Paul Collins - Earthborn The

Several voices rose in agreement. Welkin rapped the table twice for speaking privilege.

He stood up and leaned on the table, while Zocky sat back and watched him. "If you're planning a raid on Bruick's Stockade, I can tell you we don't have enough people for it." He looked pointedly at Lucida. "Similarly, a raid on Colony would fare even worse. It would be a case of lambs running to the slaughter."

Zedda rapped twice then. Her knuckles made two hollow sounds like clacking sticks.

Mildly annoyed at being cut short, Welkin sat down as Zedda pushed herself from her chair. "Zocky means that we should hit back at Colony, not attack it. Sabotage is a more effective weapon for guerillas like us. We can move fast, we know the terrain, we can strike and disappear before it can respond in force. We should go to Melbourne."

Welkin could see that the others agreed. "They will know it's us. They'll strike us here harder than before."

"We figure we've got nothing to lose," Devan said. He had been admitted to the Committee a month before. Despite his pigheaded-ness, he had a sharp wit and had proved himself in combat with the Skyborn. Wiry and quick-footed, it had often been suggested that if Sarah's family had had a thousand more like him, they would take both Colony and Bruick down. It was a pity he would probably never have children like himself to carry on the fight.

Welkin stared at Con. "Surely you're not involved in this conspiracy?"

"It's not a conspiracy, Welkin," Con said defensively. "Anyway, I can't go." He looked down at Sarah's journal. "My eyes . . . it's hard enough now for me to keep track of everything for the journal."

"Well, then," Welkin said. "Sounds like you've all made up your minds, doesn't it?"

"Welkin, come on," Lucida said. "Nothing's decided without a vote."

"Okay, then." There was an edge to Welkin's voice. "Who's going to lead this expedition? You know I can't. I have something else to do."

There was an awkward silence during which each Committee member looked fleetingly at Efi. She took in a deep breath. "Elab was nominated and accepted. Or would you prefer someone else?"

Welkin felt restless and tired all at once. His headache had gone, but other worries preyed on his mind. "Without wishing to state the obvious, I assume the party will be seeking the Skyborn who supposedly fled Colony after the mutiny."

"If such a group exists Elab will make contact with them, m — yes?" Efi said slowly, gathering her thoughts. "Colony may still be pursuing them. If so, Elab will be authorized to offer them help in return for sharing of their skills."

"A reenactment of Bruick's dastardly deed, eh?" Welkin stated wearily.

Before he knew it Lucida was at his side. "Welkin. What would you have us do? We're always shifting to elude Colony. We constantly play a game of hide-and-seek. The normal life span of the Earthborn is so brief that it seems their entire lives are fraught with danger. If it's not Colony, it's Bruick or

their wasting disease; if not that, it's famine." She waved her hands in exasperation. "I'm fed up with watching their misery, knowing damn well we can help if we push ourselves that little bit harder."

"You're asking Elab to go and risk his life, Lucida." His words weren't spoken harshly. They all knew Elab had agreed to do it, because the Committee had asked it.

Efi stared at Welkin and rapped the table. "No one knows for sure just where the Colony mutineers went. They may have found somewhere this side of Melbourne."

"There are a lot of 'maybes,' " Welkin said. He was surprised at his calm tone. He sounded as though someone had just told him Elab was going down to the river to do some fishing.

"I think of it as a pilgrimage," Elab said at last. "Spread the word of Sarah's family here in the Dandenongs by 'bush telegraph,' as Sarah called it. Tell families throughout Victoria that we are gathering in the hills. We need to do this, Welkin."

The whole idea created turmoil in Welkin's mind. The one overriding factor was that at last they would be in a position to attack for a change. Perhaps spreading Sarah's teaching would keep the memory of her alive a little bit longer.

"I guess you'll need volunteers," he said when he realized they were all staring at him expectantly.

"We're basically it," Harry said. "Lucida will stay behind with Zedda, Budge, and Con. The rest of us are going with Elab." "Good luck," Welkin said and left them.

When he closed the door, silence fell over the Committee like a shroud.

Gillian, Patrick, and Mira had made slow progress until the time the three had settled their differences.

They had agreed to an uneasy alliance, since their goals were mutual.

Patrick now took the lead, and they headed back along a well trodden track. They didn't walk directly on the rutted, weed-strewn asphalt path but rather stuck to its ill-defined borders, where at least there were no tangled trees and thick vines sticking through the tar. Patrick seldom had to use the machete, and more than once he simply made a detour to bypass some hulking obstacle like a fallen copper beech.

Each kept to his or her own thoughts at first. Mira cursed their bad luck. They'd deliberately left early so as not to attract attention, but Gillian had had similar motives. The Committee girl was cute, if somewhat headstrong, and smart. Mira knew that despite his reservations, Patrick had taken a shine to her. But even he couldn't ignore the fact that a Committee person traveling alone seemed out of place.

The united family cosseted its Committee, which comprised mainly personnel chosen by Sarah herself.

Why would the girl want to travel with two itinerants out here in the scrub where it was everyone for himself? Her last thought on Gillian ran deep in her subconscious. She rued their earlier admissions to Gillian regarding their plans for entering the Stockade.

Mira rested her hand on the empty scabbard where she normallyhoused the machete. Gillian's appearance was certainly a spot of bad luck.

Patrick's thoughts were less hostile. He counted Gillian as an extra ally with whom to fight a cunning foe. Their plans had now changed quite dramatically. Maybe they could sneak into the Stockade as people down on their luck, forced to beg or steal to live. They had been there before on many occasions, of course, but had remained as inconspicuous as possible. With luck, this one last time, they would arrive unnoticed.

Once inside they would separate, giving Mira and Gillian a chance to pretend to be girls of easy virtue to gain access to Bruick's private quarters. Even so, his bodyguards might prevent their leaving when and

if the girls managed to kill him. Patrick's mind was in a constant turmoil as to just how far he and Mira could trust Gillian.

Patrick's eyes sought the slopes in the middle distance. Maybe he and Mira should tell Gillian everything. Just sit her down and tell her the facts. He cursed his indecision. What should he do? "Play it by ear if anything goes wrong," Sarah had said.

"All very well," Patrick mumbled to himself, but what if your intuition is wrong?

Gillian could sense their unease. It would be best for her to abandon the couple when they were within bowshot of the Stockade. She could disappear into the scrub and take her chances. But this turn in thought made her feel selfish, even treacherous.

Gillian's mind was in turmoil the three days it took them to reach Bruick's Stockade. On more than one occasion she suspected that they were being followed. Patrick and Mira had laughed off her suspicions. Nonetheless, she remained alert to any possibility.

The Stockade looked forbidding etched against the last dying rays of the sun, a huge, bleak monstrosity of ill-matched bluestone and mortar that seemed at odds with any beauty that remained in its proximity.