Lawrence Watt-Evans - Out of This World

And she hadn’t sensed anyone coming, and she still wasn’t used to that.

It was a uniformed officer speaking, and not the regular jailer. “What is it?” Prossie asked, concentrating on listening for spoken words.

The officer fumbled with the lock as he said, “Ms. Jewell’s dropped the charges, and there’s someone here with a writ, says he’ll take responsibility for you people, so we’re letting you all go.” He swung open the door of the cell and stood to one side.

“Letting us go?” Prossie blinked.

“Yeah,” the man said. “Letting you go. Get your things, if you have any, and come on.”

“Really?” She did not understand this; why would that woman drop the charges? Who would take responsibility for her, and the rest of the crew?

What was really going on here?

“Come on , already,” the officer said, annoyed. “Do you want to get out or not?”

Prossie didn’t dawdle any further. Whatever the explanation might be, she wanted out.

Three cars would be needed-Pel’s Ford Taurus, Nancy’s little Chevy, and Ted’s Lincoln-to transport the ten Imperials to the Brown home. Nancy was seriously unhappy about driving people who had just been in jail; Raven offered to ride along, or to send Stoddard to defend her, but that didn’t really help much. While she had met them, they weren’t exactly trusted friends.

Eventually she agreed to drive only on condition that Raven ride with her, that she transport only two of the ten prisoners, and that one of them be the woman, Proserpine Thorpe.

At first, Pel and Ted figured that that put four each in the other two cars, which was manageable. Unfortunately, it didn’t really leave room for Rachel anywhere except in Ted’s car, sitting beside a quondam prisoner, and Nancy objected to that. She wanted her daughter with a parent, not a lawyer-and certainly not home alone, or with the men from Raven’s world. The Lincoln could hold six; the Taurus could not.

That called for another shuffle. A prisoner was shifted in the plans, so that the Chevy would carry Raven, Rachel, and Proserpine Thorpe, with Nancy driving. Four men would ride with Pel, and five, including Captain Cahn, with Ted.

That settled, the next problem was that Nancy didn’t like the idea of leaving Stoddard, Donald, and Valadrakul unchaperoned in her house. Accordingly, the three men vanished through the basement wall, and the door at the top of the basement stairs was locked.

“That won’t stop them, though,” Nancy said, fretting. “They can step right back through, and that big one, Stoddard, I’m sure he can break the lock without half trying.”

Pel sighed. “Nan,” he said, “a random burglar could break a window and get in just as easily. Why would anyone want to bother? We’ll be back in half an hour, probably. It’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Nancy agreed.

Up to this point the discussion of transportation had been theoretical, taking place entirely in the Brown home; now the party moved out, Ted to his car at the curb out front, the others to the garage.

Raven marveled at the vehicles, and ran a hand along the roofline of the Chevy while Pel raised the doors. “So smooth!” he said. “Is’t lacquer?”

Nancy and Pel glanced at each other. “Um… yeah, I think they use lacquer,” Pel replied. He opened the door for Raven and held it, while Nancy let Rachel climb into the back seat from the driver’s side.

“Why do you build them so low to the ground?” Raven asked as he lowered himself in. “Would it not be better to sit higher, above the splashings of mud and whatnot?”

“Streamlining,” Pel said. “Besides, our roads aren’t muddy.” He slammed the door as Nancy settled in on the other side, then turned away, headed for his own car.

Nancy pulled her seat belt and shoulder strap into place, and looked over to see Raven stroking the upholstery and staring at the various accoutrements, his own straps untouched.

“Fasten your belt,” she said.

He started, looked up, and found the buckle. Awkwardly, he pulled it down and, after some fumbling, secured it.

“You, too, Rachel,” Nancy said, turning her head.

Rachel displayed her fastened belt. “Already did, Mommy!”

The Ford’s engine started up, and Raven jumped again; his hand fell to where the hilt of his sword would have been, had not the Browns convinced him to leave the weapon in the family room. His head snapped around, and he stared as Pel backed the Taurus out of the garage.

“’Struth!” he said. “They told me of such things in the Empire, but I’d not seen them for myself ere now. ‘Tis true, you’ve no beast to pull it!”

Nancy and Rachel both giggled.

“And that noise!” Raven said. “What makes the noise?”

“The engine,” Nancy explained. “The machine that makes it go.” She turned her own key, and stepped on the gas.

Raven blanched at the roar-the car’s muffler wasn’t in the best of shape. Nancy took pity on him and let up on the pedal before backing, slowly and carefully, out of the garage.

Raven watched in delighted wonder as they rolled down the street; he admired the houses, the mown lawns, the floral displays-he had apparently never seen azaleas before. He marveled at the cars everywhere, and at how fast they moved, and how smoothly-particularly the one he rode in.

“Why, ‘tis as good as a wizard’s wind!” he remarked.

Rachel giggled again from the back seat, and Nancy smiled a tight little smile. They were still on residential suburban streets.

A moment later, when they pulled onto Interstate 270, Raven stopped talking, admiring, and marveling; he was too busy holding on and fighting sheer terror as Nancy accelerated to about sixty miles per hour and wove in and out of traffic, all of it tearing along at what was, to Raven, an incredible pace.

When they finally pulled into the parking lot in Rockville and slowed to a stop Raven was shaking, odd bits of oaths bubbling incoherently from his lips. Nancy, after unbuckling her seat belt, turned a concerned look toward him.

Rachel, also unbuckled, was leaning over the seat and staring.

“What’s the matter with him, Mommy?” she asked.

Nancy glanced at her. “I don’t think he was ever in a car before, sweetie. He’s not used to going so fast.”

“By the impaled and bleeding Goddess!” Raven exclaimed.

Nancy frowned, and gestured toward Rachel with her head.

He saw the motion, and apologized. “Your pardon, lady; I’d bate my tongue, and mean no offense.”

Inside the building a few moments later, while the cops and court officials stared curiously at a still-shaky Raven, Raven, Nancy, and Rachel hung back by the doorway while Pel and Ted greeted the freed Imperials and introduced themselves.

The purple-uniformed figures stood uneasily, purple-and-gold helmets tucked under their arms, newly-returned belts draped across shoulders or dangling from fists. Even their weapons had been given back to them; that had been the cause of some minor argument among members of the jail’s staff, but since two of the “blasters” had been disassembled and proven to be absolutely harmless, not even as dangerous as a kid’s spark-gun, the return had proceeded.

None of the Imperials spoke for a moment; then one stepped forward and announced, “I’m Captain Joshua Cahn, gentlemen; thank you for your efforts on our behalf.” Pel could see no difference between Cahn’s uniform and those of the others except a small black insignia on the collar.

“You’re welcome, Captain,” Ted said, shaking Cahn’s hand vigorously.

“I don’t know who you are, or why you’re doing this,” Cahn said.

“We’ll explain,” Ted told him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”