robert Charrette - Arthur 02 - A King Beneath the Mountain (25 page)

"Then you
can
do it."

"Maybe. But I think I just got a better idea. Sit down, as if you're tired."

A questioning look on his face, David did as he was told. She walked a short way down the sparsely wooded hill, looking about. She spotted some stray branches. There were i lumps of tall grasses and a goodly number of old leaves caught under the bushes. All to the good. She spotted a stand of small willows growing near a hollow in the ground. As she ambled past, she looked back up the hill. David was still sitting there, looking back at the village.

There might be something she could do.

"Now lie down," she called softly up the hill. "And go to sleep."

She poked about a bit more, then wandered back up the hill to where David lay. He opened one eye as she sat down. "Stay still," she whispered, and he didn't stir. Good. Granvie wouldn't see the open eye from his distance, but he'd notice if I )avid moved.

She closed her own eyes and concentrated. Granvie was still by the bridge, leaning on the rail and pretending to watch the stream. She knew he was pretending because in her heightened state of awareness she could
feel
the intensity of his attention on them.

What would be best? Something that would attract his attention, yet be believable; they'd need a bit of time. What would motivate the skulking mayor to abandon his post and investigate? Another skulker, perhaps.

She concentrated on the image of a man dressed in black— no, camouflage—creeping through the woods by the bridge. She paid special attention to the sounds such a man might make. Sounds would be easier to maintain. Holding the image I irmly in her mind, she cast her thoughts outward, forming the image in the trees beyond the bridge. She willed the sounds to begin, to be real.

She turned her head toward the village, but shifted her eyes to watch Granvie. The mayor seemed unaware of her efforts.

She envisioned the nonexistent skulker brushing through the leaves, each leaf scraping softly along the fabric of his clothes. The lurker was stealthy but not utterly silent; she made her phantom man step on a dry stick. A crack! Soft but carrying.

Granvie's head turned toward the wood.

It was working!

Granvie cast a look up the hill. Spae held herself still, pretending to be unaware of the mayor. Granvie got to his feet, looking first into the woods, then back up at the hill. Stealthily, he slipped into the bushes.

Spae moved her phantom man away from the bridge. She kept him going for several minutes before letting go of the spell. It would take Granvie some time to return; they needed to use that time.

She leaped to her feet. "Come on, David. We've got work to do."

Following her directions, he helped her haul branches and rip up grass and drag leaves. Hurriedly they bundled the forest debris into vaguely human-shaped lumps. She was unsatisfied with their handiwork, but there wasn't time to do anything better. She fumbled in her bag, looking for something she could bear to abandon. Her wristwatch snagged on something. It would do. She stripped it off.

"David, give me something of yours."

"Like what?"

"Anything. A pen, a handkerchief. Anything."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. She snatched it and tucked it into one of the piles they had made and her watch into the other. Grabbing David's hand, she dragged him down the hill, heading for the spot she had selected on her ramble. They tumbled the last few meters and lay in the hollow near the willows. She shushed him when he tried to ask questions.

She needed to concentrate.

If only there was enough time.

Concentrate,
she told herself.
Concentrate!

She formed the seeming, focusing her mind until the image stabilized. Then she relaxed. She'd done what she could. Either it would work or it wouldn't.

"What have you done?" David whispered.

God, couldn't he see it? Hadn't it worked? "I think I've cast a glamour on the stuff on the top of the hill. It's supposed lo look like we're taking a nap. Can't you see it?"

"1—yes, I think I can," he said. He didn't sound sure.

Was it that bad? She looked for herself. All she could see was leaves and grass and sticks. Oh, hell!

There wasn't time to try again.

From their vantage point, they watched Granvie emerge from the brush near the bridge and look up the hill. He didn't shout. He didn't go running back to the village. He just looked up the hill.

Was it working?

Apparently satisfied that his quarry hadn't moved, the mayor found himself a place in the shade of an old oak and sat down with his back against the ancient bole. He seemed to be settling in for a long, boring watch.

Her ploy had worked.

Her
magic
had worked!

With a sudden surge of confidence, she felt sure that their escape would work, too. She gave David a hug. Using the willows to shield them from Granvie, they started down the far side of the hill. David led. When they reached the bottom, he took a moment to get his bearings. She asked, "Where do we go now?"

"Cross-country for a bit. I think I saw a car rental office in a town a few miles to the west. We'll get a car and head toward Dijon. That ought to be far enough out of the escape paths they're likely to check first. There's an airport there that'll do. The best thing we can do is get out of the Community."

"But I don't have a passport. The Department canceled it."

"Hmm. Well, that complicates things." He was silent for a bit. "Maybe Lebeau."

"Lebeau?" "Someone I met in Paris. But if we have to, I guess we can manage it. Going to Paris will make it a little trickier."

She was sure of that. "Who is this Lebeau?"

David answered cautiously. "A person who's got connections with some people who might be able to help."

"In the government?"

David chuckled. "Not exactly."

Spae wasn't pleased with his evasion. "I've had enough of people who are 'not exactly* the government."

"Don't worry; it's not like that." He chuckled again. "If anything, these people are less fond of the government and its legitimate and semilegitimate arms than you are."

"Are they criminals, then?"

David gave her a sideways glance. "We can't afford to be too picky about who helps us just now."

"I don't know, David."

"Of course, you could just cast a spell and magic us out of the Community."

"No, I can't."

"Then it seems we have no other recourse. But we're not going to get anywhere standing around."

They started walking. He was in much better shape for it than she was, but he didn't seem to begrudge her the rest breaks she needed with all the up-and-downing they were doing as they crossed the wooded countryside.

While they traveled, Spae considered what she was getting herself into with this escape. She wasn't committed to dealing with criminals yet—if David's friends even
were
criminals. She hadn't met them yet; she shouldn't judge them. And, well, if they were criminals, there was still time to come up with another plan. She and David could find another way to leave the continent, or maybe they wouldn't have to leave the Community. Where would they go anyway?

"Are you sure we have to leave the Community?" she asked daring one of their rest breaks.

"I think it would be best that we get you somewhere that the ECSS isn't quite so influential."

That made sense. Magnus wouldn't like losing his only mage who had been to the otherworld. But the arm of the ECSS was long. "Where would we go?"

"Back to the States would be the best bet. I know lots of people there who'll be more than happy to help us out."

"More criminals?"

"Not exactly," he said, with an infectious smile. She smiled back. "Now, come on. We'd best keep moving. Old Granvie's not going to watch those sleeping leaves forever."

CHAPTER

12

When John returned to the room where Wilson had first left him, Spillway Sue was in the central area. Obviously Wilson had arranged to let her out of the bedroom after he'd taken John away. She looked surprised to see him. And a little relieved.

"Where ya been?" she blurted out as she bounced out of her chair. "Whaddid they do ta ya?"

"They took me to see Bear." He didn't really want to explain that just now.

"Bear? He's really here? Wherever here is. Where is here, anyway?"

John's head hurt from all the virtuality exercise it had gotten. He was tired. Too tired to deal with Sue's frenetic energy. "I don't know."

"Whaddaya mean, ya don't know? You're the only one been outta this room."

"I
mean
I don't know."

"Whaddo ya know?" She looked at him scornfully, hands on her hips.

He sighed. She wasn't going to leave him alone until he told her something, so he told her what he'd seen on the way

In the audience chamber. His account of the darkened, empty corridors didn't impress her, so he told her how everyone he'd seen so far was a dwarf, and about the audience chamber and meeting Kranekin. She started pacing the room toward the end of John's recitation.

"And this Kranekin's in charge of this op?"

"Seems to be."

"So what ya got I don't? How come I ain't seen the boss?"

"Wilson came looking for
me,
remember? You just came along for the ride."

"Not by choice, Jack. Not by choice. And what do I get?" She waved her arms around to encompass the sitting room. "I get canned in this sleaze hole that looks like a Motel Twelve™ for androids." She kicked at the dirt floor. "Android
farmers.

"Nobody even comes by to roust me for data. Closest thing I get to seeing somebody is a voice from nowhere saying iliey've got a selection of entertainment for me on the damn console. Enter—bleeding—tainment!" She kicked the table, jostling the perscomp. "Entertainment for proles and dodes, maybe. A bunch of vid games, old network shit, last year's— last
year's,
can you believe it!—music vids, and nothing,
nothing
live. No news. No connect with the net. Nothing
useful!
Do these half-liter size 'nappers come from another dimension or something? Ain't they got no idea that ya can go tnoonhowling in a can like this? Or ya could if there was a moon ta howl at. How come I get cramped up here while you—you get to go wandering around and meet their goddamn boss? What makes
you
a zoomer with a bullet?"

She took a breath, giving John a chance to get in a word.

"Look," John said, dragging himself up from his seat. He headed for his bedroom. "Can we talk about this in the morn
ing?
I'm whipped out."

"Morning? There
ain't
no morning in this can." She followed right behind him. "There ain't no light. Ain't no windows."

lie stopped at the door and she plowed into him. She backed away, continuing her tirade. "This place is a real geek-niit palace! I hate it, hate it, hate it!"

John's bedroom door had a control on the inside frame that hadn't been there when he had left. He was happy to see it. He used it to close the panel and cut off her noise. Barely managing the few steps to the bed, he let himself fall toward it. The muffled pounding on the door chased him into sleep.

John stumbled out of the shower. His head was still aching, but he was getting a bigger complaint from his stomach. How long had it been since he'd eaten? A while, obviously. How long? He hadn't been eating all that well at his slump, and so far his captors hadn't bothered to feed him.

As if on cue, Wilson's voice came over the hidden speaker. "Breakfast in ten minutes."

John's stomach growled eagerly.

While dressing, he thought about what calling the meal breakfast might mean. It had been night when Wilson had picked him up. An unknown amount of time had passed while he had been traveling to this place in a drugged stupor, then there had been the session with Bear that had lasted for another unmeasured period, then he'd slept. Could this only be the morning after? He tried several ways of fitting the pieces of time together but couldn't come up with any that crammed everything that had happened into such a short space of time. So if it had been longer, why wasn't he more hungry?
Hungry enough,
his stomach growled. John bent over to grab his jacket and used the motion to lift one leg and extend his toe to tap the door control. He swung upright and was through the door before it finished sliding open.

Wilson was waiting in the sitting room, seated at the table. In place of the perscomp on the table was a spread of dishes and covered platters. Upon seeing John emerge, Wilson lifted a bright silver carafe and poured some of the contents into the cup of the single place setting. The coffee's aroma slapped John in the olfactory nerves, and his stomach urged an instant assault on the table.