Fire in the Sky

1

Shadith settled in the flikit’s co-chair, closed her eyes and let her mindtouch sweep over the forest unreeling below them. The mountains were spiky with a few peaks high enough to have small glaciers in their cracks and crannies. The clouds were thick, the winds erratic with treacherous sheers that shook the flikit and sent it slipping and sliding until Marrin got control back. Shadith and the telltales both had limited ranges so he couldn’t take the flier above the clouds and out of the rough air.

Medon Vale was surrounded by tall cliffs and steeply tilted hill waves humping up toward the stony peaks. The trees on the slopes were thick as fur with scattered open spots like a touch of the mange. Room to hide an army or two if they could get over the peaks without being seen.

Marrin started the round at the end of the Vale opposite the tower, where the cliffs were high with thin streams of water falling over them in several places while the highest peak of the local section of the mountain range was here, Rois Orus, looming above the Vale. He took the flikit slowly along, eyes on the instruments.

Now and then the telltale bonged softly. When Shadith probed the slopes to locate the lifeform, she usually found only a large predator or a herd of ruminants-the difference in feel was unmistakable when she touched a beast, not a man.

As Marrin eased the flikit around the end of the Vale, the telltale bong started chattering like a gossip who hadn’t talked all week. Shadith concentrated. A band of men was moving through the trees-single file, so they were easy to count. Fifteen. “That’s them,” she said, “take them out, then let’s find us a talker.”

Kurz hitched himself higher in the tree, settled in a crotch that would hold his weight, then used the cutter to remove foliage so he could see the Vale. He estimated the distance to the main cluster of buildings, slipped the binocs over his head and dialed in the magnification that would give him a fair view of what was happening down there.

As he watched the two female scholars come out with the male aide trailing behind and a small crowd of locals circling and shoving around them, he thought regretfully about the rangegun the Ykkuval wouldn’t let him bring out of the Kushayt. With a bit of luck and explosive loads he could turn that plaza into a crater and no more worry about the University group; they wouldn’t have mouths to open. Trouble was, it left detectable residues and with the Yaraka involved here, that wasn’t on.

The Harper and the Aide climbed into the flier, but the Scholar stayed on the ground; she and the Aide talked a while, then she stepped back and watched while the flier lifted and circled to gain altitude. Kurz took a moment to watch her as she turned her head, said something to one of the locals, then started striding back toward the buildings, the locals scurrying to keep up with her. Then he shifted the viewfield, located the flier just before it vanished into the clouds.

He switched to infra and followed the pulsing blur north toward the end of the Vale. What are they up to? North?

He followed the blur as it curved round the end of the Vale and started south along the eastern line of peaks, winced as the binocs picked up a sudden flare of energy. He switched back to visual and swore again as he saw the flier slant steeply downward and vanish into the trees. He pulled the viewer off, rubbed at his eyes. “Hunting,” he said aloud. And was grimly sure he knew what game they hunted.

It was over an hour before the flier rose again. It hesitated a moment then darted into the clouds. He followed the blur south until there was another energy flare. He took off the binocs, slid the instrument into its padded case, checked to be sure the cutter was clamped solidly to his belt, then he swung down the tree, dropped to the ground and trotted to the mini-skip. Speculation was all very well, but seeing with his own eyes would give him a better measure of what was happening.

He walked along the line of red-faced, angry men, shouting at him to untie them. They were bound with thin tough cord. Not filament. Must be some local fiber. When he reached a face he remembered, he stopped. “What happened?”

The man glared at him, then looked away, shamed to be found so helpless. “Mesuch,” he said after a moment. His voice was hoarse and full of a violence he couldn’t let out any other way. “That thing you call a stunner. They took the cutters.” He wriggled closer to Kurz. “Turn us loose. They said they coming back for us. Turn us loose.”

“Before I do, explain him.” He pointed at a man who lay in a huddle next to some bushes, his face contorted, drying foam on his mouth and chin.

The chorek’s throat twitched. He still wouldn’t look at Kurz. He didn’t say anything until Kurz turned and made as if he were going to walk away. “They wanted to know about you.” The words came out in a hurried mumble. “The woman wanted to know why we were here, where we got the cutters, where you’d got to.”

“I see.”

“Garv din’t tell her nothing. She put some kind of poison in him, but he din’t tell. He’s dead, in’t he.”

“Oh, yes,” he said. And you’re a liar. Babble of some kind, he talked his fool head off before it got him. He unclipped the cutter and sliced through the chorek’s neck. Ignoring their struggles, screams, and pleading, he killed the rest of the bound men, then trudged off for the miniskip. Put any one of these grubs under a verifier and what they’d say would be very bad for Chandava. Which meant he had to follow the flier and do the same with the rest of the choreks the woman stunned. It wasn’t pleasant work, but it had to be done.

His plan for the multiple invasion of the Vale was as dead now as those choreks were going to be. Underneath his calm mask he was angry, he wanted that Harp player dead. He was impatient with the need to finish the choreks, he wanted to start the stalk now, but he didn’t dare. If he failed, Hunnar and Jilet would fall, his family with them. He couldn’t afford anger at Hunnar or any High Jilet, so he channeled it all onto the Harper’s head.