Shockball (29 page)

“Will you state the events surrounding the abduction of your property?”

“Have there been any leads in identifying the perpetrators?”

Joe paused and stared into the drones’ recording devices. He seemed a little upset. “Officials have assured me they are continuing their pursuit of the individuals who burglarized my home. I have no information on the whereabouts of my property or the identity of the criminals. I am making a public appeal for all Terrans to assist in the investigation and help me recover the experimental subject who was taken from my research facility.”

“You reported the criminals were renegade Indians. Do you think they have a grudge against you for your role in removing non-Indian residents from the Four Mountains reservation?”

I looked at Hawk. “He did
what
?”

“Watch,” was all Hawk said.

“The Cultural Standards I helped develop during my office as Official Shaman to the Native American Nations have nothing to do with this outrage. My property was stolen, and I want it returned.”

“League Colonel Patril Shropana claims your clone was directly responsible for the loss of life during the Varallan incident. Would you care to comment?”

Joe started to say something, but a familiar figure pushed in front of him and started spouting League law.

“My appeal to the World Government Committee has been taken under advisement. We will hunt down this criminal female and bring her to justice.”

For a moment, Joseph and Patril gave each other ugly looks, then went their separate ways, still pursued by the media. Hawk reached over and switched off the vid.

“They search for you—the Shaman, and now the League forces as well. The entire property surrounding the estate has been combed every day. Joseph Grey Veil has not yet found the tunnels, but we think it will be soon.”

“I see.” I regarded Hawk. “Why didn’t anyone tell me Joseph had you kicked off the Four Mountains reservation? Why the fairy tale about Rico’s exodus?”

He just gave me that inscrutable Indian stare.

Oh, I forgot. I was still the resident leper. “Fine. I’ve seen the vid. Go away.”

“Rico has summoned you to the sweat lodge. You will come with me now.”

“No, she won’t.” Reever stood in the doorway. He sounded exhausted and none too happy.

Hawk shuffled around to address him. “She is in no danger.”

“He had four of her ribs broken the last time he saw her.” He wiped his face on his sleeve. Why was he so dirty and sweaty? “She is not going anywhere near him.”

Hawk made an impatient gesture. “If she does not come now, he will come to her and do worse.”

I wasn’t risking more of my ribs or Reever getting into another knife fight. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was hang around and hear what he had to say about my big confession.

“I’ll be fine.” I picked up my medical case and followed Hawk out of the alcove. When I passed Reever, he put out an arm to block my exit.

“I will be waiting for you.”

“Sure.” Maybe I’d stay in this sweat lodge for a few weeks.

I followed Hawk out to the central cavern. My position allowed me a good view of his distorted spine. I’d never seen a case of scoliosis outside of a dimensional training unit, but Hawk’s spine had such a marked curvature that only surgery involving extensive bone grafting would straighten it.

“I wish you’d reconsider letting me take a look at your back.” When he didn’t respond to that, I sighed.

“Okay. Why don’t you tell what a sweat lodge is, then?”

“A place we use for sweat baths, to purify the mind and body.”

“Bathing in sweat doesn’t make you pure.” I shuddered at the thought. “It makes you stink.”

“It cleanses the mind and the body, and balances the soul.” When I would have said more, he shook his head. “You have never experienced it. Wait and see for yourself.”

I could reserve my opinion, but no amount of waiting and seeing was going to convince me sweat did anything but smell.

Hawk led me past the central fire and to a small, domed structure set far back into one corner of the cave. Some kind of mud had been used to seal the spaces between the stacks of flat rock and arched boughs forming the outside of the sweat lodge.

“What’s in there?”

“Darkness, heated stones, steam, and fire.”

Oh, brother. “How about I wait outside?”

“It is nothing to fear.” He gave me a twisted smile. “The sweat lodge is like the womb of a mother. Within is darkness, like the time before birth, before learning and knowing. The heated stones are the approach of life, and the hissing steam the power of creation. The fire is the undying light of eternity.”

“Very poetic.” I folded my arms. “I’d still like to wait outside.”

“Go on.” He pulled back some kind of a small, tightly woven hatch and gave me a little push. “They’re waiting for you.”

Inside the extremely hot, smoky, humid interior was a circle of men sitting around a pile of rocks stacked over a low fire in a shallow pit. They were all stripped down to the skin. One of the men was shaking a wet bundle of straw over the hot stones.

The dark man sat at the head of the circle. His shadowed face lifted, and he stared directly at me. I wrapped my arms around my waist and waited.

“Patcher.” Rico pointed to an empty place at the foot of the circle. “Sit. We have things to speak of.”

I sat. The man sitting next to me was passed a decorated pipe, and the smell coming from it made me suspicious. Some sort of drug, I thought, judging by the enlarged condition of his pupils. Maybe a hallucinogen. When he passed it to me, I handed it to the next man without sampling it.

Milass addressed me next. “Woman, the chief wishes to know why the Shaman persists.”

I drew a blank. “What Shaman?”

He pointed in the general direction of the sewer/ subway passages. “The one called Old Joe.”

“Dr. Grey Veil believes I’m his property.”

“Why?”

The smoke was starting to get to me, and I smothered a cough behind my hand. Explaining that I was a virtually immortal clone wasn’t the prudent thing to do. I had no idea how the Night Horse felt about genetic engineering. “He tested some of his medical theories on me.”

“Which theories?”

“Improvements on my immune system and brain development.”

Rico leaned over and murmured something to Milass, who nodded and muttered something back. They did that for a couple of minutes.

“Excuse me.” The lack of oxygen made me lightheaded. “Can I go now?”

“No,” Milass said at once. “You will answer other questions.”

“Okay. As long as I don’t pass out first.”

The subsequent questions Milass asked me had nothing to do with genetic engineering. He wanted to know about my childhood, what schools I had at-tended, and details of my life at The Grey Veils. I answered each briefly.

Then, unexpectedly, Milass said, “The League commander says you are a murderer.”

“Maybe I am.”

Milass smiled sourly. “Both the Shaman and the League offer a great reward for your recovery. Perhaps we should take advantage of it.”

“Perhaps you should.” I got to my feet. “May I go now?”

“No,” Rico said to Milass.

The psycho dwarf pointed to the ground. “Sit.”

I sat.

Milass continued to question me about my youth. It seemed a little ludicrous, to be sitting there talking about entertainment privileges and meal schedules with a bunch of drugged, naked men, but I dutifully reeled off the facts. With each sentence, I became aware of how closely everyone was listening.

Why? What did my childhood have to do with Joe and the League hunting me?

At last Milass stopped and abruptly gestured to the hogan’s entrance. “You go now.”

“May I ask a question before I do?”

Rico nodded. Milass gave me the go-ahead.

“I saw an alien man in the tunnels. His name is Dhreen; he’s from Oenrall. Do you know him?”

Milass consulted with Rico, then said, “Yes. He has sanctuary here.”

He was probably spying for Joseph. But if he was, why hadn’t Joseph stormed this place? “Why does the Night Horse provide sanctuary to an alien male?”

Rico muttered something to Milass.

“We do not explain ourselves to liars.” The little twerp grinned and pointed to the door. “Leave.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

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Centerfield

I
emerged from the sweat lodge more confused than when I had gone in. My tunic was soaked with sweat, and I smelled of whatever they had been smoking in that pipe. I needed a thorough cleansing, a cool drink, and a place to hide and think things over.

Why was Rico so interested in my past? Why not ask me himself? Was having Milass as his mouthpiece supposed to impress me? Intimidate me? I didn’t get it.

My guards took up their positions on either side of me, and I gave up the idea of hiding out somewhere. Might as well go back and face the music.

All thoughts of Rico and bathing and confronting Reever disappeared when I heard a woman laughing from the alcove and walked in to find Reever sitting on the exam table, apparently talking with a young Indian woman. She had her hand on his chest, her fingers playing with the lace of his shirt.

I wondered how she’d look after an amputation to the elbow. “Having fun, you two?”

She turned, and I saw it was Rico’s girlfriend, Ilona something. The same woman who’d hit me after the chief had murdered Wendell.

Since I wasn’t zoned out with hysterical shock this time, I noted all the usual reasons to loathe her— she was absolutely gorgeous. Long, glossy black hair, golden skin, and exotic dark brown eyes. She had wrapped herself in a
biil
woven in a scarlet-and-white pattern that set off her coloring beautifully.

Suddenly I felt grubby.

Ilona sniffed the air. “Do you never wash, patcher?”

Very grubby. “Maybe I’d have more time if I didn’t have to deal with people loitering around Medical.” I went to the cleanser unit and started unfastening my tunic. When I felt the Indian woman watching me, I pulled a privacy screen between me and them.

I took my time cleaning up, while Ilona continued her conversation with Reever as if I were invisible. She did most of the talking, going on about her last visit topside and how Rico was going to raise a new hogan for them up there as soon as the shockball season concluded. Harmless stuff, but it was the way she said it—in that breathy, female voice, punctuated with coy little giggles—that really got under my skin.

Finally I was clean, and dressed. I shoved aside the screen, startling Ilona, who merely frowned at me and then kept going on about some rug she was weaving. Evidently she planned to stay here all day and chatter, and Reever wasn’t doing anything to discourage her.

“I hate to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but could you excuse us?” I said to Ilona. “I need to talk to my husband.”

“I came to hear about
Nilch’i’s
recent dance with death.” She gave Reever a brilliant smile. “Tales of daring intrigue me.”

“Yeah?” Something green and ferocious snarled inside me. “Here’s what happened: His kidney failed and I cut him open and fixed it. That’s the whole story, so run along now.”

She didn’t. “You take all his fire from him.”

Keeping the peace until I could figure a way to get me and Reever out of here was important. More important than knocking her on her backside. “I keep him warm enough, Red Face.”

Her pretty mouth became a thin, tight line. “Red
Faun
.”

“Whatever.” I gestured to the entrance. “Good-bye.”

She sauntered over, tossing her head so her hair swung like a black silk curtain. “The chief utters your name too often. I grow tired of hearing it.”

“Really.” I showed her some teeth. “Does the chief also mention he’s keeping me and my husband as prisoners here?”

“Now that the whiteskin patcher is dead, Rico says we need you.” She spat on the floor. “I say the blood needs no part of a lying snake.”

The tribe had once compared me to a goddess. Now I was a snake. Why couldn’t I make normal friends, like everyone else? “Instead of flirting with my husband, why don’t you have a little chat with your boyfriend, see what you can do to get us out of here.”

That made her mad, judging by the way she shoved me back. She called me something, too—something that my wristcom refused to translate.

I returned the favor. “Look, Pocahantas, do whatever you want. Just leave.”

A moment later we were down on the stone floor, her on top of me. She got in one good left to my chin before I rolled her off my newly healed ribs and slammed her into a storage container. Before things could get worse, strong hands yanked us apart.

“Let me go,” I muttered, twisting to free myself from the restraining grip. “I’m not going to hurt her. A lot.”

Reever was pulling Ilona up from the floor, helping her regain her balance, and totally ignoring me. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

“Hey.
Hey
.” I pushed at the hands gripping me. “Damn it, let go!”

Odd-shaped fingers clamped down harder on my shoulders. “That’s enough, Doc.”

I froze, then shook the loose hair out of my face so I could see. This time I definitely wasn’t hallucinating. “Hello, Dhreen. Take your damn hands off me.”

My Oenrallian ex-friend hauled me over to the cleansing unit instead. Reever, I saw, was leaving with Ilona.

Had I really been afraid to face my husband? Now I was ready to rip his lungs out through his nose. “Reever, don’t you go anywhere.”

“Settle down, Doc.” To my husband, Dhreen said, “You’d better give me a few minutes with her.”

As my husband led her out of the alcove, Ilona fired her parting shot. “I am not done with you, snake.”

“Come and see me anytime, Red Face. Anytime.”

As soon as they disappeared, I twisted out from under Dhreen’s spoon-shaped fingers on my arms and whirled on him. “You can get out, too.”

He only grinned and thrust his hands in his trouser pockets. “Not content to see me again, Doc?”