anonymous letter describing your capture. The prince is fairly powerful, and certainly the greatest eccentric in the court. I was counting on him to keep you out of Ngatheru’s hands. Then I could contact you, try to persuade you to put yourselves under Guild protection. Pelio couldn’t complain about the arrangement to his father without revealing his own misdeeds, and I was sure you would go along once you saw how much safer you’d be with us.”
Ajão disagreed but remained silent. No matter how uncertain a patron, Pelio had the maser, and that was their only salvation.
“But I never realized,” the dark-skinned Azhiri continued, “that someone else was playing the same game. You probably guessed those were not Summerpalace guards who attacked you. They were expert soldiers, though: all three could teleport themselves without a transit pool. Whoever was behind them wants both you and your equipment. I’d give a lot to know just who it is: Prince Aleru? Someone in the intelligence arm?”
But Ajão scarcely heard Prou’s speculation. “Our equipment? What about it?”
“Pelio stored it in his private room in the palace Keep. I was in the Keep yesterday, attending a very dull reception King Shozheru held for the Snowfolk ambassador. I snooped around—something Guildsmen are peculiarly equipped to do—and found the prince’s private room. But I was too late. I found two dead servants there—they weren’t too late; they must have surprised whoever was going through Pelio’s room. As far as I could tell, the thieves took everything of yours they could carry.”
The revelation was a ragged knife stuck through Ajão’s middle. “What?”
Prou nodded. “I looked everywhere.” He described what he had seen, and Bjault realized he was talking about the ablation skiff and the wreck of their powered sledge; someone had taken all their loose gear—the maser included.
The Guildsman saw the look on Ajão’s face. “I’m sorry too, Adgao. But my offer still holds. If you and your friend wish, I will take you away from Pelio and the court. Otherwise, the royal family will eventually discover that Pelio is consorting with witlings, and when they do, you two, and even the prince, will be in mortal danger.”
Ajão shook his head weakly. “You don’t understand.” You don’t understand; we’ll be dead in a matter of months if we can’t get off your wretched world. They had lost their only means of calling for rescue, the only radio on the planet with sufficient power to—His eye caught on the planetary map that covered the table beside him.
But there was another radio! There, at the edge of the monster-speckled blue ocean was the island where Draere’s people had set up the telemetry station. The place was a quarter of the way around the world and surrounded by thousands of kilometers of water, but if they could somehow get there …
If we only had an aircraft. If the colonial administration on Novamerika had let them have all the equipment they needed, they wouldn’t be in this mess now: the ablation skiff was no flyer, it was hardly more than a heat shield and a parachute. It had brought them safely down from orbit, but now it was good for nothing.
He looked up at the Guildsman. “You said the Guild can teleport things anywhere on Giri?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps we can make some sort of deal, then. As you suggest, we do understand, uh, magic that is unknown to the Azhiri. We would explain some of that magic if you would teleport Yoninne and myself here.” He reached across the map table to tap the island where Draere’s telemetry station stood.
Prou frowned, and Ajão wondered if he would value what little Ajão could reveal to him. There was simply no way the Azhiri could be taught anything of modern technology in the time that remained to Yoninne and himself. The machine pistols might be worth something to Prou, but they were gone now. About the only equipment they could offer him was their
Ajão disagreed but remained silent. No matter how uncertain a patron, Pelio had the maser, and that was their only salvation.
“But I never realized,” the dark-skinned Azhiri continued, “that someone else was playing the same game. You probably guessed those were not Summerpalace guards who attacked you. They were expert soldiers, though: all three could teleport themselves without a transit pool. Whoever was behind them wants both you and your equipment. I’d give a lot to know just who it is: Prince Aleru? Someone in the intelligence arm?”
But Ajão scarcely heard Prou’s speculation. “Our equipment? What about it?”
“Pelio stored it in his private room in the palace Keep. I was in the Keep yesterday, attending a very dull reception King Shozheru held for the Snowfolk ambassador. I snooped around—something Guildsmen are peculiarly equipped to do—and found the prince’s private room. But I was too late. I found two dead servants there—they weren’t too late; they must have surprised whoever was going through Pelio’s room. As far as I could tell, the thieves took everything of yours they could carry.”
The revelation was a ragged knife stuck through Ajão’s middle. “What?”
Prou nodded. “I looked everywhere.” He described what he had seen, and Bjault realized he was talking about the ablation skiff and the wreck of their powered sledge; someone had taken all their loose gear—the maser included.
The Guildsman saw the look on Ajão’s face. “I’m sorry too, Adgao. But my offer still holds. If you and your friend wish, I will take you away from Pelio and the court. Otherwise, the royal family will eventually discover that Pelio is consorting with witlings, and when they do, you two, and even the prince, will be in mortal danger.”
Ajão shook his head weakly. “You don’t understand.” You don’t understand; we’ll be dead in a matter of months if we can’t get off your wretched world. They had lost their only means of calling for rescue, the only radio on the planet with sufficient power to—His eye caught on the planetary map that covered the table beside him.
But there was another radio! There, at the edge of the monster-speckled blue ocean was the island where Draere’s people had set up the telemetry station. The place was a quarter of the way around the world and surrounded by thousands of kilometers of water, but if they could somehow get there …
If we only had an aircraft. If the colonial administration on Novamerika had let them have all the equipment they needed, they wouldn’t be in this mess now: the ablation skiff was no flyer, it was hardly more than a heat shield and a parachute. It had brought them safely down from orbit, but now it was good for nothing.
He looked up at the Guildsman. “You said the Guild can teleport things anywhere on Giri?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps we can make some sort of deal, then. As you suggest, we do understand, uh, magic that is unknown to the Azhiri. We would explain some of that magic if you would teleport Yoninne and myself here.” He reached across the map table to tap the island where Draere’s telemetry station stood.
Prou frowned, and Ajão wondered if he would value what little Ajão could reveal to him. There was simply no way the Azhiri could be taught anything of modern technology in the time that remained to Yoninne and himself. The machine pistols might be worth something to Prou, but they were gone now. About the only equipment they could offer him was their
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