Maeve by Jo Clayton Page B

the door and keep your mouth shut.” He lifted one of his long slim hands in a graceful gesture, pointing at the wall beside the door.
    The doctor glanced longingly at the door. Then his shoulders slumped and he shambled across the room to stand, leaning heavily against the metal wall.
    Chu Manhanu replaced his hand and smiled with quiet mockery at Aleytys. “The good doctor called you a psi freak, madam. While I deplore his choice of words, I fear he is right about you. I’m quite certain there were no esoteric in-instruments in or around that tree. We had the harvester shielded, as I’m sure you know, yet you had no trouble breaching the shield. Remarkable.”
    Aleytys frowned. She felt too much at a disadvantage lying on her back so far below his eye level. Ignoring him, she flexed her body and contorted herself into a sitting position. Then she inched back until she was sitting with her back braced against the wall. “You knew before you came.”
    â€œIntelligent, also. Madam, the collar you wear contains an inhibitor that will prevent your making use of your talents.”
    Having felt the too familiar disorientation from the inhibitor, Aleytys didn’t bother answering him. She lowered her chin and felt along the smooth line of the mail and realized there was no way she could break it.
    Chu Manhanu watched with infuriating superiority, the corners of his mouth curving into a chill smile. He took the rod from his sleeve and began smoothing his thumb over its hexagonal surface. “A small thing.” He fitted it between dumb and forefinger, holding it up so she could see it. “The only hope you have left. You may have noticed that the clasp is clumsy and out of proportion. Aesthetically revolting but necessary, madam. If anyone tampers with the lock, your lovely head will be blown off your shoulders.” His mouth curled farther as he savored the consternation he read in her face. Then he turned away. “Enough chatting. Doctor.”
    The sudden, sharp demand jerked the doughy body away from the wall and brought the doctor shambling into the center of the room, a nervous tic distorting the shape of his mouth. “Illustrious?” he muttered.
    â€œBring the technician and the probe.”
    The doctor stood without moving, eyes fixed on the Director’s face as the smile gradually soured. Then he stumbled with stiff reluctance from the room.
    Aleytys closed her eyes. “Harskari?”
    There was a faint amber glow and a feeling of effort, of thrusting struggle. A feeling of wait, wait, wait … sighing, she opened her eyes. “What do you want?”
    â€œAs soon as that dolt of a doctor returns, we psychprobe you to find out who and what you are.”
    Aleytys swallowed, fear bitter in her throat. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “The doctor said a psychprobe destroys the mind.”
    â€œA sad loss.” His eyes ran over her body and rested on her hair. “Han had some interesting speculations about you.”
    â€œI heard. Stupidity. McNeis? Scota Company? I’ve never run across either.”
    â€œYou want to tell me who you are?”
    â€œNo. It’s none of your business.” She closed her eyes, turned her head away. “Harskari,” she whispered. “Hurry. Please. All of you. Please.” The tangleweb held her body passive or she would have been thrashing about, dropping into a total panic. As it was, she wanted the reassurance of the mother figure Harskari, like a child terrified by a nightmare made real.
    A faint yellow glow and a feeling of struggle. A tinge of purple, outlined in black. They were fighting …
    The director leaned back watching her tense her muscles against the restraint of the web, a slight smile of enjoyment on his face.
    Gwynnor tugged at his hands, hot anger alternating with the chill of despair. He had grown accustomed to seeing Aleytys dealing calmly with all