Chapter 43
Everyone wanted to go to the Great Prisoner Release. Woodcarver exercised some of her old authority and asked Ravna to come up to the New Castle for a private chat. They met in Woodcarver’s throne room. Sht was big enough for its own little throne now. The other puppy nestled on the shoulders of another member.
“Nevil has stolen half the human race and almost all the equipment that wasn’t nailed down. I don’t want the rest of you in his claws.”
Ravna nodded; she had spent the afternoon talking to the kids, and worrying about the same thing. “But you’ll provide a military escort, right?”
“Of course! And unless Nevil has magic we don’t know about, my troops totally outgun him. But consider. We have only Nevil’s word of this agreement”—there was still no direct communication with Tycoon—“and if there is a deal between those two, we have no idea what it is. For all I know, Tycoon could field a force that would trump mine. There is no treachery that I put beyond these two.”
That was something the remaining Children agreed on, too. “Okay. I think I can persuade most of the Children to stay behind.” Ravna no longer looked like the victim of a sadistic mugging, but the kids were still amazingly solicitous of her. She had to be careful in making casual statements lest they take them as imperatives. “I am going, however.”
Woodcarver emitted a sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of, and I fear it undoes all our other caution.”
Ravna smiled. “I take it that you’re not going?”
“I’m not crazy.” Woodcarver’s tone was sour. “On top of everything else, there’s the possibility that all this is a feint, and Tycoon is set to attack us here.”
Ravna nodded. What Woodcarver said made sense, but—“You know, I think there’s still a chance for Pilgrim. From Wenda, I gather that Jo and Pilgrim crashed right in the middle of Tycoon’s operation. I know Tycoon wasn’t aware of that! It’s possible that Pilgrim is still in hiding down there. And Tycoon is not the monster Vendacious was. Even if Tycoon has captured Pilgrim, I think he’d be safe.”
Woodcarver sat back. All her eyes were on Ravna, except for the puppies, who were looking at each other. They did that just when the old Woodcarver would have said something really nasty. When she finally spoke, Woodcarver just sounded sad: “But Jo didn’t tell Wenda what had become of Pilgrim. And when we were all on stage, we learned nothing more; Tycoon was too busy ripping at her. Face it, Ravna. Both Jo and Pilgrim are dead.”
This was a dark outlook Woodcarver was not showing in public. Maybe the pessimism was entirely little Sht’s influence, or maybe it had more history. “You also grieve for Vendacious, don’t you, Woodcarver?”
Woodcarver’s heads came up abruptly. “Yes. I grieve for a monstrous pack, who after a century shared virtually none of my blood. Even my own advisors call my sympathy ‘the Queen’s madness.’”
“Not … madness.” But Ravna remembered her horror when Gannon was crushed; Woodcarver’s grief was a different thing. “You packs—you in particular—have done something most civilizations can’t do until they’ve externalized thought; you’ve taken biological selection by the throats and put it in service to ideas. Your offspring packs are your great experiments.”
“And two of them were the greatest Tinish monsters of all time.”
“True,” said Ravna. “But consider. Old Flenser changed the Northwest almost as much as you have—and he created and recreated Steel, and Steel designed and assembled and guided Amdiranifani.”
After a moment, Woodcarver replied, “Long ago, I imagined Vendacious as a weapon against Flenser. That weapon ran amok. It has killed so many. It probably killed the pack my members especially loved. And yet, however much I hate Vendacious, I can’t share everyone’s joy at his total death.”
Ravna nodded, trying unsuccessfully to imagine a reformed Vendacious. “So now, listen more to your members. Hope for what still may be.”
• • •
Of course, their wagon trip up the Streamsdell Valley was nothing like Ravna’s days with Chitiratifor. This expedition had decent food and good tents to sleep in. Domain troops were spread out around them and scouting ahead. The travelers who suffered were the Children who were most desperate to come. Øvin refused to give up on Edvi. Elspa had more hope for her sister Geri, even though she had heard Tycoon’s terrible voice. Jefri said he was optimistic about Amdi, but he didn’t look optimistic. Giske Gisksndot didn’t talk about her feelings at all, but anger radiated from her. Right after Nevil’s big announcement, the Chief Denier had “generously” allowed her to speak with her husband. Giske knew that no hostages would come home with her, that Rolf was determined to keep their two sons. “Powers be damned, I just want to see them!” she had cried to Ravna, begging to be included in the expedition. In the end, Ravna couldn’t refuse her, but she worried what Giske might do when she finally confronted Rolf and Nevil.
The only traveler who seemed unconcerned was Ritl, though she complained as much as ever, especially when she was around Ravna. The singleton had not been given a choice about coming, but then she hadn’t been left in the Domain by her own choice either. Fate had bounced the animal from place to place, but within the limits of her intelligence, she seemed to be searching for something. Ravna hoped that Tycoon would be grateful for her return—or at least not hold that return against Ravna and company.
After five days on the road, their expedition came in sight of Nevil’s hanging valley. Benky’s troops set up a perimeter and the travelers made camp by the river. While everyone waited impatiently for some sign from above, Flenser-Tyrathect spread himself out on sun-warmed boulders by the river. Flenser had brought several telescopes. He idled away the time peering up at the lip of the hanging valley. He seemed to be enjoying himself. “I wager that Nevil won’t invite us into his caves. I remember when I was a co-conspirator.” His heads, except for the ones eyeballing the heights, all bobbed in a grin. “He never trusted me with the exact location, but it was clear that Vendacious and probably Tycoon knew about it. I predict that Tycoon will support ‘Best Hope’ just enough to be a problem.”
Ravna had come over to sit nearby, beside the member with the white-tipped low-sound ears. Even at its best, this crippled creature couldn’t have climbed the rocks, but the rest of Flenser still kept it close. Ravna stroked White Tips along the neck, almost as she would a dog. It always accepted such affection. That had been one of the things that had made her want to trust Flenser-Tyrathect. White Tips emitted a rumbling purr; all of Flenser might be less of a sarcastic twit for a few minutes now.
“So you think the prisoner release is going to be down here?” said Ravna. “I don’t see signs of anyone but us here.”
Jefri and others were walking toward them from the tents. Despite Jef’s ambiguous reputation—some of the loyalist Children thought he was Ravna’s secret agent and others were convinced he was a traitor—Jef had ended up being their chief human advisor on this outing. As long as he was clearly working from Ravna’s game plan, everyone seemed willing to accept his expertise. The camp wouldn’t have settled down so quickly and comfortably without Jefri and Benky.
Elspa was just a few feet behind Jef. She gestured to Flenser. “Still no sign of Deniers?”
“Nope, sorry.” Flenser waggled his telescopes authoritatively. Today he had better eyesight than anyone.
Elspa plunked down near Ravna. “I pray … I pray they have my Geri.”
Jefri came around to Ravna’s right so he was standing by White Tips. He muttered just loud enough for Ravna’s ears and the pack. “They better have Amdi. There’s no excuse for not returning him.”
Flenser’s voice came even more softly, barely more than a hum that Ravna felt where her fingertips touched White Tips. “And they better have Screwfloss.”
Their party sat by the river for a time, speculating, sometimes arguing. A meal broke up the discussion, but not the mood. Afterwards Jefri was gone for a time, checking with Benky that the soldiers and lookouts were in position. Ritl was occasionally visible, on some scouting mission of her own.
Ravna checked in with their hidden expedition participant: Scrup had parked his airboat on a mountain pass selected by Oobii. He was playing relay; ionospheric bounce was not good enough today. Ravna wanted reliable communication back to Woodcarver and Oobii. Scrupilo kibitzed on the link but wasn’t supposed to mess with the main data stream. “Amazing,” he said. “From this mountain top looking east, it’s like being the Pack of Packs. I see glaciers and mountains going on forever, like a stony sea. Pilgrim used to brag about this.”
“I still don’t have imagery, Scrupilo.” Ravna’s data tiara was giving her audio, but she had no windows from Oobii.
“Sorry,” said Scrupilo. “Maybe your tiara is finally busted? We’re getting good pictures from Wilm Linden’s camera.”
“Okay.” Audio plus Wilm’s camera should be enough for today. She talked past Scrupilo: “Ship! What are you seeing?”
Oobii replied, “My radar shows mostly clear sky, a few bird swarms. I can’t see all the way down into the valleys.”
“Yes,” interrupted Scrupilo. “Damn Nevil. If his idiots hadn’t crashed EA2, we might have our own look-down radar.” He ranted about Denier incompetence for some minutes; Scrupilo had his own geeky slant on what was wrong with Nevil.
The sun was well past noon when the packs farthest from the noise of the river sounded alarms. Their shouts were not quiet alerts. They were booming chords that announced, “Airship sounds! Airship sounds!”
Flenser was instantly scanning the ridgeline. “I don’t see anything.” He kept his scopes aimed at Nevil’s side valley, but there was a subtle change in the rest of him. He was listening with most of his attention. “I’m too close to the river. It’s not the best hearing … Yes! Airships, definitely.”
Now other packs began shouting. They were racing around, not looking anywhere in particular. Give me a clue, guys! thought Ravna. Where should I be looking?
Benky came racing down from the tree line, jabbing snouts at the southeastern sky.
Ravna followed the gestures. Nothing. And she still couldn’t hear a shred of engine sound … but now Oobii reported secondary radar echoes that might be aircraft following the curve of the Streamsdell Valley.
A minute passed. There! Just above where the glacial valley turned further south, she saw two dark spots floating against the snow glare.
Flenser was dancing around his telescope watchers. He had his own news: “Hei, hei! There are two-legs coming down from Nevil’s little valley.”
Eyes turned from the sky to the ridgeline. At least a dozen tiny figures were descending the valley wall. The abrupt, simultaneous emergence was as dramatic as Nevil and Tycoon had no doubt planned.
• • •
One of the airships might have been the one Ravna and Jefri had flown on; it had the Pack of Packs twelvesome painted on its nose. But the other airship was just as large. There was plenty of room for all the prisoners.
The ships didn’t immediately land. They circled in a long elliptical path above Ravna’s group, flying back and forth along the breeze that swept the valley.
Øvin made a rude gesture at the airships. “The crapheads aren’t going to land until the Great Nevil gives the command.”
Flenser’s had one telescope on the descending humans and the other two on the airships. Øvin Verring’s comment got his attention though: “Heh. That’s certainly the claim Dear Nevil would make. But I remember EA2 landings. It’s tricky without a ground crew to help.”
Magda Norasndot said, “Yes. Be nice, Øvin. We can’t afford nastiness.” She and Elspa Latterby were already talking about where the ships would land. They wanted to be at the front of the welcomers.
Benky had run back into the forest. Now he and some of his troops came into view, accompanying the Denier party. Ravna didn’t need a telescope to spot Nevil Storherte. How did he keep his clothes so clean out here? The villain strode confidently toward them. As he came nearer, Ravna could see he was grinning as with general good nature.
“Greetings, greetings!” Nevil shouted as the loyalist Children ran out to meet him. He stopped well short of Ravna to talk with those most desperate for news.
There were fifteen Deniers in his party. Tami Ansndot and several others were carrying cams and comms. They looked like a news crew from some ancient time. It was interesting the added importance they seemed to give whomever they were pointing at.
Nevil had picked Elspa out of the crowd. Ravna strained to hear him; the tiara was no help today. “Yes,” Nevil was saying, “communications have been awful. Getting better comms should be everyone’s highest priority. But I know your Geri is one of those whom Tycoon found. I know for a fact she is on the first airship—” He turned as Magda touched his arm. He nodded, giving Magda a hug. “Yes, I hope the Norasndots will be here too. We’ll know soon enough.” Some of the Children were openly crying.
Oops. Where is Giske? She wouldn’t be in the middle of all this unless she was carrying a knife. Ravna glanced quickly around. There—Giske was almost thirty meters away, arguing with Bili Yngva.
Now Nevil stepped back and his voice became more public: “Please. Give us a few minutes. We have to get the airships safely landed.” He looked into the sky at the farther airship, just now making a turn at the far end of its circuit. “I’ll land the one with our friends first. The other is just a backup flier.” He delivered this disappointment so casually that people scarcely seemed to notice. Could you really get all the missing on one of these airships?
Nevil touched his ear, like some player in an ancient drama. In addition to what he had stolen, he must be getting radios from Tycoon. With the orbiter for a relay, he had better comms than the Domain. Nevil looked around, then gave a go-ahead wave. Most of the Denier Children ran out into the marshy flats by the river’s outer curve. Ah, there was Del Ronsndot in the lead, waving an arm in a wide circle. The other Children spread out. One of the airships was coming toward them.
The ship’s buzzing rose to a whine. Its bow dipped till the long airform hung foreshortened, descending to earth. All conversation stopped. This was a little like what you might see in civilization—only there, the ship would be a solid mass, perhaps one hundred thousand tonnes, a vehicle that could navigate solar systems.
By the time the first craft had dropped lines and Del’s crew had pounded down anchor spikes, the second airship was descending to land a hundred meters behind. Ravna noticed that Benky was shifting his troops around, inconspicuously setting up fields of fire.
At that point, almost everyone surged forward onto the marshy ground. Benky looked outraged; some of his own troops had joined the crowd. Here in the middle of nowhere, a couple of dozen humans and some packs were doing a good job of imitating a mob. Jefri—who was already at the first airship—got some of the troops into a circle around the ship’s main hatch. Wilm Linden had made it to the front with his camera.
Flenser scrambled down from the river rocks. He let Ravna help with White Tips and his wheelbarrow. They made slow progress across the marsh. Ritl hung back with them. Maybe she realized that she was likely to get trampled if she rushed into the crowd.
Everyone made way for Nevil. As he walked by Jefri, words passed between the two, but Ravna was too far away to hear. She glanced at Flenser, who was watching the exchange too. “Couldn’t hear it,” he said.
Maybe Nevil’s expression had darkened at Jefri’s words. But then he grinned at Jef, and seemed to say something encouraging. He turned back to crowd, all smiles. Powers, even improvising, he was doing as well as back at the New Meeting Place.
“Friends,” he shouted, his voice thin in the breeze. “Friends. Please stay a little back. I’m not sure of the order our loved ones will come out—” but he was waving Elspa to come forward.
Ravna and Flenser had reached the back of the crowd. Ravna tried to see around or over those ahead of her. Ritl wasn’t helping. She was running around between Ravna’s legs, complaining, presumably because she couldn’t see a thing. Except for the fact that she was making trouble, this was very unlike Ritl. Why wasn’t she flanking the mob, or worming her through the Children to get a front row view?
Wilm Linden held the Domain camera high over his head, scanning across the crowd. Then he turned back to the sealed hatch. “You’re getting Wilm’s video?” Ravna said to her relay link.
“Yup,” Scrup’s voice came back, and a second later Woodcarver confirmed: “Ravna, I’m keeping your audio private to Scrupilo and myself. We’ve got Wilm’s transmission showing in Oobii’s meeting place—as well as the video the Deniers are sending through the orbiter. We’re hanging on Nevil’s every word.” She gobbled a mild obscenity.
Ravna grinned but didn’t reply. Beside her, Flenser had made a Tinish pyramid of himself and now had a pair of eyes with a clear view. Benky stayed close to ground; she noticed he had three packs watching away from the main event.
Both airships had shut down their engines. Nevil was into a pregnant pause. The moment captured Ravna as much as anyone. Down by her ankles, even Ritl had fallen silent. The loudest sound was the breeze whistling up the valley.
Behind the port, there was a squeaking sound, the hatch wheel being turned. Ravna stepped to one side, finally got a sliver of a good view. The hull section swung out, dropping the main stairway down.
“So what’s inside?” Flenser hissed at her.
“It’s too dark for me to see,” said Ravna. The entrance was in the shadow of the overhanging hull.
Woodcarver’s voice came over the link. “Oobii did something with the image. There’s at least a singleton crouched at the top of the stairs.”
Somebody was pushing at Ravna’s side, licking her hand. Ritl! “What? Are you crazy?” Ravna said to the animal. “Go run! See for yourself.” Why was Ritl suddenly so shy? She was making desperate little whistling noises. In a way, that was more distracting than her usual bitching. “Okay,” said Ravna, “but you better not slash me.” She reached under Ritl’s forelegs and hoisted the creature up the way the Children lifted their Best Friend’s puppies. Of course there was a problem since Ritl was an average-sized female adult. Ravna staggered back a step, then recovered. At least the creature didn’t try to hold on with her claws, but now Ravna was facing into lots of pointy teeth and the usual bad breath. Then Ritl twisted her head around to look at the airship.
For a moment Ritl was as quiet as everyone else, watching the space at the top of the stairs. Then the singleton that Woodcarver reported came sauntering out. No wonder it had been hard to see. It wore a cloak of midnight black. The radio cloak’s golden highlights were mostly lost in the shade.
The singleton was Zek. He looked a lot better than the last time Ravna had seen him. Zek glanced around with an alertness and self-possession that must mean he had good connectivity. He nodded in Nevil’s direction and boomed out the words, “I speak for Tycoon.” His voice was not Tycoon’s frightened little girl’s voice. It actually sounded like one of Amdi’s voices, the kind he used when he was pretending to be an adult human, someone serious and important.
Nevil gave a little start of surprise, but his response seemed as confident as ever: “As we agreed, sir, I have brought humans and packs from the Domain. Today we can settle many of the issues that poisoned their minds in the past. Have you brought those you rescued from the wild?”
“Indeed.” Zek’s head gave a jerky nod that might have been part of a cynical smile. “My employer has sent me with all the humans and Domainish Tines that we rescued on your behalf.”
Zek stepped to the side, giving way to whatever was behind him. Ravna noticed that Nevil was urging Elspa forward so she would be at the foot of the stairs and visible to all his cameras.
A small human figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Elspa gave a cry and started forward. But this wasn’t Geri Latterby. It was Timor Ristling, who even at fourteen was almost as short as Geri. He gave Elspa a little wave and smiled, maybe not understanding the disappointment in Elspa’s face. He turned back into the darkened hallway and made coaxing gestures. After a moment, someone as small as he was took his hand. The face that peered out at them was as pale as any Straumer’s face could ever be.
“Geri!” Elspa ran up the steps, sweeping her little sister into her arms. She teetered for an instant at the top, then came down a few steps to lean against the top rungs with her knee. For a moment, she just rocked the child in her arms and wept. Geri herself was much quieter. She seemed to be reaching back toward Timor, and after a moment Elspa brought the boy into her embrace.
As Elspa and the little ones came down the steps, the crowd jostled close, Nevil’s camera crew at the fore. Ravna felt Ritl tense, buzzing. She was still looking at the top of the stairs. The only thing there was Zek—but now the creature was looking past the crowd, directly at Ravna. Or Ritl. The singleton exploded out of Ravna’s arms and raced into the crowd. Crazy animal! Or maybe Ritl had somehow concluded that Amdi was here and about to be released.
Ravna had had enough of standing back here. She touched Flenser’s White Tips and said, “I’m going to get closer.”
None of Flenser looked her way, but the pack replied, “That’s fine. Check out Geri. I don’t think she qualifies as a propaganda coup for Nevil.”
• • •
Three packs came out of the ship. Two were city guards who had been missing since before the first kidnappings. They were battered and scarred, though their injuries were mostly healed. The third was a fragment, all that remained of Edvi Verring’s Best Friend Dumpster. There was angry muttering from Benky’s troops on seeing all this evidence of mistreatment.
Some of Tycoon’s packs had descended from the other airship. They looked like soldiers, but they kept their distance. Zek was the only crewmember who appeared from the first craft. He kept to his place at the top of the stairs; he wasn’t saying much, mainly just ushering each prisoner out the door. Nevil did the talking. It took all his skill to spin this to his advantage.
Ravna worked her way through the crowd toward the little hillock where Elspa was sitting.
“Ravna!” Timor saw her and hobbled quickly in her direction. Ravna gave him a hug. Timor was talking fast and enthusiastically. “I was so worried about you, Ravna! We were mostly kept in our dungeons, but Tycoon said that—” He stopped himself as if he shouldn’t be saying more, or perhaps he thought Ravna wasn’t paying attention.
But I was paying attention. Ravna leaned away and brushed his hair into place. His face lit up with the smile she remembered.
Timor drew her over to where Elspa sat with Geri on her lap. Magda and Lisl were on their knees beside her, ignoring the continuing hubbub by the airship’s stairs.
Elspa Latterby sat with her head bowed, almost curled around her baby sister. Kneeling beside her on the soaking grass, Ravna looked at the little girl. Geri Latterby had been such a happy kid, but ever since Ravna had heard her frightened voice coming out of Tycoon, Ravna’s fears for the girl had grown.
Geri was not crying. Her expression was distant. She scarcely reacted to her sister’s touch. But even though Geri didn’t speak, Ravna could see. Two fingers were missing from Geri’s right hand. Her left arm lay at a strange angle. She was dressed in a clean, warm robe … that didn’t quite cover the scars on her neck.
“She’s been tortured,” said Magda. She looked like she was chewing on glass. “Tycoon must pay for this.”
“No!” said Timor. “The big guy only helped her—” but the Children didn’t seem to be listening, and he shut up.
• • •
Nevil Storherte was circulating, mainly among the Deniers. His camera gang was split between tracking him and watching the airship entrance. Giske was nowhere in sight, but Ravna noticed that Jefri and Øvin were closing in on the Chief Denier. If this was the end of the releases, there was going to be trouble.
“S’cuse me, s’cuse me,” she said, working her way through the crowd around Nevil. Meantime, she muttered to her remote link: “Is this all the people we’re getting?” The airship’s hatch was still open, but Zek had disappeared from his post on the stairs.
Woodcarver’s voice came back: “That could be … but hold off for now. The smart thing is to see how Nevil tries to explain the missing prisoners, then decide on the proper action.”
“I don’t think that’s an option. Both Jefri and Øvin are going to start pounding on Nevil.”
In any case, Nevil had noticed her approach. He waved in her direction. “Hei, folks, please let Ravna Bergsndot through.”
Okay, for sure she was being set up. So be it. She nodded as casually as she could, and stepped into the open space in front of Nevil.
Nevil’s smile was as gracious as the day when he ambushed her at the New Meeting Place—but this time Ravna was attacking: “Nevil, I’ve been talking to Elspa Latterby. That’s her sister Geri who came down the ramp first and—”
Storherte blinked, but she’d given him enough warning that he actually managed to interrupt her: “Yes, I asked Tycoon to have Geri brought down the very first.” His smile had morphed into sympathy and serious concern. “I’m afraid some Tines are insanely hostile toward humans. Some of them got to Geri before Tycoon could make a rescue.”
There was muttered gobbling among the Best Friends and Benky’s troops. Woodcarver’s voice sounded privately in Ravna’s ear: “I had to put up with a lot of this ‘insane hater’ talk while you were gone.” But the Deniers were nodding sympathetically. Even some loyalist Children seemed to accept Nevil’s point. And in fact, something like Nevil’s claim was true, though apparently Nevil had decided never to mention Vendacious.
“Okay,” said Ravna, “but we’re still missing at least three packs and five humans. What about Pilgrim? What about Johanna? Remember her? The woman who loved you enough to propose marriage. Are we going to see any of these people today?”
Nevil’s head rocked back a fraction and a certain “honest” indignation showed. “Whatever you may believe, I don’t control Tycoon. He’s my ally, and at least as honorable as your Woodcarver. You all know what that means.” He let the words hang, creating lies out of pregnant silence. Just an instant before Ravna recovered from her own stunned indignation, Nevil continued, “I think we were all at the meeting on the Meadows. That did not turn out well. Sometimes a past wrong is so terrible that a person can’t think straight. I think that’s what happened to Tycoon that day. We’re not going to get Johanna back today. Tycoon claims she’s alive, but I’m not sure we’ll ever get her back.” He looked around imploringly. “And if we do get Jo back, then it would be up to us to judge her. I—I don’t think I could do that.”
Mr. Radio—the Zek end of him—was back at the top of the stairs, no doubt transmitting every syllable back to the Tropics. Zek’s gaze flickered back and forth between Ravna and Nevil.
Ravna gave the singleton a glare, but her main attention stayed on Nevil: “Your lies are piled so deep, I don’t know where to start shovelling. Woodcarver is not like Tycoon. Understand this, both you and Tycoon: Having peace with us means getting Johanna back. In the meantime, what about the others? Or do you claim they’re criminals, too?”
“Yeah! What about Edvi?” That from Øvin Verring.
Magda Norasndot shouted, “And what about my sister’s family?”
Nevil raised his hands. “Look, we didn’t receive a good accounting till just after today’s landing. Tycoon understands your point as well as anyone. He wants justice, too—but not all our missing friends were ever held by him. He knows nothing of Pilgrim. He has searched the wilderness and the Tropics, used all his contacts. Tycoon found Øvin’s cousin, but too late to rescue him. Edvi’s remains are aboard the airship. As for Jana and Basl Norasndot and their baby Kim—no sign of them was found anywhere. I’m so sorry, Magda.” There were no glib condolences for Øvin. Maybe Nevil realized that any such might cause an explosion.
Magda had turned away as Nevil spoke. She was staring into the distance, maybe believing. The Norasndots had been missing well before the kidnappings. The two young parents had chosen to travel with a small trading group all the way to Woodcarver’s old capital, through wilderness that was known to contain weasel nests. Their party had never arrived. Rescuers had found the remains of a weasel ambush, but no human bodies.
“So then, what about the packs that we know Tycoon is holding?” That was Jefri! Somehow he had slipped past the Deniers to stand next to Nevil. Jef had his left arm draped across Nevil’s shoulders. It might have been a gesture of bonhomie—Jef was smiling—but Ravna could see that his hand was dug into Nevil’s shoulder, and Jefri’s other hand was holding something under his jacket.
Merto Yngva and his friends started forward, their hands slipping into the sling bags they carried. Every faction here was armed, but so far no one had been waving around their guns. Nevil gave Merto and company a strangled grin. “It’s okay, guys.” His smile stabilized as he looked at Jefri. “Hei, Jef. I think you’ve had firsthand experience with Tycoon. He can be obsessive, true?”
Jefri must have tightened his grip, because Nevil gave a little gasp. Now that was the properly eloquent way to respond to Nevil! Storherte continued, his voice strained. “Tycoon has been releasing folks in approximately the reverse order of captivity, the most needy first. Okay?”
Jefri shrugged. “I’m still waiting for results,” he said.
“Well, this chitchat is just delaying the final releases.” Nevil turned his head toward Zek. “Bring us the two remaining packs.”
Zek disappeared from sight. A moment later, a pack member poked its snout into view. It came bouncing down the stairs, followed by three of its fellows. The pack’s cloaks covered most its body, but she recognized Remnant Screwfloss—even down to the bodypaint disguise.
Certainly Flenser-Tyrathect did too. From his place behind the crowd, he bellowed something painfully loud. “COMING THROUGH!” was what the sound meant, and even a naive human would get out of the way. With two of him pulling White Tips’ wheelbarrow, the pack really couldn’t run. It didn’t matter. Screwfloss came bouncing across the boggy grass, meeting his creator more than halfway. The two packs stopped a couple of meters apart, so close that coherent thought might be a problem. One of the remnant snuffled closer. It twisted its cape to lie down on the grass. Flenser came partway around it, almost reaching the others—and grooming the one it could touch.
“Are you getting this?” Ravna said to her remote link.
Woodcarver’s voice came back: “Yes. I don’t know what to think. I’m still pissed at Flenser for resurrecting Steel.” But Woodcarver sounded more sad than annoyed.
Jefri had eased up on Nevil. Jef’s smile didn’t have quite the deadliness of seconds before. “One more now,” he said.
Zek had disappeared again. So Amdi must be next. All eyes were on the stairway, but something made Ravna looked back at the crowd, especially around their ankles. The last six tendays had taught her to watch for low-flying surprises. Yes. There was a single snout poking out from between a couple of Children. Ritl was waiting in ambush.
Zek came back into view. He scanned the crowd, maybe pausing at the sight of Ritl. Then he arched his neck and waved at whoever was behind him.
The members that came to the top of the stairs were not as heavy as Ravna remembered, and one of the heads was slightly misshapen. “Amdi!” Jef shouted, turning away from Nevil. The rest of Amdi came out in rush, almost knocking Zek off the platform. They were all looking at Jefri. Amdi was saying something in Samnorsk, about Johanna, but it was so focused on Jef that Ravna couldn’t make sense of it.
The stairs were wide but not eight-wide, and Amdi came down like an avalanche.
Ritl streaked out of the crowd, babbling loud abuse. She swung around in front of Jefri and turned toward Amdi. For a moment she had both Jefri and Amdi balked. She was chastising Amdi, or perhaps mocking him.
Amdiranifani drew in on himself, not responding.
After a moment more, Ritl made a spiky, dismissive noise—and ran directly through Amdi. The Amdi pack didn’t scatter, but milled around, disconcerted by this foreign fragment of mind and fur and gender that was pushing and shoving past its members. Jaws were snapping and heads were turning, and when Ritl emerged on the other side, some of Amdi started after her. But Ritl didn’t stop, and all of him were left behind, watching her departure. Ritl continued on her way, but more slowly. She was still emitting abusive noises, but now her head was stuck snootily in the air. She climbed the airship’s steps, then turned to stand close to Zek.
All the packs were gobbling. Most of the Children looked puzzled, but Ravna suddenly imagined a human analogy. Amdi was like the teenage boy who long has been rejecting the advances of an aggressive girl. Then one day, she gives him a big smile and brushes close by him, running her hand through his hair as she walks—out of his life. And the boy is left looking around, relieved and suddenly wistful for what he’s missed.
Jefri must have noticed the same thing. He was laughing even as he ran to Amdi, even as Amdi recovered and surrounded him.
• • •
So these were all the prisoners they were going to get.
Jefri came out of his huddle with Amdi and strode angrily back toward Nevil. Ravna could guess the reason. Two of Amdi wore dark bandages on their heads. More torture. Amdi ran along after Jef, pulling at his trouser cuffs as if to restrain him.
“Hei, Nevil!” The shout came from uphill, at the edge of the forest. It was Bili Yngva. Giske was right behind him. She had both her sons! The older one was holding her hand, while she carried the other on her hip. Rolf walked just behind the trio. As she came closer, everyone could see that she and Rolf were smiling. Giske was clearly overjoyed; she couldn’t keep her eyes off her two boys.
Giske and company walked to the edge of where the river grass turned marshy. Nevil and most of the Children ran to greet her. “What’s this?” asked Nevil, his voice full of surprise.
Bili grinned back. “Giske has made a decision.” He gave Giske an encouraging nod.
“Ah, yes,” said Giske, looking back and forth across her audience. “Bili showed me what you’ve done up there in the caves. It truly is as comfortable as what we have on, on the coast. It was so good to see my husband again.” Rolf gave her a pat on the shoulder. “And it’s so wonderful to be with my sons!” She looked down at her kids and her smile blossomed. “I think that Best Hope is truly humankind’s best hope. Please let me join you.”
Ravna heard scattered gasps. Nevil looked as surprised as anyone. “Giske, you are welcome to join us.” He stepped forward as if to embrace her, then turned to face the crowd. “All persons of goodwill are welcome to be a part of Best Hope!”
It might only have been Ravna’s imagination, but in that instant she saw a flicker of revulsion cross Giske’s face. Giske had given up a lot to be with her sons; she had not given up what she believed. But she answered the crowd’s questions, still smiling, seeming to convince even her closest friends that she was happy in her decision.
Afterwards, Nevil looked well-satisfied with himself. Giske’s apparent change of heart gave him the ideal platform for his Best Hope sales pitch and distracted from everything else. “We have a good relationship with Tycoon, my friends. If we all—those living under Woodcarver and Ravna and those of us here at Best Hope—if we all can cooperate, I think we can convince Tycoon that villains are rare among the humans. Someday, hopefully someday soon, even Johanna Olsndot can be returned to us.” It was all a bit illogical, but he brought it off; some of the loyalist Children were giving him a serious listen.
Pray Nevil shuts down soon, thought Ravna. She wasn’t up to listening to the monster. She had get out of here, chat with Flenser and Woodcarver, decide how to deal with Tycoon’s failure to release Johanna.
Then Nevil looked her way, and she realized she should have walked away sooner. “So I’m pleading with you, Ravna. Will you and Woodcarver cooperate with us here at Best Hope?”
Ravna opened her mouth. No peace! Not without Johanna. Not without word about Pilgrim. For better or worse, she was preempted by words that boomed from the airship’s hatch: “I think the question is, will Ravna cooperate with the Tines of Tycoon?” It was Zek. At least, Zek was making the sounds.
Nevil turned toward the airship, a stupefied expression flickering across his face. “Um, yes. Of course, I meant—” Nevil was actually floundering! It was heartwarming, even if it took a crazypack like Tycoon to make it happen.
Zek’s voice rode over Nevil’s: “However much we are allies, we have independent interests. I want to know Ravna and Woodcarver’s intentions—”
“Yes, certainly—”
“—and I think a private meeting is in order.”
Nevil’s expression was fixed and blank. He turned and had a short, emphatic conversation with Bili. When he turned back to the crowd he was smiling again, literally putting the best face on the inevitable. “I agree, sir.” He gestured in Ravna’s direction. “I can only hope that Ravna has sufficient trust to meet with you.”
And now Ravna was the center of attention. “I’d be happy to chat with Mr. Radio. As, as for privacy, he’s welcome in one of our tents.”
In her ear, Woodcarver said, “Good.”
“That’s not really private.” Zek’s voice was uncompromising. “Please come aboard. My employer guarantees your safety. You may leave as soon as you wish.”
“No!” hissed Woodcarver. “Tycoon already has Johanna, and he’s clearly nuts.”
Across the field, Flenser was still visible, though beyond the range of focused sound. He was looking back at Ravna, and now gave her a surreptitious, encouraging wave. So this world’s deepest student of treachery thought she should trust Tycoon—but wanted that advice kept secret?
Ravna slowly walked to the base of the airship’s steps. Those seconds gave her no insight, but Scrupilo and Woodcarver were full of anxious objections. Benky and Øvin came running over. “You’re not going in alone,” Øvin said. Where was Jefri?
From the top of the steps, Zek gazed down at her. “I said private, Ravna. Leave these others behind you.”
Nevil was looking less puzzled and more satisfied. This was outside his game plan, but he seemed to figure that no matter what, it would work to his benefit.
Woodcarver: “Ssst! What does Amdi say?”
Jefri and Amdi were still with the other rescuees, also beyond the range of focused sound. Like everyone else, they were just … watching. Jefri was on his knees, close to Amdi, his gaze fixed on Ravna. So was Amdi’s. They looked very much as they had that day by the arrow trees.
“It’ll be okay, Øvin,” she said softly. And then more loudly: “I’m going aboard.”
• • •
The inside of the airship smelled of packs and humans all crammed together. In fact, this was the ship she and Jefri had flown in; she recognized the dings and scratches. Funny that she hadn’t noticed the smell then. Behind her, somepack ominously slammed the hatch closed. Ah. It was the innocuous steward, not a gunpack.
Zek turned left and led her along the main corridor, toward the bow. Ritl stuck close to Zek. She was making a singsong racket that probably didn’t amount to anything. Every so often, Zek emitted a chord that meant roughly “please be quiet already.”
Zek’s new human voice said, “We’ll talk on the command deck. It’s been properly muffled against eavesdropping.”
Woodcarver’s voice came faintly in her ear, maybe inaudible to Zek: “Except for me and Scrupilo! Just pretend we’re not here.”
“That’s fine,” said Ravna. Her words might have been a reply to Zek’s comment. She glanced down at the singleton. “So, Zek, who are you speaking for right now?”
Zek emitted a very natural-sounding human chuckle. “This is really just me, Mr. Radio. It’s good to see you, Ravna.”
Ah?
They had reached the end of the corridor. Zek scooted up the spiral stairs with Ritl close behind. Ravna had the usual problems winding around the spiral. Up top—
Up top, Johanna sat on one of Tycoon’s perches. She had a huge grin on her face.
Ravna must have let out a shriek, for Johanna put a finger to her lips. “We’re shielded, but there are limits—and we don’t want people to think you’re being tortured.” She bounced to her feet and they had a big hug, not saying anything for a moment.
Then Ravna stepped back, speechless. She’d had surprises this big in the past—but rarely pleasant ones. Now she could only wave her hands inarticulately. On her private link, Woodcarver and Scrupilo sounded even more confused than Ravna.
“It’s Johanna,” Ravna finally said.
“Yup. It’s really me. I’m really alive, unharmed, and happy to see you.”
“And you’re not a prisoner?”
“No … I could walk off this ship right this minute. But I’m not going to.” Jo wasn’t smiling anymore. She turned and looked through the gauzy quilting that covered the bow windows. Outside, the sun was so bright that you could see the landscape ahead of the ship. “I’m sorry to mislead my friends, though I’m sure Jefri already knows the truth.” She waved at Ravna’s tiara. “And I’ll bet Woodcarver does too.”
Ravna nodded and touched the tiara. Now Woodcarver’s voice was audible in the room: “Yes, I’m here. Scrupilo, too. I think I’ve figured out what’s going on. This is all to set up secret cooperation with Tycoon?”
“That’s pretty much it. And I’m here to convince you of Tycoon’s good will.”
Ravna put in, “She looks fine to me, Woodcarver.”
Woodcarver: “And what of Pilgrim?”
Johanna brashness disappeared. Suddenly, she looked like she’d walked into a wall. “I … I think Pilgrim is dead, at least dismembered. Vendacious chased him into the Choir. Woodcarver, can we talk about this, just you and me?”
Woodcarver’s voice came back after the briefest of pauses: “Certainly, but later.”
“O-Okay.” Johanna turned back to the bow windows and didn’t say anything more for a long moment. A couple of Benky’s troopers were visible, patrolling back and forth. “I think this maneuver has fooled Nevil.” Some of the sass crept back into her voice. “Tyco! Are you listening?”
Zek emitted a different voice now. It sounded like Timor, but grumpier. “Of course I’m listening. You want me to explain my change of hearts, right?”
“Yes. You spent years trying to find and kill me. What happened to change that? Keep it short since we have people outside waiting for Ravna.”
“Very well, but I don’t want anyone to think that I change my mind lightly. My resolve is nearly infinite. I would never have succeeded in the Tropics otherwise. And yet, part of me was always suspicious of Vendacious—even as he was enormously helpful to me. I noticed that the humans I met were not monsters. When Mr. Radio spoke up for the humans, that made me just curious enough not to kill Johanna the instant I saw her.”
“Yes, thank you for that,” said Jo.
“But it put me in a difficult position,” Tycoon continued. “Fortunately, I’m a very quick thinker. I had to get away from Nevil and his beam gun. That weapon supposedly has a range of hundreds of kilometers and I needed hours of safe passage. So I grabbed Johanna and took off, all the time giving Nevil hope that I was still willing to deal with him.”
Jo nodded. “Tyco and I had a very … tense afternoon. It was like what you saw on Nevil’s stage, but spread out over hours. I think Scriber’s invention notebook made the difference.”
Tycoon: “Scriber used to bore me so much with his notebooks. Talking to Johanna, I could see Scriber had irritated her the same way. She hadn’t murdered him, she’d just wanted to. We both had rejected him … and we both had spent years regretting the act. And I had been wrong about Johanna. I don’t often make mistakes, but when I do, they can be of awesome proportions. I’ve used the tendays since to revise my strategies.”
Scrupilo sounded skeptical, but in a geeky, nitpicking way: “If it took you hours to decide about Johanna, wasn’t it a bit impulsive to toss Vendacious when you did? You hadn’t even taken off.”
“Well, um, as I said, I can be very quick thinking. In this case—”
Zek’s voice changed in mid-sentence as Mr. Radio interrupted his boss: “In this case, it was Tycoon’s employees who anticipated his wishes. You see, Vendacious died as the result of … a mutiny. Ravna, you know that Amdiranifani had been helping Ut and those other parts of myself he could contact. That wasn’t all. Vendacious’ operation was always on the verge of mutiny. Vendacious reveled in that; he had years of experience playing the game. Amdiranifani undertook to win through the crew. He lost two eyes in his first attempt—and that just made him come back smarter. Bits of me have seen Vendacious’ victims before. I don’t think he was ever outsmarted by someone he tortured—until Amdiranifani.”
Amdi? Amdi the shy? Ravna almost said the words aloud.
Mr. Radio continued, “That day over Starship Hill, when we opened the drop hatch, Vendacious was going to toss out pieces of somebody—probably Amdiranifani. Amdiranifani was channeling sound all around the control gondola, never quite detected by Vendacious. He had nearly constant communication with Remnant St—Remnant Screwfloss, as those four were always moving in their cage, never giving Vendacious a chance to add up the sounds. Then Vendacious sent one of himself down to the open hatch and had the Cargomaster unshackle part of Amdiranifani. I—Ut—did just what Amdiranifani had planned for us. I slipped off my perch, got the keys from Cargomaster, and opened Screwfloss’ cage. Those four are a bloody killer pack, do you know that? They turned the gondola into mayhem, hacking at Vendacious and anyone who was still loyal to Vendacious. Cargomaster tossed one of Vendacious out the hatch. Then Vendacious caught me from behind and cut my throat. About all I remember after that was lying on the deck, bleeding to death.”
Mr. Radio’s voice had remained steady throughout his story, but Zek’s eyes were wide and he was trembling. Ravna reached out to him. “That’s okay,” she said softly. “We know the rest.”
When Tycoon spoke again, he didn’t sound quite so full of brag. “They did the right thing. I am grateful.”
“Yes,” said Johanna, grim and satisfied. “In the end, Vendacious got something like what he gave poor Scriber.” She was silent for a moment. “So that’s what happened. It’s best if we keep it from Nevil as long as possible.”
Scrupilo said, “Oh? Much as I like to mess up Nevil, what’s the point? If Tycoon is our ally now, it doesn’t really matter what Nevil thinks—at least as soon as Ravna’s expedition gets back to Newcastle.”
Zek emitted a negative, and then Tycoon’s voice continued: “You misunderstand. Johanna Olsndot is my advisor—and also she’s fun to have around—but I am not your ally. If you must, you may consider Johanna your ambassador to me. I regard the Domain as a business competitor, and though I … dislike Nevil, I will trade with him too.”
Scrupilo was outraged. “That’s absurd! You have no business opposing Woodcarver now. I say—” but then his voice faded off as he heard no support from Woodcarver.
Ravna looked at Johanna searchingly. “Are you really free to leave, Jo?”
“Of course she is!” said Tycoon.
Johanna smiled. “I’ve scouted things out, Rav. I figure I could shoot my way out of this ship, if I really wanted to.”
“You could?” Tycoon sound a little abashed.
“Yup.”
“Well then,” said Ravna. To hell with being diplomatically oblique. “Is it really safe for you to go back to the Tropics, to live in this fellow’s power?” Ravna had her own experience with that.
“Hmm,” Johanna sounded thoughtful … and happy. Sometimes she had sounded this way when she was sitting with Pilgrim, petting him like a pack of friendly dogs. “Do I feel safe going back to House of Tycoon? Not entirely. Tycoon can be bastards if he’s convinced you’re a bastard. But he rescued both Timor and Geri, and he learned from them. Facts can eventually pound their way through his thick skulls. He hated me more than is easily imagined. Now? Well, I feel safer with Tycoon than I do, say, with Flenser. The reformed Flenser is a good guy. He probably saved my life by getting Woodcarver to bring that notebook—but he’s sneaky to the point of being unpredictable.” She hesitated. “Tycoon is the most successful rebuild I have ever met. He’s spent ten years trying to reconstitute what he lost. Talking to him is almost like I’ve found a lost friend.”
Tycoon: “I’m only partway there.”
Johanna said softly, “Tyco, you’ll never get all the way there. But I think Scriber would be proud if you make something even better from his memories. That’s exactly the grand leap he would admire.”
“Heh.… You’re right!”
“Okay, then,” said Ravna. “We’re not allies, but trade partners and competitors. But I still question Tycoon’s continued support for Nevil.” This was really a point she’d expect Woodcarver to make, but there was only silence from that quarter.
Both Johanna and Tycoon started talking at the same time. “Let me take this one,” said Johanna after they got sorted out. “Nevil thinks he has an alliance, but Nevil is lucky that Tycoon doesn’t hate him quite enough to kill him. Of course, Nevil is no real friend of any Tines; I’m sure he figures he’s using Tycoon. The longer he is fooled about the Domain’s relationship with Tycoon, the better. In the end, Tycoon intends to build Nevil’s operation into a credible human counterweight to the Domain, but one that owes its existence to playing ball with Tycoon.”
“That’s even less diplomatic than I would have been,” grumbled Tycoon.
“Of course it was. As long as I’m your advisor, expect quite a bit of frankness with my friends back in the Domain.”
Scrupilo made a spluttering noise. “If this scheme were a machine, it would fall apart.” He gobbled a few more complaints, then returned to speaking Samnorsk: “If we are to be secret friends, then I demand a show of good faith. Tycoon must return what Vendacious stole, in particular, the computer Oliphaunt.” That was Scrupilo’s favorite piece of automation outside of Oobii.
“Sorry, Scrup,” Jo replied. “That ain’t going to happen. Tycoon is as much in love with my old plush toy as you are.”
Scrupilo made more irritated noises. “We are giving up a lot, and being asked to tolerate Nevil, even enrich him. In return we get the promise of fearsome competition. And that’s only if we can believe this aggressive crackpot from the Tropics. Can this possibly work?”
Ravna thought back on what she had seen down south, the factories that stretched for kilometers, that could save this world. “Oh, it can work.” But at what price? She looked at Johanna. “You’re also our friend to the Choir, Jo.”
“I—of course.”
“You know about exploitation, right?”
“Like on Nyjora, in the Age of Princesses?” She smiled.
Ravna didn’t return the smile. “I don’t want that to happen here, Jo.”
The girl looked puzzled for a moment, but then she nodded very seriously. “I promise, Ravna. The Choir will not be exploited.”
• • •
After Ravna left the Pack of Packs, Johanna remained on the bridge. It was late afternoon. The sun would be setting soon, but there was still enough light to see through the gauze quilting that she and the ship’s steward had hung behind the bow ports. If she leaned forward and looked to the side, she could see most of Ravna’s expedition. There was Jefri and Amdi. By now Jef knew she was okay. But there was Giske and Magda and Øvin. As long as Johanna continued this scam on Nevil, most of her friends must think her lost. That was a price Johanna was willing to pay, but she hadn’t counted the cost to others, the pain of waiting and waiting to learn the terrible truth.… She could see Øvin sitting beside Edvi’s little coffin. We should have risked sneaking word back to those who were really hurting. Instead, she and Tyco had only thought how to stick it to Nevil. That was a success, but now Johanna just wanted to flee this place.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Tycoon’s new voice: “I say we take off for home.” Johanna turned, saw Zek sitting on a throne right behind her.
Hooray! Aloud she said, “Ah. I thought you wanted to get a few more hours of intimidation out of this trip.”
“I did, but I don’t hear anything happening. Better to return my flagship to profit-making.”
“You’re leaving the troopship, right?” she said.
“Of course. Nevil can claim me as his ally, but never again is anybody going to murder people and then claim they were doing me a favor.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” Please!
Zek departed for the ship’s main hatch. A moment later Ta came up the spiral stairs, probably from the pilots’ gondola. There were two members of Mr. Radio aboard Pack of Packs. Ta used the bridge’s speaking tubes for some final directions to the crew; apparently he’d come up here in case Tycoon had something to say to her.
She heard the faint buzz of the steam induction engines, and a moment later—somewhat louder—Zek’s voice booming out from the main hatch. The official spokescritter for Tycoon was announcing their departure and asking for help from Nevil’s ground crews.
Ten minutes later, Johanna felt the last of the ties slip loose. Pack of Packs bobbed free, rising slowly from the valley floor. She had a last glimpse of Ravna’s expedition and Nevil’s group. The Deniers were waving solemn farewell. Most of Ravna’s people were just staring. Everyone was out of sight before she could spot Jefri and Amdi.
The ship turned after it was above the walls of the Streamsdell. They flew back along the north side of the great river valley. Ravna pulled down the quilting so Ta and Zek could get a good view.
“That slit in the side valley. Is that the entrance to Nevil’s cave system?” The voice belonged to Mr. Radio.
“Yup. If Woodcarver already knows about it, we should be able to get some maps.”
Tycoon’s voice grumbled: “I’m putting video senders at the top of my to-make list.”
In less than a minute, Nevil’s rat hole had slid beneath their view. The horizon ahead was an endless stretch of rock and snow and glaciers, lit by the setting sun. Flying at altitude, they had enough fuel for a nonstop return, but the trip would take all night and into the next day.
More than enough time to do one thing right. Johanna looked at Zek. “So where did you stow the commset?” she said.
Ta and Zek jabbed snouts at one of the low cabinets that lined the walls. It wasn’t locked. She pulled out the commset, one of just two that had finally fallen into Tycoon’s claws.
“What’s that you’re doing?” said Tycoon.
“I’m going to have a chat with Woodcarver.”
Mr. Radio emitted spluttering noises, no doubt from Tycoon. “Nevil will overhear!”
“Nope,” said Johanna. “Commset traffic is encrypted, and we’re so high that I can send direct to the coast. Nevil will not even know we’re talking.”
Tycoon was silent for a moment. Then: “Very well. Sooner or later we do need a detailed discussion with this Woodcarver.”
“That’s true.” Johanna put down the commset and looked at Ta and Zek. “But Tycoon, that’s not what I’m looking for in this chat. Woodcarver and I—we need to talk about personal things. If you refuse me, I won’t be mad, but … will you leave me alone for this, not even eavesdrop?”
It was a test Johanna had never intended to set. Truly, she didn’t expect Tycoon to trust her this much.
Tycoon was silent for a moment. “This is about the Pilgrim pack, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Another silence. “Very well.” Ta and Zek started toward the stairs. “But I want a full report on everything else!”
In just a few seconds, they were gone from the stairwell and the anteroom below. Johanna fiddled with the commset, trying to set up a session. Since the device didn’t know where it was, and she didn’t want it to ask the orbiter for a position, this was not entirely easy. But after a few minutes, she had clear green, and shortly after that—
“Woodcarver here. Johanna?”
“Yes. I said we should talk. Is now—?”
“Yes, now is fine. I’m alone in the thrones room.”
“I’m alone as well. I—I wanted to tell you about Pilgrim.…”
Johanna described the agrav’s last flight, the crash. Then there were the memories she tried not to think about. Maybe it was nuts to talk about each death now, to say all the things she had seen, but she did and Woodcarver listened. She wasn’t sure how anyone could make sense of her voice by the time that she finished. Woodcarver did. She asked questions, wanted to know everything.
When everything was said, and Johanna’s voice guttered to a stop, Woodcarver said, “He was dismembered, without a doubt.” Her own human voice sounded almost normal, maybe speaking a little slower than usual: “And is he totally dead? Probably. But this is Pilgrim. When you get back to Tycoon’s hideout in the Tropics—”
“I’ll keep watch, Woodcarver. I won’t give up.”
They talked of Pilgrim for some time more. They had other memories of him. Johanna’s went back ten years. Woodcarver’s were a patchwork of encounters that extended far longer.
They must have talked for two hours. Outside, the Icefangs had faded to dark and stars ruled the horizon. The Pack of Packs continued to climb as it approached the mountain passes. The air was steady and smooth, quite unlike Jo’s earlier passages over these peaks.
Reminiscence had turned into imagining how Pilgrim would have handled the present situation, and a general discussion of strategy. Johanna would definitely have things to report to Tycoon.
But strategy included discussing Tycoon himself: “Are you sure Tycoon is not snooping on this conversation?” said Woodcarver.
“I—” Johanna glanced at the speaking tubes. They were all capped. Where she was sitting, she had a good view of the stairs and the empty anteroom below. “Woodcarver, I truly believe he’s not eavesdropping, but that’s more a matter of trust than anything else—”
Woodcarver said, “In this case, what you believe may be the important thing. I’ve wondered for so long: what kind of creature is this crazypack?”
Oh! Johanna thought for a second. “He is weird. Numerous and weird. Sometimes he reminds me of Scriber, but he can be just as grumpy as Scrupilo. And then there’s the businesscritter side of him. Imagine what Flenser would be like if his goal in life was to sell you trinkets and used wagon parts.”
Woodcarver emitted a multi-hum that was surprised laughter. “Do you suppose I might have a chat with him?”