So he sat quietly in his chair, making verbal responses where necessary, and watched as she purged herself of her grief.
The afternoon was nearly gone before she finally fell silent, and for a long time afterwards they sat together in the stillness, looking out the window at the lengthening shadows. What Chrys's thoughts were during that time Jonny never found out; but his own were a slowly flowing river of bitterness and unreasoning guilt. Over and over the whole scene replayed itself in his mind, nagging at him with unanswered questions. Had MacDonald really been crazy with rage, or thinking perfectly clearly? Had he seen the opportunity to take Szintra and
Patrusky out simultaneously and acted accordingly? Had he expected Jonny to back him up in his play? Could the two of them actually have defeated Challinor's group?
The sound of the front door broke the cycle of recrimination and guilt. "Dad?"
Chrys called.
"Yes." Eldjarn came in and sat down next to his daughter. He looked tired. "How are you doing?"
"I'm all right. What's happening in town?"
"Not much." Eldjarn rubbed his eyes. "Mayor Tyler has basically promised
Challinor none of us will make trouble. I don't know, though-I've heard a lot of rumblings to the effect that someone ought to do something."
"That someone being me," Jonny said. "I gather they think I'm afraid to act?"
Eldjarn looked up at him, shrugged uncomfortably. "No one blames you," he said.
"In other words, they do," Jonny said, a bit too harshly.
"Jonny-"
"It's all right, Chrys," Jonny told her. He could hardly blame the others; they didn't know why he'd held back. He wasn't even sure why himself, now.... "Orrin, how many men does Challinor have in Ariel? Any idea?"
"At least ten Cobras that we know of, and probably a dozen of those teen-aged arrogants manning roadblocks," Eldjarn said.
Jonny nodded. Challinor had said he had twelve Cobras on his side. Add Taber and maybe a couple more, subtract Szintra, and it still looked like nearly all the rebels were now in Ariel. The conclusion was obvious. "They're not ready to move against the Mines yet. So unready that they'd rather try and box up a whole town than move up their timetable. Any guesses as to why?"
For a moment the room was silent. "The miners usually work a two-week shift and then have a week off in Weald, don't they?" Chrys asked. "Maybe Challinor wants to move in during the shift change."
"That sounds reasonable," Jonny agreed. "Depending on how the routine goes,
Challinor would hit the mines with either a single shift there or else all three of them. If the former, he has an easier takeover; if the latter, he gets extra hostages, so it makes sense either way." He glanced at his watch. "Three days to go, if they're on a rational system up there. Should be enough time."
"For what?" Chrys asked suspiciously.
"For me to go upriver to the mines and blow the whistle, of course-and I'd better get started right away." He stood up.
"Hold it, Jonny; this is crazy," Eldjarn said. "In the first place, there are forty kilometers of extremely hostile forest between us and them. In the second place, you'd be missed long before you could get there."
Slowly, Jonny sat back down. "I hadn't thought of that last," he admitted. "You really think Challinor will keep such close track of me?"
Eldjarn shrugged. "Despite your... um... inactivity this morning, you're still the only person in town who can be a threat to him. Your disappearance would certainly be discovered by morning, and I hate to think what desperate steps he might consider it necessary to take. It's a good idea, but someone else is going to have to do it. Me, for instance."
"You?" Chrys looked startled. "That's ridiculous-suicidal, too. Without weapons and with the spine leopards on the move you wouldn't have a chance."
"I have to try," her father told her. "A boat would protect me from all but the most determined spine leopards. And there is a weapon still in town that I can take."
"What-Seth Ramorra's machete?" she scoffed.
"No." Eldjarn paused, and Jonny saw a muscle twitch in his cheek. "Ken's antiarmor laser."
Chrys's jaw dropped. "You mean the one in-Dad! You're not serious!"
"I am." He looked at Jonny. "Is it possible to remove the laser without amputating the leg? That would be too obvious for Challinor to miss."
"It was done once before, during out brief foray into civilian life," Jonny said mechanically. All of MacDonald's Cobra gear available-and he'd never once thought about using it. "Have you talked to Father Vitkauskas about the funeral arrangements yet?"
Eldjarn nodded. "It'll be a combined service, for both Ken and Ra Insley, tomorrow at nine in the Square. Most of the town is going to come, I think-and in a crowd that size, Challinor would never realize I was missing."
Jonny stood up. "Then we've got to get that laser out now. Ken's body's back there, isn't it? Good; let's go."
As in most frontier towns on Aventine, Eldjarn's job as Ariel's doctor also required him to act as undertaker when necessary, and the modest office/surgery attached to the house included a small room in the rear for preparation of the dead for burial. Leaving Chrys to stand guard in the office, Jonny and Eldjarn went back there.
Laid out on a table, MacDonald's body didn't look any better than it had sprawled in the street, but at least the odor of burned flesh was gone, either dissipated or artificially neutralized. Jonny looked at the chest wound only once, then turned away, concentrating deliberately on the leg. "The laser lies right here, beneath most of the calf muscle," he told Eldjarn, tracing the position lightly on MacDonald's leg. "There's probably no scar-I haven't got one-but the last time they took it out, the incision line was about here." He indicated it.
Eldjarn nodded. "I see how they inserted it now. All right; I'll get an instrument tray and we'll get started."
The faint sound of footsteps was their only warning. Jonny looked over his shoulder just in time to see the door swing open as L'est and Taber strode into the room, a white-faced Chrys trailing behind them.
"Good evening, Doctor Eldjarn; Moreau," L'est said, giving the room a quick once-over. "I trust we're not interrupting anything?"
"We're preparing Mr. MacDonald's body," Eldjarn said shortly. "What do you want?"
"Oh, just a little insurance against heroics." L'est glanced over Eldjarn's shoulder. "It occurred to me that perhaps we ought to remove our late compatriot's weapons before someone else took it into his head to do so. If you'll just step aside, this will only take a minute."
Eldjarn didn't move. "No," he said, his tone allowing no argument. "I'm not going to permit you to mutilate the dead."
"You don't have any choice. Move aside."
Eldjarn snorted. "I realize you're new to this warlord business, but if you think you can kill or imprison a town's only doctor and then expect to get even grudging cooperation from the rest of the populace you're in for a very rude shock."
For the first time L'est's confidence seemed to waver. "Look, Doctor-"
"Doctor, would you remove the lasers for us?" Taber put in suddenly. "You're a surgeon-you could do it without leaving any marks."
Eldjarn hesitated. "Jonny?" he asked.
Jonny shrugged, trying to hide his disappointment at L'est's rotten sense of timing. "Either you do it or L'est will. I'd rather you did, personally." He impaled L'est with his eyes. "But Orrin's right: we'll have no mutilation.
Specifically, we're not going to let you cut off his fingers."
"But the lasers-" L'est began.
"No buts. His hands are going to be in plain sight in the casket."
Taber nudged L'est. "As long as we can confirm the fingertip lasers are still there in the morning, that should do," he murmured. "You can always take them and the power supply out before the actual burial, if you really think it's necessary."
Slowly, L'est nodded. "All right. But if those fingers are missing in the morning, we'll hold you responsible, Doctor."
> "I understand. Jonny, perhaps you and Chrys would go over to Ken's house and bring me his Cobra dress uniform?"
Jonny nodded. Bad enough that Chrys had had to stand there and listen while
MacDonald's body was discussed like a military bargaining chip; there was no need for her to watch as it was cut up as well. "Sure. I think both of us could use a walk. Come on, Chrys."
"Just be sure and stay where you're supposed to," L'est warned. "The roads out of town are closed-and there are Cobras on each barricade."
Jonny didn't bother to reply. Brushing past them, he took Chrys's arm and left.
MacDonald's house wasn't too far away, but Jonny was in no particular hurry, and the house held a lot of memories for both of them to linger over. By the time they emerged with the carefully folded uniform, it was dark enough for the brightest stars to be visible. "Let's walk for a while," he suggested as Chrys turned in the direction of home.
"That's not necessary," she said tiredly. "Dad will be finished by now."
"But it's such a nice night," he said, steering her gently but firmly toward the center of town.
She resisted only a moment before falling into step beside him. "You have an idea?" she whispered.
Jonny nodded. "I think so. You have the key to your office with you?"
"Yes... but I hadn't gotten very far on my tight-beam transmitter."
"That's okay. Do you have any of those tiny electrical gadgets you can install in a vehicle's control circuits that let you run it by remote control?"
"Radio microrelays? Sure. The miners at Kerseage use them all the time for boring machines and slave-controlled ore barges going downriver-" She broke off.
"A boat going upriver? With a message in it?"
"Keep your voice down-the guy following us might hear you."
He doubted it, actually; he'd already confirmed that the tail was one of
Challinor's teen-agers, who was much too far back to hear anything except a loud scream. But he wasn't at all sure how Chrys was going to react to the plan that was slowly gelling in the back of his mind and wanted to put that explanation off as long as possible.
They were almost to the edge of the Square and within sight of Chrys's shop when she suddenly tugged on his arm. "There's someone standing at the door!" she hissed.
Jonny nudged his vision enhancers up. "It's Almo Pyre," he identified the guard.
"With a pellet gun. Challinor's probably worried about you or Nedt putting together something to ungimmick the phone system." Though the fact that
Challinor had apparently deployed the bulk of his forces with an eye to keeping anyone from slipping out of town showed how small a threat he considered Chrys's equipment to be. "This shouldn't be too hard."
"What about the tail?" Chrys asked anxiously. "And you're not going to hurt
Almo, are you? He's just a boy."
"Who's old enough to face the consequences of his choices," Jonny pointed out.
"Oh, don't worry-I like the kid, too. As for the tail, I think a hard right turn around the drugstore here and a little brisk walking will lose him without tipping him off that we were on to him. Then we'll circle around and come up on your shop from behind. Once we move there'll be no talking, so I need some information right now...."
As far as Jonny could tell, the trick worked, and they reached Chrys's building with Challinor's spy nowhere in sight. The rear of the shop, with no door that required guarding, was deserted. Stepping directly underneath the second-floor window Chrys pointed out, Jonny took one final look around him and jumped. His leg servos were more than equal to the task, landing him on the narrow window ledge in a crouched position, knees spread to the sides to avoid breaking the glass and hands finding good purchase on the wooden frame. The window, open a few centimeters for ventilation, slid all the way up with only token resistance.
Seconds later, Jonny was inside.
The search was short-all the items he sought were right where Chrys had said they were-and within two minutes he was back on the ledge, closing the window behind him. Seconds after that he was walking away from the building as nonchalantly as possible, Chrys, at his side, was breathing harder than he was.
"No problem," he assured her, answering her unasked question. "No one'll ever know I was there. Let's get back home-you and your father have a lot of work yet to do tonight."
L'est and Taber had long since left by the time they reached the Eldjarn home, but Jonny knew better than to stay inside too long. Fortunately, explaining what he wanted them to do took less than five minutes. Neither Chrys nor her father was especially happy with the plan, but with obvious reluctance they agreed.
He left immediately afterwards, and as he walked down the street toward his own house, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a shadow detaching itself from a bush near the Eldjarn home and falling into step behind him, somewhat closer than before.
He sighed, and for the first time since MacDonald's death a tight smile flickered across his face. So the gamble had worked: the tail was back on the job, and the absence of nervous Cobras scouring the area indicated the boy had decided that losing his quarry for a few minutes wasn't worth reporting. An understandable reaction, Jonny thought, given the earlier demonstration of Cobra killing power. And as far as he was concerned, the kid was welcome to watch him the rest of the night.
He just hoped Challinor hadn't thought to have someone watch the Eldjarns, too.
The morning dawned crisp and clear, with only a few scaly cirrus clouds to mar the deep blue sky. To Jonny it seemed wrong, somehow, that Aventine's sky should appear so cheerful on the day of MacDonald's funeral and after Jonny's own restless, nightmare-filled sleep. Still, good weather should mean a large turnout at the funeral, and that should draw a lot of Challinor's Cobras.
Perhaps Aventine was on his side after all.
Feeling a bit more encouraged, he ate a good breakfast, showered and shaved, and at eight-thirty emerged from his house in full Cobra dress uniform.
L'est and Taber, looking as tired as he felt, were waiting for him. "Morning,
Moreau," L'est said, looking him up and down. "Neatest I've seen you since the day of the landing."
"You're too kind," Jonny said shortly. "Now if you don't mind, I have a funeral to attend. I'm sure you have somewhere you have to be, too." He stepped between them and stalked down the street.
They fell into step on either side and a pace behind him. "There are about a hundred places I'd rather be going," L'est said, "and about a thousand people whose company I'd prefer. But Tors seems to think you need someone to hold your leash."
Jonny snorted. "Challinor always did have a way with words. What the hell are you afraid of-that I'll start a riot or something at Ken's funeral?"
"There's no point in taking chances," Taber said dully. "So far Ariel's been peaceful, but mass meetings are always potentially explosive. A show of force is the best way to make sure no one gets crazy ideas."
Jonny glanced back at him. "You don't sound thoroughly convinced anymore," he suggested. "Challinor's high-handed methods getting to you?"
Taber was silent for several steps. "I liked MacDonald, too," he said finally.
"But Challinor's right: the government here isn't working."
"There are ways to improve it that don't involve rebellion-"
"That's enough," L'est interrupted. "The time for talking politics is over."
Jonny clamped his jaw tightly, but he really hadn't expected any other reaction.
L'est wasn't just going to stand quietly and let him sprinkle extra water on the seeds of uncertainty that Taber was beginning to show. But maybe-just maybe-there was enough there already for them to sprout on their own. Whether they would do so in time was another question entirely.
Not since the last Landing Day festival had Jonny seen the Square so crowded. In the center, resting on two waist-high stands, were the open coffins; from the edge of the Square, MacDonald's face and folded hands were just
visible. Between the coffins, sitting on the only chair in sight, was Father Vitkauskas. Without pausing, Jonny turned to his left, circling the crowd until he was standing in line with the foot of MacDonald's coffin. Looking around, he spotted at least six more of Challinor's Cobras grouped loosely together on the fringes of the crowd near him, their positions obviously having been chosen to take advantage of the slight rise there that would permit a better view of the area. Apparently
Challinor really was worried about trouble with the crowd.
"Good morning, Moreau," a voice murmured behind him. Turning, Jonny saw