Eric Flint: The Sorceress of Karres

Sedmon was not at all sure what they were talking about, or even if he really wanted to know. Especially with Toll smiling sweetly at him, like that. So he shifted tack. "What do you plan to do with that ship over there?"

Threbus shrugged. "About what you're doing, I am afraid. As it is a telepathic organism we can't afford to make part of the mother-plant aware of our presence, because we have no desire to alarm the part that has our daughters in its toils."

"And future son-in-law," said Toll. "The miniature subradio device was a good thought, though," she said. "Well done."

"So… they're not in any real danger?" asked Sedmon, privately relieved. He was fond of Goth and the Leewit, he had to admit, and Hulik was more so. That wouldn't have stopped him, but still, it was good to know he'd made the right decision. "The situation is under control? This… vatch…?"

Threbus shook his head at him. "They are in the greatest danger. And the situation could possibly erupt, according to our best precogs, into a galaxy-wide war against a telepathic foe, or something worse, that we are not sure that we could win. And while we think the vatch likes the Leewit, Goth and the captain-it might be better to say, enjoys them-it is still a vatch. An observer, mostly, as their kind are. And not a very powerful one, even if it does decide to participate."

Sedmon understood only part of that. But he understood the important part. The part about a war that even Karres was not sure it could win. They seemed very cool about it. He said as much.

Toll gave him another one of those looks of hers. "You still have a great deal to learn about parenthood."

And then they both disappeared.

Sedmon stood there, as if frozen, for a few seconds, while the hexaperson consulted with itself. Then he went to carefully check his instruments.

One recorded a gravitational anomaly less than five light-minutes away. Checking back, it had been there-where there was obviously nothing but empty space-for roughly the same length of time as he been speaking to them.

It was a large anomaly. A planetary sized mass! Only it wasn't there now.

Sedmon recalled a long ago conversation with Hulik do Eldel, back when she had merely been an Imperial agent, and not a part of his hearts, and she'd informed him that the world of Karres was no longer in the Iverdahl system. She'd scoffed at the time, at the idea of a super spacedrive that moved worlds, or that Karres could be made invisible and undetectable.

He went and poured himself a drink, and thought about it. The more he thought, the more sure he was that they'd only let him have the mass reading as an indication of what they were capable of. Comfort and a warning. Or were they misleading him? The witches were capable of fooling with an instrument, just as they were capable of projecting holographic images of themselves into his cabin.

It was then that he noticed that the other half of his new miniature subradio had gone missing from where it had definitely been sitting just before their visit.

He had a great deal to think about. Some uncertainty-but one thing he was clear on. He would rather have the witches of Karres regarding him as a friend, than otherwise. Much rather.

He sweated a little bit, wondering how they had known that the wristwatch on Goth's arm, as well as being a miniature subradio and spyscreen, was also a potent hyperelectonic bomb.

The Venture had passed, undisturbed, through the last orbiting shield of Phantoms. The Leewit, well slept and fed, sat at the communicator.

Of course one had to know it was the Leewit sitting there, otherwise an observer might have thought it was a Megair Cannibal.

Listening to her, if one spoke the language of croaks and whistles, the listener might have thought that she was a very triumphant and successful Megair Cannibal-having been locked into a cabin, and having escaped and captured the ship. The Cannibal speaking to the Cannibal port control was bringing home a ship-full of fresh meat. And what was more, a way of evading the Phantom ships that held them prisoner here.

They were, not surprisingly, free to land.

Goth was very proud of the Leewit.

The entire exercise had had quite an impact on the mother-plant Marshi too, Goth could tell. The plant life-form probably had no idea how much other animals could read of the mother-plant's thoughts from the postural cues of the host. The Leewit and Goth would have to be very careful.

The Venture dropped slowly towards the clouds and then down into them. The mother-plant was focused on matters besides the view. The ship from which the two witches and the bodyguard had come might as well be taken. The craft was not damaged and would appear to be fast in its own right, for a small freighter. Even if something went wrong here, those haploids still survived, along with some within the Empire. One of them could switch sexes and become a new prime. The mother-plant had no real concept of anything except self. They were all just parts of her.

Closer at hand, these two witches had been shown to be very cunning. Cunning to a level that worried the mother-plant. It was possible that their dangerousness and abilities outweighed their potential usefulness.

She decided it was time to use one of the tools of the criminal gangs she had taken over: a metal collar with a highly sensitive explosive in a tube inside it. Once the collar clicked shut around the victim's neck, the circuit was complete and within four hours the explosive would detonate, severing the head, unless the properly coded signal was received. The charge could also be triggered by the same small remote used to send the de-activation signal.

The devices were useful for ensuring the co-operation of the un-trustable. Trust was not a problem the mother-plant had had, before. If something needed trust, it did it itself. But the collars were appropriate this time.

As soon as she had successfully enspored the Megair Cannibal motiles, of course, the two little Karres creatures would have to die. She was surprised to feel within herself some resistance to that idea. When the mind has thousands of components it was easy to lose touch with which parts were which. But none should resist her will. It took a period of self examination to isolate the feeling to the motile that had once called itself Pausert.

That was not good. Not for one that was totally subsumed. So it too would have to be eliminated.

The Venture set down on the edge of the landing-field, next to a swamp-perfect for Illtraming-and, on the other side, were a number of ships that were, the mother-plant noticed, not of Illtraming design.

The Karres witch Goth asked: "Do you want us to get you in? I can escort you, light-shifted."

The mother-plant was not sensitive to the nuances of this host species, undomesticated. Perhaps for that reason, she was very suspicious.

"There is a price, of course," said Goth. "Pausert and my sister must stay here."

Aha! There was the plan. The witch planned to sacrifice herself and allow the other one to attempt to capture the ship and leave, with the part of the plant they considered valuable.

Marshi shook her head. "No. You and your sister must accompany us. She is needed to speak."

Goth slumped her shoulders. "You must promise to keep Pausert safe. You agreed to let us go."

The airlock opened. "I will leave him here, under guard," said Marshi. Pausert stood empty-eyed and chewing. Like all animals, he seemed to be constantly feeding.

She got the spore box, and the collars. "Put these around your necks."

Gullibly, they did so. The collars clicked shut. She then explained what the collars would do if not disarmed within four hours.

They seemed less upset than they should be, somehow.