Seeking the Dream Page 13

  “Ask him about Gringers!” Theon demanded. “How is it that he escaped and Gringers didn’t?”

  Kelsan’s eyes went cold. “I’ll ask him that after we have made him comfortable. There’s nothing you or I can do for Gringers and the others right now but make sure we make no mistakes. The Wastelanders aren’t fools, and if we go up against them without a good plan, all our efforts could well end in a final defeat.”

  Later that day Theon and Lil-el had the complete story from Gils as translated by Kelsan. The three of them left Gils in Volly’s care and moved back toward the entrance to the cave where they could talk freely.

  “Well, they’re alive,” Kelsan said softly. “Or were when Gils saw them last. And if they’ve come here to gather slaves, it means that they probably aren’t done looking for us. Once they’ve satisfied their curiosity and destroyed whatever they don’t want, they’ll start hunting for the rest of us. If anyone is captured, he’ll be judged as Gavi and Aldi were judged, which means instant death to the malformed and castration and slavery to the rest.”

  “No!” Theon growled. “No! I won’t let that happen to Gringers! I’m going back up there right now, and I’m going to find a way to free him. Lil-el? Are you with me?”

  Her head lifted at the sound of her name. She was so lost in the fear that it was already too late to save Davin and Thura that she had not even heard what Kelsan and Theon had said.

  “Lil-el? You will go with me, won’t you?” Theon pleaded.

  “She must stay here,” Kelsan said before she could answer. “If anyone is to escape on your rafts, they’ll need her to keep the water draak away.”

  Theon shook his head. “No. Part of her family is up there, and she can go with me if she wants to!” He held out a hand to her. “Lil-el?”

  Lil-el thought about her two youngest, realizing that if she left them with the Barl-ganians she might well be sealing their fates, but deep within, she also knew that there were two others who needed her—if they were still alive. She could not leave Barl-gan without knowing for sure one way or the other.

  She took Theon’s hand. “We’ll leave when it gets dark.”

  Bhaldavin knew nothing of what was going on in the caves at the edge of the lake, but it was his hope that Lil-el and his two sons would remain safely hidden until the Wastelanders left the city—if they left. Judging from the arguments he had heard that morning, he understood that one faction among the Wastelanders wanted to claim Barl-gan for their tribe, while Zojac and representatives of the other three desert tribes were set against anyone claiming the city, fearing that a lengthy stay in the area would contaminate Wastelander bloodlines and create the same kind of monsters they had all sworn to kill.

  The Wastelanders were not ignorant or particularly superstitious, but they did have a healthy respect for their forefathers and the history that had been passed down to them by word of mouth. It was true that they coveted the light guns carried and used by Barl-ganians to hunt and protect themselves against draak, but they were not about to take up residence in a place that had represented death and disfigurement for as long as anyone could remember.

  Bhaldavin had heard enough of the arguments for and against staying to believe that when it came time to depart, no one would stay behind.

  Turning his thoughts from the Wastelanders, he glanced down at Thura who, dressed once more in her own clothes, lay asleep with her hands tied and her head cradled in his lap. There were dry tear marks on her face and her soft green hair was tangled and matted with sweat. He hated seeing her bound like an animal and tensed at his own ropes, seeking to loosen them in case a chance of escape presented itself. Not that that was likely. The Wastelanders were keeping a very close watch on their new slaves.

  There was no word for slave in the Ni language; that was a concept that had come with the arrival of men on Lach. He had been a slave once years before and remembered the anger and humiliation he had felt at being treated like some half-tamed gensvolf. He had survived months of slavery and in the end earned his freedom, but he had a feeling that this time there would be no end to slavery. He shuddered as memories of being chained returned to haunt him. He would rather see Thura dead, he thought, than subjected to such a life.

  Bhaldavin knew little about Wastelander life except what Kelsan and Gringers had told him. He knew that they lived on the edge of the desert where draak seldom laired, and that they farmed small areas of land in and around a scattering of deep springs. According to Kelsan, they fished and hunted and had domesticated a four-legged animal they simply called runners. Kelsan said that the Wastelanders lived hard, short lives where they were forced to learn to kill early in order to survive.

  Yes, he thought, remembering how quickly and efficiently Sola had dispatched Gavi. They’re good at killing, too good.

  A chill skittered down his spine as he looked up and saw Sola approaching. Sola nodded to the two men keeping watch over the prisoners and came over to check the prisoners’ bonds.

  Gringers’s eyes glinted with hate as Sola pushed his head from side to side. When he touched Thura, she woke with a start, eyes wide in alarm when she saw who leaned over her.

  Sola’s eyes glinted with interest. “You’re a little beauty, aren’t you?” he said softly. His hand moved down Thura’s side onto her bare legs. He grinned as Thura drew away from his touch.

  “Leave her alone!” Bhaldavin said without thinking. His anger made his words almost incoherent.

  The back of Sola’s hand caught him in the mouth, knocking his head against the stone wall of the steps leading up into the mansion. A blur of darkness threatened Bhaldavin as Sola grabbed him by the tunic front and shook him.

  “You want another lesson, Green Hair?” he hissed softly.

  Suddenly Sola felt something hard under his hand. He released Bhaldavin and drew out the cord from around his neck. “What’s this?” he asked, feeling the bag. Not waiting for Bhaldavin to answer, he opened the bag and dumped Mithdaar into his hand. He held it—but only for a second. He yelped in pain and dropped the crystal as if burned. The two men who had been watching him stepped closer.

  “What is it?” one of them demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Sola answered. He squatted and warily probed the crystal with the point of his knife.

  “It’s beautiful,” one of the guards said. He glanced at Sola. “Why did you drop it so quickly?”

  Sola rubbed his fingers together. “It’s hot. It burned me.”

  The other guard leaned down. “It doesn’t look hot.” He reached out and touched it tentatively with a finger. He drew it back a second later, shaking his hand. “Damn! It does burn!”

  Sola looked at Bhaldavin. “What is it?”

  Bhaldavin hesitated, suddenly afraid for Mithdaar.

  Sola glanced at Thura and smiled grimly. He caught at her arm and drew her close. “Tell me what it is, or I’ll use your daughter here and now in front of you!”

  “Tell him what it is, Davin,” Gringers urged, his dark eyes shadowed. “Tell him how you need it to sing draak.”

  Sola pointed a finger at Gringers. “Another word and you’ll wish I had killed you earlier!”

  Bhaldavin glanced at Gringers, who obviously wanted him to continue to lie about the crystal. Was it his way of trying to protect the crystal, or was he just trying to distract Sola from harming Thura?

  His glance shifted back to Sola. “It’s a focus stone,” he said, picking his words carefully. He licked at dry lips and continued, his fear for Thura’s well-being almost choking him. “I need it—to sing draak. It helps me concentrate.”

  “Why does it burn?” Sola demanded.

  “It’s attuned to me and no one else.”

  Sola looked at the crystal and pushed it toward Bhaldavin with his knife. He watched Bhaldavin’s face as he pressed it hard against his right leg.

  Bhaldavin straightened a little as Mithdaar’s energy surged through him, absorbing all the memories Bhaldavin had to give i
t since last they had touched. The tingle of power was akin to the caressing touch of a lover. There was a subtle change in the color of the crystal as it experienced Bhaldavin’s emotions.

  Sola looked down at the crystal and frowned as it lightened in color, changing from grass green to pale mint green. Curious and feeling bolder, he again reached out—and flinched as an actual spark arced outward from the crystal to his flesh.

  “Damn!” he exploded angrily, standing up and shaking his hand to relieve the pain. “That thing is dangerous! It ought to be destroyed!”

  “Destroy it and Bhaldavin can’t sing draak!” Gringers growled. “Just leave him and it alone and he’ll serve you many years, keeping your people safe from draak!”

  Sola glared at Gringers. “You have a loud mouth!”

  Gringers shrugged. “So I’ve been told. But I don’t lie.”

  Sola did not like Gringers’s tone of voice and stepped back toward him. “You want a fight?” he challenged.

  “If you’ll make it a fair one,” Gringers answered sharply.

  “Castrate him, Sola!” one of the guards suggested. “That’ll take the sass out of him. Why wait until we get back to the desert?”

  “Not a bad idea, Reyban,” Sola said softly. He glanced at the two guards. “Stretch him out and hold him down!”

  When that had been done, Sola squatted beside Gringers, his dark eyes assessing. He touched the knifepoint up under Gringers’s chin, then slowly drew it down Gringers’s throat, across his chest and abdomen, then a little lower. “Ready to give up your manhood, Loudmouth?” Sola asked wickedly.

  His knifepoint slit an opening in Gringers’s pants. He roughly tore the material back. “Just one quick cut and you’re no longer a man, Loudmouth,” he sneered. “Shall we get it over with?”

  Gringers’s face had lost its color by that time, but his eyes never strayed from Sola’s face. To Bhaldavin it almost seemed as if Gringers were daring Sola to do as he threatened.

  The guards watched expectantly, all but ignoring the other prisoners as Sola took hold of Gringers’s scrotal sack and touched his knifepoint to the tender skin. Seconds dragged by as Sola watched Gringers’s face. Suddenly Sola released Gringers and stood up, putting his knife away.

  “You’re a brave bastard, Loudmouth,” he said. “I think I’m going to have fun taming you.”

  Gringers licked at the sweat beading his upper lip and cast a quick glance at Bhaldavin. He had won that round—but it was obvious that he did not look forward to another of Sola’s games.

  Sola turned to one of the guards. “Reyban, take Loudmouth inside. Zojac wants to talk to him.” He turned and glanced at Bhaldavin, then stepped over Gringers’s legs and reached for Thura. “I’ll take the girl with me for now.”

  “No!” Bhaldavin cried, twisting at his ropes. “Let her stay with me!”

  Sola’s fist caught Bhaldavin’s jaw, knocking him backward. A second blow landed on the back of his neck as he tried to turn over. Thura’s screams were the last thing he heard.

  Chapter 11

  DHALVAD STOOD IN his small windowless cell and faced Amet, determination reflected in every line of his body. “I want to see Poco!”

  “I told you, not until we’ve found the other crystal.” Amet’s glance touched Paa-tol, who stood near the door. They had come to discuss the next step in finding the crystal called Mithdaar, but Dhalvad was proving very uncooperative; Amet did not like the look in Dhalvad’s eyes. There was no telling what a desperate male might do if he believed his mate was in imminent danger. He was glad that he had brought Paa-tol along.

  He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “You don’t understand the significance of this find, Dhalvad. It’s more important than family ties or even—”

  Dhalvad interrupted. “All I care about is my family! Where are they, Amet? You promised that if I helped you link with the Tamorlee, I could see them—or have you forgotten?”

  “No. I haven’t forgotten!” Amet snapped. “But that promise will have to wait.”

  Dhalvad crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ll get nothing more from me until I see Poco and Jiam and know they’re all right!”

  Gi-arobi whistle-clicked agreement. He, too, wanted to make sure Poco, Jiam, and Big Fur were safe. He jumped down from the bed where he had been sleeping when Amet and Paa-tol arrived and crouched at Dhalvad’s feet, his golden eyes judging the distance to the door and noting the way Paa-tol stood with his hand resting on the hilt of his knife.

  Amet swore silently to himself, wishing he could do without Dhalvad; but he knew it was not possible. Earlier that morning he had tried to link with the Tamorlee by himself and had been instantly repulsed. Paa-tol had also tried—with the same results. It was infuriating to be denied access to the crystal’s power, but there simply was not a damn thing he could do about it except try to coerce Dhalvad into working with him. He had to report to the Elder’s Council in two hours and explain what he meant to do about the Tamorlee without revealing his full plans. It would mean some careful juggling of the facts; it also would mean that his hold over Dhalvad’s tongue had to be secure, because the Elders were very likely to have questions for the Healer.

  A germ of a plan began to form in the back of his mind; it was ugly but would be effective if everything worked out the way he hoped. In fact, it would take care of several problems at once.

  Dhalvad took Amet’s hesitation as a point won in the battle of wills. He was getting tired of being pushed and had decided to push back, testing Amet’s resolve. If anything happened to Poco or Jiam… A shiver coursed down his spine. No. He would not let himself think about that. Despair would only sap his strength. He had to be strong, for himself and for those he loved. He would not give up!

  Amet rubbed the back of a hand along his jaw, then nodded. “All right, Dhalvad, you win. We’ll take you to see Poco, but afterward you must do as I tell you. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  Amet nodded to Paa-tol, who turned and opened the door fully. Dhalvad started forward, his desire to see Poco and Jiam making him forget Gi-arobi.

  Not so Amet. “The olvaar will stay here,” he began. The words were hardly out of his mouth before Gi-arobi was moving.

  “No!” Amet yelled, seeing the olvaar streak for the door. “Paa-tol! Stop him!”

  The olvaar moved so fast that Paa-tol was almost caught off guard. He stepped into Gi-arobi’s path and bent down to grab him. One hand missed; the other caught a fistful of fur.

  Gi-arobi’s sharp teeth sank into Paa-tol’s wrist as he was drawn into the air. A moment later he was falling. He landed on the stone floor with a thump and bounced; he was up and running before Paa-tol could recover.

  “Call him back!” Amet demanded of Dhalvad. “Now!”

  “Gi!” Dhalvad hollered. “Come back!” He watched the olvaar scamper down the tunnelway and around a corner out of sight. He glanced at Amet and saw him frowning. Secretly pleased that Gi had escaped, he pursed his lips and let loose with a high whistle that only urged the olvaar on.

  Amet caught roughly at Dhalvad’s shoulder. “What did you just tell him!”

  “You heard me,” Dhalvad said. “I told him to come back. But Gi has a mind of his own and doesn’t like being cooped up. If I know him, he’s on his way to the outside, probably to the markets where he can find something to eat.”

  Amet’s frown deepened. “I don’t trust you, Dhalvad.” He looked at Paa-tol. “Go after the olvaar and stop him before he has a chance to talk to anyone!”

  “Who’s going to listen to him?” Paa-tol said. “He’s just an olvaar.”

  “Yes. An olvaar with friends such as Chulu and Tidul, and he speaks trader well enough to make things difficult for us if he happens to mention Dhalvad’s family. So get going! Have Oman and Vescaar help you. When you find him, bring him back here and lock him in, then come and meet me where we’re holding Pocalina.”

  Paa-tol looked at Dhalvad, who was listening intentl
y to every word. “Will you be all right alone?” he asked Amet.

  Amet drew a knife from within the hidden folds of his right sleeve. “I’ll be fine. If within an hour you haven’t found the olvaar, let that others continue searching. You meet me outside Pocalina’s room.”

  Paa-tol nodded and left, his long strides taking him quickly out of sight.

  Amet caught Dhalvad’s elbow and steered him toward the doorway. “Come quietly and I’ll take you to see Pocalina. Cause me any trouble and I’ll use this knife, and that will be the end of it as far as you’re concerned.”

  “Would you really kill me, Amet?” Dhalvad asked in all seriousness.

  “I would,” Amet answered grimly.

  “And chance losing your only way to contact the Tamorlee?”

  Amet’s eyes were bold and calculating. “I wouldn’t have to kill you, Dhalvad, only hurt you—and knowing the extent of your healing powers, I think I could hurt you very badly without actually endangering your life.”

  Dhalvad shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, Amet. You must realize that sooner or later it will catch up with you. Even the discovery of another crystal can’t make up for your threats against my family. When the Elders learn that…”

  Amet snorted. “The Elders are my friends, every one of them! When they come to understand the full importance of the discovery I’ve made, any protests made by you and your half-breed mate will be of little consequence. You overrate yourself, Dhalvad. You always have. You aren’t the only Healer in Jjaan-bi, and as for being a Seeker, you haven’t even a ring any longer. You would do well to forget any thoughts of revenge and go along with this search. You might even earn yourself a place in the hearts of the people of Jjaan-bi, if you’re smart.”

  Dhalvad kept silent, realizing that there was no arguing with Amet. It was obvious that the Speaker had convinced himself of the necessity of using force to get what he wanted—no, what he thought the people of Jjaan-bi wanted.

  Dhalvad tried to keep track of the turns they took in the maze of tunnels that led deeper into the mountain. Many of the tunnels looked unused. Dead or dying fayyal rocks gave poor lighting, and loose rock debris made the footing dangerous in places. They passed through an old rough wooden doorway and went down a flight of crude steps. The air was damp and musty in the tunnel below. A few seconds later Amet stopped in front of a barred door. Dhalvlad was completely lost by that time and realized that only the method of trial and error would lead him to the place again.