expression.
Maggie let out a long, shuddering breath. "Jeanne!"
"You didn't get very far, did you? The road's just over there. What happened? Did she drop dead on you?"
It was amazing how good that irritable, acerbic voice sounded to Maggie. She laughed shakily. "No, Cady's not dead.
Bern
's dead-you know, the big slave trader guy. But--"
"You're joking." Jeanne's voice sharpened with respect and she moved forward. `"You killed hunt'
"No. It was-look, I'll explain later. First, can you help me get her to somewhere more protected ? It's really getting freezing out here, and she's com pletely out."
Jeanne leaned down, looking at
Arcadia
. "I told you before I wasn't going to help you if you got in trouble."
"I know," Maggie said. "Can you sort of pick her up from that side? If we both get an arm under her shoulders she might be able to walk a little. " .
`Bull," Jeanne said shortly. "We'd better chair carry her. Link hands and we can get her up."
Maggie clasped a cold, slender hand with cal luses and a surprisingly firm grip. She heaved weight, and then they were carrying the uncon scious girl.
"You're strong," she grunted.
"Yeah, well, that's one of the side benefits of being a slave. The road's this way."
It was awkward, slow work, but Maggie was strong, too, and Jeanne seemed to be able to guide them around the worst of the underbrush. And it was so good just to be with another human being who was healthy and clear headed and didn't want to kill her, that Maggie felt almost lighthearted.
"What about P.J.? Is she okay?"
"She's fine. She's in a place I know-it's not much, but it's shelter. That's where we're going."
"You took care of her," Maggie said. She shook her head in the darkness and laughed.
"What are you snickering about?" Jeanne paused and they spent a few minutes maneuvering around a fallen log covered with spongy moss.
"Nothing," Maggie said. "It's just you're pretty nice, aren't you? Underneath."
"I look out for myself first. That's the rule around here. And don't you forget it," Jeanne said in a threatening mutter. Then she cursed as her foot sank into a swampy bit of ground.
"Okay," Maggie said. But she could still feel a wry and wondering smile tugging up the corner of her mouth.
Neither of them had much breath for talking after that. Maggie was in a sort of daze of tiredness that wasn't completely unpleasant. Her mind wandered.
Delos
... she had never met anyone so confus ing. Her entire body reacted just at the thought of him, with frustration and anger and a longing that she didn't understand. It was a physical pang.
But then everything was so confusing. Things had
happened so fast since last night that she'd never had time to get her mental balance.
Delos
and the incredible thing that had happened between them was only one part of the whole mess.
He said he'd killed Miles....
But that couldn't be true. Miles couldn't be dead. And
Delos
wasn't capable of anything like that.... Was he?
She found that she didn't want to think about that. It was like a huge dark cloud that she didn't want to enter.
Wherever Jeanne was taking her, it was a long, cold trek. And a painful one. After about fifteen minutes Maggie's arms began to feel as if they were being pulled out of the sockets, and a hot spot of pain flared at the back of her neck. Her sweat was clammy running down her back and her feet were numb.
But she wouldn't give up, and Jeanne didn't ei ther. Somehow they kept going. They had traveled for maybe about forty-five minutes, with breaks, when Jeanne said, "Here it is."
A clearing opened in front of them, and moon light shone on a crude little shack made of weath ered wood. It leaned dangerously to one side and several boards were missing, but it had a ceiling and walls. It was shelter. To Maggie, it looked beautiful.
"Runaway slaves built it," Jeanne said breathlessly as they
Maggie let out a long, shuddering breath. "Jeanne!"
"You didn't get very far, did you? The road's just over there. What happened? Did she drop dead on you?"
It was amazing how good that irritable, acerbic voice sounded to Maggie. She laughed shakily. "No, Cady's not dead.
Bern
's dead-you know, the big slave trader guy. But--"
"You're joking." Jeanne's voice sharpened with respect and she moved forward. `"You killed hunt'
"No. It was-look, I'll explain later. First, can you help me get her to somewhere more protected ? It's really getting freezing out here, and she's com pletely out."
Jeanne leaned down, looking at
Arcadia
. "I told you before I wasn't going to help you if you got in trouble."
"I know," Maggie said. "Can you sort of pick her up from that side? If we both get an arm under her shoulders she might be able to walk a little. " .
`Bull," Jeanne said shortly. "We'd better chair carry her. Link hands and we can get her up."
Maggie clasped a cold, slender hand with cal luses and a surprisingly firm grip. She heaved weight, and then they were carrying the uncon scious girl.
"You're strong," she grunted.
"Yeah, well, that's one of the side benefits of being a slave. The road's this way."
It was awkward, slow work, but Maggie was strong, too, and Jeanne seemed to be able to guide them around the worst of the underbrush. And it was so good just to be with another human being who was healthy and clear headed and didn't want to kill her, that Maggie felt almost lighthearted.
"What about P.J.? Is she okay?"
"She's fine. She's in a place I know-it's not much, but it's shelter. That's where we're going."
"You took care of her," Maggie said. She shook her head in the darkness and laughed.
"What are you snickering about?" Jeanne paused and they spent a few minutes maneuvering around a fallen log covered with spongy moss.
"Nothing," Maggie said. "It's just you're pretty nice, aren't you? Underneath."
"I look out for myself first. That's the rule around here. And don't you forget it," Jeanne said in a threatening mutter. Then she cursed as her foot sank into a swampy bit of ground.
"Okay," Maggie said. But she could still feel a wry and wondering smile tugging up the corner of her mouth.
Neither of them had much breath for talking after that. Maggie was in a sort of daze of tiredness that wasn't completely unpleasant. Her mind wandered.
Delos
... she had never met anyone so confus ing. Her entire body reacted just at the thought of him, with frustration and anger and a longing that she didn't understand. It was a physical pang.
But then everything was so confusing. Things had
happened so fast since last night that she'd never had time to get her mental balance.
Delos
and the incredible thing that had happened between them was only one part of the whole mess.
He said he'd killed Miles....
But that couldn't be true. Miles couldn't be dead. And
Delos
wasn't capable of anything like that.... Was he?
She found that she didn't want to think about that. It was like a huge dark cloud that she didn't want to enter.
Wherever Jeanne was taking her, it was a long, cold trek. And a painful one. After about fifteen minutes Maggie's arms began to feel as if they were being pulled out of the sockets, and a hot spot of pain flared at the back of her neck. Her sweat was clammy running down her back and her feet were numb.
But she wouldn't give up, and Jeanne didn't ei ther. Somehow they kept going. They had traveled for maybe about forty-five minutes, with breaks, when Jeanne said, "Here it is."
A clearing opened in front of them, and moon light shone on a crude little shack made of weath ered wood. It leaned dangerously to one side and several boards were missing, but it had a ceiling and walls. It was shelter. To Maggie, it looked beautiful.
"Runaway slaves built it," Jeanne said breathlessly as they
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