Ice and Shadow (6 page)

This was much milder than the blast expected. Though a moment later, after the men had left the camp shelter, she realized that considering a bleak future was a punishment in itself. The least she could hope for was to be planet-bound on some world the Service selected, forbidden ever again to use any skill she had learned. They might even demand that she be brain-censored also. She shivered and put her face in her hands, though she could not shut the dire pictures out of her mind.

Why
had
she done all this? Looking back now, she was certain she could have remained hidden in the tower, perhaps even made that climb into safe hiding above, without having dealings with the Princess. Such evasion had been a part of Roane’s training from the start. What flaw in herself had forced her out of the ways of prudence?

Again, she could have left the Princess once they were free of the tower. She might have done this—or that—But in every choice, she had made the one to condemn herself to Uncle Offlas’s justice and she knew what she could expect from that.

She could not use her find as any bargaining point. Uncle Offlas would claim it had been made by chance alone. The only new information she had was that the Princess was conditioned not to see the panel—and any more Ludorica could supply about the Ice Crown.

Since they did not have the techniques here to drag information out of Ludorica against her will, perhaps she could be forewarned to bargain—But for that she must be conscious, and how long—

“What did they say about me?”

Roane was startled. The Princess could
not
be conscious—she had gone down at Sandar’s stunner blast. But her eyes were open and watching Roane. The off-world girl had no idea how this miracle had come about—unless a difference in planetary inheritance was responsible. She had never known one to recover so quickly from a stun beam. But she must take advantage of it before the others returned, give the Princess warning.

“Listen!” Though there was no one in the shelter and she made sure the recorder was safely off, Roane leaned very close before she spoke. “They want to take away your memory, so you cannot remember us. And then—then they may give you to those hunting you.”

She had expected some expression of disbelief from the Princess. But though the other’s eyes narrowed a little, she showed no surprise. Instead she asked: “And you believe that they can do this thing—take away my memory?”

“I have seen it done to others.”

“I believe you believe it, yes. But whether it can be done to one who has the right to a crown—” Ludorica frowned. “If I could get the Crown—I must get the Crown!”

But Roane had a question of her own. “How long have you been awake? It is important for me to know.”

“A memory which is useful, eh? Very well, this I remember clearly—a young man wearing clothes such as yours. Why is it with you, Roane, that men and women dress alike? Even our peasant girls delight in their bright skirts and would think your wear very ugly and drab. Yes, a young man. Then all is blackness as in a sleep without dreams. Until I lay here—wherever here may be—and you were taking from me those disgraceful rags to make me clean and warm. But I thought it well to learn what I could before those others knew I was awake.

“So they wish to take away my memory and give me to those who would like me best in the far deeper sleep of death. Why would they do this to a stranger who has worked them no harm?”

“They fear your knowing of their presence here.”

“And what act of thievery, or worse, do they plan that they fear any knowledge of their presence may spoil?” There was a new sharpness in the Princess’s voice. “It is the Crown! You seek the Crown! But it is the truth that I told you—for one not of the Blood to take it means a wasting death. Which one of our neighbors sent you to destroy Reveny so? And are you so careless or dedicated that you will kill yourselves to achieve your ends?”

It was no use. Roane could not explain without telling all. But with a conditioned mind—would Ludorica accept her explanation any quicker than she would believe in the installation she had not been able to see?

“We came here to search for a treasure, but I will swear to you by any power you wish to name that that was not your crown! Until you told me of it, I did not know of its existence. Nor would it mean anything to me. What we seek is not of your time. Oh, I do not know if I can make you understand. Before Reveny was a nation, before your people came—at a time so distant we have never been able to reckon it—there were others. They may not even have been like us in form and they were gone before our form of life came to be.

“But in some places they left things behind them, hidden things. And from these our wise men try to learn something of them. They had greater knowledge than we possess. They were able to do things which we can hardly believe are possible. Yet we know that they did them.

“And every such find we can discover adds to our small store of knowledge, makes it more likely that someday we can learn more of their secrets. My uncle and my cousin, the young man you saw, are both trained to hunt down such treasures. And I have been schooled to help them, since I am of their family and supposed so to keep their secrets.” She was trying hard to set this within a framework of planetary custom. “By revealing myself to you I have broken a very strict law, and I shall have to pay for that. But you are not at fault—”

“So you believe this is wrong, the taking of my memory?”

“Yes. And yet—”

“Yet you also have a way of life to uphold, even as we of the Blood,” the Princess interrupted. “Yes, that I can understand. But I tell you, Roane, I do not propose to let them take my memory and give me to Reddick. Nor do I mean to lose the Crown when my hand may be only inches from it. I am treating you as one treats an honorable enemy. If it be war between us, let us say so, and from this moment the rules of war will hold.”

“I do not want war. But my uncle, my cousin—”

“Yes. And what will happen to you, Roane? Will they also take away your memory as a punishment for aiding me?”

“They might, yes. Or they can send me to a place where I shall have to abide for the rest of my days.”

“A prison? And you will let them do this to you?”

“You do not understand. They have powers you cannot conceive of. And there are others behind them more powerful still. They will do with me in the end just as they choose.”

The Princess sat up. “I do not understand you. You are strong of body, quick of mind. This you have proved. Yet you will let them take you—you sit here and
wait
for them to take you!”

“You
do not understand!” Roane thought of the devices they could use to hunt her down. Uncle Offlas might even call in Service aid. The Princess might be conditioned in one way, but, Roane saw now, she herself was conditioned in another, unable to break free without aid—

“Stay if you will,” Ludorica said. “But I do not remain here to have them play with my mind.”

“Where will you go?”

“To Yatton, if I can escape Reddick’s net. He is a stubborn man and will not lightly let me out of his hands. And you—will you remain here waiting for prison?” There was a faint scorn in that.

But Ludorica could not know. To run was hopeless, ending in defeat. If Roane could persuade the Princess to bargain with Uncle Offlas—Only the time for bargaining might already be passed. Roane shook her head. Slowly she arose.

“If I help you to Yatton—” At least she might protect her from Reddick’s men. If she could keep the Princess safe, there might be a little hope for a later bargain.

“If you help me to Yatton, I think there will be no more talk of memory stealing, nor prison, for either of us!”

CHAPTER 6

“FOOD FIRST.”
Roane went to the stores, triggered the heat caps on those containers she thought held the most sustaining nourishment, brought back her selection.

There was clothing, too. Ludorica’s collection of rags was useless. Roane could give her an extra coverall—it would, with its strange make and fabric, be one more thing to explain to any native, but there was no help for that. She had compromised her standing with the Service past repair. But there was no reason why the Princess should be surrendered to an alien “justice” which to her would be the rankest injustice.

As she hunted for clothing and boots she rubbed her forehead with her scratched fingers—not because of any ache there but because she could not wholly understand how she had been drawn into this tangle. Roane had wanted nothing but shelter from a frightening storm, and all this had come from that perfectly natural desire. Somehow it was as if all her training, all she had been drilled in as “right” or “wrong,” had been overturned once she met the Princess.

With a sigh, she spread out the coverall, ready for Ludorica, who was sampling cautiously the contents of a container.

“But this is good!” commended the Princess. “It is much better than what you carried with you in the cave. How is it that you have it hot? For you did not take it from any stove—I saw you!”

“It is another of our ways,” Roane told her wearily. She was very tired, wanting nothing more than to lie down in the warm and comfortable bed bag, to sleep. But instead she mouthed two sustain tablets, which would ease her fatigue. Then she ate her share of the meal.

The Princess finished first and was now fingering the coverall. She and Roane were much of a size and Roane did not think it would be an ill fit. She showed her how to work the inseal by merely running a fingertip along it, and the Princess gave an exclamation of surprise and pleasure.

“But what ease you have in dressing! Though there is a beauty to buckles and lacing. And”—she surveyed her slender figure, muffled now in the alien dress—“I do not think I would like to wear this for long. Wait until we reach Yatton, Roane. Then I shall exchange gifts with you—and I think”—she eyed the other critically—“you will look well in our dress. Though it is a pity about your hair. Perhaps it will grow in time. Ah, I know! You can wear a Charn bonnet, that will be proper. Wine yellow for your dress, and a bonnet with tyra ribbon for cording—”

Roane laughed. She felt as if she had slipped from the real world into fantasy. How could she, Roane Hume, be sitting in a Service camp listening to the Princess of Reveny describe a dress of high Clio fashion meant for her to wear? Perhaps it was best to treat this venture as a dream, to drift along with the tide of events rather than trying to fight them. But for a wistful minute or two she wished it could be true, that once she
could
see herself as the Princess visualized her.

“Best hold a dress in your hands before you don it,” she commented. “I know we are a long way from Yatton—
if
we ever make it.”

Roane took what precautions she could against being traced. She unbuckled her work belt and laid it straight on the floor to study its cargo of tools. The beamer—yes, with fresh charges. Not the detect, nor her wrist com either; they were linked to devices in the camp. The cutter—no. Though she had betrayed the Service in some ways, she would draw the line with that. It could be lost—and, found by another, arouse too much speculation. A small medic kit and—

“Have you aught here to free me from this?”

Roane looked up at the clink of metal. The Princess was pulling at the collar, its chain dangling down over her shoulder.

“Come closer to the light and let me see.”

The Princess stooped so that Roane could inspect the small lock hole, which had not been visible in the tower. The off-world girl brought a larger kit. She tried two of the tools it held, inserting their tips into the hole, prying with them. Then, with a click, the collar sprang open.

“Ah.” Ludorica jerked it off to rub her throat where red marks showed. Roane reached for the medic kit, squeezed out a fingerload of soothing paste, and applied it carefully.

“Ahh—” The Princess sighed again. “That takes away the soreness. Another of your many marvels. With your food in me, your clothing on my back, and now your paste of herbs, I feel as if I could front Reddick and be victor. Though I know well that is a belief I should not put to the proof.”

Roane continued to choose supplies. Not a flamer, of course—but a stunner was another matter. In the first place, its inner workings would be instantly destroyed if handled by anyone who did not know its use. Service personnel had to be furnished with some form of protective weapon for other worlds, and this refinement was the ultimate result of much research. It could not kill, though on the highest voltage it could cause brain damage—as Sandar had proposed to use it.

She had refurnished her belt—beamer, stunner, the medic kit, a bag of rations, but nothing which would link her to the camp or the camp to her. When she was done and ready to go, she saw that the Princess had gathered up the collar and chain, winding the latter around the former for easier carrying.

“Why take that?”

“Why? Because it was put on me. There are those I shall show it to when I tell my tale, and they will be the hotter against Reddick. Women are not treated so in Reveny. Even more will it be resented that a Princess of the Blood was chained like an animal. I do not know how deep or wide Reddick has made his move against the throne, but that he has done this to me is a warning. There may be those who follow him without knowing what manner of lord he is. And to those such a symbol as this”—she shook the collar and the links clashed against one another—“will lead to second thoughts. Let me but reach Nelis—”

Roane took a last look at the camp. It was no different from the ones she had known on half a dozen worlds. Yet now she had the feeling that once she walked away she was turning her back on everything which had always been. So, as she glanced from this to that, all had a slightly unfamiliar cast, as if they were already strange and she was one apart.

At least yesterday’s rain had stopped, though there were still effects of the storm to be seen as they moved from the bubble half buried in the muddy earth. Out in the open Roane was wary, not only of Reddick’s men, but of Uncle Offlas and Sandar. She quickened pace. And the Princess, her feet now protected by boots, matched her stride for stride.

That Yatton lay to the north was all Ludorica could tell Roane. The Princess was not used to traveling except by well-defined roads, and all that lay here were foresters’ tracks. Nor had she any idea how far away from their goal they might now be.

“Sending Nelis there three months ago was perhaps another move of Reddick’s,” she commented. “All I know is that he is loyal only to the true line. Ahh—though these boots are better to tramp in than bare feet, I wish for a duocorn. My good, fleet Zarpher—or even Batlas, though I have named her slug-crawler in the past!”

She paused, one palm against a tree trunk for support. Her face was drawn and there were dark shadows, almost matching her bruises, beneath her eyes.

It had been well into afternoon when they had left the camp, though the cloudy sky made it dusk in the thicker parts of the woods. Although they had borne north as steadily as they could, there had been many detours forced by the rough country, so they could not have covered too much distance. The only hopeful note was that they had seen no searchers.

Roane, to her surprise, discovered that the Princess had an acuteness of sight and hearing besting hers, often pointing out some trace of bird or animal Roane missed. She smiled at Roane’s comments, saying that Hitherhow had been her favorite place when she was a child and that she had often gone with the foresters.

“But that was when Duke Reddick was still a palace squire in Thrisk. And would that he had remained there! He was sent to Thrisk in exchange for the second son of the Duke of Zeiter. I think all hoped he would make a marriage of merit. What did happen”—she shook her head—“not even I know. Though the King was told. And after, he sent Reddick for two years to Tulstead. Which is a place to make a man think twice before he wishes to settle therein. Reddick came back much altered—for the better, my grandfather thought. Though he might have known that the blood of Olava was not to be so purified. Anyway, the Duke’s actions thereafter were such that he could not be denied his rights to Hitherhow. That beautiful place! To be so tainted! But let me get the Crown—”

“And what of your grandfather?”

“We are blood kin,” Ludorica answered slowly. “He is an old man and to him I am merely a means of preserving our House. He wanted a prince; he must take me. So for the years since my Uncle Wulver’s disappearance, I have not been a person—myself—but a tool in his hand. That he is right makes it no more easy for me. If he dies I shall be a little sorry, for in his way he is a good man, and has always done his best for Reveny. But it will not be true heart-sorrow. I have none close enough to me to strike that deep.” She spoke as if stating a fact she had long faced.

“And with the Crown you rule Reveny?”

“I do! Then Reddick shall learn what it means to reach for what is not his. I have already made plans—since I do not know how far he has flung his net, nor in what places it lies to entangle me. I shall get Nelis and his men to escort me, and ride to Leichstan, crossing the border where one may slip over with no eyes upon one. Then we shall go to Gastonhow where the High Court summers. As blood kin I can treat with King Gostar—” She hesitated and the chain of the collar rang as she turned it.

“He has sons, two still unmarried. One such would be an acceptable prince consort for Reveny, and such a marriage would pacify that border at least. So he will be ready to listen to me. Then—with a chance to gather loyal forces—I shall find the Crown and ride to Urkermark City. If I enter with the Crown and with border peace secured, Reddick will have no one left to guard his back. The ambassador at Gastonhow is Imbert Rehling, who was cup-brother to my father in their youth. He will arrange it all once I get to him. Yatton, the border, Gastonhow—it is all a straight move.”

It might seem a straight move to the Princess, but Roane thought she could see a good many places where trouble lay. However, that was none of her concern. She would get Ludorica to Yatton, if she could. What happened thereafter would be the result of the Princess’s actions, while Roane returned to camp to take what would be waiting for her there. All she would have to offer in her defense was that the future Queen of Reveny would be in her debt—always supposing Ludorica did become Queen.

“And how do you get the Crown?”

“We know now where it lies. Once I have support behind me I can find it. But those to go there with me to loose it from the rocks must be carefully chosen. This is a story which must not spread. Nelis I can count on to the death and beyond. He will know others that I can trust.”

Roane wondered if she was as confident as she sounded. But the off-world girl was not prepared to question it. She was too intent now on the fact that night was coming. The night lenses—she had forgotten those. How could she have been so stupid? The effect of the sustain tablets she had taken was wearing off, too. And it was very apparent that, for all her push and courage, the Princess was in an even worse state. They would have to rest, eat, and perhaps spend a portion of the night in whatever shelter they could find.

That in the end proved to be in the lee of the trunks of two trees brought down in the storm, their broken limbs still flying rags of withering leaves. The girls tramped the smaller branches and leaves into an untidy nest and hunkered in together. Roane brought out E-rations and they ate. By the time they had finished it was dark.

The Princess slipped into an exhausted sleep, lying in a tight curl, her head pillowed on a tree limb. But they would have to keep watch! Roane battled her own deep fatigue as the long minutes slipped by.

Sharp pain in her shoulder—Sandar was prodding her with a Gamelean longsword. He wanted her to get up—march—show him a crown of ice. If he took that into his hands he would be a ruler—He drew back the sword, to turn the point on her again—

Roane opened her eyes.

“Up!” The command came out of deep dusk, was enforced by a prod in her ribs. Not Sandar—

One of Reddick’s men! Roane’s sleep-rooted daze cleared a little. She moved her hand toward her head, only to meet with a sharp blow on her wrist, delivered by the man standing over her.

“Keep your hands in sight—try nothing. And on your feet!” His orders were terse, and she could see he held a weapon ready to enforce them.

So they had been captured in their sleep. But Roane was still too tired to know more than a remote dismay.

“What do you do, Sergeant?” That demand came from the Princess.

“My duty. You are on Royal land without a warrant. You shall so answer to the Captain.”

“That is right, Sergeant,” the Princess replied briskly. “But you will act with more courtesy, or
you
shall answer to the Captain, and that answering will not be pleasant. Touch us not again!”

Perhaps the imperiousness of that command had its effect, for he withdrew a pace or two. There was pale sunlight about them. And in the full light stood three men. They wore a uniform of boots, tight breeches, and tunics which were latched from throat to waist with metal, the skirts cut to flare out over the hips to mid-thigh. These coats were of a rust brown, and each bore on the right breast a complicated symbol worked in purple and green, the same colors appearing in a small tight crest of feathers jutting from the bands of their high-crowned, narrow-brimmed headgear.

Each wore a sword slung in a shoulder baldric, and their leader had drawn his weapon in threat. But in addition they had other weapons Roane recognized as being the most lethal on Clio, hand arms which fired a solid projectile.

“You are of the Jontar Cavalry,” Ludorica said. She faced the Sergeant and he stared at her, plainly puzzled. “Your Colonel is Nelis Imfry. Him I would see and speedily.”