Fomalhaut said. “They stopped at a place with many small houses around a yard, and they loaded up with guns. At the time we thought someone in the guardroom was watching them.”
Not a guardroom, more likely a motel office. The survivors of the attack on Rigel were destroying evidence of their crime; being machinery, guns could not be introverted to the Starlands.
The SUV’s back window loomed in front of them, and they were once again surrounded by the sound of tires on the asphalt and a stench of exhaust. The luggage in the back was hidden under a blue tarpaulin, and the man in the passenger seat had twisted around in an attempt to extract something. He wore a red turban to hide his ears, but his face had a Nordic pallor and his eyebrows were gold. Given the way the vehicle was weaving in and out of traffic, Mizar was having trouble stabilizing the point of view, but Rigel recognized the passenger instantly.
“That’s Mintaka!” Izar said. “I hate him, hate him!”
“So do we all, love,” his mother said. “He’s very bad.”
Mintaka succeeded in throwing off the cover, revealing a heap of automatic or semiautomatic firearms. What he was after was underneath them and he had to rummage to find it. “Got it!” he shouted, his voice sounding abnormally loud to the watchers in the seance court.
“That’s a reversion staff!” Rigel said. “They’re going to blow.”
“Blow what?” asked Izar.
“Introvert out of there. Can they use a staff sitting down?”
When Mizar did not answer, Fomalhaut said, “They may try. But if they can’t straighten out parallel to the staff, they may leave bits of themselves behind.”
Their vantage point crept forward and twisted to show the driver’s face, which was screwed up in a rictus of concentration or just plain terror. A Starlands halfling could not have much experience driving a car and she was well over the speed limit now, tearing along the highway. Her features were nondescript and quite human-looking, but she had the unmistakable something-about-the-eyes that spelled “halfling.” Whether or not she had a navel or iron-hard feet, her lack of obvious elfin features would make her especially useful to the Family for extroverting missions. She might be a resident agent, or just part of a team assembled to collect the weaponry and prepare to ambush Rigel.
“That’s Alkes!” Izar said. “I never liked her much, but she wasn’t as bad as Mintaka, or Hadar, or Botein, or… Huh?”
The view swung around to check on Mintaka, who had just reclined his seat so he could stretch out, his body approximately straight if not flat. He was holding the reversion staff on top of him.
“What’re you doing?” Alkes shouted, frantically dividing her attention between the road and her companion.
“G’bye, sister. Gotta fly.”
“Bastard! You wait for me, you—”
She reached a hand for the staff. Brakes squealed. She screamed; he swore. The SUV vanished as the watchers’ perception shot out through the windshield. The shriek of brakes ended in the nauseous sound of one impact, then another.
The point of view twirled madly as Mizar looked for the crash. When he found it, he had to soar back along several hundred meters of highway. The SUV had left the road, rolling across the median ditch and into the oncoming lane. Two cars, a van, and a bus had brought it to a halt.
Then another car plowed into the tangle.
“Stop!” Talitha shouted, apparently forgetting that she had only to open her eyes to break the contact. But the mage did stop, and Rigel was suddenly back in Fornacis too. The realism of the crash had left him sweating and shaking.
“Did they both make it?” he asked. “Did anyone see?” How many innocent victims had been killed or harmed in the other vehicles? He felt sick, but he was not at fault and there was nothing he could do. Survivors with cell phones would be calling for ambulances already.
“I didn’t see,” Talitha
Not a guardroom, more likely a motel office. The survivors of the attack on Rigel were destroying evidence of their crime; being machinery, guns could not be introverted to the Starlands.
The SUV’s back window loomed in front of them, and they were once again surrounded by the sound of tires on the asphalt and a stench of exhaust. The luggage in the back was hidden under a blue tarpaulin, and the man in the passenger seat had twisted around in an attempt to extract something. He wore a red turban to hide his ears, but his face had a Nordic pallor and his eyebrows were gold. Given the way the vehicle was weaving in and out of traffic, Mizar was having trouble stabilizing the point of view, but Rigel recognized the passenger instantly.
“That’s Mintaka!” Izar said. “I hate him, hate him!”
“So do we all, love,” his mother said. “He’s very bad.”
Mintaka succeeded in throwing off the cover, revealing a heap of automatic or semiautomatic firearms. What he was after was underneath them and he had to rummage to find it. “Got it!” he shouted, his voice sounding abnormally loud to the watchers in the seance court.
“That’s a reversion staff!” Rigel said. “They’re going to blow.”
“Blow what?” asked Izar.
“Introvert out of there. Can they use a staff sitting down?”
When Mizar did not answer, Fomalhaut said, “They may try. But if they can’t straighten out parallel to the staff, they may leave bits of themselves behind.”
Their vantage point crept forward and twisted to show the driver’s face, which was screwed up in a rictus of concentration or just plain terror. A Starlands halfling could not have much experience driving a car and she was well over the speed limit now, tearing along the highway. Her features were nondescript and quite human-looking, but she had the unmistakable something-about-the-eyes that spelled “halfling.” Whether or not she had a navel or iron-hard feet, her lack of obvious elfin features would make her especially useful to the Family for extroverting missions. She might be a resident agent, or just part of a team assembled to collect the weaponry and prepare to ambush Rigel.
“That’s Alkes!” Izar said. “I never liked her much, but she wasn’t as bad as Mintaka, or Hadar, or Botein, or… Huh?”
The view swung around to check on Mintaka, who had just reclined his seat so he could stretch out, his body approximately straight if not flat. He was holding the reversion staff on top of him.
“What’re you doing?” Alkes shouted, frantically dividing her attention between the road and her companion.
“G’bye, sister. Gotta fly.”
“Bastard! You wait for me, you—”
She reached a hand for the staff. Brakes squealed. She screamed; he swore. The SUV vanished as the watchers’ perception shot out through the windshield. The shriek of brakes ended in the nauseous sound of one impact, then another.
The point of view twirled madly as Mizar looked for the crash. When he found it, he had to soar back along several hundred meters of highway. The SUV had left the road, rolling across the median ditch and into the oncoming lane. Two cars, a van, and a bus had brought it to a halt.
Then another car plowed into the tangle.
“Stop!” Talitha shouted, apparently forgetting that she had only to open her eyes to break the contact. But the mage did stop, and Rigel was suddenly back in Fornacis too. The realism of the crash had left him sweating and shaking.
“Did they both make it?” he asked. “Did anyone see?” How many innocent victims had been killed or harmed in the other vehicles? He felt sick, but he was not at fault and there was nothing he could do. Survivors with cell phones would be calling for ambulances already.
“I didn’t see,” Talitha
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