Laura Jo Phillips (12 page)

There had been 103 Brethren when they began their journey to Onddo, according to their informant.  All male.  96 had lived to reach Onddo.  There were 12 markers in the clearing.  So there were 84 Brethren left.

Thelba smiled to herself.  She had succeeded in not only counting the Brethren, but also in learning of an easier way to do it.  Then she frowned.  Twelve markers meant that twelve of them had died since their arrival two weeks earlier.  That seemed a lot.  Were they weak in some way?

Thelba stood up and began making her way down the boulders again, this time not stopping till she reached the ground.  By then the sun had set, which was a relief to her.  Like all Narrasti, she had excellent night vision.  It was much easier to run in the cool of the night than it was in the heat of the sun, and she was in a hurry to get back home and deliver her news.  As quickly as the Brethren were dying, they might have to move more quickly than they’d planned, else there might be no Brethren left for them to breed with at all.

Chapter
12

Aisling tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep.  Her third day of translating the Xanti recordings had gone better than the first two days, but only because she was being very careful about how long she listened.  She now knew that she could only listen for a few minutes at a time, and then had to take a break of at least half an hour.  At this rate, it was going to take longer than she’d expected to finish.  Not that it mattered, she thought.  She’d finally received a response from Jessi, and it hadn’t been good news.  There was no need for her to rush through the translations anyway.

The most difficult part of the entire process was having to sit at a desk all day long.  Definitely not something she was used to.  Her body felt tense and uncomfortable, almost as though it didn’t belong to her.  She knew what the problem was, but she couldn’t do anything about it without breaking her cover.  She turned over onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe it was time to ditch the disguise completely, she thought.  Nobody knew where she was aside from Jessi, and she trusted her completely.  Even if her location was discovered, how much safer could she be?  The Jasani were very well aware of the Xanti and their capabilities, and they took precautions against them at all times.  Besides, she was tired of pretending.  It would be so nice to just be herself again.  To act like herself, talk like herself, and not have to worry all the time about giving herself away.   

It was a tempting idea.  She wasn’t altogether sure it was a good idea though.  One thing she did know was that if she didn’t do something physical soon she was going to scream with frustration.

She sat up, threw the covers back, slid out of bed and turned on the lamp.  There was a large area of empty floor space between the garden doors and the bed which she eyed carefully.  The floors were hardwood, which had just enough give, but the rug, though beautiful, was too thick.  She knelt down on the floor and rolled the rug up, a simple process made more difficult than it should have been by her back injury.  She really needed to get that fixed soon.  She was tired of limping around all the time, and it severely limited her ability to protect herself.  Leaving the injury untreated had been a calculated risk that she was beginning to think was no longer necessary.

She pushed the rolled rug to the far edge of the room, then looked down at herself.  She was wearing a ribbed tank and a pair of stretchy shorts.  Of the few items of clothing she owned, they were the most suitable for what she was about to do.  She sat down in the center of the floor and began doing slow, careful stretches.  She’d done this whenever she’d gotten a chance while staying with the Bearens, but it hadn’t been easy since she’d shared a room with Karma.  It was difficult at first to get the full flexibility she was after, and even then she was limited by her injury.  Still, it felt good to stretch her muscles. 

She stood up, then slowly bent forward until her palms were both on the floor, lifting her right leg off the floor at the same time.  With a little push, she lifted her left leg as well, then straightened them both so that she was standing on her hands.  She shifted her hands in a precise pattern, causing her body to turn, slowly at first, then more quickly until she was almost spinning.  She slowed gradually, not wanting to push things too hard this first time, then bent her elbows and arched her back just enough to give her momentum.  Her body shot into the air and spun around as she flipped, landing on her good leg, her left foot not quite touching the floor.  Pleased with how well that had gone, she bent over and began a series of flips, placing her hands on the floor, pressing up and flipping, her right foot landing exactly where her right hand had been.  After about twenty flips she stopped, smiling at how good it felt to be using her muscles again.  Now that she was warmed up, there was a lot more she wished she could do, but she had no desire to injure herself further.  The problem was, she was even more awake now than before.

She smiled to herself as she turned around and left her room without pausing to think too carefully about what she was doing.  The lights were out in the rest of the house, but it wasn’t completely dark.  She had more than enough light to see her way as she limped up the curved hallway, through the living room, the dining room and finally, into the kitchen.  She had only been in here twice, but she remembered where the cutlery drawers were and hurried over to them.  She pulled a drawer open, and reached in.  The first knife she pulled out was very fancy with bone handles and etched blades.  She put it back and moved to another compartment.  The next knife was solid metal of some sort, and very heavy.  Silver, she thought.  She put that back and tried again.  The third knife was part of a set with ordinary wood handles and steel blades.  She remembered using them at dinner that evening.  They didn’t have great balance, and knives were not her preference, but they would do.  She picked up a handful of them, closed the drawer and retraced her steps back to her room.  She grabbed her jacket, pulled it on, and stepped out the garden door.   

She wandered around the garden for a few minutes looking for something she could use as a target.  She didn’t want to throw knives at the fruit trees, and she couldn’t use the patio furniture either.  Finally she spotted a series of tall wooden posts that appeared to be markers around a couple of new flower beds.  They were thick, solid and plain, obviously not used for decoration since the wood was unfinished and raw. 

She crossed the garden, marking out what she guessed was about fifteen feet.  Might as well start small, she thought.  It had been a long time since she’d done target practice of any kind, and she wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d thrown knives.  And these were just steak knives.  Not throwing knives.

She selected a knife and held the tip of the blade between two fingers, testing the weight and balance.  She glanced up at the post, then back to the knife, and rolled her eyes.  It would be a miracle if she even hit the damn post, she thought. 

She took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders and unfocused her eyes so that she could see the post, but wasn’t looking directly at it.  When she was ready, she flipped the knife into the air, caught it by the blade tip, and threw it.  Before the first knife reached the target she threw the second, then the third, and the fourth. 

Only after the fourth knife left her hand did she blink, then look to see if her knives had hit the post.  It was too dark to see clearly, so she limped closer, pleased to see that each blade had hit the post, though not in the neat, perfectly aligned row she had attempted.  She sighed softly to herself as she walked to the post and worked the knives free from the wood.

“That was impressive,” Olaf said softly.

Aisling spun around without thinking, one knife poised to throw.  She was so startled to see all three of the Gryphons standing there that for a moment she didn’t know what to think or how to react.  Had she become so lax that people could sneak up on her so easily? 
Apparently
, she thought ruefully.

“It seems there is a bit more to you than you have revealed,” Olaf continued calmly, apparently not too concerned at the sight of a knife aimed at him.

Aisling lowered the knife.  “Not really,” she said as she walked back to the spot where she’d thrown the knives from before.  “I just like to throw knives.”

“You do it very well,” Rand observed. 

“I’m a bit out of practice,” she said.

“Out of curiosity, what were you attempting to do, aside from hitting the post?” Olaf asked.

“They should be in a perfect vertical line, the blades not quite touching each other,” Aisling replied as she turned toward the post again.  “And I should be able to do it from twice this distance.”

“In the dark?  Using ordinary kitchen knives?” Rudy asked doubtfully.  “I’m impressed that you were able to hit the post at all with one of those knives.”

Aisling blushed, glad that the night was dark enough to hide it.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I should have asked before using your cutlery in this manner.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Rand said, waving one hand.  “What type of knives do you usually use for throwing?”

Instead of answering, Aisling turned back to the post and threw the knives again as she tried to decide what to tell them.  What kind of knives she preferred to throw wasn’t really the important issue here, and they all knew it.

“Nice,” Rudy said as he stepped to the post and checked the position of her knives.  “Perfectly straight line, each blade not quite touching the one above it.”

“Better,” Aisling said as she checked the knives herself.  “Not too bad for steak knives I suppose.”

She turned around to face Olaf and Rand.  “Go ahead and ask what you really want to know,” she invited, making up her mind. 

“Shall we go inside first?” Olaf asked.  “We can start a fire in the living room and get you something warm to drink.”

“That sounds good,” Aisling replied, grateful for the suggestion.  Her bare feet were cold against the garden flagstones.  She turned to retrieve her knives, but Rudy had already done that for her.  He offered them to her and she took them with a murmur of thanks.  She would wash them and return them to the drawer in the kitchen, unless they were damaged.  In that case, she would replace them.

“How is it you guys saw me?” she asked as she followed Olaf across the garden toward the living room.

“We just returned from our usual night flight around the village,” Rand said.  “We saw you throwing the knives before we landed.”

“Except for me,” Rudy said.  “One of us always stays behind to guard you and Karma.  I came out here to watch for Olaf and Rand, and saw you doing flips in your room.”

Aisling looked at him with an arched brow.  “You were looking through my window?”

Rudy smiled.  “Look,” he said, pointing toward her room.  Aisling looked and saw that from the garden, with the light on in her room and the blinds open, it was like a spotlight in the dark.  It would have been difficult
not
to look into the room.

“Doing flips?” Olaf asked as he opened the garden doors into the living room.

“Yeah, you should have seen her,” Rudy said with admiration in his voice.  “It was amazing.”

Aisling shrugged.  “Not so amazing really,” she said.  “With the injury in my back, I’m sometimes very frustrated with my limitations.”

Rand walked over to the fireplace, checked that the logs were set correctly and focused on it for a moment.  Suddenly, flames shot up from beneath the logs, sending out instant warmth.  Aisling set the knives down on the hearth and held her hands out with a sigh of pleasure.

“You guys have Fire magic,” she said, not too surprised since she had seen the Bearens do the same thing a few times. 

“Yes,” Rudy replied.  “You are familiar with our magic?”

“A little.  The Bearens told me about it,” she replied.  “What else can you do?”

“We are strongest in Fire and Earth,” Rand said.  “Basically we can light the logs in the fireplace, make things warm and throw rocks.”

Aisling smiled, hearing the humor in Rand’s voice.  “Well, remind me not to make you angry whenever there’s a pile of rocks around then.”

“I will, promise,” Rand said with a grin. 

“Hot brandy-chela?” Rudy asked.

“Brandy-chela?” Aisling asked.  “What is that?”

“It’s brandy made with a fruit that tastes like chocolate,” he said.  “It’s very strong, but if served hot with milk it can be very warming.”`     

“Sounds good, thank you,” Aisling replied.

“Here, have a seat,” Olaf said, guiding her to a chair by the fireplace.  Aisling sat and a moment later Rudy handed her a hot drink which she took a careful sip of. 

“Wow, that’s delicious, thank you,” she said.  She tucked her feet up beneath her and wrapped her hands around the mug to warm them while she waited for the Gryphons to get themselves a drink and settle down.  By the time they were all ready, she had decided to tell them everything.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” she said.  She raised her mug and took another sip, giving them a moment to absorb that.

“You hunt criminals for money?” Rand said after a long moment.

“Yes, in short,” she replied. 

“Until this night, I would never have guessed such a thing,” Olaf said.  “Your demeanor has been somewhat...meek...for a bounty hunter.”