The Ship Who Won (27 page)

"It is a music," she said. At her direction, he shook the

box back and forth, then set it down. The sides popped

open, and a sweet, tinny melody poured out. "I have had

that since, oh, since a child."

"Is it old?"

"Oh, a few generations. My fathers fathers father," she

giggled, counting on her fingers, "made it for his wife."

"Its beautiful. And what's this?" Keff got up and

reached for a short coiled string and the pendant bauble at

the end of it. The opaline substance glittered blue, green,

and red in the lamplight.

"Its a plaything," Plennafrey said, with a hint of her

natural vitality returning to her face. "It takes some skill to

use. No magic. I am very good with it. My brothers were

never as skilled."

"Show me," Keff said. She stood up beside him and

wound the string around the central core of the pendant. Inserting her forefinger through the loop at the

strings end, she cradled the toy, then threw it. It

spooled out and smacked back into her palm. She

flicked it again, but this time moved her hand so the

pendant ricocheted past her head, dove between their

knees, then shot back into her hand.

"Ayo-yo!" Keff said, delighted.

"You have such things?" Plennafrey asked. She smiled

up into his face.

Keff grinned. "Oh, yes. This is far nicer than the ones I

used to play with. In fact, its a work of art. Can I try?"

"All right." Plenna peeled the string off her finger and

extended the toy to him. He accepted it, his hands cradling

hers for just a moment. He did a few straight passes with

the yo-yo, then made it fly around die world, then swung it

in a trapeze.

"You are very good, too," Plenna said, happily. "Will you

show me how you did die last tiling?"

"It would be my pleasure," Keff told her. He returned

die toy to her hands. As his palms touched hers, he felt an

almost electric shock. He became aware diey were standing very close, dieir tilighs brushing slighdy so diat he

could feel die heat of her body. Her breatii caught, dien

came more quickly. His respiration sped up to match hers.

To his delight and astonishment he knew that she was as

attracted to him as he was to her. The yo-yo slipped unnoticed to die hassock as he clasped her hands tightiy. She

smiled at him, her eyes full of trust and wonder. Before she

said a word, his arms slid along hers, encompassing her

narrow waist, hands flat against her back. She didn't protest, but pressed her slim body to his. He felt her quiver

slighdy, then she nesded urgentiy against him, settling her

head on his shoulder. Her skin was warm dirough die thin

stuff of her dress, and her flowery, spicy scent tantalized

him.

She felt so natural in his arms he had to remind himself

diat she was an alien being, dien he discarded inhibition. If

things didn't work out physically, weU, diey were sharing

die intense closeness of people who had been in danger

togetiier, a kind of comfort in itself. Yet he let himself

believe diat all would be as he desired it. There were too

many other outward similarities to humanity in Plennafrey s people. With luck, they made love die same way.

Plennafrey had none of die seductive art of die gauze-draped Potria, but he found her genuine responsiveness

much more desirable. While her elders were tormenting

Keff, it had probably not occurred to her to diink of him as

anything but an abused "toy."

She was merely being kind to an outsider, or less chari-tably, to a dumb animal that couldn't defend itself. Now

that they were together, intriguing chemistry bubbled up

between them. He watched die long fringe of her lashes

lift to reveal her large, dark eyes. He admired the long

throat and die way her pulse jumped in die small shadow

at die hollow inside her collarbone. The comers of her

moudi lifted while she, too, stopped to study him.

"What are you diinking?" he asked, looking up at her.

"I am diinking diat you are handsome," she said.

"Well, you are very beautiful, lady magess," he whispered, bending down to loss the curve of her shoulder.

"I hate being a magess," Plennafrey said in a voice that

was nearly a sob.

"But I am glad you are a magess," Keff said. "If you

hadn't been, I would never have met you, and you are the

nicest thing I have seen since I came to Ozran."

He put his hand under her chin, stroked her soft throat

with a gende finger like petting a cat. Almost felinely,

Plenna closed her eyes to long slits and let her head drift

back, looking like she wanted to purr. She raised her face

to his, and her hand crept up the back of his neck to pull

his head down to her level. Keff tasted cherries and cinna-mon on her lips, delighted to lose himself in her perfume.

He deepened the kiss, and Plenna responded with ardor.

He bent down to kiss the curve of her shoulder, felt her

brush her cheek against his ear.

Suddenly she let go of him and stepped back, looking

up at him half-expectandy, half-afraid, Keff gathered up

her hands and kissed them, pulled Plenna close, and

brushed her lips with soft, feather-light caresses until they

opened. She sighed.

"Sight and sound off, please, Cari," Keff whispered.

Plennafrey nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder,

and he kissed her.

Carialle considered for a moment before shutting off

the sensory monitors. While in a potentially hostile

environment, especially with hostiles in pursuit, it was

against Courier Service rules to break off all

communications.

The Ozran female let out a wordless ciy, and Keff

matched it with a heartfelt moan. Carialle weighed the

requirement with Keffs right to privacy and decided a limited signal wasn't unreasonable. Such a request was

permissible as long as the brain maintained some kind of

contact with her brawn partner.

"As you wish, my knight errant," she said, hastily turning

off the eye and mouth implants. She monitored transmission of his cardial and pulmonary receivers instead. They

were getting a strenuous workout.

With her brawn otherwise occupied, Carialle turned her

attention to the outside of Ozran. Most of the power and

radio signals were still clustered on and inside Chaumels

peak. Each magiman and magiwoman proved to have a

slightly different radio frequency which she or he used for

communication, so Carialle could distinguish them. The

eight remaining hunters who had pursued Keff and his

girlfriend down the subterranean passages fanned out

again and again across the planetary surface, and

regrouped. The search was proving futile. Carialle mentally sent them a raspberry

"Bad luck, you brutes," she said, merrily.

On the plain, the eye-globes came out of nowhere and

circled around and around her. Carialle peered at each one

closely, and recorded its burblings to the others through

IT. Keff was building up a pretty good Ozran vocabulary

and grammar, so she could understand the messages of

frustration and fury that they broadcast to one another.

Some time later, Keffs heartbeat slowed down to its

resting rate. His brain waves showed he had drifted off to

sleep. Carialle occupied herself in the hours before dawn

by doing maintenance on her computer systems and keeping an eye on the hunters who had to be wearing

themselves out by now.

Carialle gave Keff a decent interval to wipe out sleep

toxins,' and then switched on again. Her video monitors

beside his eyes offered her a most romantic tableau.

On the small bed against the bower wall, the young

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magiwoman was cuddled up against Keffs body. They

were both naked, and his dark-haired, muscular arm was

thrown protectively over her narrow, pale waist. Their

ankles overlapped and then he started running a toe up

and down her calf. Carialle took the opportunity to scan

KefFs companion and found her readings of great interest.

Keff snorted softly, the sound he always made when he

was on the edge ofwakefulness.

"Ahem!" Carialle said, just loudly enough to alert, but

not loud enough to startle Keff. "Are you certain this is

what Central Worlds means by first contact?"

Keff gave a deep and throaty chuckle. "Ah, but it was

first contact, my lady," he said, allowing her to infer the

double or triple entendre.

"A gentleman never kisses and tells, you muscled ape,"

Carialle chided him. He laughed softly. The girl stirred

slightly in her sleep, and her hand settled upon the hair on

his chest. She smiled gently, dreaming. "Keff, I have something I need to tell you about Plennafrey, in fact about all

the Ozrans: they're human."

'Very similar, but they're humanity's cousins," Keff corrected her. "And wait until I show the tapes to Xeno. Not

of this, of course. They'll go wild."

"She is human, Keff. She must be the descendant of

some lost colony or military ship that landed here eons ago.

Her reactions, both emotional and bodily, let alone blood

pressure, structure, systems-she was close enough to

your contact implants for me to make sure. And I am sure.

We have met the Ozrans, and they is us."

"Genetic scan?" Keff was disappointed. Carialle could

tell he was still hoping, but he was a good enough exobiologist to realize he knew it himself.

"Bring me a lock other hair, and I'll prove it."

"Oh, well," he said, gathering Plennafrey closer and

tucking her head into his shoulder. "I can still rejoice in

having found a mutation of humanity that has such powerful TK abilities."

Carialle sighed. Bless his stubbornness, she thought.

"It's not TK. It's sophisticated tool-using. Take away her

toys and see if she can do any other magic tricks."

Keff reached over the edge of the small bed and picked

up the heavy belt by its buckle. He weighed it in his hand,

then let it slip on his palm so his fingers were pointing

toward the five depressions. "Does that mean I can use

these things, too?"

"I should say so."

The links of the belt clanked softly together. The slight

noise was enough to wake the young magiwoman in alarm.

She sat up, her large eyes scanning the chamber.

"Who is here?" she asked. Keff held out her belt to her

and she snatched it protectively.

"Only me," Keff said. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see how it

worked. I didn't mean to wake you up."

Plenna looked apologetic for having overreacted to simple curiosity, and offered the belt to him with both hands

and a warning. "We mustn't use it here. It is the reason that

my bower is secure. We are just on the very edge of the ley

lines, so my belt buckle and sash resonate too slightly to be

noticed by any other mage." She swept a hand around.

"Everything in this room was brought here by hand. Or

fashioned by hand from new materials, using no power."

'That's in the best magical tradition," Keff noted

approvingly. 'That means there's no vibes' left over from

previous users. In this case, tracers or finding spells."

"Or circuits," Carialle said. "How does their magic

work?"

Her question went unanswered. Before Keff could relay

it to Plenna, he found himself gawking up toward the ceiling. As neatly as a conjurer pulling handkerchiefs out of his

sleeve, the air disgorged Chaumels flying chair, followed

by Potria's, then Asedows. Chaumel swooped low over the

bed. The silver mage glared at them through bloodshot

eyes.

"What a pretty place," he said, showing all his teeth in a

mirthless grin. "I'll want to investigate it later on." He eyed

Plennafreys slender nakedness with an arrogant possessiveness. "Possibly with your . . . close assistance, my lady.

You've been having a nice time while we've looked everywhere for you!"

Keffand Plennafrey scrambled for their clothes. One by

one, the other hunters appeared, crowding the low bubble

of stone.

"Ah, the chase becomes interesting again," Potria said.

She didn't look her best. The chiffon other gown drooped

limply like peach-colored lettuce, and her eye makeup had

smeared from lines to bruises. "I was getting so bored running after shadows."

"Yes, the prey emerges once again," Chaumel said. "But

this time the predators are ready."

Plenna glared at Chaumel as she threw her primrose

dress over her head.

"We should never have traveled in here by chair," she

snarled. Keff stepped into his trousers and yanked on his

right boot.

'That is correct," Chaumel said, easily, sitting back with

his abnormally long fingers tented on his belly. "It took us

some time to find the vein by which the heart of Ozran fed

your power, but we have you at last. We will pass judgment

on you later, young magess, but at this moment, we wish

our prize returned to us."

The two stood transfixed as Nokias, Femgal, and Omri

slid their chairs into line beside their companion.

"Your disobedience will have to be paid for," Nokias said