Triplet

Chapter 8

They left just after dawn the next morning, under the dour eye of one of the city's justice officials, and headed eastward into the sun and a day that was promising to be as clear as the previous one had been. Again, Danae experienced a mild case of acrophobia as their sky-plane flew in and out of wispy clouds and the occasional flock of birds; but within a short time the fear left her, and she was even able to lean her forehead against the invisible edge barrier and gaze at the landscape below.

It was, for the most part, fairly unremarkable. With Kelaine City behind them and the borders of Ordarl Protectorate still ahead, the area they were passing over was sparsely inhabited. There were occasional villages—most, Danae noted, equipped with stone or sharpened tree trunk walls to discourage robber gangs—each one surrounded by areas of cultivated land. But most of what she could see was the same type of undeveloped landscape that had been around the Tunnel exit. "Hard to believe they've been living here for four thousand years or more," she commented.

"Hm?" Ravagin glanced over where she was looking. "Who?—oh; Shamsheer's people? Well, I'd take that number with a cautionary footnote, if I were you."

"Why? You think they haven't been here that long?"

"I have no idea how long they've been here," he shrugged. "Neither does anyone else, no matter how confidently they throw figures back and forth in the journals. Certainly there's never been any physical evidence found, and if the people themselves have legends about their arrival, I've never heard them."

"But it is certain they were brought here from Earth, isn't it?" she persisted. "I've read that they are true humans, not some close copycat alien race."

Ravagin turned a patient look on her. "Danae, one of the first things you need to learn is that we don't know nearly as much about the Hidden Worlds as we pretend we do. Yes, the people of both seem human enough; yes, all their organs and nerve centers are in the right places; yes, a Dreya's Womb seems to work as well on someone from the Twenty Worlds as it does on a Shamsheer native.

But the definition of human boils down to genetic structure, and the only way we're ever going to find that out for sure will be to kidnap someone and drag him naked and screaming through the Tunnel for a complete DNA scan. At the moment that's what's called an unacceptable procedure."

"Even if you drugged him so that he didn't realize he'd been anywhere? That way—"

"Drugged him with what?"

"With—" She snapped her mouth firmly shut. "Right. Damn; I keep forgetting about the telefold."

"Everyone does. Don't worry about it." Ravagin nodded ahead at the row of jagged peaks cutting across their path. "Those are the Ordarl Mountains up there—we'll be crossing the western border of Ordarl Protectorate as we pass over the foothills and skating just inside the northwest edge of the hexagon for an hour or so."

Danae nodded; she'd already noticed that the foothills coincided with the abrupt return of civilization. Half a dozen small villages could be seen clustered along the line there, their inhabitants no longer needing to rely solely on numbers or barricades for defense against robber gangs from the Tweens. "It still seems like they should have been able to build up a bigger population than this after even a couple of thousand years. Especially with such advanced medical facilities as Dreya's Wombs available."

Ravagin snorted, his eyes giving the area around them a slow sweep. "What is this, a two-person seminar on unanswerable questions? Do us both a favor and save them for the last chapter of your dissertation, all right? We're going to have enough practical questions to keep us busy."

Danae gritted her teeth against the sarcasm that wanted to get out. Don't get mad girl, she told herself firmly. So he's lost whatever academic curiosity he ever had—file the fact and drop the subject. "All right, then—let's hear one of these big practical questions of yours," she said.

"Let's start with how well you can imitate a demure Shamsheer-bred woman," he said. He had risen up on his knees and was gazing over her shoulder with a tight expression on his face. "Because in about half a minute you're going to have to be one."

Startled, she twisted around to follow his gaze. Behind them, two men on another sky-plane were rising swiftly up to intercept them.

Robbers! She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, hands curling into impotent fists at her sides.

"What are we going to do?"

"Whatever they say, of course," Ravagin told her. "Look at their tunics: blue/red/gold. They're soldiers from Castle Ordarleal."

"But—"

"No buts, Danae." He shifted his eyes back to her face. "And I meant what I said about being quiet and demure—especially the quiet part. Ordarl's castle-lord doesn't much care for strangers, female strangers in particular. You look like you're even thinking of butting against his authority and we're likely to wind up spending one or more nights in the castle's cells."

"But what the hell do they—?"

"Shh! Greetings, soldiers of Ordarl Protectorate," he called abruptly. Danae turned to look, a little shaken that the other sky-plane had made it within hailing range so quickly. Her first impulse—to urge Ravagin to try and outrun them—died stillborn.

"Greetings to you, travelers," one of the soldiers called across the narrowing gap. "We would be honored if you would accompany us to the ground."

"We would be pleased to comply," Ravagin answered, raising one hand to point. "Sky-plane: follow the sky-plane at my mark: mark."

Their carpet slowed abruptly, allowing the other to pass beneath it, and then settled into place a meter behind it. One of the soldiers turned back to the front of his sky-plane and murmured something; the second kept his full attention on his prisoners as both vehicles made a sharp turn and dropped toward the mountains below.

"May I inquire as to the purpose of this delay in our lawful trip?" Ravagin asked politely.

"Whether it is lawful or not is yet to be determined," the second soldier said. "I would be honored if you would place all weapons and magical devices before you on the sky-plane."

Ravagin sighed and began to unfasten the scorpion glove and knife from his belt. "You, too," he muttered to Danae. "Your firefly's considered a magical gadget."

Danae pursed her lips tightly, slid the ring off her finger and dropped it in front of her. "Has it occurred to you that once we land the force-field wall won't protect us anymore?"

"If you're suggesting we run for it, forget it," he murmured back. "They could have a dozen more sky-planes on top of us before we could get past the border... and there are ways for a group of skyplanes to force down a lone one. With or without leaving its passengers in good shape."

Danae gritted her teeth and shut up.

They landed minutes later in a grassy lea between two impressively craggy mountains. A handful of tents had been set up at one end and more of the liveried soldiers could be seen going about various tasks. "Looks like a semi-permanent base," Ravagin commented as the sky-planes came to rest and the two soldiers got to their feet and motioned the prisoners to do likewise. "I wonder if the castlelord's been having trouble with raiders coming in through cover of the mountains."

"Maybe," Danae murmured back. "Does that help or hurt us?"

"I haven't the faintest idea."

"Greetings, travelers," a voice came from behind them, and they turned to find an older man clumping toward them from one of the tents. "What errand brings you over the Ordarl Protectorate?"

"We journey from Kelaine City to the Darcane Forest, sir," Ravagin told him with a courteous nod.

"Is Ordarl Protectorate now forbidding travelers to fly over its land?"

"Ordarl Protectorate objects only to black sorcerers practicing evil within its territory," the other said grimly, eyes boring into Ravagin's. "What are your names and professions?"

"I am called Ravagin; I claim no city or protectorate as my home. My companion is named Danae.

As to business, I do service as bearer of private messages between distant places."

The officer's eyebrows raised. "Indeed? Do your clients distrust the sanctity of the crystal eye?"

Ravagin shrugged. "My clients' thoughts and fears are their own. I merely provide a service to those who wish it."

The other's gaze shifted to Danae. "And you?"

"The lady is—"

"I am traveling to visit relatives in Darcane Forest," Danae interrupted him. "The man Ravagin consented to escort me, as none of my closer kin were interested in making the trip."

"Indeed." The older man's frown deepened slightly, his eyes flicking over her clothing. "Where is your home, noblelady?"

"In the Numant Protectorate, to the west of Castle Numanteal," Ravagin said, taking control of the conversation back from her. "May I ask what form this black sorcery takes?"

The other looked over Ravagin's shoulder. "What do you find?" he asked.

Danae glanced back to their sky-plane, where the two soldiers were examining the devices they'd left there. "Nothing out of the ordinary, O Captain," one said, holding up the scorpion glove. "Our Ravagin is indeed a for traveler; I have not seen one of these weapons in a long time."

The captain pursed his lips and returned his attention to Ravagin. "You do not seem to have the scent of black sorcery about you, I'll admit. Still, I would expect a careful messenger to carry stronger weaponry."

"Precisely what I expect others to think," Ravagin said calmly. "The best defense, I have found, is not to be attacked in the first place."

Surprisingly, a smile twitched at the old man's lips. "A subtle philosophy indeed, Ravagin. I do not believe I would trust it, myself."

Ravagin shrugged. "I am still alive."

"True." The other cocked an eyebrow. "It would be interesting to see how long you remain that way.

But that is of no immediate concern. Tell me, are the magical devices in Numant Protectorate showing signs of sorcerous interference?"

The question seemed to take Ravagin by surprise. "I—am not sure what you mean. What sort of interference do you refer to?"

"Widespread failures, for the most part," the other said. "Devices, too, that appear to have ceased functioning but then are whole again without making the journey to the Dark Tower."

The memory of the automated aerial caravan from Kelaine City the previous night flashed into Danae's mind. Widespread failure? she wondered. Or was that just the normal breakage rate? A

quick mental search of what she'd learned about Shamsheer gave her nothing either way.

Ravagin, too, seemed a bit uncertain and pondered the question for several seconds before answering. "I don't recall hearing word of such unusual failures," he said at last. "But you must understand that by the nature of my profession, I am seldom in any one place for long and do not talk to a great many people."

"But you do speak to people in widely scattered areas," the other pointed out.

"True, though with his crystal eye your castle-lord has an equally good ear for news from afar,"

Ravagin pointed out. "How long has the trouble been happening here?"

"A few weeks, although the worst seems to have passed." The captain seemed to make a decision, and again caught his men's eyes. "These may go. Resume your duties."

Ravagin bowed. "My thanks, sir. If I should come across this problem elsewhere in my travels, would it be of use to your castle-lord for me to inform him?"

"It would be useful," the other nodded. "If you are nearby at the time you may bring word to any of these our castle-lord's outposts; if not, the news may be sent directly to Castle Ordarleal."

Ravagin nodded. "I hope you find this black sorcerer quickly," he said, taking Danae's arm and leading her back aboard their sky-plane. "Good day to you, O Captain. Sky-plane: to the southwest of Darcane Forest."

The carpet rose into the air... and Danae took a deep breath. "What in all Twenty Worlds was that all about?"

Ravagin handed her back her firefly, an oddly intense look on his face. "Probably nothing," he said.

"These mythical black sorcerers tend to get blamed for anything that goes wrong on Shamsheer."

"I didn't mean that part. Do you think something could really be going wrong with the equipment in Ordarl?"

"Again, probably not. Random chance is occasionally lumpy, as the saying goes—these are probably nothing more than a bunch of malfunctions that just happen to have come up at the same time."

The words were confident enough... but there was something in his tone that made Danae slide forward on the carpet to take a good look at his face. "But you're not sure. Are you?"

The lines in his face smoothed slightly as he turned to find her looking at him. "Well, I can't be absolutely sure, of course, can I? But this sort of thing has happened before, and after a certain amount of fussing the probability curve smooths itself out and everyone's happy again."

"Uh-huh," Danae said, scooting back to her place again. Clearly, he wasn't going to confide any thoughts to her that he might feel would be upsetting to a paying client.

And yet...

Abruptly, the awareness of where they were flooded in on her. Flying high above the ground on a flimsy carpet-sized piece of alien machinery... a piece of machinery that could very well have been doing this for four thousand years or more. And good maintenance or no, she'd never yet heard of a machine that could run forever. Could it be that Shamsheer's magical technology was finally starting to unravel?

Come on, Danae, she scoffed silently. After all this time, you really think the whole marvelous machine would just happen to come apart while you were here to watch? Let's not let egocentrism run away with us, okay?

Nevertheless, she found herself keeping well back from the sky-plane's edge for the rest of the flight... and concentrating on the blue sky overhead instead of the ground far below.