Norton, Andre - Brother To Shadows

"It was spring—" she said, and sighed. "Truly there is much to be learned when one travels. So you missed me, little one?" She smiled down at Yan. "Did not this tall warrior treat you well?"

"We should be getting back." Jofre had taken a step or two closer to her, presenting his back to the maned one and making a quick signal to alert her.

"Time flees when one is at ease," she answered. "Yes, perhaps it is well to return. Zurzal may at last have news for us."

She had made no sign that she had understood his signal but Jofre was sure she had. Now, for quicker passage through the crowd that was thickening on the street as the afternoon advanced, he swung the Jat up to his shoulders and felt the paw hands take a good grip on his turban. Though he had not gone back to the full head covering of the Lairs he had once-more assumed a style which made him feel more comfortable.

Taynad let him get a stride or so ahead, stopped as if to adjust a boot buckle, then she light-footedly joined them.

Her forefinger moved. The maned one was following. But for now they had no reason to try and evade him since they were only returning to their temporary quarters.

"This place is stifling," she broke out suddenly. "I find myself thinking with a strong desire of the slopes of Three Claws, or even the Grey Wastes. How can one live ever in such a turmoil?"

Jofre was surprised. He himself had been suffering from the feeling of one entrapped in some lord's vor stockyard with the herd turned in to share it with him. There was always something new to be seen, that he would agree, but one tires of constant change and variety. Also of this enforced idleness. Though issha discipline taught patience and he had thought that he had learned all the Lair lessons well. But perhaps what she had said gave him a chance to discover answers for a question or two which had been plaguing him.

"If there comes word from Asborgan—you are not oathed—"

"No." Her answer was almost harshly abrupt. "But my mission was meant to be one of some length when I left Su-ven-ugen. They will not think of me as being free now and the message which the Patrol promised to deliver will take some time to reach the First Sister. Perhaps because I am without funds, since those of Tssek saw fit to confiscate what I had, I am in debt to the Learned One and it may well be that in the end the Elders will decide that I must work out what is owed. Anyway, oathed or not, I have promised the Zacathan that I will return service for service as long as he needs me."

"It will be a different kind of service than that you trained for—" Jofre was partly convinced that she meant exactly what she had just said.

"It is well to have more than one kind of experience," she remarked. "Do you think that the Learned One will succeed in what he wishes? I know that his scanner showed the past on Tssek, but what of Lochan? It seems to me to be as much of a gamble as when one tosses kust stones for wager."

The Zacathan was not in the suite when they entered and Jofre made his meticulous search through the rooms and across their section of the balcony terrace as he always did, the Jat trotting behind him as if it too could sniff out any hidden danger. Was the red-maned one lounging in the lobby below? And what did whoever set him on their trail want? Was it a ploy of the Guild? That was a point to be very well considered. From all he had ever heard Jofre rated the Guild very, very high as a potential enemy.

When the Zacathan returned his frill was standing high, not flushed scarlet as from anger or frustration but the green-blue of satisfaction with the world.

"Fortune favors us at last," he began even before the door had closed behind him. "The trader who has made the Lochan run twice has planeted. Not only planeted, but the captain is ready for a return, It seems that he took one of those chances which the Free Traders often do and managed to barter directly with one of the desert tribes. What he picked up are a new type of gem—good enough value to have one of the auction houses take on sale.

"One cannot keep such a find a secret; he well knows that there will be others heading in there now—since the trade rights for Lochan have never been auctioned. The Patrol may take a hand—but they cannot by law deny the captain a return trip to realize on his own discovery. He will want to harvest all he can before the rush begins. Which means he is already loading supplies—"

"But will he take passengers also?" Jofre wanted to know. If the Free Trader had an outstanding discovery to exploit, its crew might well be jealously on guard against everyone.

"I had already had contact with him before his last voyage. He knows well that what I would accomplish there will have nothing to do with his business. I have sent him a message and I expect a quick answer. If he wishes to lift soon, we must be able to move—perhaps at a moment's notice. It would be best we think of packing now."

Zurzal's enthusiasm was such he was sweeping them along with him. Though Jofre took time out to make a very careful inspection of the arms he had acquired, together with the stunner which Zurzal had managed to secure for him with a permit near twisted out of the Patrol, the same for himself, and Taynad.

The Jat squatted on a wide pillow watching the girl do her packing in her own quarters. A fast move—her hand went to the braid wreathing her head to touch the ends of the twigs there. Perhaps this was best—if she could stall a little until this ship swept them away— She shook her head at her own thoughts. Why did she resent and shrink from this order which had been delivered?

Because it was not an oathing such as she had always been taught was right? Because it had been so delivered to her by one she knew was Guild? That the Shagga would turn to the Guild for aid went against her deepest beliefs. She was a trained killer, a weapon in the hands of those whom she was sworn to serve. But the Guild was not the Lairs with their old tradition of a certain rigid honor. Also—Zarn said that this Jofre was an outlaw, a traitor— the story he had told her was one she had come fully to believe, having had time to observe this man over days and through sharp demands made on him and his skills.

There was nothing about him to make her think that he was in any way enemy to the Lairs. Rather, it seemed to her, it was the spite of some priest which lay behind it. Then— why had they not killed him out of hand? Taynad stood very still, a half-folded undergarment in her hands. The basic oath of them all—Brother—Sister—do not delight in the blood of their kind. Perhaps that priest had been afraid to kill Jofre openly lest he be called to account for that—perhaps he had hoped that the harsh season in the mountains would do it for him. As for the reason for such a strong hatred—it lay encoiled in what she had sensed— that in this issha there were surely the seeds of Assha. Yes, the Shagga would never allow a leader of off-world blood among them; they were too fixed in the ancient ways. So they wanted him—but they wanted him returned so that he could die now under their hands and only so would they feel safe.

Now she could understand those orders. She dropped the garment and freed the twigs from their hiding place in her hair, running them once more to be touch read. Betray him to the Guild, see him safely taken.

An order—but not an oath! Her head went up as if she faced the First Sister in her own Lair. She was not oathed by the mere words of Zam's sending—there must be the ritual and blood must flow—she would be one who betrayed.

They would say she was not oathed to the Zacathan, but she was indebted to him. And those of the Shadows paid debts, blood signed or not. No, she was not going to make any attempt to contact that woman from the Guild— perhaps time would favor them all and see them aboard this trader before she could be met again with any more demands.