Eric Flint: The Sorceress of Karres

By this time the two of them were out near the end of the branch in the foliage, and among the fruit. The young Pausert was no dope when it came to getting the idea. He picked and flung one of the Tyrian fruits at the crowd helping their leader to his feet. It hit the tree trunk and showered them all in its jellylike juice. The boys scattered like a picnic that has just discovered a zark-scorpion on top of the potato salad. Goth and Pausert sent a few more of the fruit hurtling down at them, sending them running for cover.

Pausert yelled in delight, beaming from ear to ear. Goth thought that it was no wonder he and the Leewit got on so well. They must have been very alike, once."Well I'm sorry I have got you into such trouble," he said, apologetically. "But it was worth it."

"Why are we going to be in trouble?" asked Goth.

"The alarm. Someone will come to see what the problem is. They'll be able to run away, probably. We are not supposed to be in here."

"Uh huh." Goth looked around for a way out. "Suppose we climbed down the tree a bit and out onto that branch there, and out along it. Might be able to get down and to the door first."

Pausert shrugged. "Maybe, but we shouldn't be here. It would only be right to stay and take our punishment."

He hadn't changed that much, thought Goth. "You are allowed to be here," she said. "I mean you have a key. They don't. And I'll bet they would say it was all your fault they are here."

He nodded, "Likely. Rapport and his friends are always pretty good at saying it was all my fault," he admitted, with a rueful grin.

Goth smiled nastily. "So follow me along the branch."

Goth hoped that he would not wonder too much about the fact that Tyrian fruit kept flying down at the little gang hiding behind a nearby stone-palmettos, even after they'd left. And that the gang could run, but they weren't getting out, because she had the key safely ported into her pocket.

They shimmied down the branch and dropped into the pipe-like thicket of bright yellow-stemmed plants. With an awkward slither Goth descended into their midst. They creaked but did not break. She celebrated by 'porting another couple of Tyrian fruit down on the boys who had been persecuting Pausert. It was a very good and almost indelible dye, as she remembered. Quite expensive too.

Pausert followed her lead. Only he must have weighed a little more than she did, and the yellow stems gave way. He landed with a lot more of a crash, on top of her. Hastily she ported a couple more fruit down at the gang just in case they had heard the commotion. But by the sounds of it there was another kind of commotion coming.

"You lot! Just what do you think you are doing here?" yelled an angry-sounding adult voice. "Stop! Come back here! You can't get away! We'll catch you!"

Goth took advantage of the fact that Pausert was winded, and a little stunned, to hide both of them with a light shift, as the purple spattered group of boys ran for the small door they had come in through, hotly pursued by a couple of uniformed men. She listened in satisfaction as someone yelled, "It's locked!" They sounded suitably horrified.

Soon they came running past again. "Time for us to go, I guess, Captain."

"Captain?"

"Uh. I mean, Pausert. You just reminded me of someone that I call Captain."

"You don't think that we should go and turn ourselves in to security?"

He really hadn't changed! "No," said Goth. "Then I'd be in a lot of trouble too."

That worked. "I'll get you out," he said.

"Good. Because I'm still hungry. Come on let's go. Just keep calm and keep walking. Pretend we belong here. I'll be right behind you."

With any luck he wouldn't realize that what was walking behind him look very like one of the little maintenance robots. Actually, hopefully he wouldn't realize that he looked like a security officer. She hoped she'd got it right. She hadn't managed to get a very good look at them. She snickered. She had done exactly what he suggested: turned him into Security. And herself as a maintenance robot-that was appropriate too.

They walked on. A security officer ran past in a cross corridor, and one of the purple boys ran down towards them, saw them and fled. "They didn't realize who we were," crowed Pausert.

"Shut up and keep walking," hissed Goth.

They got to the little door. "It's shut! The key is gone."

"No further than my pocket," said Goth. "Now let's get out here before they come back."

So they did, carefully locking the door behind them. "Maybe we should leave it open. Give the others a chance," said Pausert.

"Just like they were giving you one," said Goth. "Come on. I am ravening. It'll serve them right."

"Rapport's father will get them off anyway," said Pausert. "He's a big cheese with the council."

"Smelly, is he?" said Goth.

That reduced the youthful Pausert to laughter. "Vala! You're amazing."

"Yeah," said Goth. "And hungry, too. Come on. Let's go and eat."

So they walked together into downtown Nikkeldepain City. You could see, right then and there, that Nikkeldepain was big on order. Probably law too, Goth reflected, but certainly order. The streets were straight, neat, and very uniform. All the shop-signs were the same size, precisely. People all wore clothes that were the same style and cut, within a certain range. Goth used a little lightshift to subtly alter her own appearance. Captain Pausert had never been too good on dress and noticing. She just had to remember what Sunnat had worn-and he had barely noticed. Hulik too, although to be fair the Imperial agent hadn't really been after the captain, like that Sunnat had.

They stopped at a pastry cook. "He's probably going to ask to see the money," said Pausert.

"Then I'll show it to him," said Goth. The problem with 'porting things was firstly the energy it used, and secondly that it really helped if she knew exactly what she was teleporting. When she'd teleported Wansing's jewels around she'd been able to see them. That was easy. She'd watched the Syrians load the cargo she'd teleported from their holds. Things she couldn't see in closed drawers was a bit like guess-work. You had to visualize them quite carefully.

Sure enough the pastry-cook took one look at Pausert and demanded to see the money first. "I know you. You'll be like that Threbus," said the shopkeeper.

"And what was wrong with Threbus?" demanded Goth, taking offense.

"And who are you, missy? Never seen you before," said the sharp-eyed proprietor. "Anyway, unless you have money to spend, out. Or maybe just out anyway. You lower the tone of the place, just by being here."

"I have money to spend," said Goth, letting hunger help her to hold her temper. It wasn't holding it very tight.

"Let's see it."

So Goth focused her mind on his cash box. Then it was merely a case of taking something the right size from it. 'Porting it into her pocket. She pulled it out.

The shopkeeper's eyes bulged. "How… "

Goth looked at her hand, and then hastily returned what she had 'ported to the drawer. But it was a bit late for that. It was time for turning and running.

They ducked into a side street.

"What was that picture?" asked Pausert. He hadn't seen it too well, apparently, to Goth's relief.

"I really don't know," she said. "But I would avoid going back there for a while."

She had the locality of the cash-box now. And her second attempt did feel a bit more like cash. She knew that Pausert would look on it as theft, so she did a quick check to see what she had. A twenty Mael note. Well, she had one of those. If the pastry cook didn't spend it in a hurry, he would be all right. Anyway, it would serve the shopkeeper right for keeping that sort of picture under his money.

"I can't really afford to buy pastries anyway," admitted Pausert. "There is a sausage seller down the next street that's not too bad. He used to have a stall near the school. Just don't think about the sausages too much."