The Sorceress of Karres (11 page)

Her pursuers appeared. One of them, the woman, had a small clype gun in hand. Goth ducked behind the dren-hound's kennel. A clype needle screamed off the roof. That distracted the dren-hound. He noticed strangers leaning over his gate. The toothy animal plainly wasn't too bright. It barked and rushed at them.

The laughter of the tall bewhiskered man and his companion stopped abruptly as the dren-hound jumped up at the gate, which was swinging open under their weight. Goth ran, jumping the fence into the next yard, ignoring the noises behind her. Someone yelled at her, but Goth just kept right on running until she got behind a small greenhouse. There she took refuge in no-shape. That still left a locked gate and an angry householder between her and getting away. But a little patience and she was able to go on her way, as the irate woman told the local policeman all about the disturbance.

"Some people chasing a young girl. About fourteen years old, I'd guess she was. They ran off when I came out. Lucky for them my neighbor's dren-hound is a soppy old thing. Doesn't bite."

Goth slipped away, grinning. It was a pity the dren-hound wasn't a biter. She'd take the long way back to the apartment and to make absolutely sure she wasn't being seen, go in no-shape.

Within a hundred yards it became obvious that no-shape wasn't going to be enough. The three in the red people-carrier were very slowly cruising towards her. The hooded fellow was driving. The man with the grizzled whiskers was reading out coordinates from a wrist communicator.

They must have a tracking spy lock on her. Just as they had followed Pausert, they could follow her, even if they could not see her. Then, belatedly, it occurred to her—they had probably been using a spy ray to watch Pausert's home. And what had she done? Walked in and shown them where to find the map! And now they knew what they were looking for, and knew how to find her, too. Being in no-shape wouldn't protect her from projectiles or blaster-fire, or even just being grabbed.

A short way down the road was a stop for the monorail system. Goth could see a monorail car arriving, and took off for it at a sprint. She vaulted the automatic ticket gate and then hastened to find a place to change via light-shift into someone unobtrusive. No-shape on crowded public transport really didn't work.

A frumpish old lady appeared on the platform—she looked rather like the woman who had called the police earlier. Goth needed models to get the light-shift right and she figured this one would do fine. She started to run, and then slowed to a hasty shuffle when she realized that frumpish old ladies usually didn't run as if an enraged bull-bollem was after them.

She boarded the monorail car. It was fairly full, but Nikkeldepain folk were generous about letting an old lady past, or even offering her a seat. She politely declined the offers and made her way to the back door, which was intended as an exit. In typically orderly Nikkeldepain fashion all the cars had a forward entry door and a rear exit. And people were of course scrupulous about using them as intended.

Nikkeldepain had some good points, if you liked everything done just so. Goth had often wondered what made the captain, and indeed, to a lesser extent, her father, behave as they did. The answer was obviously growing up on Nikkeldepain. Whatever else she achieved back in time, Goth realized that she was learning a lot about what motivated Captain Pausert. That was probably a good thing, she supposed, given that she was going to marry him.

The car jolted, and, just before it took off, three panting red-faced passengers forced their way into the crowded monorail car. They were looking around, and looking puzzled.

Grizzled-whiskers was talking into his wrist communicator. There were various shields available that could scramble the satellite-tracking. Goth wished she'd thought of getting herself one. She could 'port the communicator elsewhere. But that would be quickly replaced, and Goth didn't want to advertise her klatha powers further than she had to.

Her pursuers began making their way down the car towards her as the car sped on toward its next stop. The Nikkeldepain citizenry were much less polite to the three now pushing their way through the crowd. They weren't old or infirm, and they were lacking in manners, as far as the locals were concerned.

The car slowed and stopped at the next station. Goth stood up and got off along with five or six others, as the pursuit pushed their way through. The automatic door mechanism wasn't a complicated one, and Goth had had a few minutes to study it. She 'ported the person detector away, and joined the group walking off, as behind them the three struggled with the door. The car began to move again. The door was closed and the car's safety system said that it could.

When they were out of sight, Goth turned back and waited for the next monorail car. Given the way the system worked, they'd be getting off at next station to come back at the same time that she got on at this one—unless they were sharp-witted enough to wait for her, or to split up, of course. She'd deal with that if they were.

The car rolled and swung on, on a rail to somewhere. Goth had no idea where it was going, or what she would do when she got there. She was also not at all sure about the strange box in the carrier-bag. Was it their "map"? And, if so, where was it a map to?

The monorail car slowed to a halt again. Goth looked warily up from her reverie and saw a familiar, heart-warming sight. The lattice ship, its gaudy synthasilk covering bright in the morning sun, decked out with bunting and flags. She nodded to herself. Spy lock or no spy lock, let them try following her around the lattice ship. Here on Nikkeldepain she was the one who didn't know where she was going. And security on the lattice ship was fairly tight for areas that were off-limits to the paying public.

She set off with the crowd who were obviously heading for the morning show. No-shape wasn't really an option right now, so she settled for buying a stalls ticket and a box of CarniPops. There was no food value in them, but if she couldn't enjoy some artificial flavorants for old-times' sake, then what could she enjoy? She went with the flow, past the side-stalls and on into the main stages. They were doing the Scottish play again, she noticed. Out of pure nostalgia, Goth went in.

And discovered that live theater still had the same mesmerizing magic for her. Seeing Dame Euthelassia playing the third witch was different, though. Distracting. She almost didn't see her three pursuers sneaking in. She actually might not have seen them if it had not been for the "hush" and "sit down" from others in the audience.

Huh.
When shall we three meet again?
She was meeting those three all too soon!

She slipped under her seat, down into the scaffolding that held the bleachers up, then swung down to the lattice tier. Once there, she moved along one of the beams toward the animal enclosures.

The carrier bag on her arm was a nuisance for this sort of work. It was heavy and awkward. And just there was the props store. There was junk in there from a hundred productions.

Goth dropped onto the beam, next to it. The door was locked. No matter. She knew the lock-keypad sequence backwards.

It took just a few seconds to bury the map-box in her old lair and get out of there, locking the door behind her. And there the three were, after her. She stepped behind a stanchion and assumed no-shape again. There was a choice of three directions in which to run from here—so instead Goth went up. That was always her first instinct.

Once she was a comfortable three body-lengths above the beam, at a convenient cross-rail, she stopped and listened.

"Where has the little witch got to this time!" snarled Marshi. "I'm going to kill her when I catch her. See what I mean, Mirkon. She just disappears."

"We need answers out of her. The readouts say that she's right here," said grizzled whiskers.

"Could be up or down, boss," said Mirkon.

"True. It's got an altitude reading." Goth didn't stick around. She climbed and railed along, and then dropped down to the fanderbag section. Fanderbags were loveable and huge. Especially huge. And Ketering, their keeper, even slept in there with his big children. He never left them alone.

He was with the gentle behemoths now, washing and scrubbing them. Goth balanced her way to the top of their sleeping-house. The fanderbags twitched their big noses at her, plainly smelling her. But this was scrubbing time, a treat not to be missed.

Onto the scene burst her two of her three pursuers.

"Oi. What are you doing here? This is off-limits to the public," said Ketering.

"We're from the Nikkeldepain police," said Mebeckey, flashing a card. "Looking for a dangerous fugitive. We believe that you have her hidden in that structure. Now, just bring her out for us and we'll say no more about aiding and abetting criminals. We don't want any trouble, do we?"

"You think someone is in my fanderbag house?" said Ketering. "They have babies in there. No one is in there. But here, Nellie. Take him and show him the babies. Show babies. Go, girl."

The startled Mebeckey was whisked off his feet by the long prehensile tusks and transported over to the fanderbag house. "See?" said Ketering. "Babies. No criminals. Now get out of here, see. They don't like their babies being disturbed. Gowan!"

Goth kept still, watching. Any sign of weapons and there was going to be some serious 'porting—and shooting back. She liked the fanderbags and Ketering.

Mebeckey was plainly not used to being manhandled by a three-ton animal—gently manhandled, but it had still demonstrated just how light the fanderbag found him. Mebeckey carried himself with that arrogant assurance of those accustomed to getting their own way. Right now that assurance was badly rattled. "Er . . ."

The closer fanderbag snorted at him, leaning forward. Goth had seen Ketering's prompting hand, and she'd fed and petted the big animals often enough to know that they were utterly harmless. Mebeckey and the woman didn't know that. Where was the third man, though? "Thank for your cooperation," said Mebeckey meekly and retreated back the way he had come.

"You can come out now," said Ketering, a few moments later. "The fanderbags know that you're there."

Goth slipped down the side of the house and back into visibility.

"Thanks," she said. "They're not cops." Instinctively she was petting and caressing the sensitive, curious noses that snuffled at her, just as he'd showed her how to do, years ahead of now.

He raised his eyebrows. "You know fanderbags." His tone, a little sharp earlier, was now much gentler.

"Adore them. And I'm not leaving before I see the babies. Then I'll be gone. No trouble for you or Himbo, I promise."

A smile spread across his face. "They like you too. Come and have a look."

The two baby behemoths were miniature quarter-ton versions of their parents. Goth thought that it was just as well the Leewit wasn't here. There really wasn't room for a baby fanderbag on the
Venture
!

Ketering watched her pet them. He sucked his teeth. "Look, kid, you know young Himbo, it seems. You hide on the ship now, and they find you, and we could be in all kinds of trouble. You want to get here about an hour before we lift. I'll give you a pass."

She hugged him, even if he smelled of fanderbag. "Can't," she said gruffly. "Got stuff to do here. But you tell Himbo those are not cops. One of them is a wanted escaped felon."

He bit his lip. "By the way the fandies are sniffing, they haven't gone far. You're in some kind of deep water, kid. Do you need help?" He patted a prehensile tusk. "I've got some big friends."

"Who wouldn't hurt a fly," she said, smiling. "I'll be fine. Just tell Himbo he's got some bad guys—three of them, backstage where they shouldn't be. I'll lead them off now. Head for the sideshows. A few roustabouts around there would help."

"You know lattice ships?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. And I know what I'm doing. Take care of those little ones."

She was reluctant to leave, Goth discovered. She had never thought that she'd appreciate a champion. That was not the kind of thing Karres witches found necessary too often. Mind you, they'd let Pausert be one. It had seemed right. But the lattice ship would leave Nikkeldepain soon, and she still had the better part of six months to spend here.

She clambered up the beam like a monkey, and was not that surprised to see the third member of the chase-pack waiting up there in the high shadows. And he'd seen her, too. Well, he was probably their cat burglar. She should have realized that they'd have hired one for the break-ins. She'd just have to hope that she could climb quicker, and that he wasn't going to start shooting.

The light up in the beams and rafters of the lattice ship was not that good. It made moving fast risky. Goth just hoped it made shooting riskier. He was climbing about as fast as she was. She was tempted to 'port a small bird perched on a nearby rafter into the folds of her pursuer's coveralls, to distract and delay him. But she knew she didn't have much klatha energy left and figured she'd be smarter to save it for later.

She swung down to the aisle behind the sideshow stalls where she and the Leewit had had their act. It was quicker to run than it was to climb, so, no surprise, Mebeckey and Marshi were very close. She dropped into the gap next to Timblay the folding man's stall—he was bad-tempered at the best of times—and slipped out of the narrow passage that led to his boxes and paraphernalia as quickly as possible. Within seconds, she was back onto the main aisle.

They'd seen her drop into the gap and ran there.

So did several other people, some of them of considerable size and bulk. Goth had to dodge sideways to avoid being flattened.

"What are you doing here?" demanded one of the large men who had now cornered the two perps in the narrow passage.

Once more, Mebeckey attempted to use his false identification. "Special Investigations, Nikkeldepain Police. We believe you're harboring a fugitive," he said, flashing the card.

"Yeah? Let's see that card again."

"You're obstructing police investigation. We're in hot pursuit—"