The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (154 page)

“Most certainly,” Alondo agreed.

“And your plan is to bring them here in droves. Is that wise?”

“It is today.” Alondo’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry, this is only a test; I’ll shut the thing off long before they get here.”

McCann’s expression was hard to read under all that facial hair, but Shann could sense scepticism radiating from him in waves.

Alondo was not in the least bit deterred. “Now, what do you think the Keltar and soldiers at the compound will do when they see a ravening horde of sand scarags bearing down on them?”

“They’ll run,” Patris said.

Shann could feel something. More of a sensation than a sound; it hovered at the lower limit of her hearing.

“Yes, but where? Where will they run to?” Alondo posed.

“The fortress,” she exclaimed. “They will make for the protective walls of the fortress.” Her headlong excitement slammed straight into a wall and her expression flattened. “But what about the tributes? They’ll be caught out in the open.”

“Not if we time it right. All we have to do is wait until one of the lock-down periods, when the tributes are confined to their barracks. They should be quite safe in there. I set up the instrument somewhere in the compound, flick a switch, and wait for the fun to begin. Speaking of which... ”

He was gazing at the horizon. She swivelled around and saw an angry sandstorm brewing to the north. Then one to the northeast and another to the west. All headed straight for them. “Turn it off.”

Alondo appeared distracted. “What?”

“Turn it off,”
the other four chorused.

He came to and hit a switch. The low vibration died. After a few moments, the clouds of sand dissipated and the desert was still once again.

“Well, it works,” he said, unnecessarily.

Irritation filled air with the beat of its wings. Finally, Patris asked, “So, how exactly do you propose to get inside?”

Alondo grinned. “Ah, that’s the easy part.”

“It is?” Shann retorted.

“Why, sure. When do you think it was that these loyal, dedicated, hard-working troops last enjoyed some quality entertainment?”

<><><><><>

Chapter 40

It was to be the first and only performance of the New Desert Players. However, if everything went to plan, then it would certainly be a memorable one.

“Which of you can sing?” Alondo had inquired.

“I’m not very good.”

“Not me.”

“No way.”

“Dance, then.”

“What?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not a chance.”

Alondo spread his hands. “Look, it’s not like this is a playhouse in central Chalimar. You don’t have to do anything fancy. I’m the professional. Just follow my lead, all right?”

“Well, I’m staying right here,” McCann declared. “I can’t risk drawing that much attention; I might be recognised as a non-Kelanni. And besides, someone has to stay and make sure that no one runs off with that morgren-thing, or the rest of our supplies.”

“I’ll make my own way in, posing as a merchant or something,” Patris said. “I can keep an eye on you from a distance. In case you get into any trouble.”

Shann and Rael glared at them.

“Then it’s decided,” Alondo said cheerfully. “We’ll have the two of you, dancing along with the music.”

“I told you. I don’t know how to dance,” Shann reminded him.

“Oh, just show ’em your legs; you’ll get a standing ovation.”

“Alondo!”

“Look, this is a remote outpost filled with soldiers longing for any kind of diversion. You’ll be fine. You will need an act of your own, though... ”

Rael sounded increasingly worried. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Well, it’s going to take time to set up the vortex arm and generate the pulse. I can hardly do that on stage, in full view of the patrons. I’ll have to do it backstage, during the interval, while you keep them amused with your support act.”

“Support act?”
Shann and Rael exclaimed together.

It turned out to be something called mime. No speech or singing, just acting out part of a story involving two mismatched sweethearts and some hilarious situations. The advantage was that they didn’t need to worry about props, since they would just act the thing out as if the props were invisibly there. “Plus,” Alondo pointed out, “if you make a mistake, no one in this audience will really know or care.”

He took them through the sequence a couple of times, then announced, “Now for the costumes.”

A while later, they stood side by side; she in a cut-down version of the pale blue gown she had worn during their night out at the Calandra in Sakara, he in one of Alondo’s changes of clothing—a bright green jacket and vermillion trousers with a yellow stripe running down them. The jacket was short and baggy and the trousers came halfway up his legs.

McCann and Patris sat watching the spectacle, barely able to contain themselves.

Rael threw his arms in the air. “I can’t go like this. I look ridiculous.”

Alondo walked over, carrying his smile, and threw an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the concept, my friend. It’s called
en-ter-tain-ment.
The sillier you look, the better.”

Rael glowered at him from behind a cloud. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. That’s the whole point.”

A short while later, the New Desert Players danced and pranced and juggled and jangled their way along the desert road and arrived at the open gates of wood and iron that lay on either side of the fortress entrance.

An old soldier with a withering look and bad teeth barred their path. “Wha’s all this ’ere, then?”

“Good day, handsome fellow.” Alondo bowed expansively, making a sweep of his red hat that encompassed the entire courtyard. “My fellow thespians and I, fresh from our triumphant tour of the Eastern Provinces, where we regaled such notables as the Guildmaster of Sakara and the lords of Leota and Kalath-Kar, having presently arrived at your charming burg, desire to imbibe a small libation and to take our ease at a well-appointed hostelry, to wit, an inn, in advance of our planned performance this very eve.”

The soldier stood motionless as a statue. Finally, he stepped aside and spoke in a gruff voice. “All right, on yer way. And don’ be causin’ no trouble.”

As the party moved off, the soldier was joined by his companion. She heard the words “... bunch ’o bloody actors. What next... ?” and “... place is becomin’ a madhouse... ”

Alondo led them towards the pens where the morgren were kept. He spoke in low tones. “All right, remember. Stay close. Keep quiet. Let me do all the talking... And smile for goodness’ sake; you’re supposed to be entertainers.”

He took care of the stabling, then inquired as to the whereabouts of the garrison commander and was directed to a low structure adjoining the inner wall, known as the casemate.

“Wait here,” he ordered before ducking through the door. A while later, he emerged, announcing, “Well, it seems we have a booking.” He marched away up the narrow street.

Shann and Rael hurried after him. “Where are you off to?” she asked.

“To find an inn,” he replied, without looking back. “I need a drink.”

~

“... Fair Conallee, I dream of thee,

“From far beyond the Borgoth Sea,

“Where unknown lands lie green and low,

“And sparkling crystal rivers flow.

“And when I weary of its charms,

“Then shall I hurry to your arms,

“And I shall be once more with thee,

“My dearest, darling Conallee.”

As the strains to ‘The Ballad of Fair Conallee’ faded away on the warm evening air, rapturous applause erupted from the audience of soldiers and townsfolk, seated cheek by jowl in the open area of the compound. The Keltar—some fifteen or so individuals in their distinctive black garb—stood separately off to the side but appeared to be enjoying the performance no less.

Shann brought her dance to a stop and released Rael thankfully. To say that he had two left feet would have been a gross exaggeration of his abilities. Dancing with him was exquisite torture. He had no sense of rhythm, and his arms and legs were everywhere except where they should be—she had the bruises to prove it. The audience, on the other hand, loved their inept performance, taking it to be a comic foil to Alondo’s playing, and they whooped and roared in time with her various injuries.

Alondo had just delivered the punch line to a humorous anecdote involving two morgren, a washerwoman, and a pair of undergarments. “And now I must leave you for a short while, but I will return soon. In the meantime, I present to you Shannie and Raeloff, who will now render the torrid tale of Callabus and Syntarr.”

He bowed three times, milking the thunderous applause, and then disappeared behind the hastily erected curtain that formed the backdrop to their performance. The interval. Shann prodded Rael and they began their routine.

She executed the movements mechanically. Rael’s responses were off, as usual, and the audience’s reaction was muted, but she didn’t care. Her mind was with Alondo and the task he was performing backstage.
Come on. Get a move on.

Then she felt it. Less than a sound but more than a rumble, the pulse had an almost subliminal quality, so that at first she thought it must be her imagination.

Suddenly, a ragged cry of alarm sounded from the throat of one of the few guards left on duty. Confusion spread through the crowd like a contagion. Shouts. Some stood, seeking the source of the disturbance; others demanded that they sit down and stop spoiling the performance.

The Keltar, on the other hand, reacted instantly, dispersing, yelling orders, and setting off at a run to check the perimeter.

Rael dropped his hands and glanced around nervously. Shann was about to hiss at him to pick up where he left off when she caught sight of the first of them. Above the palisade, a cheliped waved in dubious greeting; a flat head and eye stalks appeared soon after. Somewhere in the shifting mass of people, a woman screamed.

The creature wavered a moment before dropping inside the enclosure. The ripple became a rout as people clamoured for the exit. A smattering of stalwart soldiers braved the clacking mandibles and sting-laden tail until half a dozen more sand scarags began swarming over the stockade. The soldiers took one look, dropped their pikes and short swords, and ran.

Rael stood immobile, turned to stone by the spectacle being played out in front of him. She grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him behind the curtain. To her surprise, she found Alondo packing up.

“I shut off the pulse for now. Don’t want them swarming in here. How’s the performance going?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s a riot out there,” she quipped. “Where are you going?”

“The fortress. With the others. I’ll turn the pulse on again once I’m inside the walls.”

“No way. You’ll be trapped.”

He shrugged. “Only until I decide to deactivate it.”

“But if they discover what you’re doing—”

“They won’t. Besides, someone has to keep them bottled up so you can free the tributes and get them far away from here. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up to you.”

He slung the vortex arm across his back, shouldered his pack, pecked her on the cheek, and, before she could react, was gone.

<><><><><>

Chapter 41

Shann stepped out from behind the curtain with Rael in tow and came face to face with Patris.

The sailor-thief looked from one to the other and back again. “Where’s Alondo?”

“He’s gone to the fortress to set up the pulse from there,” she replied, her heart heavy.

Patris’s mouth twitched slightly as if he were trying to frame the obvious question.
How is he going to get out of there?
Mercifully, the words that came out were different. “I see. Well, I assume the next task is going to be to free the tributes. Let’s get going.”