Beneath the Eye of God (The Commodore Ardcasl Space Adventures Book 1) (21 page)

There were several purchasers of questionable goods in the depot. The boys dealt with a couple who paid them a slightly higher rate as steady suppliers. Even at that, there was often little to show for a night's labor. Fortunately the boys operated with a very low overhead.

A more serious drawback was the armed riders who patrolled the depot. They left the boys alone in the early evening but later, when they had collected enough of value, the riders came looking for them. If caught, the price of their release was everything they had gathered that night. If it wasn't enough, they risked a beating, its severity depending on the mood of the rider who caught them.

Even with the danger and hardship that were their constant companions, Erig and Feren appreciated their freedom. They counted themselves far more fortunate than the poor wretches who were dragged off to serve in Blackman Nol's forced labor brigades.

"But you're not making any money," Malie pointed out. They were sitting beneath a wagon eating a supper of bread and cheese they bought with the coppers they collected in their early evening forays. "You're stealing from people who haven't got anything. Wouldn't it be easier to rob one rich man than roll a hundred drunken poor people?

"But there aren't any rich people around here," Erig protested. "And when they do come through, they either go into town to be robbed or, if they're friends of Nol's they go up to his house. Either way, his riders are all around them. They don't mind us picking a few coppers off the drivers who are too smart to go into town but if we started competing with the real thieves, they'd kill us or worse—they'd work us to death on their chain gangs."

"You know where Blackman Nol's house is?"

"Sure. Everybody knows that."

Malie brushed the crumbs from her skirt and got to her feet. She was little taller standing than the two boys were sitting down. "I've had a good time this evening. You guys are really good at this. It's just too bad that you'll never make enough money to leave here and you'll get old and slow and the riders will get tired of you and take you off to the labor brigades where they'll beat you with whips and you'll work in chains until you die."

She picked up her basket. "If you'll point out the way to Mr. Nol's house, my grandmother and I will go rob him so that we can live in wealth and luxury happily ever after."

The boys were speechless. "You can't rob Blackman Nol," they finally stammered.

"Not if you don't show me which way to go. And my grandmother can do anything. She's a witch, you know. Maybe she'll turn all his guards into frogs. She used to turn people into snakes but I don't like snakes."

The boys exchanged worried glances. "Are you going to show me the way or not?" Malie demanded. "It's only one night's work but the sooner I start, the sooner I'll be rich."

"It isn't very far," Erig said thoughtfully. "The house is just up the road at the top of the hill but it would be safer to circle around through the woods. We could go part way with you to make sure you don't get caught."

"That would be very kind of you."

"And your grandmother's a pretty powerful witch?"

"She never fails."

***

Ohan had never felt so alone in all his life. Malie had run off shouting about her basket. The others had been taken in a carriage, Leahn unmasked and in trouble. He was left alone with a laser cannon, whatever that was, strapped around his middle.

He tried to remember the Commodore's last words, something about their goal being to get into Blackman Nol's house. Maybe that was where the carriage had taken them. Was that where the road led? He didn't dare ask anyone and he couldn't risk following the road in broad daylight. He would have to wait until dark. In the meantime he could go look for Malie. But what if she found her basket and came back here looking for him?

He decided to wait where he was until dark, then follow the carriage. If Malie returned, they would go together. If she didn't, he would go alone. Somehow he felt that Malie's chances of survival in the depot were better than his.

He sat down among the barrels of salt fish to wait and worry. Sitting was difficult in his corset. He tucked his feet beneath him and rolled backwards onto a barrel. That left him staring at a patch of sky between the kegs. Was his a good plan? He doubted it. Was it just an excuse to sit and do nothing? He didn't know. He had never had to do much planning before. His mother, his teachers, the Commodore—they had all planned things for him. He had just gone along for the ride. But now he was alone. It was time to take charge.

He struggled to his feet. He sat down. He stared at the sky. He had a plan. It was to lean here until it got dark, then follow the road. It was the only plan he could think of. It meant he wasn't just sitting here paralyzed with fear. He was waiting. Waiting was part of his plan. It wasn't his fault that this part closely resembled fear and indecision. He would wait. The sun was moving slowly, ever so slowly across the sky.

He woke with a start. They were shouting at him. He was discovered. Wait. They were shouting at each other. Two drivers on the other side of the barrels were moving off toward town. It was dark and Malie hadn't come. He pulled himself stiffly from his hiding place. How long had the sun been gone? He had no idea. The Eye of God was behind the mountains. It was very dark. He chuckled unconvincingly. Ohan, child of darkness, was setting out again in darkness to . . . to do what? Probably get himself killed or captured or tortured or worse yet, lost.

He peered out from between the barrels. The two drivers had walked across the road still shouting at each other. There were lights and people. Perhaps he too should just walk boldly across the road as if he had business there. That might attract less attention than if he seemed to be sneaking across. Once he got into the shadow of the trees on the other side, he would be less likely to be seen.

He took a deep breath and stepped out, slowly but purposefully. He tried to walk casually but that was hard when you didn't feel at all casual. He had to think of something else. Lost. That would be the worst fate of all. He would gladly die trying to save Leahn, even suffer torture . . . well, a little bit of torture. But to get lost, that would be the worst. To fail was one thing. To fail foolishly and uselessly was quite another. He prayed his death would prove useful.

There were trees in front of him. He stepped across a ditch and was among them. He had made it! Unlike his forest trees, these were straight and tall with rough bark and few low branches. But they smelled of earth and wood and decay. He hugged one.

The town was behind him. The dirt road led off into darkness. He started to walk parallel to the road inside the cover of the trees but the ground was rough and the going slow. How much precious time had he lost hiding among the salted fish? He stepped cautiously onto the road and listened. Nothing. He looked down at his clothes. They were dark, the night was dark and if he heard anyone approach, he could quickly duck back among the trees. He would stick to the road.

It led up to the crest of a low hill and down the other side. The depot and town were lost behind him and darkness was all around. He stopped occasionally to listen. The sounds of these woods were unfamiliar but natural. Even the wind in the leaves sounded different. The insects and night creatures were not the same as those of his forest but were still recognizable as they went about their business, doing their secret things.

The road crossed an open meadow. Once in the cover of the trees on the other side, Ohan breathed a sigh of relief until he realized that his road met another there. The new road went off in two new directions. He had no choice but to make a choice. He made it, regretted it and kept on.

The new road followed the far side of the meadow and then branched again. One path led up into the woods where lights were burning. He froze and listened. There were people up there. He crept in among the trees and climbed the hill.

He came to a large clearing. A cluster of buildings in the center was surrounded by a wire fence patrolled by guards. He began to despair. His friends could be in any one of those buildings or they could be somewhere else entirely. How could he possibly find them?

He had circled halfway around the clearing when he came to the stables. Some of the corrals were close to the tree line. He slipped in among the horses, amazed at how little commotion he caused among the beasts that had once frightened him so. The stables were separated from the rest of the compound by two gates some distance apart.

"What you think you're doing there, boy?"

Ohan's blood froze. He whirled to face a heavyset figure in the darkness. "They uh . . . they sent me to look at the horses," he stammered. "I'm good with horses."

"Sent you? Who sent you?" the man demanded.

"The uh, rider. The big rider."

"Oh he did eh? He pampers that beast. There ain't nothing wrong with it. How long you been here?"

"Well, it took a little while. He looked all right to me. I was just leaving."

The man found a lantern and lit it. He held it close to Ohan's face. "What's your name, boy?"

"Ohan, sir."

The man squinted at him. "You're a furry one. Not long out of the trees, I'd say. I'm going to check up on you when I get in, Ohan. If I find out you're lying to me, I'll skin you for sure."

He grabbed Ohan in an iron grip and led him down to the first gate, opened it and shoved him through. "If you ain't telling the truth, boy, you're dead."

Ohan walked unsteadily to the second gate and slipped through. He knew the man behind him was still watching but had no idea which way he was supposed to go. He started in the general direction of most of the buildings, hoping to postpone a final choice as long as possible. As he drew closer, a movement on the porch of the largest building caught his eye. There was another guard there, watching him. The dark figure sauntered up to the rail as Ohan approached. "Where you coming from, boy?"

"The stables, sir. They sent me up there with the horses. I'm good with horses."

"I don't recall seeing you go up there."

"No sir. I've been up there some time."

"Come up here, boy." Ohan climbed the steps to the porch. The guard bent close to his face for a good look. His breath smelled of rotting teeth. "What's your name, boy?"

"Ohan, sir."

"Well you'd best get inside and to bed, Ohan. All you boys have a busy day tomorrow." He grinned evilly. "You'll need your rest."

He held the door half open and Ohan slipped inside. The room was in darkness but his eyes, already accustomed to the night outside, took only a moment to adjust. It looked like the dormitory at school except there were more bunks here, two rows, one on either side of the center aisle. The room was absolutely still. Though he could detect no sound or movement, he sensed that every bed was filled and dozens of eyes were watching him as he walked slowly down the aisle.

"Ohan?" The hoarse whisper startled him. He turned to see a dark figure half rise from a bed beside him. "It's you? They got you too?"

Ohan was almost on top of the person before he recognized him. It was Harz, one of the apprentice drivers from the wagon train. Harz had been one of the most merciless in his hazing of Ohan. Now he actually seemed glad to see him.

As soon as Ohan was identified, the room suddenly became alive with movement, whispers and someone quietly crying. Harz clung to Ohan. "I'm sorry you're here, Ohan, but I'm glad to see somebody I know. This is a terrible place. You remember Kral, my best friend from the wagons? We swore we'd stay in the depot but we didn't. There was a fight and the next thing we knew we were here only Kral wouldn't be quiet like everybody told him. He said they couldn't do this to him. They just laughed and when he tried to fight them, they beat him. They beat him awful. He died, Ohan. He died just a couple of hours ago and they took him away."

Ohan had taken off his coat and shirt and was untying the belt around his waist. "You can sleep with me tonight," Harz was saying. "I don't want to be alone tonight. We'll find you a bunk tomorrow."

"I won't be sleeping with anybody tonight," Ohan said as he laid the pieces of the laser cannon out on the floor in the dark. "They'll be coming for me just as soon as they find out I was where I wasn't supposed to be. Does anybody here know where Blackman Nol's house is?"

"Everybody does," said a voice from the next bunk. "You going to send him a complaint?"

"I may deliver it personally if I can remember how this thing goes together." He had watched the twins put the machine together and had done it himself half a dozen times but never in the dark and never in a state of suppressed panic. His fingers remembered even though his mind refused to participate.

His mind kept saying things like, "it won't work" and "you're doing it wrong" and "it's not the same machine you drilled holes through pyramids with."

That last part was true. There seemed to be less of it now. The gas analyzer and data calibrating scale were gone. There was just the boosters and the little light attached in a single package, the capacitors and the bundle of tubes. His mind found a new thought. "What if they've forgotten part of it? They didn't give you all of it. It's going to explode." His fingers didn't care. They turned it on.

It hummed. There was no light, just a vibrating hum he felt rather than heard. It was the same pleasant hum he remembered from warm days in the forest climbing on temple mounds.