Ambition and Alavidha (19 page)

“What superior
officers?”

“I’m Vada,”
Thalia explained, “Vadeln Thalia and Josei of the Thirty-eighth
Ryzck to be exact and at your service.”

“I thought the
Vada wore uniform.”

“I’m on Long
Leave,” she replied, “it’s just ending actually. I’ll ask Josei to
send a call out to see if anylind are in the vicinity and willing
to carry you. We’ll make better time and you can’t keep up on foot
anyway.” Thalia was receiving simultaneous instructions from Josei
as she spoke.

“You humans are
so slow,” added Josei.

“Thank you,”
said Daniel in a dry sort of voice.

* * * * *

“I wouldn’t be
in that great of a hurry to return him home,” Daniel told the Holad
the doctor as he and his party prepared to depart with Ian. The
events of the last tenday or so had made him harbour a great deal
of resentment about what Ian’s family had got him into.

“Point taken,”
the doctor said, “but don’t panic, he won’t be going anywhere for a
long time, at least not until his bones and internal injuries
heal.”

Daniel had to
be satisfied. He didn’t quite like to ask if he could send a letter
to his father. He presumed that a report about his survival would
be sent by the Ambassador at Vada and decided to leave it at that.
He could always send a message himself, later.

* * * * *

That evening
Thalia, Daniel and Josei set up camp some lindlengths for the
shore, deciding to rest and set out fresh at sunup. The Holad had
left provisions, another bivouac sheet, food and blankets, also
some extra clothes for Daniel.

“Vya will be
here when the sun rises,” announced Josei as he settled his bulk
into a sandy wallow he’d scraped out with his forepaws.

To Daniel’s
surprise Thalia didn’t set up her bivouac sheet under the scraggy
nearby trees as he had but wrapped herself in it and cuddled in
beside her Lind.

As he in his
turn wrapped himself in the donated blankets he wished he could do
the same. The night chill was settling in and with it a stiff
breeze had arrived. He shivered and wondered if this Vya would
allow him to snuggle in for warmth.

He ruefully
concluded that she probably wouldn’t.

Josei had been
at pains to point out over supper that Vya was coming to them as a
favour to him, Josei and that he shouldn’t expect any favours.

As he fell into
an uncomfortable and exhausted sleep he wondered what it would be
like to ride a Lind. Rumour had it that they could run like the
wind and for candlemark after candlemark. His last coherent thought
was,
I wonder if it is like riding Firefly?
Firefly was
Daniel’s grey gelding, safe, Daniel hoped, in his warm stable at
Castle Markwood.

As she had
promised, Vya sauntered to the edge their dom, or campsite not long
after dawn. Daniel was stirring the breakfast pot with much
goodwill and little skill. Seeing that he was busy she decided to
wait a while to assess just what kind of person her temporary
partner was.

Porridge,
Thalia had declared when, after much shaking, she had ‘persuaded’
Daniel to rise from his blankets. “I’ve lit the fire,” she had
said, “and the pot is on, get up and stir it while I go get more
water.”

A groaning
Daniel had seen no help for it and after untangling himself had
staggered over to the fire and begun to stir. Peering into the
unappetising looking sludge in the pot he wondered why Thalia was
making such a lot. He was sure that he wouldn’t be able to eat more
than a duet of spoonfuls.

Josei appeared
on soft paws by his side and Daniel jumped.

Gods, they move
like cats.

“I like it
too,” Josei said, sniffing and wagging his tail.

Can he hear
what I am thinking?

Josei suspected
what Daniel was asking himself, he had come across suspicion before
in those not used to the company of Lind.

“Your face
betrays you,” he added, “you think I can hear what you are thinking
do you not?”

Daniel gulped
and gazed with bated breath at his four-pawed companion then looked
away, half afraid of the answer.

“I cannot,”
Josei informed him, “I cannot hear you. I would tell you if I
could.”

“Can you hear
others?” Daniel asked, still studiously staring at his hand as he
stirred.

“Yes, a few,
some Lind can ‘hear’ many but I am not of their number. I can sense
emotions and feelings of some more.”

“Define some,”
commanded the still wary Daniel.

Josei
considered this.

“Perhaps five
or six out of every hundred or so,” he concluded, “although I can
sense fear in most. I sensed your fear the day before today but not
so much now.”

Daniel
shrugged. “Doesn’t appear to be much here to be frightened
about.”

“That is good
hearing,” said Josei with a quirk of his lip as he peered into the
pot. “Almost ready. Just the salt to add and then it will be time.”
He licked his lips.

“Salt? I
thought we’d be adding sweetening.”

“Salt,”
answered a decided Josei, “it is in that blue box in Thalia’s
saddlebag, look, next to my harness.”

“I meant to ask
Thalia about that,” said Daniel, deciding to conveniently forget
about the existence of the salt. The sludge as he called it looked
(and smelt) bad enough already, no point making a bad situation
worse.

“I think I’ll
need some sort of saddle to be able to stay on when this Vya
arrives.”

“My Thalia has
already thought of that. You and Vya will use ours until we reach
the nearest Supply Station. They will have other harness in their
rooms of stores for travellers and Vada. Vya is about my size and
there are buckles that can adjusted be.”

“Won’t, won’t
that inconvenience Thalia? I mean, how will she stay on?”

Josei wheezed
with laughter.

“Thalia does
not need harness to ride me and not fall off.”

* * * * *

They had
finished breakfast and were washing the crocks and pot when Vya
arrived. Daniel had found the porridge quite tasty after all, even
after Thalia had insisted on adding the salt.

Josei had eaten
a huge amount and then had licked the pot clean so washing it was,
as Daniel found out, as easy as pie.

Vya stopped in
front of Daniel (he had not heard her approach).

Not knowing
what else to do Daniel stood up and executed a bow of welcome which
seemed to please her. Her eyes crinkled in a friendly way and her
whiskers relaxed.

She greeted
Thalia by name.

“Dedta dom
Vya,” Thalia greeted her, “you made good time.”

“It was not
far,” was her simple reply. “This is the southern man I am to
carry?”

“Yes, this is
he. His name is Daniel.”

“Can he
ride?”

Daniel decided
to answer that one for himself.

“I’ve been
riding since I was a little boy,” he said.

“Horses?” Her
voice-tone was derisory.

“Yes.”

“Poof. They are
not fast nor can they run as far as me without rest. Harness? I do
not wish to be forever stopping so he can pick himself up from the
ground on to which he will fall again and again.”

“You can use
mine and Josei’s until we reach the McAllister Supply Station,”
offered Thalia. “He’ll stay on, we can tie him on if
necessary.”

Daniel
privately resolved to circumvent that indignity at all costs.

“I’ll expect I
can manage,” he said, “and thank you for offering to take me.”

“The Gtrathlin
sent word,” Vya answered, “I agreed. I have no young to care for
nor old to tend.”

She sniffed at
the air.

“Porridge? I
smell porridge. Is there any left?”

“I ate it all,”
admitted Josei.

“Next time
leave some for me,” she commanded. “I
like
porridge.”

Daniel groaned.
It looked as if porridge would be on the menu for a long time to
come.

* * * * *

After some
discussion the four of them decided to wait another night before
setting off.

Daniel’s bumps
and bruises were still hurting and he needed a good night’s
sleep.

Vya was quite
decided on this. She too would be pleased to rest. The journey
ahead of them would be long and arduous and there was always the
prospect of an extra pot full of porridge to look forward to.

* * * * *

-21-

THE NORTH
CARAVAN ROUTE

Chad took a
deep breath when the caravan passed through that indefinable line
that marked the difference between Vadath and Argyll but he wasn’t
out of the woods yet (and he meant this quite literally), not by a
long shot. The forests extended quite a ways each side of the
border though the trees were neither as thick nor as abundant as
those further west.

Not that he
allowed his relief to show. He continued to play the shrewd
merchant character he has assumed before he joined the caravan,
paid to join it. Drellor was an able businessman, Chad couldn’t
fault him for that and had, in Chad’s opinion, charged an arm, a
leg and then some for his place then had topped it with ten per
cent commission on all sales. But to assume the identity of a
jewellery salesman had been a stroke of genius, no pack string of
horses to worry about and due to the valuable nature of his
merchandise, no-one thought it strange when he kept himself to
himself.

Of course, Chad
hadn’t needed to talk. Young Zeb did all the talking for him,
gleaning an abundance of information and all without Chad having to
utter a syllable.

The boy was
quick but Chad knew that he wouldn’t be quick enough to outsmart
him when the time came.
Age and duplicity wins against youth and
enthusiasm every time,
he thought, never mind the fact that
Nonder had told his nephew to stick to Chad like glue. Not that
that wasn’t just fine by Chad, for the moment. Zeb would however
become an inconvenience and then Chad would disappear. To remain at
liberty and also make a good living, a thief of Chad’s calibre
learned so much patience that it was by now second nature. He could
put up with the brat’s constant chatter for a while longer. He
might even teach him some more tricks of the trade meantime, as a
thank you for his help.

“So why do we
have to bunk out of the caravan now?” asked Zeb.

“You ask too
many questions.”

“I only wanted
to know,” Zeb answered in an aggrieved voice, “No harm in asking is
there?”

Chad ground his
teeth together before donning a smile and answering.

“Stupid to
stay. The caravan is too slow and too predictable in its direction.
That was good whilst we were in the woods of the Lind and in Vadath
but we have to assume that they’ve realised by now that the box is
gone and will be coming after us.”

“So we go to a
safe place?”

“Safest place
in the world,” Chad assured him,
and a perfect prison for you my
lad when it’s time for me to go collect my earnings.

“So we go
there? All innocent like? Where is it exactly?”

“All innocent
like,” Chad agreed, “and do you know why it’ll be all innocent
like?”

Zeb shook his
head.

“Because I have
a perfect, innocent right to be there. It’s my place. I go away and
come back all the time, some, most, of my journeys are within the
law. Everyone will believe that this has just been another. I
return and take up the threads of life where I left off.”

“Clever,”
agreed Zeb, “but what about me? How are you going to explain
me?”

“You’ll be a
waif I’ve picked up. I’ve offered you employment, in the kitchens I
think.”

“The kitchens!”
exploded Zeb.

“And no
stealing while you’re there. A good thief always knows when to
steal and when not. This is a ‘when not’ time.”

“I don’t want
to work in the kitchens,” complained Zeb but Chad was implacable.
To the kitchen Zeb would go.

Zeb sighed,
“how long for?”

“A month or so.
It won’t hurt you to do a spot of honest work for a change. Think
of it as a learning opportunity. You’ll never know when such
knowledge might come in useful. The master thief who taught me once
made me be a midden boy for a time, you know, cleaning up waste
from townhouses, those who can’t afford running water. I didn’t
like it much at the time either.”

“I’d much
rather work in the stables,” said Zeb.

Chad didn’t
want Zeb anywhere near the stables. When he did go to deliver the
box he didn’t want the little rag-tag following him. If that
happened he might find himself in the position of having to dispose
of him and Chad quite liked the lad, he wasn’t so bad, except for
the chatter and he reminded him a bit of himself at that age.

He might be me
in a few years time, he’s certainly smart enough.

They rode on in
silence for a while then, inevitably, Zeb opened his mouth.

“Master Chad,
I’ve been wondering, what’s in the box? Why is someone paying you
to go to so much trouble to steal it?”

“It’s an
artefact from the early years,” Chad explained. “When you’re a bit
older you’ll understand that there are rich people around who
collect such things and are not too bothered about how the things
come into their possession. It’ll probably take pride of place in
his collection.”

“Who is the
man?” asked Zeb, “the man who’s paying us?”

“You don’t need
to know that,” Chad answered.

“I’d like to
know though. It’s one of the Murdoch Dukes isn’t it? Which
one?”

“It might even
be the Queen of Murdoch herself,” Chad replied.