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  Faiseh chewed at his mustache. Manoreh scowled. “No,” he said harshly. “You’ll be safe here.”

  “Safe!” She lost a little of her calm. Her dark eyes narrowed. “Your son FEELS, Manoreh. I wanted to tell you that the past months. You weren’t there, were you? You want Kobe giving him to the Fa-men? He will when he finds out. You know how he feels about the wildings. How long will it be before everyone knows, locked up together like we are? I can’t take a breath that’s not shared by a dozen others. Already Gerd and Minimi are watching him. You didn’t bother to ask about him yesterday, did you? You had time enough at Kobe’s Holding to say a word to me. But I wasn’t important enough for you to bother about, was I, when you had a world to save?”

  Manoreh brushed his hand across his eyes. “Kitosime,” he began.

  With a degree of difficulty Aleytys found hard to understand, Kitosime thrust up a hand, the first urgent near-awkward gesture she’d made. It stopped him. “Kitosime,” she said. “Your wife. Or have you forgotten that too?”

  “The hares.” He looked desperately tired. “Too dangerous. I can’t stay with you, Kitosime. I can’t.”

  “When did you ever?” She picked up Hodarzu who was clinging, sleepy and silent, to her leg. “I want my son to live,” she said quietly. “Kiwanji is a death trap for him now. Do what you have to, Manoreh. But get us out of here first.” She rubbed her hand gently up and down her son’s back and he murmured sleepily. “You owe us that at least, Manoreh. Get us out of here and leave us at Kobe’s Holding.”

  Manoreh closed his eyes. Through the link Aleytys felt anguish and uncertainty, a fading ghost of the watuk blindrage. Without stopping to think she left the car and put her hand on the watuk’s arm, the healer in her responding automatically and irresistibly to his need. She closed her eyes and tapped into the power river, letting the black water pour strength into him. It wouldn’t stay long, seemed to wash off. When she’d done as much as she could, fighting against a resistance that negated much of what she tried, she opened her eyes and saw him looking down at her, startled and repelled. Hastily she stepped away.

  She walked back in spite of Grey’s disapproval, smiling ruefully.

  Manoreh leaned against Faiseh’s shoulder. “Come then,” he told Kitosime. With Faiseh’s patient assistance he stumbled into the groundcar and lay back against the seat. Grey brushed past Aleytys and sat down next to him. Wearily amused, Aleytys settled in the remaining corner and took the small boy on her lap so that Kitosime could slip in and seat herself on the floor by the Hunter’s feet.

  When they were all in, Faiseh twisted back over the seat. “Once we’re out of the compound I’m moving fast. Kitosime, keep your head down. Folks out there aren’t going to like a groundcar going out of Kiwanji. But they won’t stop at disapproval if they see you. You got that?”

  “Yes.”

  Faiseh drove slowly through the shadowed streets passing only a few boy gangs running furtively. “Starting already,” he muttered. There were, men sleeping in the narrow lanes between the temporary shelters. Some woke and cursed him but he ignored them and threaded through the staggered buildings until he reached the perimeter of the psi screen and the low stone wall that marked it. There was a gap in that wall where the road went out of the city. He stopped. The car rocked in place, humming raggedly. He was sweating, muscles tense. He shifted in the seat and looked at the silent figures in the back. “You see them?”

  Aleytys leaned forward. The hares were a restless white blanket bobbing up and down in spots, the far edge beyond view. The force driving out from them sent bright ripples like heat waves shivering up and down the force dome.

  Faiseh gripped the back of the seat. “Hunter.” The tip of his tongue traced the clean-cut curves of his greenish lips. “You backed Haribu off at the landing field. Think you could hold us till we’re through them?”

  “I can try.” She settled in her corner as comfortably as she could, wincing as her feet struck Kitosime’s crouched form. “Is there any reason Kitosime needs to stay hidden now?” She pulled her feet back. “I’m kicking her every time I take a breath. That can’t be very comfortable.”

  Faiseh frowned at the emptiness around the car. “All right. Be quick. Climb over the seat, woman.” He leaned forward over the control stick. “Hurry.”

  As Kitosime clambered awkwardly over the seat back, then fished Hodarzu up and settled him in her lap, Aleytys began the breathing exercises Vajd, her Dreamsinger lover, had taught her. She relaxed until her heart was beating slowly, until her breathing was deep and slow. The black water flowed around her; her symbolic image gave her access to the great pool of power winding between the stars. “Go,” she breathed.

  The car skimmed through the wall-gap and popped through the psi-screen. The harepower struck like a hammer and rebounded from the bubble she held around the car. Force rammed into the bubble, punching like fists at her. Again and again the ram came, driving great dents into her silver bubble, dents she smoothed out with sheets of black water. If the mind behind the ram had been able to shift the point of pressure more fluidly, it might have crushed her. As it was, she had just enough time to counter each of the probes.

  She held the bubble until a hand touched her shoulder and Grey’s voice came to her from a long way off. “Relax, Lee. You can relax.”

  She sighed and let the bubble collapse. The black water melted away. Shifting to relax the cramp in her muscles, she murmured, “How long to Kobe’s Holding?”

  He touched her cheek, smiling down at her. “Should be there around sundown today.” He nodded at Faiseh. “According to him.”

  “Good.” She let herself go and all the accumulated fatigue of the past week let her sleep.

  Chapter VIII

  Umeme leaned against the window of the guard tower, frowning as he listened to a growing noise coming from the shelters. The boy wondered if the clamor had anything to do with the groundcar that had left the Tembeat early that morning. He looked out again from the street-side window. More and more men were stopping and staring up at him, scowls on their faces. They clumped in groups of three and four and stood muttering sullenly. Behind them, in the direction of the shelters, Umeme heard a dull roar. It was coming closer. He opened louvered shutters and edged out, looking back along the street. At the sight of the mob of watuk yelling and waving rifles as they ran toward the Tembeat, he hastily pulled back inside and threw his weight on the alarm bell’s rope.

  The clangor rang out over the yelling. The students and teaching Rangers poured out of the Tembeat and the small houses. They gathered in the court beside the guard tower.

  Excited and incoherent, Umeme danced about in the doorway. He managed to spit out, “They’re coming, a mob, a bunch of Holders, they’re mad about something, yelling and waving rifles.” He paused and gasped. “Old Man Kobe’s in the middle of them, looks ready to burn the place down.”

  “Quiet.” The Director stood on the steps of the Tembeat main building, frowning at the milling crowd in the court. “Walim Ktaieh, get the boys back in the Tembeat and keep them quiet. Walim Agoteh, get the rest of them armed and get back here. All of you, be quiet. I’ll do the talking.” He stroked his ash-colored beard, as he waited for his orders to be carried out.

  When the court was empty he walked to the guard tower, climbed the ladder and moved to the window, pushing the shutters open as Kobe and his men arrived. Before the Old Man could bring the butt of his rifle against the timbers of the gate, the Director leaned out, resting his weight on his still brawny forearms. “What do you want, Old Man? You’ve got no business here.”

  Kobe glared up at him. “I want my daughter, wild man. Send her out.”

  Umeme stared open-mouthed at the Director, started to speak and stopped at the quick commanding gesture from the older man. The Director shook his head. “We’ve got no women here. You know that.”

  “That whoreson Manoreh has her. Get him out here. Make him send her out.” Kobe was turning a purp
lish blue and his voice was a shriek. He teetered dangerously on the edge of blindrage, ready to plunge them all in blood.

  “Manoreh’s not here.” His old voice was beginning to sing, working on them with all the skill his decades had taught him. “He left this morning, Old Man Kobe, this morning, with Faiseh the Ranger and the Hunters, Old Man Kobe. You may come in, Old Man Kobe, come in and see for yourself.” He kicked Umeme in the leg and the boy ran to the pull rope that would trip the counterweight and lift the bar. “Come in and see.”

  The gate swung open a little, startling a watuk who’d been leaning on it. Umeme held his breath. The thought of those bigoted angry men scrabbling through the Tembeat made him sick to his stomach.

  Kobe looked at the Tembeat gates with an expression of deep disgust. He spat and turned away, the double dozen men with him spitting in their turn and wheeling to follow him back to the barracks. Not all the men left. A number lounged against walls, staring and brooding, occasionally speaking to neighbors.

  The Director watched the mob shuffle off then leaned back against the window frame. His shrewd eyes examined Umeme’s face. He smiled as the boy shifted uneasily. “Well?”

  Umeme stared hopelessly at narrow naked feet and said nothing.

  “Did Manoreh take his wife with him? Dallan told me about the ghost and the groundcar. He said nothing about stray wives.”

  “I didn’t see her.” Umeme met the Director’s calm gaze, lowered his eyes. “At least, I didn’t see her actually get into the car.” He shuffled his feet. “Dallan said I was to open the gate for them; he didn’t say count them.”

  “I’m not Dallan, young friend.” Then the Director chuckled. “Keep your mouth shut about this.” The hooded indigo eyes twinkled with mischief. “Done a good job of that so far. Now, not even to your best friend, you hear?”

  Umeme nodded vigorously. “I hear.”

  The Director took another look out the window. He sighed as he saw the loungers across the rutted street. “I wonder how it’s going to end.” Sighing again, he went out and began climbing down the ladder. Umeme stood in the doorway and watched him walking tiredly across the courtyard, moving past the small group of silent teachers with a nod but no words.

  Chapter IX

  The groundcar moved through long shadows and turned into the gate left open when Kisima clan left Kobe’s Holding. It jolted through the twisting deserted street of the bound quarter, turned along the wall, then cleared the arch by a hair. Faiseh stopped the car by the well and climbed out, stretching and groaning. Aleytys stumbled out, breathing deeply of the cool dry air, stretching in her turn, laughing a little from the sheer joy of moving about after so many hours sitting cramped. Behind her she heard assorted grunts and sighs as the others unfolded after the long, rough ride. Then Kitosime ran past her, up the stairs and into the house, Hodarzu in her arms.

  Aleytys swung around. “What was that about?”

  Faiseh snickered. “Bladder. Kitosime likes her comforts.”

  Aleytys grimaced. “She’s not the only one.” She followed the watuk woman into the house.

  When she came out Grey was prowling about the courtyard, examining the designs on the tiles and peering down into the great Mother Well. Faiseh stood in the archway, shaking his head over the devastation dimly visible in the slowly brightening light of the moonring. Manoreh still sat in the back seat of the car. A stone man half dead. Aleytys crawled inside. Kneeling on the seat beside him, she touched his face, then slapped him hard. He showed no response.

  She sat back and regarded him, filled with impatience and frustration. Repeatedly during the ride she’d tried healing him, letting the black water flow into him. It went in and through. An endless drain, passing through and beyond him, not even touching him, as if his flesh were little more than cloudmist. For the first time her healing had failed. She backed out of the car and stood leaning against it, head down. Grey was watching her. He came to her and rested his hand on her shoulder.

  “He alive?”

  “Barely.” She laid her hand on his. His warmth drove some of the chill out of her. “I can’t help him.”

  “You all right?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It undermines. You know?”

  “A little. What now?”

  Faiseh approached. When he heard the question he touched her arm. “The Umgovi Cluster will be up in another hour.” He pointed at the moonring strenghtening into full visibility as the last traces of sunset washed away. “Be a lot of light.” He jerked a thumb at the car. “Even in that wreck you could get Manoreh to the ghost in about six hours.”

  “Me?” She backed up until she was pressed against Grey. Her eyes slid to the dark figure in the car and she shivered. “No.” She shifted her gaze from Manoreh and faced the other Ranger. “Why me?”

  Faiseh spread out his hands. “Who else can? The reason he split off the ghost in the first place is Haribu was after him strong. Me, I’d go down fast if the demon took me on.” He nodded at Grey. “Your companion there, I don’t know about him. But you I’ve seen fight Haribu off. And we all need faras and provisions for the trail. Hunter and me, we can take care of that easy enough. But Manoreh can’t wait. You take him.”

  Aleytys nodded reluctantly. “You’ve made your point.” She stepped away from Grey, feeling a little lost as the pressure of his strong body left her. “How do I find the place? He won’t be much help.” She indicated Manoreh.

  “Come here.” Faiseh walked around the car to the driver’s side. He reached in and fingered a dial. “Just keep that pointer halfway between south and east once you’re out of the gate and clear of the hedge. Take the car up a little to clear what juapepo the hares left, then keep on until you run into something the car won’t climb. Then get him into the barn. You know what a barn is?”

  Aleytys chuckled. “Yes, Ranter, I know what a barn is.” Slowly she turned, looked around the shadowed courtyard. When she faced the car again, she yawned and stretched. “I’d better get started.” She grimaced at the rusty, battered groundcar. “I might have to haul him half the way on my back.”

  Faiseh grinned at her. Grey nodded. “We’ll be along sometime before noon,” he said. His eyes twinkled at her and he scowled. “Then we’ll plot our attack. Haribu beware, the Hunters are on your trail.” At Aleytys’s sudden laughter, he beat his hands together. “Be serious, wench, or I’ll be forced to chastise you.”

  Still chuckling, Aleytys slid into the car and started the whining motor. In her amusement over Grey’s fooling, she’d lost the revulsion and touch of fear that Manoreh’s frozen body sent shuddering through her. As she eased the car out through the arch, she was smiling, warm with affection and gratitude.

  Overhead, the moonband had widened, throwing a calm blaze of silver-white light over the empty houses of the bound quarter. The uauawimbony tree quivered tentatively then rattled with lusty annoyance as she drove past and turned along the rutted road that angled out toward the Mungivir ferry and the barge landing. After she cleared the hedge, she edged the car around until the needle pointed southeast.

  The car began to shudder as it passed over torn clumps of brush and scattered piles of rock. The few leaves the juapepo had left and the limber branches whipped about under the drive of the ground effect, but she ignored that as she ignored the creeping cold radiating from the back of the car. The hours passed slowly, marked only by the progress of the bulge of the moonring across the empty sky. When a stand of trees and the roofs of a cluster of buildings thrust up through the deadly sameness of the flat valley floor, she sighed with relief. Her arms ached from wrestling the car over the uneven surface.

  It steadied briefly as she broke onto another red dust track. Before she could react, she was bouncing over the brush on the far side. She muscled the car around and drove along the track, past shaggy emwilea struggling from a once barbered hedge. At the broken watchtower and crumbled gate she turned into the lane toward the solid weather-scarred house through the broken
ghosts of the bound quarter huts. As she slowed outside the courtyard arch she heard a stirring in the back seat and felt a slightly stronger flicker of life. She halted the car in a swirl of tattered leaves beside the Mother Well.

  In the light from the sinking moon cluster she saw a walled court much like the one at Kobe’s Hold. It was crowded with layers of old leaves and dried weeds, the patterned pavement visible only where the decaying mulch had been swept away by the car’s passage. There was a musty, abandoned smell circling through the heavy night air. The court was eerily silent now that the whine of the motor was stopped. Aleytys shivered then probed cautiously with her mind, searching for possible danger. She felt a distant ripple around the edge of her reach as if something might be hovering beyond the horizon, waiting and watching. Then she thought she might have imagined it as the feeling dissipated.

  She slid out, the leaves crackling under her feet. When she opened the back door, Manoreh lifted his head and looked at her. “Well.” Her lips twitched. “Good to see you coming back to life.”

  His mouth moved. He shifted a hand a short distance, then let it fall.

  Aleytys leaned into the car. “Relax,” she said. “Let me take care of this.” She chuckled. “Poor baby, hauled around by a woman. You didn’t like me much before. I hate to think how you’ll see me now.” She pulled his legs out. He toppled over. She leaned in again and caught hold of his hands, pulling him up until his long body was draped over her shoulder. Grunting with the weight, she straightened with effort and began plodding toward the barn, silently blessing her Vryhh heritage and the fact that her birth world had a somewhat stronger gravity than this. She nudged the sliding door open and trudged inside.