. Since then, my father—we’re very close. We argued, not even a week ago. He told me I had to marry or give up my boat, or he would shun me. I thought he was just being like every other man on this world, telling me what to do.” She paused and steadied herself, “But it was because of Stevan, because of Stevan’s role in the resistance. They needed him to ascend and my life, my behaviour, threatened that.” At the mention of her brother’s name, her face faltered, “I didn’t know. I—”

“Taking the blame for matters you were held ignorant of is pointless.” Seg shifted with a grunt. “If anything, your family are to blame for keeping you unapprised of the situation. Now, retaining important information can be a necessity, but if one does so they should assume responsibility for control of the situation.”

He let that settle in, then wondered if he had tried to articulate a too-complex notion. “I’m saying it’s not your fault,” he concluded.

“What’s your father like?” Ama asked.

That was a simple answer. “He’s a hard worker.”

“Your mother?”

His lip twisted. “She was a hard worker as well.”

Ama cocked her head. “Do you have—” her question was interrupted by the grate of the wall sliding open. Ama jumped to her feet, the auto-med chirped a warning.

In the dim light, a stooped figure could be seen, unrecognizable as Ama’s cousin until he limped further into the room.

“Brin!” Ama cried.

Brin stumbled forward, with a pronounced limp. One side of of his face was purple and swollen, and he cradled his right hand, which was wrapped in a hasty bandage, stained with blood that had already turned from red to brown.

Off balance, he crashed into the small table and tipped it to one side. Seg rescued a cup of water as everything else tumbled to the floor. Ama flew to Brin’s side to support him.

Seg righted the table and shook his head, “There was no need to try it for yourself. We could have told you this was unpleasant.”

One side of Brin’s mouth rose in a weak smile. He placed his unbandaged hand on Ama’s head to calm her, “It seems Constable Dagga was in need of an extra finger. I try to do my part for the authorities.”

Ama tried to lead Brin to a chair but he refused. She raised her hand to the auto-med sleeve on her arm and struggled to pry it off. “We can put this on you. Seg, help me. Get this on Brin.”

He shook his head. “If we shift it now, it will lose the work it’s doing, waste its charge and capacities, and then we’ll have to start over again. It’s nearly depleted as it is.” He levered himself up and looked over Brin carefully. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” The look Brin returned told him he knew his fears, and had kept his tongue. “I was lucky, very lucky. Viren’s army of doxies are old hands at passing and acquiring secrets. And when it comes to the Judicia, whose power supersedes Dagga’s, those secrets were enough to ensure my release. Nevertheless, we’ll have to get you both moving.”

“There is another matter,” Seg said.”The people you sent after my squad. You need to recall them before my People kill them.”

“I sent two runners to do just that,” Brin said, “right after I left you at the boat works.”

“Your man Viren—”

“Was instructed to keep silent on the matter. Whether they will reach them in time…” his brow furrowed.

Ama grasped Brin’s bicep and squeezed, “My father, my brothers. If Dagga went after you, you know he’ll go after them.”

The half of Brin’s face that could move, clouded. “Ama,” he said, then let out a long gust of air, “Dagga sent an order from Alisir, before he reached T’ueve, your brothers are safe but your father…Odrell has been taken.”

“No, no,” Ama grabbed her pack off the floor. “I have to go, I have to get back to the Banks!”

“Which is what Dagga wants,” Seg said without heat. “For you to obligingly walk into his trap.”

“That is exactly his intention.” Brin’s frown dug in deeper. “He announced that Odrell will be locked in the Secat until you both turn yourselves in or are handed over.” He rested his hand on Ama’s shoulder, “Dagga knows how much you love your father; he’s counting on you to be irrational.”

“The
Secat
?” Seg asked.

“The As’Cata Corrective House for Purification and Cleansing,” Brin said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s a prison, a Shasir prison for those whose souls cannot be redeemed. In our language,
Secat
means an absence of all water, a place reserved for those shunned by Nen.”

“You know what Dagga will do to him in there,” Ama said, eyes on Brin’s bandaged hand. “I have to do something. I have to—”

“Ama,” Brin said, his voice equal parts authority and compassion, “you’re part of the resistance now, whether you realize it or not. You have to trust we’ll get him out. I can’t have you within fifty miles of the Secat, it’s too dangerous.”

“No one has ever escaped the Secat. No one,” Ama said, her words coming out in forceful bursts. “I won’t leave him in there. This is my doing; I’ll turn myself in.”

“No,” Brin’s eyes flared, he shook his head. “No.”

“He’s my father.”

“And you believe that once Dagga has you, he’ll just let him walk free?”

“It’s better than hoping for some impossible rescue.”

“Don’t be stupid. He’ll kill both of you!”