Rift in the Races (65 page)

“Oh, I do lots,” she said. “But I’m going to magic school to become a great mage like Master Altin and Master Tytamon.” Her little chest swelled with pride at that announcement, and she started to smile wide but then realized what she’d said. She turned to Kettle to see if she was in trouble for forgetting to be sad and “morning” which still made no sense to her. What did morning have to do with it anyway?

Kettle’s expression was warm, and she nodded her own wan smile permissive of the girl’s. “‘Tis true,” she said. “Mah little Pernie is goin’ off ta school in Leekant day after next. A fine bit a’ timing that.” She grew melancholy then, the cloud of it snuffing the light that had briefly smoldered in her eyes. “I’m gonna to miss her somethin’ fierce. And all the worse now.” She drew the bottom of her apron up to her eyes and dabbed at them, apologizing immediately.

Ilbei nodded and looked back to the girl. “A great wizard, eh? Well that’s just fine. We need more a’ you fancy magicians to help fight off them nasty orcs.”

Pernie grew instantly serious. “Oh, I hate orcs,” she said with such ferocity Ilbei actually drew back as if she were a little hissing snake. “I will kill them, every one, when I get out of that school. Every last one, until they are as dead as dwarves.”

Ilbei cocked a marginally horrified eyebrow and looked sideways to Kettle, who shrugged. “She had herself a close call a year or so ago, not ta mention … recent happenin’s. She’s got more cause than most ta hate ‘em.”

“So I see.” He looked back at the child who was staring across the room at the pickaxe he had leaned against the wall, pick down, haft upward, and upon which he’d hung his hat when he came in.

“What’s that?” she asked, moving to it and marveling at the wicked points curving away on either side of the hickory shaft.

“It’s a miner’s pick,” he said. “Only mine’s special made. High-forged steel, good as any sword, and enchanted too.”

She tried to pick it up, but only managed to pull the handle away from the wall. “It’s heavy,” she said.

“It doubles as a weapon,” he said. “So it needs ta have some heft.”

Pernie ran her hands over the smooth metal, following the arc on one side to the point where she touched it gingerly with a fingertip. She yelped and pulled it back immediately. A drop of blood appeared in an instant, like a ruby had been conjured there. “It’s sharp,” she said.

“Ya should ha’ warned her,” Kettle scolded at Ilbei, then turned to Pernie. “Put it back and leave things alone, child. Yer always gettin’ yerself in a scrape.”

“Best way ta learn is tryin’,” Ilbei said. “This way she won’t forget.” He went to where Pernie was leaning the weapon back against the wall, though clearly reluctant now to let it go. Ilbei could tell a weapon connoisseur when he saw one, even a fledgling one. He knelt down beside her and pointed out the barely visible runes carved along the inside of the curved blades. “Ya see these?” he said. “I had a good friend back when I was in the service many years ago, a wizard friend, just like yer gonna be, and he gave me these here enchantments as a gift, a ‘thank ya’ for saving his life.”

“What did you do?” she asked. “To save his life?”

“We got in a scrape with a pair a’ trolls on the edge of the Sandsea Range one day on patrol. One a’ them done clout my friend on the head with a thrown rock and knocked him straight out afore we even knew they was there. Was just me and them. And ta be true, I reckoned us both dead just then. I know they say the only thing worse than an elf in the room is two, but I can tell ya, two trolls ain’t much better. But, lucky fer us, the blessing of Anvilwrath saw to it that somehow I licked them both well enough ta get me and my friend away.”

“You killed two trolls by yourself?”

“Naw, I couldn’t kill ‘em. Them things is tough as a stack of wood. But I expect neither of ‘em ever walked again. Like as anything, dire wolves come along and ate them where they lay, but I can’t say fer sure.”

Pernie clapped her hands and hopped up and down joyfully. “So you got them both with this?”

“I did,” he said. “Weren’t even enchanted then.”

She reached down immediately and touched the blade again, this time even more reverently. “And these?” she said tracing the runes. “What did your friend do?”

“He made it so the points don’t never dull, nor the handle never break. She’s as sturdy as a steel post and can dig through anything.” He beamed with pride as he said it. “And if’n I need ta throw it, it comes back like one a’ them fancy boomerangs. I ain’t so good at throwin’, but I did get me a duck flyin’ low over a lake once, kept me from goin’ hungry one night a dozen or so years back.” He took his hat off of the handle and set it crooked on her head, then took up the weapon. “Plus, if’n you say the right word, ya can make it big and small, like so.” He muttered the word,
serend’orr
, under his breath and, sliding his hand up the pick handle, shrunk the weapon to little bigger than a carpenter’s hammer. Pernie stared in awe. He winked at her and shrunk it some more, until it fit in the palm of his hand. Pernie gasped and reached for it.

“Can I try?” she asked.

Before Kettle could say no, he handed it to her. “Just this once. Use yer fingers back down from top to bottom ta grow it back.”

Pernie looked at the pick with a wide smile and reverence in her eyes, then took the blade end in her hand and slid two fingers down the miniature shaft, speaking the word as Ilbei had. Like he had, she stopped when it was hammer-sized. She let go a delighted moan and then grew it all the way out to full length, and weight, which immediately made it too heavy for her. The blades dropped to the stone floor with a clang, but she held to the handle tight, staring down at the weapon as if she were in the presence of a manifesting god.

“See,” said Ilbei. “I ain’t got no idea what that fancy word means, but it works just fine don’t ya think?”

Pernie nodded, eyes wide and filled with glee.

Ilbei took the weapon from the girl and leaned it back against the wall, placing the hat on the handle once again. She groaned as he did, and he groaned as he stood up, his old knees protesting painfully. “I try not ta need it fer anythin’ but diggin’ out gemstones and gold these days. I ain’t as quick as I used ta be.” He looked up suddenly, remembering Kettle was listening, and quickly added, “But I still know a trick or two.” He winked at the woman, bringing back, at least for a moment, a bit of the flirtatious light, the same that so pleasantly lit her eyes on his last visit.

He left the girl admiring the weapon and moved back to where Kettle stood. “I’m very sorry ‘bout yer loss,” he said. “But I have ta tell ya, I’ve come on business that may be just as serious as all that. I come ta find out about the Earth girl, and I expect you’ve got better news on that front now, given as—well, given the absence ‘a doubly bad news.”

“Oh, Master Ilbei,” Kettle began and seemed about to gush with new tears, but she stopped them with a quickly indrawn breath. “Pernie, go find Gimmel and tell him I need fresh venison.”

Pernie looked up from her place near the wall, her hands having found their way back to the runed curves of Ilbei’s pick. She was reluctant to leave while she still had access to such a thing.

“Go, child,” Kettle said, forcefully this time.

But still Pernie lingered at the pickaxe, drawn to it like a magpie to a silver coin. She knew Kettle had made up the message for Gimmel as a means to make her go away. She was young, but not
that
young anymore.

Ilbei saw the tilt of Kettle’s head, a signal that Pernie was about to incur the woman’s wrath. He felt a little guilty for having been the one who brought the source of the conflict into the kitchen to begin. “Best do as she says,” he told the child. “But I’ll tell ya what. If’n ya like it that much, ya can have it when I’m done with it someday. How’s that? I ain’t getting any younger, and ‘bout the time I’m too rusty and bent fer the work, you’ll be just right fer it. How’s that?”

An explosion of joy burst upon Pernie’s face. She looked across the kitchen at Kettle and smiled triumphantly, then disappeared through the door, her eyes glimmering with the possibilities. In her wake, Kettle sent Ilbei a scolding look, but the old miner grinned in the face of it. He was long used to the disapproving stares of women, and he was perfectly willing to abide another in a cause as cute as Pernie.

Kettle found it impossible to stay mad at him, and she gave Pernie a few moments to get beyond earshot before getting back to the point. “Oh, Ilbei, the sheriff’s men think the worst. They think them orcs took Orli too. They found all her spaceship things where they found Tytamon’s bon—remains.”

Ilbei nodded. “They gone after her?”

“They have. They sent a patrol, but one a’ the rangers told us not ta expect much.”

“Maybe I should go have a look.”

“Don’t ya dare, Master Ilbei. Don’t ya dare. I won’t be losin’ not one more acquaintance ta them damnable beasts. Not one more.” She put more emotion into it than she had intended.

He smiled, his wind-reddened cheeks coloring even more. “Mistress Kettle, I expect I’ve logged as much time in them mountains as any ranger has these last forty years. Ain’t never had no trouble with no damn orcs. I can smell ‘em a measure off, and they make noise like a sack full a’ tin pans these days, now that they took ta wearing metal armor all the time.

“So ya seen them that recently?”

“I see ‘em all the time in my line a’ work. A man don’t find much gold in the prairies and plains.”

“Well, I don’t want ya going off alone. Let the Queen’s men do it. That’s what they get paid fer.”

“No disrespect, but there’s things one man can do that a pack a’ city boys won’t never get at.”

She started to protest again, but he stopped her. “Mistress Kettle, again, no disrespect, but I’m a grown man, and when I take in my head ta do somethin’, it’s gonna get done. I already said, I gave my word to that Earth feller, Roberto, so that’s the end of it. And besides all that, fact is I got a likin’ fer that kid myself, enough to send me on out, word or no. So I’m gonna find her if’n it’s the last thing I ever do. All due respect ta yerself and yer kind admonitions, a’ course.”

Irritation shaped her expression for a moment, but if there was anything she knew well, it was the force of will some men were capable of. It seemed the burden the gods demanded of her was that she be perpetually surrounded by stubborn, pig-headed males. Still, she couldn’t help but be glad to know more help was on its way for Orli. The Earth woman was brave, but she knew nothing of the mountains or of the orcs. She needed all the help she could get. And if Ilbei really could slay a pair of trolls by himself, which she suspected he just might, especially with a weapon like the one he had, then she allowed herself to hope. Hope was a commodity in short enough supply these days.

“Well ya better be careful, then” she said. “And bring her back safe. Altin’s goin’ ta want her back here when he gets well. Imagine his horror when he finds out.”

“Well, maybe he’ll never have ta know,” said Ilbei. “But that’s why I need ta get on my way. Rumor has it Altin fancies ta marry the pretty young thing, and the best way ta make a groom outta him is ta make sure he’s got himself a bride.”

Kettle looked pleased at that. Orli would make a splendid bride for Altin—assuming he ever got around to asking of course. And, maybe, a loving wife would be just enough to make Altin spend time at home … in charge of Calico Castle as its master. She knew that’s what Tytamon would have wanted. Of that she was sure.

“All right then, Master Spadebreaker, let’s get ya supplied proper and on yer way.”

She sent Ilbei out to the stables to see that his animals were properly refreshed while she set herself to the task of restocking his travel rations. As she stooped by his hat and weapon to grab his pack, she heard the sound of sniffling just outside the door. She tiptoed up to it and peered out into the hall. Pernie sat on the floor, her back against the stone, crying.

The sight of it nearly broke Kettle’s already battered heart.

She moved around and sat beside the little girl, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her tight. So much sadness and loss, she thought as she held the child. So much to bear.

“It’s all right ta cry, baby,” she said. “Bein’ sad is fine. We all loved Master Tytamon very much, and I’m gonna miss him too.”

Pernie shifted in her arms and looked up at her, her little face streaked with tears, but her eyes expressing something else entirely.

“What’s the matter, sweet girl? What is it?”

“Altin is supposed to marry me.”

Chapter 47

T
he hours after Envette fell to the floor—all twelve hours, forty-eight minutes and fourteen seconds of them—were the longest of Roberto’s life. Every clank and thud carried through the ship’s frame, magnified by the silence of expectation. They startled him, every time. Startled everyone.
What was that? A Hostile shaft? Oh God, they’re on us!
A few seconds would pass, waiting.
Okay, never mind. Whew.
Nervous laughter would follow. Then the wait would begin again.

They were all doing it. Everyone aboard, though most had more active duties to perform. Waiting was the worst.

So, as the systems finally came up—in record time no less—everyone stopped to look up from their work to see what fate had in store for them. The
Aspect’s
crew leaned almost as one into their respective monitors throughout the ship, holding a collective breath as they looked to see what the sensor sweep had to say. Would they be alone in the void, safely unnoticed, terrorized by nothing, or would there be a gathering swarm of Hostiles, perhaps the first of them just now streaking in to pulverize the lone and helpless ship, break it in half like the
Liberty
had been?