A Gathering Of Stones

9

The sled broke through into a silver-gray world of moonlight and starlight and boiling cloud floor. It was cold up there above the rain. Danny shivered, sneezed, swore. He released energy into his body, flushing out some of his fatigue, reinforcing his immunities. It was no time to catch a cold, he had enough problems with that poison eating at him. And three efficiently murderous companions.

It was as quiet as it was cold, as if they flew in a reality all their own, as if they were the only beings alive in it. His eyelids grew heavy, it was harder and harder to stay awake though he knew if he slept with Trithil there, sitting loose and ready, he’d wake up hitting the water below. He blinked at the direction-finder, made a small adjustment to the course and sat scowling at his hands because he didn’t want to scowl at Trithil and let her guess what he was thinking.

“Lazul.” Fingers touched his arm.

He looked down, then at her. “Hands in your lap, if you don’t mind.”

She dropped her eyes, looked momentarily distressed-which he didn’t believe at all. “Do you know the attributes of Klukesharna?”

_“Why?”

“She cleanses and heals. She unlocks possibility. If you use her properly, she will leach the poison out of you.”

“And you, of course.”

“Oh no, for me there’s no need. I came into this under other pressures.”

“Oh?”

“Which I do not plan to enumerate.”

“Then why’d you say that?”

“I don’t want to go back to Arsuid.” She bit her lip, stared unhappily at a heap of clouds rising like whipped cream in front of them, a little off to one side. He watched her, appreciating the performance. It was flawless, but he didn’t believe a word or a nuance. “I want Klukesharna.” Her voice was low and musing, liquid lovely tones blending with the nearly inaudible hum of the liftfield. “I think it will be easier to take it from you than from the Ystaffel. I’ll do whatever I can to get us beyond Coquoquin’s reach, you can trust that, Lazul or whatever your name is. I don’t play games with gods, they make up the rules as they go and the rules always favor them.” She smiled at him, her blue eyes even bluer in the light from the console. “Like the Ystaffel, in their despicable way. There isn’t any antidote, did you know that?”

“I suspected it.”

“I’m a fool.” She shook her silver head. “You planned all along to use Khikesharna.” She brooded a moment, then looked startled. “Even the fight over the horses? Twisty man.” A trill of laughter, another shake of her head. “You conned them. Got them to set up relay mounts at five stages along the river. You aren’t going to use any but the ones at Kuitse-ots, are you. The rest are dust in the eyes.”

He shrugged. “Whatever happened, I’d need transport.

Horses can go where you point them, a river sticks to its bed. What are you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“A Great Talisman is useless to most people, except for its symbolic value. And when I say symbolic value, I do not mean gold; you haven’t a hope of selling it. And you’d have to be witch, wizard, magus or sorceror to milk its power. You’re none of those. We know our own kind. We smell the Talent on those that have it. And none of the Talented would follow your particular profession or, to be blunt, be any good at it. You’re very good.”

“I don’t see why you say that. I’m no good with you.”

“Circumstances, trau Esmoon. The discipline of my craft. You did some fancy footwork round my question. What are you?”

“Call me a visitor who wants to go home.”

“Demon?”

“It’s a matter of definition, isn’t it. I prefer visitor.”

“No doubt.” He spoke absently. There was a new note in the field hum, a whine that appeared and disappeared, appeared again. His Reshaping was starting to unravel. He scowled at the counter; the reading said they’d come about twenty kilometers, which meant Waystop Kuitse-ots was still about ten kilometers off. It’d be a long walk if he had to set the sled down now, though at least they were finally over land not water. The whine started again, louder this time; it was like a circular saw chewing through hardwood.

“What’s happening?”

“Nothing much, trau Esmoon. It’s just we’re about to be sitting on a flocking mattress with the flying characteristics of a rock.” He put the sled into a long slant, took it down through the clouds, down and down, laboring, making horrible noises, down and down until it lurched along five feet off the ground. The rain had stopped, the air was chill and damp and gray with dawn. He leveled the sled and sent it forward at its maximum speed. “Keep watch for me. I can’t leave this. Yell if we’re going to hit something solid. Can you see in this murk?”

“I can see. Yell what?”

“How the hell do I know? Think of something.”

“What about a road?”

“You see one?”

“No.”

“Don’t bother me then. Keep your mouth shut till you got something to say.” A crack crept in jags across the face of the console, moving between gauges and readouts. He smelled burning feathers, swore at the sled, willing it to keep its shape. As he fought the dissolution, he gave an ear to Trithil’s murmurs.

“Tree, swing right. Good. Missed it. Another tree… wait… wait… swing left… now! Missed it. Brush ahead, don’t bother turning, we’ll scrape over it, no problem… I think…” The sled lurched and there was a loud crackling as they sheared the top inch off several bushes. Then they were clear. “Oh. There is a road, Laz. Angle about thirty degrees to your right. Good, you’ve got it. This must be the post road, it’s graveled and ditched.”

Danny Blue was too busy to answer her. He drew power from the sinks and sent it coursing through the frame to hold the Reshaping as long as he could; on and on the sled went, slowing as the crystals deteriorated, dropping lower and lower until they barely cleared the gravel. Two kilometers, five, seven, eight… then they were crawling along, moving as fast as a man could walk with arthritis and a broken leg. He held it together and held it… nine… nine and a half… With a flare of light as the remaining energy stored in the sinks was released, the sled turned to mush under him; the rags of the Transforms vanished like dry ice sublimating. The sled jolted to the ground, throwing him onto a console that dissolved into charred cloth and smoldering feathers.