The Elves of Cintra

CHAPTER TWENTY

IT ISN'T MUCH FARTHER," the girl named Cat told Logan Tom as they continued their march through the empty buildings of the city.

Logan hoped not. They had been walking for the better part of an hour, and there was nothing to indicate what it was they were walking toward. He had thought to ask her once or twice, but then decided not to. Cat seemed to know exactly where she was going. He had little choice but to trust her if he didn't want to have to start over on his own—a thought that held little appeal. Time was precious for River and Fixit, and he needed to get the plague medicine to them as quickly as he could manage. Cat still seemed his best bet.

"Are you worried that I don't know where I'm going?" she asked suddenly, as if reading his mind.

Her dappled face turned toward him, the patches of Lizard skin glistening faintly in the moonlight. He was struck anew by the strange–ness of her look. "I'm worried about time, that's all," he said.

She nodded. "Otherwise you wouldn't have been so foolish as to come into the city on your own and with no weapons." She continued to study him. "Or maybe you're better prepared than it seems. You look pretty confident. Do you have weapons I can't see?"

He shook his head. "Only my staff."

"Then your staff must be pretty special."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You don't seem to have any weapons, either. What do you do if you have to protect yourself?"

She turned away from him. "I show my face. It terrifies my enemies, and they run and hide."

She tossed it off, quick and light, almost a verbal shrug. But it cost her something to say it, and she had said it before this, perhaps practic–ing how it would sound. Her transformation was more than skin–deep, and she was still coming to terms with it.

In any case, she was too confident not to have some sort of defense against predators. She wouldn't be out here like this if all she had to rely on was a cat that hopped like a rabbit.

Speaking of which, he hadn't seen the cat in quite some time. He glanced around, but there was no sign of her.

"What happened to your cat?" he asked.

"She's gone ahead."

"Ahead to where?"

"To where we're going. Not far."

He gave it up and just kept walking after that, staying alert for any danger but oddly unworried in her company. The streets down which they passed, while as cluttered with debris and overgrown with weeds and scrub as every other road in America, were otherwise empty. Now and then, he caught sight of feeders working their way through the shadows, their sleek forms quicksilver and ephemeral as they flitted past building walls and around tree trunks on their way to destinations that only they knew. He had seen little of feeders since leaving the city of Seattle, but he was conscious of the fact that they were always there, watching and waiting for an opportunity to feast. Humankind's her–itage to the world, the product of their dark emotions, he thought. He wondered if feeders had been there before humans and if they would survive when humans were gone.

Were demons and Faerie creatures fair game, as well?

Were Knights of the Word?

He thought again about the gypsy morph and its purpose–to save the human race, its only chance. And maybe he was the morph's only chance, but how could he be sure? The Lady had said so. O'olish Amaneh had said so. But they were Faerie creatures, and Faerie crea–tures never revealed to anyone the whole of what they knew. Logan had been told only what he needed to know and nothing more. That was the way it worked. He had learned that from his time attacking the slave camps.

He was still contemplating the nature and extent of his efforts when he caught sight of movement off to one side. The movement was slow and deliberate, the shifting of a large body against a building wall. They were in a section of old warehouses, close by the water where it extended south from Seattle. Logan glanced at the girl, but she seemed preoccupied. He glanced back at where he had seen the movement, but now there was nothing.

He tightened his grip on his staff and summoned the magic. The runes began to glow a deep blue in response.

"I thought so," the girl said suddenly, looking over at him. Her words startled him.

"What?"

"I thought that your staff was special. What makes it do that?"

"A kind of power." He shrugged dismissively.

"Like a fire?"

"Sort of:"

"You can summon it when you want?"

"Yes. Did you see something move a minute ago?"

She grinned through the darkness. "Sure. So did you. That's why you did whatever you did to your staff. I wanted to see or I would have said something. Those are Lizards watching us."

He felt a flush of irritation heat his face. "I don't like games. Why didn't you just say something?"

"These Lizards know me. They guard this place. We're in the Sena–tor's territory now. He's the one who's going to help us."

Logan let the magic settle back into the staff, the blue glow dimin–ishing to darkness, the heat of its power cooling. "I thought you knew where we were going."

She nodded. "I do. But this is in the Senator's territory, so we need to visit him first. He expects it."

"Who is this Senator?” he asked.

"You'll see."

She clapped her hands sharply, and a clutch of Lizards slid from the shadows, their big, cumbersome forms materializing as if by magic. Logan did not panic. There was no effort made to seize or restrain him, and the girl began speaking to them almost immediately. She did not use any language with which he was familiar, but a kind of guttural speech that relied heavily on grunts and slurs. The Lizards seemed to understand, answering her back, one or two nodding and gesturing, as well. Cat glanced at him briefly and smiled her reassurance, pointing ahead.

"Our destination," she said.

It was a majestic old stone building with a long rise of broad steps leading to a veranda lined with pillars that supported a massive over–hang, the face of which was carved with strange symbols and figures. From within the building, through windows scarred by time and weather and between cracks in fifteen–foot–high doors closed tightly against the night, light glimmered in a soft, pulsating rhythm. A steady murmur emanated from within, rising and falling like an ocean's tide. Atop the steps stood a dozen more of the Lizards bearing an odd as–sortment of weapons–prods, flechettes, and antique single–shots—a ragtag arsenal for a ragtag band.

Cat headed directly for the stairs and the Lizards.

"Is this really necessary?" Logan asked, catching up and falling into step beside her.

She gave him a sideways glance. "Like I said, we are in the Senator's territory. We are here at his sufferance. He considers it rude not to pay a courtesy visit. He says it is all part of the political process."

Political process? Logan looked closely at the building ahead. "Was this a church once? A temple of some kind?"

She shrugged. "It belongs to the Senator now. He uses it to conduct debates and pass laws. He uses it as a forum to speak to his con–stituents."

He gave a mental shake of his head and let the matter drop as they began to climb the steps toward the huge doors. When they got to within a dozen feet, one of the Lizards came forward to speak with Cat. She answered briefly and turned to him.

"You aren't carrying any weapons, are you? The staff is all you have?"

He nodded.

"Because if you are and they find out, they will kill you on the spot. There have been several assassination attempts on the Senator already this year."

"Nothing but the staff," he reaffirmed.

She said something more to the Lizard, and it nodded and stepped back. A second pair of Lizards, stationed to either side of the entrance, pulled down on the door handles to open them.

Logan and the girl stepped inside.

And into another world.

Rows of benches faced a dais filled with a strange collection of stat–ues and hangings and artifacts. There were cases stocked with ancient, leather–bound books, their spines an identical mix of red and gold, lined up in symmetrical rows. There were pictures and paintings of people who were dressed in clothes from an earlier time. A huge wooden cross hung from the wall at the back of the room, its arms draped with silk streamers. The statues were of iron and marble, some of men and women posing, some of strange creatures with bodies half human and half animal. One statue was of a woman blindfolded and holding forth a set of scales. One wall was covered with old clocks that no longer worked, but all of their hands pointed straight up.

There were stuffed animals of all sorts. There were flags that Logan didn't recognize, streamers and banners and pieces of old cloth, all nailed to the walls or hung from the ceiling. A huge old desk and chair sat to one side and forward of the motley collection, its scarred surface covered with papers and more books. Lizards with weapons warded the stairs that led onto the dais from either side, and these carried stun guns and dart launchers. The benches were crowded with people–humans and Freaks alike–their faces uplifted and their eyes directed toward the dais and the speaker who addressed them, his voice rolling out over the assemblage, deep and powerful.

"We are the future, and we must embrace our destiny. We are the promise of our forefathers, the bearers of their laws and their vision, come together in this darkest of times, in this deepest of glooms, to bring light to a troubled world. We must never forget our mission. We must stay the course."

The speaker was short and squat, and from the sound of his voice, male, but his species was virtually unidentifiable. He stood upright, but just barely. He had arms and legs, but the arms were truncated and the legs misshapen. His reptilian hide suggested that he was a Lizard, but there were patches of dark skin, as well, and clumps of hair sprouted from his torso and head like saw grass from a barren field. His face was so scrunched up and twisted that it was difficult to identify individual features. He stood center stage, his short arms gesturing dramatically as he spoke, his head tilting and nodding for emphasis. It was the voice alone that seemed most normal to Logan, the voice of a practiced speaker, of an orator of great skill and confidence.

Of a leader, Logan thought suddenly.

He leaned over. "The Senator?" he asked the girl.

She nodded. "Once an elected lawmaker, back when there were such things. He was one of many, but the rest are all gone. He is the last, and he carries on in the tradition, making and passing laws for the ben–efit of his constituents." She looked at him and shook her head. "I don't pretend to understand. But it seems to work. People come from all over to listen to him."

The truncated arms waved in sharp motions. "We must never de–spair, my friends. We must never give in to our uncertainties and our fears. We must move forward, following the road that was laid before us by those who have gone ahead. We must act in a decent and reason–able way, and we must keep our goals before us, ever present, ever con–scious of their importance to a civilized world. Because we are civilized and we are a world, though some would have it otherwise. Laws bind and define us. Order gives us purpose. This house of government pro–vides the physical evidence of our societal resurgence, risen from the chaos and the murk.

"Look about you! Look upon the faces of your friends and neigh–bors and fellow believers. Look upon their faces and see the hope radiated there. We give one another that hope. We give one another the re–assurance that our way of life, while changed, is not gone. There may be dark things seeking to pull us down, to drag us away to places where there is only pain and suffering. But that will not happen here. We are too strong for them! We are too powerful'. Recite the words! Recite the Pledge!"

As one, the assemblage began to speak:

I pledge allegiance to the flag

And to the man we call the Senator

And to the Republic for which he stands

One people, under his law

With a brighter day promised for all.

The words rolled out across the chamber floor, strong and certain. Logan had no idea what they were supposed to accomplish or even what they meant. There was no Republic, no one rule or people, and probably no brighter day anytime soon, either. But the people gathered here obviously believed otherwise. There was no pause in the recitation of the words, no hint of doubt or confusion.

"My friends," the Senator intoned, his squat, ugly form shambling back and forth across the dais now, his head bowed. "I will be offering new laws on the morrow and would ask all and sundry gathered here to come witness and participate in the political process. A public hear–ing will begin at noon. All speakers will be heard and their words hon–ored. Our attention will be directed primarily to the equitable distribution of foodstuffs and water. Our stores are plentiful, but not inexhaustible."

He wheeled about and spread his arms wide. "Hear ye, hear ye, this august body is dismissed and this legislative session terminated. Thanks and praise to all for the work done here; may it be forever recognized. You are dismissed. Go forth and be well."

There was a long, sustained clapping from the audience, and then they began to rise and move toward the doors at the back of the room. Logan and Cat stepped aside to let them pass. Logan was struck by the fervor he saw in their faces. Even though to him it all seemed another variation on smoke and mirrors, they had obviously found something here to believe in.

The Senator had moved to his desk and taken a seat. A scattering of people had crowded forward and taken places on the closest benches, obviously waiting to be summoned to speak privately with him. But it was to Cat and Logan that he gestured, beckoning them forward from the back of the room.

"Come here, little kitten?" he boomed out. "Don't hide in the shad–ows? And bring your big friend with your

They walked down the closest aisle to the dais and climbed the stairs to where the Senator sat behind his desk. He rose to embrace Cat, a sort of quick half hug that was over almost before it began.

A perfunctory act, Logan decided. A tradition that was not necessarily in–dicative of any true feelings.

Nevertheless, Cat was smiling. "Your words give hope, as always," she said.

"A poor effort from a poor public servant. But what else do I have to offer?" The mouth was shoved to one side in his lumpy face, twisted and scarred like the rest of his features. But his voice was strong and com–pelling. His one good eye shifted to Logan. "You've made a new friend?"

"This is Logan," she said. "I found him on his way into the city. He was heading for the compound."

"No, no, no, Logan," the Senator declared grimly. His ruined face twisted into something new. "You don't want to go there. You don't want to have anything to do with those people. They are selfish and greedy. They are evil."

"They are probably scared," Logan said.

The Senator smiled crookedly. "Why are you here?"

"He needs plague medicine for sick children," Cat answered quickly. "I told him I would share what we have."

"Sick children? Where are you taking them?"

Logan hesitated. "That's a difficult question to answer. I'm still not sure. I'm searching for their home."

The Senator's gnarled features tightened. "Why not here? We have space for new arrivals. We have homes that can be opened to those seeking shelter." He paused. "Or are we not a suitable choice?"

"He already has a destination," Cat interjected, giving a dismissive shrug to the suggestion. "Besides, he is not a constituent. He is a trav–eler passing through."

The Senator stared at her. "You seem to have taken an unusual de–gree of interest in our friend, little kitten. Is there something you are not telling me?"

She gave him an exasperated–little–girl look. "Please don't treat me like a child. I am doing for Logan what I would do for any visitor re–quiring help. You have said over and over again that medical care for children is central to your political platform. Why is this suddenly a problem?"

The Senator seemed to consider this, his good eye fixed on her, un–moving and unblinking. Then he nodded. "It isn't a problem, little kit–ten. As you say, we are here to help all who ask for it. We are not like those in the compound." He pointed at her. "See that he finds what he needs. But remember our bargain."

The girl nodded and said quietly, "You don't need to remind me." The Senator eyed her sharply, and Logan wondered what they were talking about. He said, "I appreciate your help."

The Senator's gaze fixed on him. "I think you'll need more help than I can give you."

Logan stared at him uncertainly.

"Even here, even though we are Freaks, we have heard of those who carry the black staffs with the strange carvings. We have heard of the power you possess and the fear you inspire in your enemies. We could use a man of your talents should you change your mind and choose to stay."

Logan shook his head. "I am not my own master in this business. I go where I am sent."

Cat was looking at him in surprise, but she kept silent. The Sena–tor's mouth shaped itself into a crooked smile. "Maybe you were sent to us."

"It would shorten my journey considerably," Logan answered him, smiling back. "But I'm afraid I have to go on."

"Then you had better get started," the Senator declared, and waved him away dismissively.

TWO OF THE SENATOR'S LIZARD bodyguards followed them as they walked from the temple hall and into the darkness once more. "Don't say anything," the girl told him quietly.

She took the lead, walking them back down the street they had just come up and then off to the west and into a district of collapsed build–ings. Mounds of debris and rubble covered what must have been dozens of square blocks. The entire area had the look of a war zone, and for as far as Logan could see in the moonlight there was nothing stand–ing that was even halfway whole.

They were well into the center of the rubble, an unfathomable maze, when the girl turned into an opening between two partially collapsed walls and moved to a door that sagged open and splintered on its broken hinges. She stepped through the entrance into a room partially lit by moonlight that streamed down through a collapsed roof. Logan followed, but the Lizards remained outside. Debris lay in heaps against the walls and in the corner spaces. Without a word, she began pulling away stones and pieces of wood from one such pile. Logan was quick to help her, and within minutes they had uncovered a trapdoor.

Logan started to say something, but the girl quickly put a finger to her lips and pointed at the door. Together they heaved upward on the iron ring, and the door opened on a set of stone steps leading to a cellar.

Cat went down the steps first, with Logan right behind. The Lizards made no move to follow, standing with their backs to the entry, staring out at the night.

"The Lizards are said to be family," she told him once they were all the way into the cellar, speaking softly so that only he could hear. "I don't know if it's true or not, but they are fiercely loyal. Several have died for him during the assassination attempts."

"Who tried to assassinate him?" Logan wanted to know.

The girl shrugged. "People from the compound, mostly. Fanatics who think all Freaks are dangerous and should be eliminated. Some blame the Freaks for what has happened to the world in general." She shook her head. "Some just need to find a way to make someone–anyone–pay for what has happened to them."

She reached into the darkness and switched on a solar–powered torch. "Not that the Senator hasn't brought much of it on himself He's as dangerous as the things he claims to protect his constituents from. He might even try to kill you."

Logan grabbed her arm. "Kill me? Why?"

"He doesn't like you."

She tried to pull away, but he held on to her. "Wait a minute. What are you talking about?"

She glared at him. "You'd better let me go if you want to get out of this in one piece."

"I'm not the one who got me into this. You are. Tell me what this is all about, Cat. Right now."

She held her ground, shaking her head slowly. "You won't take me with you if I do."

He heard the despair in her voice, and he softened his own. "Just tell me, please."

She was silent for a moment, and then she said, "It's because of me. He owns me."

At first, Logan didn't think he heard her right. "He owns you?" he repeated, trying to make sure.

"That was the bargain I made with him when he took me in. He agreed to give me food and shelter, but in return I became his property. He said it was an old tradition dating back to the beginning of politics. He said I would belong to him until I paid my debt." She looked down at her feet and sighed. "I agreed. I was desperate. I was starving, and I knew I was going to die." She paused. "I guess I would have done just about anything."

The way she said it suggested to Logan that maybe she had. He felt a tightening in his throat and a sudden anger. "So he doesn't want to give you up. That was what he was talking about back in the hall when he reminded you of your bargain. He thinks you might try to leave with me."

She nodded, saying nothing.

"And all that business about being saved by a family of Lizards who took you in when you were exiled from the compound was just some–thing you made up?"

She shrugged, not looking at him.

He released her arm and looked around at the room, which was filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes. "Is the Cyclomopensia here? Or did you make that up, too?"

She tightened her lips and walked over to one set of boxes, peeled back the covering, reached in, and pulled out half a dozen packets. She handed them to him. "Enough for a month's treatment. I wasn't lying. I know about medicines. I was put in charge of the medical supplies because I had some experience in the compound. They don't use them much out here. Their immune systems changed when they became Lizards. But there are humans among us, too. Street people. I treat them when they get sick. Sometimes, I trade medicines to the com–pound for stuff we need. But the Senator doesn't like me doing that, no matter what. He hates the compound people."

Logan glanced around. "Are all these boxes filled with medicines?" She nodded. "Okay. Pack up the ones you think will do the most good. We'll take them, too."

She stared at him. "Are you still taking me with you?"

"Why? Do you think I should leave you behind? I thought we made a bargain."

"They'll try to stop you. They might even try to kill you. I wasn't making that up."

"Just do what I told you."

She began gathering packets from various boxes, stuffing them into pockets sewn inside her cloak. She worked quickly and without talking while he made another quick survey of the room, keeping one eye on the open doorway. If they intended to kill him, they would do so when he emerged, thinking to get to him before he could even think to defend himself The Senator would have told them who and what he was, would have warned them about his staff, would have told them to act quickly.

He shook his head.

He saw a second door at the back of the room.

"What's behind that door?" he asked her.

She stopped what she was doing and looked to where he was point–ing. "Nothing. Another room, but it's empty. Sealed, too. The Senator fused the locks to make sure there was only one entry. If we try to break them, the guards will hear and call for help."

"What if they don't hear?"

He walked over to the door, laid his staff against the hinges, and summoned the magic. In seconds, the fire had burned through the iron clasps and the door was hanging open. Debris blocked the way through from the other side, but gave before him as he pushed past it. The room beyond was cavernous, but mostly empty. It might have been the base–ment level of a warehouse in an earlier time, but whatever had been stored there was long gone.

On the far side of the room, a broad roll–up door stood open at the top of a ramp.

"Are you finished?" he asked her.

She nodded and walked over to join him. "How did you do that?"

He gave her mottled face a deliberate stare. "My special staff."

They moved past the debris and through the room to the roll–up door. Logan took a moment to be certain the Lizards hadn't guessed what he might do, but he did not sense their presence. Nor did he de–tect any danger. He stepped through the opening, the girl right behind, and was back outside.

They walked for a long time after that, circling away from the store–room before heading back to where he had left the AV. The silence was deep and pervasive and the dark of the night a willing accomplice to their flight. They didn't speak at first, keeping silent out of necessity, not wanting to give any indication of where they were. If the Senator decided to come looking for them, they didn't want to give him any help.

"We don't have to hurry," the girl said suddenly, turning her mottled face toward him. "He won't come looking for me right away."

Logan raised a questioning eyebrow. "He won't? Why not? Won't he want his property back?"

"He won't believe you've agreed to take me with you. Not at first. He'll think you've left alone."

"I thought you said he was worried about losing his property."

She looked away. "He is. He knows I will try to go with you; I've tried leaving before. He just doesn't think you will agree to take me." "He won't? Why is that?"

"Because I'm a Freak, and he doesn't think anyone would want me but him."

They were passing back through the neighborhood where he had first encountered the girl when Rabbit reappeared, falling into step be–side them, her strange hopping motion revealing her identity even be–fore they could make out her features.

"Can we take her with us?" the girl asked.

Logan shrugged. "A cat who knows enough to look beneath the skin to judge a person's character is too valuable to leave behind."

Even though her face was turned away, he could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a smile.