His final instruction was to kill anyone who tried to follow or stop the wagon.
I mouthed a curse at the realization that here was another dead end. He did not know who would come to collect the slaves, nor where they were to be taken. Withdrawing, I sent out a roving probe.
Several streets distant, I found what I was looking for—a man sitting in a closed wagon, waiting.
I was relieved, knowing there would be no need to track the slaves now. I could simply read their destination from the wagon driver’s mind.
Unfortunately, when I tried to enter him, a strange buzzing vibration distorted his thoughts so that I could not negotiate them. I then tried to enter at his subconscious level; though this was also slightly distorted, I gained entry and rose up to his conscious mind. His thoughts at this level were chaotic, and only by chance did I encounter the driver’s thought that he enjoyed the slightly hallucinogenic quality of the Sadorian spiceweed he was chewing. It had been gifted him by the same dark-haired emissary from Salamander. That explained the queerness of his mind.
Unable to gain a hold, my probe slithered loose before I could learn the slaves’ destination. When I tried to reenter, his mind barred me even at the subconscious level. This suggested that the spiceweed produced a certain sensitivity to mental intrusion.
Glumly, I withdrew; if I could not gain a hold on the driver’s mind when he was stationary, I had no hope of keeping track of him once he began to move.
The only solution now was to track the wagon physically, using my coercive powers to hide myself and Gahltha from any watchers. There would be no time to inform Brydda’s waiting rebels.
To my consternation, the two men stopped right in front of the lane where I was concealed. I drew back slightly into the shadows. At first I thought they had spotted me, but I soon realized they had simply stopped to confer.
A slight coercive enhancement of my hearing enabled me to make out their words.
“I want you to stay out here and keep watch,” said the smaller of the pair. “I’ll go inside and see Bollange. If anyone comes along, kill them.”
“Kill,” the hulk echoed.
“Exactly. Now, when I come out with the slaves, you stay where you are. Understand? Stay and watch for a while. That way we’ll see if this fellow has traitoring on his mind. If he has, we’ll get a bonus for putting him out of the picture. You got that into your skull, Lill? You stay and watch until I come back for you.”
“Lill watch?”
The second man nodded. “Yeah. And if anyone so much as pokes their nose out the door, you know what to do.”
“Stay?”
“No, stupid! You kill. Get it? If anyone comes out, kill them.”
“Wait. Watch. Kill.” The brute repeated the words lugubriously.
“Right. Now go and hide. That alley looks like a good spot.”
He pointed straight toward the lane where I was hidden!
Frantically, I tried to coerce the shambling giant against the idea, forgetting that he was defective and therefore impenetrable. By the time I thought of coercing the second man to change his instructions, he had already gone striding off toward the warehouse, his mind on other matters.
There was nothing I could do but remain utterly still as Lill bore down on me. I dared not even shift back to where Gahltha was.
For a minute, we were literally face to face, and I thought my heart would batter its way right through my chest. Fortunately, he barely glanced down the dark end of the lane, turning instead to face the street and the warehouse. “Stay. Watch. Kill,” he muttered to himself.
Behind him in the shadows, a bare handspan away, I could feel sweat crawl down my back. Trying to stay calm, I shaped a probe and sent it to Matthew to warn him that I was trapped in an alley by a man whom I could not coerce and dared not confront physically—especially since any confrontation would alert Salamander that his network had been contaminated, setting off the very bloodbath we were at pains to avoid. I told him swiftly about the second man approaching the warehouse and about the carriage driver.
Dimly, I registered the sound of knocking at the warehouse door.
“Tell Brydda not to send the slaves, because I have no way of tracking them. Have him quibble about the coin,” I sent urgently, knowing Matthew would have to speak to Brydda before the hired thug was inside the warehouse.
I slid along my probe and into Matthew’s waiting mind. The interior of the shed swam dimly into focus. I was startled to find that Matthew seemed to be standing behind the Councilfarm workers. Was he trying to keep himself out of sight?
“What is happening? Did you tell Brydda?”
“Everything is fine,” Matthew sent with admirable calmness, and my panic subsided slightly. “Are you all right out there?”
“I am as long as I don’t move a muscle or make a sound.”
“Lucky ye’ve no need to move with a farseekin’ probe.”
My heart began to thump again. Could he have possibly misunderstood me? “Matthew, I told you I can’t farseek the carriage driver any more than I can farseek the slaves.”
“You can now,” the farseeker sent. “I’ve taken th’ place of one of th’ slaves. Ye need nowt blame Brydda—I told him ye’d changed yer mind. As things transpire, it’s lucky I did.”
I could not deny that entirely, but I was filled with a terrible foreboding.
“Matthew, if something goes wrong …”
“Nothin’ will go wrong. Ye’ll trace me, an’ when ye can move, ye’ll lead Brydda to me an’ th’ others.”
I bit my lip. It sounded simple, but life seldom went according to plan. On the other hand, we had no choice now. The slaver’s hired thug was inside the warehouse, and Matthew was committed to his course of action. It was not the time to tell him that sacrificing himself was no way of atoning for his treatment of Dragon.
The slaver’s man was now examining the slaves, feeling their limbs and making them walk about to ensure they were not lame. Matthew’s eyes did not look at him directly, and this annoyed me until I realized he was deliberately letting his gaze wander as if he was drugged like the others.
I had a single clear glimpse of the squat fellow and his mouthful of blackened teeth as he peered right into Matthew’s face. As his lips moved, I wished I could hear through Matthew’s ears as well, but we had not yet found a way to achieve that.
“What is happening?” I asked Matthew.
“He’s claimin’ we’re all defectives. Brydda is arguin’ that we are drugged,” Matthew sent. “Now th’ slaver is sayin’ he has no instruction to say we’re meant to be drugged.”
There was a pause.
“Brydda’s makin’ th’ fellow think he’s a coward. He said he was nowt takin’ any chances on us tryin’ to run away or fight him. It looks as if he’s bought it. Yes, he’s givin’ Brydda the bag of coin.”
Abruptly, I withdrew from the farseeker’s mind, conscious of a warning tug on my senses. At once, I became aware of the clatter of carriage wheels on the cobbled street.
The carriage driver had come for his passengers.
In front of me, Lill flattened himself to the wall as the wagon rattled past the lane opening. It was a closed rig without windows; once Matthew was inside, there would be no using his eyes to orientate myself.
I crossed my fingers hard that nothing would go wrong.
I returned to Matthew’s mind and found he had now been bound and gagged along with the other four. “The man has told Brydda to stay inside the warehouse until daylight. If he comes out before that, Salamander will have him killed.”
My heart sank at the thought of being forced to stay perfectly still in the lane all night.
“Now he’s bringing us outside.…”
Through the farseeker’s eyes, I saw the wagon and the surly carriage driver. He said nothing as he climbed down and unbarred the back of the carriage. The slaver’s hired man loaded in the five, including Matthew, and slammed the door shut, plunging t
he interior of the wagon into darkness.
I left a probe with Matthew and withdrew to my own mind to watch the carriage trundle past again.
The hired thug strode off down the street, and Lill shifted forward stealthily to watch the warehouse. I waited with my ears peeled for any sound in the street.
“Wait,” the brute muttered in a disgruntled tone after some time, and he relaxed slightly. Only then did I relax, too, realizing Brydda must know not to come out. There was nothing more to do but wait until the other man came back for Lill.
My probe was still securely locked into Matthew’s mind, and I tested it for the thousandth time.
“Dinna hold on so tight,” he protested with a mental wriggle.
Apologizing, I loosened my grip.
“I think we’re stoppin’,” the farseeker sent suddenly. “Perhaps—”
The carriage door was flung open, and I could see nothing as he was blinded by the brightness of a lamp. Matthew blinked rapidly, trying to restore our vision.
As his eyes adjusted, I saw the face of the man holding the lamp. A feeling of terror assailed me, for it was the very same soldierguard captain who had seemed to recognize Dragon in the market!
“Who’s there?”
The surly grunt dragged me instantly back to my own body as the hulking Lill turned to peer into the shadowy lane. I realized with dawning horror that I had gasped aloud!
He dropped a great paw to his belt and withdrew a long-bladed knife, squinting to see more clearly as he took a careful step forward.
One more step and he would literally fall over me, but his eyes were on the end of the lane. He had no idea how close I was. I was paralyzed with terror.
“Move/shift,” Gahltha sent sharply. A split second later, he gave a shrill whinny and charged the thug.
The man issued a bellow of fright and stumbled backward, dropping the knife as the black horse leapt at him and over into the street. He turned his head to watch Gahltha gallop away into the night, and as he did so, I sprinted lightly to the sagging roof above the alley and hauled myself up. The sound of hooves on the cobblestones drowned out any noise I had made, and I lay completely still.
There was a long silence as the thug got to his feet and retrieved his knife. He turned and came down the lane, brandishing it purposefully. Fortunately, it did not occur to him to look up, and when he found no one, he shrugged in bafflement, muttering to himself about abandoned horses as he returned to his position at the head of the lane.
I lay for some moments shivering before I realized that I had lost contact with Matthew.
I remembered the soldierguard captain with renewed shock and sent out an attuned probe to find Matthew, wondering what on earth a soldierguard was doing with slavers.
The probe would not connect.
With burgeoning fear, I tried again and again, concentrating fiercely on Matthew’s mental signature.
It would not locate.
On the verge of panic, I swept the entire area surrounding the place where I had last had contact with the farseeker.
Nothing.
25
THE GIANT, LILL, abandoned his post several hours short of daylight after a sudden downpour. Drenched to the skin, I hurried into the warehouse to tell Brydda what had happened. The cloudburst had ended by the time we came out, and Gahltha emerged from his own hiding place to carry us to where Brydda’s people were still waiting for me in an abandoned house. The rebel leader gave them instructions to scour the area where I had lost contact with Matthew.
I went back and forth in the area, riding Gahltha farther than a carriage could have traveled in any direction. I farsought Matthew until the heavens opened up again, the season showing its claws. I stopped only when torrential rain fell so heavily that it obscured the surrounding streets like a gauze curtain, and the storm rendered me all but mindbound.
There was nothing to do but return to the safe house and break the news about Matthew. Brydda and Reuvan had come with me, leaving their people to continue searching.
We huddled over a fire lit hastily by Kella. The noise of rain on the tin roof was thunderous, and water ran in a gurgling torrent along the roof guttering.
“Maybe you couldn’t farseek Matthew because he is asleep,” Kella offered timidly.
I coughed and pulled a blanket closer about me. “I was inside his mind when he saw that soldierguard captain, Kella. Matthew recognized him just as I did. There would be no way he could just drop off to sleep after that. Not in such a short time. I was out of touch for a couple of minutes at most.”
“I meant he might have been put to sleep,” the healer persisted. “If he was drugged or knocked unconscious …”
“I would not be able to communicate with him, but if I was close, I would have felt his presence when Gahltha and I combed the area.”
“Maybe you made a mistake about where they were when you lost touch.”
I shook my head.
“All right,” Brydda said. “Then maybe more time passed than you reckoned. The Suggredoon is not far from where you lost them. If they put him on a boat while you were out of contact, you could not have reached him, because, as you said, the water has been tainted.”
Reuvan disagreed. “A boat could not have come up to the river wharf, because it would have been low tide and there is a barrier of exposed mudflats.”
I said nothing, numbed by so much catastrophe. My throat ached with despair. I looked down at my hands clasped together in my lap, feeling a strong urge to weep.
Matthew’s image floated before my eyes, alternating eerily with the thin limping boy I had first met and the young man he had become.
“It is as if he was just snuffed out of existence,” I murmured, then was aghast at what I had said.
The slavers had killed Idris. Why not Matthew as well? I blinked away a horrid vision of the farseeker’s body washed up on the tide.
“What if the soldierguard captain recognized Matthew from the market? He would know straightaway something was wrong. Maybe he suspected a trap and just … just …” I could not speak my worst fear.
I found I was weeping after all.
Brydda clasped me in his big arms. “If this soldierguard had known the lad, killing him outright would be the last thing he would do. Salamander would want to question him, wouldn’t he?”
My eyes widened as an incredible thought occurred to me. “Brydda … what if the soldierguard was Salamander!”
I broke off in a savage fit of coughing that scratched my throat and made Kella eye me sternly. But she was distracted by Domick’s arrival. As the coercer divested himself of his sodden cloak, Brydda told him what had been happening.
Domick maintained his calm. “I think you are right in guessing he is not far from where you lost contact with him. Salamander would not risk the wagon being stopped and searched by soldierguards, even with some of them in his employ. He would have instructed his people to get the slaves somewhere safe until he was ready to take them by boat.”
Brydda nodded. “Domick is right. Salamander does nothing in haste, and he never exposes himself or trusts anyone. He would have the slaves taken somewhere so he can watch and make sure it is not a trap. That’s the way he works. Slave ships depart from Morganna, so Matthew and the others will have to be taken over the Suggredoon. That means they must travel by the ferry or by a hired riverboat. Since we cannot find where they have been hidden, we will set a watch on the Suggredoon.”
“It might be wise to watch all the city gates,” Reuvan said. “They might be taken inland first and across the river at the Ford of Rangorn. Salamander will have to figure out the least dangerous way to get five drugged and bound men out of Sutrium. That rules out the ferry, since the slaves would have to walk on board if they were to journey that way. Drugged slaves would be obvious at once.”
“Not necessarily,” Domick said. “With some drugs, the five slaves would simply obey instructions to walk onto a ferry or out of Sutrium and be round
ed up outside by their masters later.”
Reuvan and Brydda looked thoughtful.
“I have never heard of such drugs,” I said.
“They are brought in from Sador,” Brydda said. “They are a by-product of the spice groves.”
“I have not had the chance to make a report about them to Rushton yet,” Domick said. “They enable you to function normally in every way except that you are utterly docile and suggestible. It is much simpler to deal with obedient puppets than with unconscious bodies or men and women who have been drugged into a shambling idiocy. This soldierguard captain would certainly know of them well enough, since the Council have them using it on prisoners.”
“But it doesn’t make sense that he would drug them,” Kella objected. “You said the other four slaves were already drugged and that Matthew was pretending. Why would the soldierguard bother doing it again?”
“How would this soldierguard know they had been drugged?” Reuvan demanded. “You said there was no conversation between the man Salamander had hired and the carriage driver when the slaves were transferred from the warehouse to the wagon. And there would be no way of telling, with the slaves gagged and bound, who was drugged.”
“A drug would not stop me from sensing Matthew,” I insisted.
“Would you have even recognized him?” Domick asked. “If Matthew was given such a drug, even if your probe touched his mind, it would read it as the mind of a stranger.”
“All right,” Brydda said, sitting forward in his seat. “Now we are getting somewhere. If we assume the carriage driver was instructed to take them to a certain place and then this soldierguard, who might or might not be Salamander, met him and administered a Sadorian drug, what then?”
“They were moved indoors?” Kella suggested.
Brydda nodded his head slowly. “Salamander has done everything in a roundabout way. That is part of the secret of his success. The obvious thing would be to have the carriage brought to its destination, but maybe they are kept here for some time, drugged as a further safeguard. But no matter where they are or how they got there, the slaves will have to be moved from the city to Morganna. I think we ought to concentrate on that and forget trying to find them in the city.”