need them?”
“As soon as possible. Every day we wait is another day of agony for Blue Fire.”
“Gotcha. I’ll tell you what; I’ll meet you guys outside of Murdoc Bay in seven days. My first mate is finishing up her contract on the freighter I pilfered her from.” He grinned again, mischief openly galloping across his face. “Then I’ll see you there.”
“Murdoc Bay? Why Murdoc Bay?”
“I did mention I’ve got a business to run for the Queen, didn’t I?”
Orli looked suddenly very uncomfortable. Her last experience in Murdoc Bay had nearly led to her last experience … ever. She glanced nervously to Altin and then her father, then seemed to swallow the apprehension back, realizing Altin would be with her. “I don’t even want to know. But seven days is fine. We’ll see you then.”
“All right. See you then. See ya, Altin. Ta-ta, General.” He laughed at that. “God, I love saying ta-ta to a general. I’m so damned glad to be fleet-free.” He winked at the general, who smiled and nodded back, then the monitor went black.
“Well, there’s your ship,” said the general, turning back to face the two of them. “It looks like your mission is getting under way.”
“Yes. I’m glad of that,” Orli said, though some of the energy in her voice was gone.
They looked to Altin for confirmation of the propitious nature of Roberto and his ship, but his expression was rather grim. He knew what had happened to Orli last time she was in Murdoc Bay too. He’d seen the look on her face when Roberto mentioned it. The course of events in recent months had caused him to postpone dealing with those responsible, but he had certainly not forgotten. It seemed perhaps the time had finally come for meting out the rest of his revenge.
Chapter 9
P ernie made her way carefully through the jungle, tracing the path she’d taken on her first day running—or trying to run—with the hunt. She walked this time, however, and she gathered a few strands of young lianas and carefully braided the vines into two lengths of cord, each of which were just a bit shorter than the length of her arm. She worked as she walked, her fingers practiced at it, having learned to plait both from Kettle, on her own hair, and from Gimmel, Calico Castle’s groundskeeper, to braid her pony’s mane.
There wasn’t quite a path to follow the way she went, but the direction she took was directed by those places where light shone through the underbrush, stripes and spots of illuminated space beyond and between the drooping limbs and vines and roots and stems that snarled and twisted and fought to block her way. She’d come this way thrice since that first day, though at different points, she’d darted off in one direction or another, and never quite entirely retraced her tracks. Still, her long practice with wandering in Great Forest back home did not leave her entirely unprepared to find her way through this wilderness, and with a little patience, she stayed fairly straight on course.
Soon enough, she spotted the twisting roots of the giant rosewood, rising up out of the forest floor and diving back again, looking like half-exposed links in some great wooden chain. She recognized the embankment near it right away and stopped. She looked up at the crest, scanning the foliage all around. Narrow beams of sunlight made their way through the canopy and dappled the leaves and the snaking patterns of bark and vine, all of which twisted together in a chaotic sort of symmetry, peaceful and seemingly unoccupied. But Pernie knew better. Somewhere in there was an enormous yellow mantis, hiding and waiting for her to come near. She squinted and saw the wet sap that had run from the gouges the creature’s spiked forelimb had caused, a red-orange ooze of tar, tacky on the top like the surface of creamed soup that’s begun to cool.
She knew the mantis wouldn’t move, that it was more patient than she was, so she looked about and found a large
“As soon as possible. Every day we wait is another day of agony for Blue Fire.”
“Gotcha. I’ll tell you what; I’ll meet you guys outside of Murdoc Bay in seven days. My first mate is finishing up her contract on the freighter I pilfered her from.” He grinned again, mischief openly galloping across his face. “Then I’ll see you there.”
“Murdoc Bay? Why Murdoc Bay?”
“I did mention I’ve got a business to run for the Queen, didn’t I?”
Orli looked suddenly very uncomfortable. Her last experience in Murdoc Bay had nearly led to her last experience … ever. She glanced nervously to Altin and then her father, then seemed to swallow the apprehension back, realizing Altin would be with her. “I don’t even want to know. But seven days is fine. We’ll see you then.”
“All right. See you then. See ya, Altin. Ta-ta, General.” He laughed at that. “God, I love saying ta-ta to a general. I’m so damned glad to be fleet-free.” He winked at the general, who smiled and nodded back, then the monitor went black.
“Well, there’s your ship,” said the general, turning back to face the two of them. “It looks like your mission is getting under way.”
“Yes. I’m glad of that,” Orli said, though some of the energy in her voice was gone.
They looked to Altin for confirmation of the propitious nature of Roberto and his ship, but his expression was rather grim. He knew what had happened to Orli last time she was in Murdoc Bay too. He’d seen the look on her face when Roberto mentioned it. The course of events in recent months had caused him to postpone dealing with those responsible, but he had certainly not forgotten. It seemed perhaps the time had finally come for meting out the rest of his revenge.
Chapter 9
P ernie made her way carefully through the jungle, tracing the path she’d taken on her first day running—or trying to run—with the hunt. She walked this time, however, and she gathered a few strands of young lianas and carefully braided the vines into two lengths of cord, each of which were just a bit shorter than the length of her arm. She worked as she walked, her fingers practiced at it, having learned to plait both from Kettle, on her own hair, and from Gimmel, Calico Castle’s groundskeeper, to braid her pony’s mane.
There wasn’t quite a path to follow the way she went, but the direction she took was directed by those places where light shone through the underbrush, stripes and spots of illuminated space beyond and between the drooping limbs and vines and roots and stems that snarled and twisted and fought to block her way. She’d come this way thrice since that first day, though at different points, she’d darted off in one direction or another, and never quite entirely retraced her tracks. Still, her long practice with wandering in Great Forest back home did not leave her entirely unprepared to find her way through this wilderness, and with a little patience, she stayed fairly straight on course.
Soon enough, she spotted the twisting roots of the giant rosewood, rising up out of the forest floor and diving back again, looking like half-exposed links in some great wooden chain. She recognized the embankment near it right away and stopped. She looked up at the crest, scanning the foliage all around. Narrow beams of sunlight made their way through the canopy and dappled the leaves and the snaking patterns of bark and vine, all of which twisted together in a chaotic sort of symmetry, peaceful and seemingly unoccupied. But Pernie knew better. Somewhere in there was an enormous yellow mantis, hiding and waiting for her to come near. She squinted and saw the wet sap that had run from the gouges the creature’s spiked forelimb had caused, a red-orange ooze of tar, tacky on the top like the surface of creamed soup that’s begun to cool.
She knew the mantis wouldn’t move, that it was more patient than she was, so she looked about and found a large
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