A Covenant of Justice (16 page)

Sawyer nodded in agreement. “Yep,” he said. “I've often thought that myself. But it doesn't worry me. I'll see your death first. That will give me more than enough satisfaction for one life. I'll meet death gladly after that.”

“I didn't think you believed in the Alliance of Life.”

“I don't believe in anything,” Sawyer replied without feeling. “Neither do you.”

“I believe in the Phaestor,” Zillabar said. “The Phaestor don't need to hide behind an ideology. Our hunger and our children provide all the ideology we'll ever need.”

“You prove my point. You believe in nothing. Even more disheartening, you've also just explained why the Alliance of Life can never work,” Sawyer admitted. “While the Phaestor still live to feed, partnership among all the sentient races remains impossible.”

“Not true,” said Zillabar. “The Regency represents a working partnership. The Phaestor provide direction; everyone else provides . . . meat.”

“Thank you for clearing that up,” Sawyer said. “The next time I have to wreak violence against a Vampire bitch, I won't bother to let the issue of my conscience stand in the way.” He scooted himself around so he wouldn't have to look at her anymore.

It almost worked. He could still feel her eyes upon his back.

“You will die, you know. Badly. You will beg me for mercy. But you won't get it. Because Vampires have none. Remember that.”

And then, abruptly, the hellacious ride came to an end.

The gondola slowed as it rose, approaching the high crest of an arching branch—but instead of rattling underneath it and rocketing away in a new direction, the cable car rose up above the branch and jerked uncomfortably to a stop. They swung back and forth for several moments, bouncing in the air like a child's toy. The spidermen swarmed upward into the leaves and disappeared. After a moment, the gondola jerked and began lowering itself unsteadily down to the surface of the branch.

The travelers found themselves on a large wooden gnarl, almost identical to the one at their departure point. Indeed, Sawyer had no way of knowing that they
hadn't
traveled in some great circle only to return to the exact same tree. They pulled the medical casket from the gondola, and their travel packs as well. As soon as they took the last of their belongings from the cable car, it jerked upward into the leaves and vanished. So did the spidermen. No evidence remained of their journey here at all.

They stood alone on the wide gnarl—one tracker, one clone, one TimeBinder, a Vampire Queen, and an unconscious man in a medical chest. Above, a thinning in the forest canopy allowed beams of dappled sunlight to filter down in shades of pale hazy blue. Below, the distant foliage fell away in ranks of dark color. To one side, a great veil of purple vines glowed with speckles of wet reflection; to the other, a blacktree limb as huge as one of Dupa's warts filled their view.

At least a hundred people had died to bring them here. Sawyer sagged down onto a rounded upswelling of the gnarl. He ached. His stomach hurt. And even though he stood on a solid surface again, his body still insisted that the world around him remained unsteady.

Lee-1169, even more unhappy-looking, glared across at him. “All right?” he demanded. “Now what do we do?”

“Anything you want. Eat. Sleep. Defecate. Urinate. Get on each other's nerves. Try not to kill each other.” Sawyer added, “Oh, yes—and for enjoyment, we'll watch Zillabar squirm at the indignity of our treatment.” He grinned. “In other words . . . we wait.”

“I see. And just exactly
what
do we wait for?”

“To see if M'bele will greet us—or kill us.”

“You mean, you brought us here all this way—and you don't know what kind of reception we'll get?”

Sawyer nodded. “M'bele knows how to hold a grudge.”

“What kind of a grudge?” Lee demanded.

“The usual,” Sawyer admitted.

Lee threw up his hands in disgust. “I should have known.” He glared around for someone to commiserate with, found no one, glared at Zillabar, turned at last to Three-Dollar. “
You
should have known! Why did you expect that these two trackers could do anything for us? They can't do anything without leaving behind a trail of dead bodies and bad debts.”

“At least that makes them easy to follow,” remarked Three-Dollar blandly.

“All right.” Lee turned back to Sawyer. “Tell me the rest. How much do you owe M'bele?”

Sawyer shrugged eloquently. “Enough. But hardly enough to justify killing a man, let alone two—especially when one of them already lies dying in a medical casket. I figure he can't afford to let Finn die, or me, or he'll never stand a chance of getting repaid.”

“And what if you've guessed wrongly?”

“Why then, very shortly, none of us will have much to worry about at all, will we?” Sawyer allowed himself a sardonic smile. “In the meantime, sit back, get comfortable, and enjoy the view. The blacktrees of Dupa have a reputation for peace and majesty throughout the cluster. You have a rare opportunity here to see them in their natural unspoiled condition.”

“I've seen all the blacktrees I care to see, thank you, unspoiled or otherwise.” Lee made a growling sound and turned away in frustration.

Sawyer shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Three-Dollar's gaze remained on Sawyer. His eyes had a depth of understanding that Sawyer found difficult to resist. He tried looking away, but every time he looked back, Three-Dollar still studied him.

“What?” Sawyer demanded finally.

“Nothing.”

“Not nothing. You keep looking at me. You have a question, don't you?”

Three-Dollar conceded with a nod. “Despite the fact that you don't think M'bele will help us, you still brought us here. Why?”

“Why not?” Sawyer sighed and admitted, “I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. I just have to hope that the pheromone for revenge doesn't overwhelm his lust for remuneration. M'bele has the talent that we need. Do you have a better idea?”

Three-Dollar went blank for just the quickest of instants; then he returned. He shook his head. “I have memories. But only a fool stores his past in the future. In the meantime, this horse has obviously chosen its own path.”

“This
horse
?” asked Sawyer.

“A creature of ancient mythology,” the TimeBinder explained.

“Ah,” said Sawyer.

Listening to them, Lee-1169 made a sound of derision. “Whatever he says, it doesn't matter. Nothing else will happen here until it happens.”

Three-Dollar smiled in agreement. “You have the makings of a true master, Lee. You have finally realized that the universe operates at its own speed.”

He just had time to finish the sentence. And then . . . it happened.

First, the air began to tremble. Very faintly. Then, the sound became louder and more pronounced—not a sound as much as a feeling. A dark low feeling. Then, abruptly, something came rumbling up from below, climbing up the perpendicular limb of the close-by tree.

The thing had a lumpy shape, like a cluster of different-sized bubbles all stuck together, and it had multiple arms and graspers. It walked itself up the surface of the tree, each separate arm reaching, grabbing, hooking, pulling in turn. It looked like a vertical centipede tied in multiple knots and with cancerous protuberances bulging out of its body at odd angles.

A thousand separate eyestalks swiveled around to gaze at the waiting travelers, several thousand others continued to survey the vast forest above, below, and around them. A bevy of spotlights lit up then, fingering the visitors in their bright focus. Sawyer stood up and faced the machinery. He bowed extravagantly and announced, “Sawyer and Finn Markham, at your service. I bring friends—” Here, he paused to point to Lee-1169 and William Three-Dollar. “—and I bring a gift.” And this time, he waved his hand to include Zillabar. The Vampire Queen's countenance remained unreadable.

The machinery did not react. Not immediately.

Lee looked to Sawyer, a question in his eyes. Sawyer shrugged. Lee looked to Three-Dollar, a different question in his eyes this time. The TimeBinder shrugged as well. Lee did not look to Zillabar.

A moment later, the machinery reacted. Weapon ports began opening, and at least a hundred separate devices turned around to point themselves at Sawyer's party.

“Uh-oh. . . .” said Lee. “Somebody guessed wrong—”

Sawyer kept his expression blank. He scratched his eyebrow and thought about the possibility of a bath. He sucked his teeth, looked down at his boots, and considered several other things he might say and the wisdom of saying them. He looked again to the cameras. “I think you should open up, M'bele,” he said, disarmingly. “We could talk about two hundred and sixty-two thousand, one hundred and forty-four caseys.”

“Three hundred thousand caseys!” a sonorous voice boomed in reply.

“Not by my accounting!” Sawyer shouted back angrily.

“I have included the interest,” the voice intoned drily.

“Usurer!”

“Thief!” M'bele continued. “By the rights of Dupa, I could shoot you now and have done with the whole nasty matter.”

“You do and you'll miss one of the best opportunities I've ever brought you!”

“The last opportunity you brought me cost me a fortune. I can't afford too many more of your opportunities, Sawyer. You'll bankrupt me. Begone!” And then, a moment later, the voice asked in a kinder tone. “I thought you said that Finn came with you.”

“He did.”

“I don't see him.”

Sawyer stepped to one side and indicated the medical casket with an unhappy gesture. “He needs your help, M'bele. If you don't help him, he'll die. And if he dies, you'll never get your money.”

“The money has no meaning to me,” said the voice. “I consider it only a means of keeping score in the greater game of life. “What ails him?”

“Blood burn.”

“I have no cure for blood burn. No one does.”

“I know what causes it.”

Despite itself, the voice replied. “What causes the blood burn?”

“A Vampire's bite.”

“I have no cure for Vampire bites either.”

“I brought the Vampire with me.”

“Hmp.” The voice fell silent.

“I need your help,” Sawyer said.

The voice did not respond.

“Don't make me beg. Please, M'bele. I have no other hope.”

Still no response—

Abruptly, a huge hole popped open in the great gnarl of the blacktree. A tall man, heavyset, and with skin so dark it gleamed purple, came striding angrily out. Shiny kinks of pale white hair framed his head and his eyes burned with a deep unresolved anger. M'bele pushed past Lee and Three-Dollar and went directly to the head of the medical casket. He carried a black case.

“All right, yes, yes. Shut up, Sawyer. Let me see him—” He bent to the readout screens and studied them, all the while making nasty little noises of empathy and disgust. “Oh, good god. How in the hell did this happen to him?”

“I told you—”

“I don't know why I should trust you, Sawyer. I don't know why
anyone
should trust you. I heard how you betrayed the TimeBinder of Thoska-Roole.”

Three-Dollar stepped forward then. “Excuse me,” he said. He tapped the TimeBand around his forehead. “I wear the TimeBand of Thoska-Roole. Will you trust my word? Will you save this life because I ask you to?”

M'bele hesitated. Several emotions flickered rapidly across his dark face. Finally, he snorted in exasperation. “You make it hard for a man to hold onto his anger, you know that, don't you?”

Three-Dollar merely smiled blandly.

Abruptly, M'bele looked around to Sawyer and Lee. “Well, don't just stand there, you stinking idiots! Help me get him into the lab!” He pointed to Zillabar. “Not you—you stay right there.”

“Don't you have a brig or cell you can lock her up in?” Lee asked.

“Let her wait out here,” M'bele retorted. “Where can she run to? The jungle will eat her alive. And if she does try to escape, we'll have one less problem to worry about. No, consider it a test. Let's see how much intelligence a Vampire really has.”

“I don't like it,” said Sawyer.

M'bele pointed at the huge machine still hanging on the tree. “All right. I'll have the poppet watch her. If she takes more than ten steps in any direction, we'll have to send her home in a plastic bag.”

Reluctantly, Sawyer accepted M'bele's wisdom. He bent to switch on the levitators and they pushed the medical casket down the ramp and into the living flesh of the gigantic tree.

The Burihatin StarPort sprawled across a rocky table-land. Starships lay like beached sky-whales in shallow cradles scattered haphazardly across the broken terrain. Connection tubes snaked over the surface leading from each cradle back to a sprawl of domes and spheres that overlooked them all.

The first dawn slid across the yellow landscape—the glow of amber Burihatin's dayside suffused the sand and rocks and scraggly patchy vegetation. The parent world appeared now as a crescent, and its reflected light gave little useful illumination. Later, however, when the great beast had climbed well past zenith, the second dawn would bring a brighter day to the land. The bright pinpoint of Burihatin's primary would etch the landscape with a stark blue radiance.

Above, the sky began to rumble with ferocious energy. The rumble grew louder and ever more compelling. It became a multifaceted roar, shrieking with notes all up and down the spectrum, even beyond the ranges of hearing, both above and below. The ground shook—and a gleaming squadron of golden vessels came screaming over the horizon.

They coasted to a stop and drifted past the StarPort toward the great flat landing zone beyond. The Marauders came gliding gently down to the tarmac as graceful as feathers, each one stopping where it touched down—all of them arriving at their final rest in the same perfect formation they had demonstrated in the air.