The Ship Who Won (30 page)

Carialle felt sony for Plenna. She might be one of the

upper class, but she wasn't happy about the status.

On the screen, the spy-eyes were buzzing busily to one

another, circling the area, trying to second-guess the

servo's mission. Serenely, the robot rolled into a swampy

place where pink-flowering weeds grew. Carialle set its

parameters to seek out a marsh weed that had exactly fifteen leaves and twelve petals.

'That should keep it busy for a while," Carialle said.

"What does it want in that terrible wet place?" Asedow's

voice wailed. "I am getting aches in my bones just watching it!"

"Keep your eyes open," Nokiass voice cautioned them.

'There might be a clue in what this box seeks that will lead

us to the stranger."

Carialle joined Plennafrey's delighted chuckle.

Keff ran to the far side of the cave mouth so die hill

would block the view of him from the spy-eyes' position.

The Noble Primitives, still wiping traces of breakfast from

their faces and chest fur, were listening to their crew chiefs

assigning tasks for the day. Brannel, near Alteiss group,

seemed bored with the whole thing. Keff now suspected

that there was something in the Noble Primitives metabolism that rejected the amnesia-inducing drug, or he was

cleverer than his masters knew. He was banking on the latter possibility.

"Ssst, Brannel!" he whispered. A child turned around at

the slight noise and saw him. Sternly, Keff shook his head

and twirled his finger to show the child she should turn

around again. Terrified, the youngster clamped her hands

together and returned to her original posture, spine rigid.

Keff fancied he could see her quivering and regretted the

necessity of scaring her. It was easier to frighten the child

into submission than make friends. He hissed again.

"Ssst, Brannel! Over here!"

This time Brannel heard him. The Noble Primitives

sheeplike face split into a wide grin as he saw Keff beckon-ing to him. He rose to hands and knees and crawled away

from the work party.

Alteis saw him. "Brannel, return!" he commanded.

Wordlessly, Brannel pointed to his belly, indicating the

need to go relieve himself. The leader shook his head, then

lost all interest in his maverick worker. Keff admired Brannel s quick mind; the fellow had to be unique among the

field workers on Ozran.

"I am so glad to see you safe, Magelord," Brannel said,

when they had retreated around the curve of the hill. T

was concerned for your safety."

Keff was touched. 'Thank you, Brannel. I was worried

for a while, too. But as you see, I'm back safe and sound."

Brannel was impressed. Only yesterday Mage Keff

could speak but a little of the Ozran tongue. Overnight, he

had learned the language as well as if he had been born

there.

"How may I serve, Magelord?"

"I wonder if you would be willing to do me a favor. I

need someone with your injenooety," Keff said. Brannel

shook his head, not comprehending. "Er, your smart brain

and wits."

"Ah," Brannel said, docketing "injenooety" as a word of

the linga esoterka he had not previously known. "You are

too kind, Mage Keff. I'd do anything you wish."

Inwardly, Brannel was jubilant. The mage had sought

him out, Brannel, a worker male! He could serve this

mage, and in return, who knew? Keff possessed many

great talents and wide knowledge which, perhaps, he

might share as a reward for good service. One day, Brannel, too, might be able to achieve his dream and take

power as a mage.

Keff looked around. "I don't wish to talk here. We might

be overheard. Come with me to the silver tower." When

Brannel looked askance at him, he asked, "What's wrong?"

'The noise it made. Mage Keff," Brannel said, and put

his fingers in his ears. "It drove me outside."

"Oh," Keff said. 'That won't happen again. I want you to

come in and stay this time. All right?"

Brannel nodded. The magelord rose to a stoop and

began to make his way across the field. None of the workers looked his way. Brannel hurried after him, full of hope.

Instead of entering by the ramp through the open door,

Keff directed Brannel around the rear of the tower and

pointed upward. A slit as wide as his forearm was long had

opened in the smooth silver wall.

"But why... ?" he asked.

'The fronts being watched," Keff said. He joined his

hands together and propped them on one knee. "Put your

foot here-that's good. Now, reach for it. Up you go."

Brannel grabbed the edge of the opening and heaved

himself into it. Once he was up, he helped pull Mage

Keff into a room crowded with boxes. They had to climb

down from a high shelf with great care. When Brannel

and Keff were inside, the opening in the wall closed.

The female voice of the tower spoke in its strange

tongue.

"Aha," it said. "Come on through."

"Come with me," Keff said, in Ozran.

They walked down a short corridor. Two figures sat

together in front of the great pictures of the outside. One

of them rose and stared at him in horror and surprise.

The feeling was mutual.

"Magess Plennafrey!" Brannel, with one fearful glance

at Keff, dropped to his knees and stared at the floor.

"It's okay, Brannel," Keff said, reassuringly, plucking at

the worker males upper arm. "We're all working together

here."

"Hush, everyone," the other magess said in the towers

voice. "Here comes our diversion. I don't want die spies to

pick up any sound from in here."

Carialle turned on a magnetic field in the airlock, strong

enough to disable the spy-eyes, should any be bold enough

to try to pass inside, but not enough to stop the servo. She

slid the door upward. The low-slung robot rumbled imperturbably up the ramp and through the arch. In one slim,

black, metal hand it held very carefully a single marsh

flower.

Immediately, the spy-eyes thought they had their opportunity to storm the tower and zoomed after the servo.

One hit the field before the others and clanked noisily to

the ground,, disabled. The over-the-air chatter became excited, and the other spheres reversed course at once,

speeding away.

'That'll make them crazy," Carialle said. The first spy

sphere rolled halfway down the ramp before its owner, on

the other side of the continent, was able to take charge of it

once again. As soon as it was airborne, it flitted off.

"Good riddance," Carialle said, and returned her attention to the situation inside the cabin.

Keff stood between Plennafrey and Brannel with his

hands out. Brannel was on his feet, with his mutilated

hands balled into fists by his sides. Plenna had both her

long-fingered hands planted protectively on her belt

buckle. The Ozrans were glaring at each other.

"Now, now," Keff said. "I need you both. Please, lets

make peace here."

"You intend to explain to a worker what we are doing?"

Plenna asked, appealing to Keff. 'This one only has four

fingers! You can give them directions, but they cannot

understand detailed instructions or complicated situations."

Brannel, following the secondary dialect with evident

difficulty, replied haltingly in that language, which surprised the magiwoman as much as his daring to speak out

in her presence. "I can understand. Mage Keff has agreed

to give me a chance to help. I will do whatever Mage Keff

wants," he said staunchly.

Carialle made her image step forward. "Lady Plennafrey, you are suffering from a preconceived notion that all

the people who have had the finger amputation are stupid.

Brannel is the exception to almost any rule you can think

of. He has superior intelligence for someone brought up

with the hardships he suffered. I think he's far smarter

than the favored few who live in the mountains with you

mages. You're not that different. You belong to the same

species," she said, reaching for an example, "like . . . like

Keffandldo."

"You?" Plennafrey asked.

Almost amazed that such a thought had come from her

own speakers, Carialle had to pause to consider die change

of attitude she had undergone. Much of it was due to seeing the division of a single people on this world into

masters and slaves. She now realized that it was counter-productive to separate herself from her parent community.

Yes, she was different, but compared with everything else

she and Keff encountered, the similarities were more

important. Acknowledging her humanity at last felt right

and proper. In spite of the way she always pictured herself,

she knew inside the metal shell and the carefully protected

nerve center was a human being. She felt warmed by the

perception.

"Yes," she said, simply. "Me."

Keff beamed at her pillar. Her Lady Fair image beamed

happily back at him. Plennafrey fumed visibly at the inter-play. If Carialle was human, then the Ozran had a genuine

rival. This, combined with her lovers liberal attitude

toward the lower class, obviously dismayed the young

woman. As she had proved before, she was resilient and

adaptable. Plenna seemed to be considering Keffs point of

view, but she thoroughly disapproved of Keff having

another woman in his life. To disarm the magiwoman,

Carialle made her image step back onto the wall. Plennafrey relaxed visibly.

"So I think you should understand that Brannel

deserves an explanation if he is to help us."

"Well..." Plennafrey said.

"I heard that some of the mages are descended from

Brannel's kind of people," Keff said persuasively. "Isn't

Asedow's mother one like that? I heard Potria call her a

dray-face."

'That's true," Plenna said, nodding. "And he is intelligent. Not good at dunking things dirough, but intelligent."

She smiled ruefully at Keff. "I don't wish to make things

harder for my people or for myself. I will cooperate."

"For what am I risking myself?" Brannel asked hoarsely,

looking from one mage to another.

"For a sheaf of papers," Keff said. "I need to see them.

Magess Plenna will describe them, and Carialle will create

an image for you to see."

Brannel seemed unsatisfied. "And for me? For what am

I risking myself?" he repeated.

"Ah," Keff said, enlightened. "Well, what's your price?

What do you want?"

Plennafrey, losing her newfound liberalism, drew herself up in outrage. "You dare ask for a reward? Do the

mages not give you food and shelter? This is just anodier

task we have given you."

"We have those things, Magess, but we want knowledge, too!" Brannel said. Having begun, he was

determined to put his case, even in the face of disapproval

from an angry overlord, though somehow he was begging

now. "Mage Keff, I... I want to be a mage, too. For a tiny,

small item of power I will help you. It does not need to be

big, or very powerful, but I know I could be a good mage. I

will earn my way along. That is all I have ever desired: to

leam. Give me diat, and I will give you my life." Keff saw

die passion in the Noble Primitives eye and was prepared

to agree.

'To give a four-finger power? No!" Plenna protested,

cutting him off.

"Not good for you, Brannel," Carialle said, emphatically,

siding unexpectedly with Plennafrey. "Look what a mess

your mages have made of this place using unlimited power.

How about a better home, or an opportunity for a real

education, instead?"

"What about redressing the balance of power. Can?"

Keff asked under his breath.

"It doesn't need redressing, it needs de-escalating,"

Carialle replied through her brawns mastoid implant.

"Could this planet really cope with one more resentful

mage wielding a wand? We still don't know what the

power was for originally."

Brannels long face wore a mulish expression. Carialle

could picture him with donkeys ears laid back along his

skull. He was not happy to be dictated to by the flat

magess, nor was he comfortable being enlisted by a genuine magess.

"No one speaks of what went before this," he said. 'The

promises of mages to other than themselves always prove

false. I served Klemay, and now he is dead. Who killed

him? I know whoever kills is not always the newest overlord in a place."

Plenna's mouth dropped open. "How do you know that?

You're uneducated. You've never been anywhere but

here."

"You talk over our heads as if we aren't there," Brannel

said flatly. "But I, I understand. Who? I wish to know, for if

it was you, I cannot help."

Plennafrey looked stricken at the idea that she could

willingly commit murder. Keff patted her hand.

"He doesn't know, Plenna," Keff said soothingly. "How

could he? It was Femgal," he told Brannel. "Chaumel said

so last night."

"Yes, then," Brannel said eagerly, "I will do what you

want. For my price."

"Impossible," Plenna said. "He is ignorant."

"Ignorance is curable," Keff said emphatically. "It wasn't