Logos Run (15 page)

The cart lurched as the team of two draft animals pulled the right wheel up over one of many ridges in the ancient pavement. The sensitive swayed and made a grab for her armrest, as the boxy conveyance rolled onto a smooth section of road. Then, with Hoggles handling the reins, Norr pulled the gray woolen cloak around her shoulders. There were
two
problems to contend with. The first problem was Phan herself, meaning the possibility that the runner was lying, and the second problem was the way Norr felt about the other woman. What was her motivation anyway? A legitimate concern regarding Phan’s veracity? Or just a case of plain old jealousy?

Not that the sensitive had any rights where Rebo was concerned, because even though she felt sure the runner had feelings for her, the exact nature of the relationship had never been spelled out. Worse yet was the fact that she couldn’t talk to Rebo about it, since the runner was almost sure to interpret her concerns as a manifestation of jealousy, thereby nudging him toward the very relationship the variant feared. Norr’s musings were interrupted by Hoggles, who raised a massive arm to point at an object beyond the riders ahead. “Look! Could that be the bridge?”

The sensitive looked, failed to see anything, and came to her feet. The cart swayed, Norr put a hand out to steady herself on the heavy’s shoulder, and shaded her eyes. Finally, by squinting just so, the variant thought she could see what looked like a tiny ladder. “I think you’re right, Bo. . . . Although it’s too far away to be sure.”

An hour later Norr
was
sure, and so were her companions, as two pillars of rusty steel rose to silhouette themselves against the darkening sky. A series of cross braces linked the uprights together, making the structure look like a gigantic ladder. A framework that had successfully withstood more than a thousand years of wind, rain, and snow, it stood as a mute testament to long-lost knowledge and skill.

Then, as Rebo and Phan paused to wait for the cart to catch up with them, Norr saw that a cluster of stone-walled huts had grown up around the approach to the bridge, one of which leaked tendrils of dark gray smoke. The scene appeared serene, but it didn’t
feel
right, and the sensitive said as much as the cart came to a stop. “I don’t like the feel of it, Jak. . . . Something’s wrong.”

The runner knew better than to ignore her premonitions and nodded. “Let’s hope for the best—and be ready for the worst.”

If Phan was concerned about what might lie ahead, the runner gave no indication of it. The bruises and cuts had already begun to heal, revealing a very pretty face and an inner centeredness that made Norr feel inferior somehow. Phan wore a long black riding cloak that served to hide the rest of her body, but the sensitive already knew it to be more curvaceous than her own and resented that as well. Meanwhile, if the other woman harbored feelings about
her
, they were well hidden because her face remained empty of all expression. “Good,” Norr affirmed, hoping that her demeanor was equally cool. “We’ll follow your lead.”

Meanwhile, more than a thousand yards away, Mia Tova al
lowed a cold stone wall to accept most of her considerable weight as she used a splinter of bone to pick at her badly yellowed teeth. One of them ached and needed to be pulled, but that would have to wait. Thanks to the fact that the bandit chieftain had excellent vision, she could see that only two of the approaching travelers were male. Of those she figured that the heavy posed the most significant threat since he’d be difficult to take down. But only if the group put up a fight. Fortunately, most of the pilgrims, merchants, and other travelers who had passed through the checkpoint during the last few days had been relatively cooperative. The others were dead.

Satisfied that she knew what to expect, the bandit turned to enter the fuggy warmth of the hut behind her. It smelled of unwashed skin, wet wool, and the angen stew that bubbled in an iron pot. Earlier, prior to her arrival, the stone cottage had been home to a group of four antitechnic monks stationed at the bridge to absolve travelers of sins automatically incurred as they crossed the high-tech marvel. In exchange for a fee of course, since it was impossible to fight evil without money, which the church had no choice but to extract from its adherents. Of course the friars were dead now, having been forced to surrender their pot of grubby gunnars, prior to stepping off the very artifact they had been assigned to guard. All but one of them had gone gladly, thrilled to join the ranks of the antitechnic martyrs, shouting God’s name as they plunged into the canyon below. The single exception soiled himself as he was hoisted out over the abyss and was blubbering for his mother when the downward journey began. A sad affair and one that Tova planned to report to the next vizier who happened along.

A fire glowed within a well-blackened fireplace, and a ceiling-hung lamp provided what light there was. Half a dozen shaggy heads turned away from a game of throw-bones as Tova pushed the leather curtain out of the way, thereby allowing a wave of cold air to enter along with her. “All right,” the chieftain proclaimed loudly. “Grab your weapons and make sure they’re loaded. . . . There’s only four of them, so even a group of worthless scum like yourselves should be able to handle the situation. Watch the heavy, though. . . . He could give us some trouble.”

There were grunts of assent, followed by the sound of someone’s flatulence, and gales of laughter as five men and one woman prepared themselves for battle. “Stay out of sight until the cart is right outside or I call for you,” Tova instructed. “And don’t kill anyone unless I tell you to. . . . Who knows? Maybe we can ransom one or more of them. Understood?”

The brigands had heard the lecture before, but such was the force of Tova’s personality that there was a minimum of grumbling as they took up positions to either side of the door, and she went out to stand in the middle of the road. The lead riders were almost upon the bandit as Tova hooked her thumbs into the leather belt that encircled her thick waist. That put the norm’s hands in close proximity to the twin single-action revolvers that protruded butts forward from their cutaway holsters.

Rebo and Phan pulled back on their reins as the rough-looking woman appeared in front of them. The bridge was tended by monks, or so they’d been told, but there was nothing godly about the creature who stood before them. Strands of gray-brown hair hung from under a cone-shaped fur hat that was bald in places. The woman’s canvas coat bore multiple patches, one grubby knee was visible through a hole in the baggy pants that she wore, and her boots were caked with mud. “Hold it right there,” the apparition ordered loftily. “How would you like to pay the bridge toll? Cash on the barrelhead? Or with some of whatever’s on that cart?” The vehicle in question had arrived by then, which meant that Norr was only fifty feet away, and in a good position to witness what transpired next.

“How much is the toll?” Rebo asked reasonably, hoping to pay a few gunnars.

“Five cronos,” the bandit replied unhesitatingly. “Or, half of what’s on the cart.”

The runner’s hands were on the saddle’s pommel only inches from his guns. “That’s absurd,” he countered. “Step out of the way . . . We’re coming through.”

“No,” Tova responded levelly.
“You aren’t.”

That was when the six ruffians emerged from the hut to form a semicircle behind their leader. The threat was obvious, and the bandit chieftain knew she had the upper hand. Especially since the heavy was still on the cart and in no position to interfere. “Get down off those animals,” she ordered. “You and your friends will be walking from now on. And watch where you put those hands.”

“
No.
” Phan had been silent up until then. Now, as the other runner spoke, Rebo realized that she had thrown her cape back over her shoulders. But, before he could wonder why, Phan spoke again. Her voice was pitched low, but every word was distinct. “Tell your people to return to the hut. Do it now, and I’ll let you live.”

Tova was surprised. She was expecting trouble from the heavy, or the man with the hard eyes, but not the play pretty in the cape. Not that it mattered since it was time to go for her guns. The thought left her brain, but never arrived at her hands, which made an instinctive grab for her throat. Because that’s where a six-inch-long throwing spike protruded from her larynx.

Though not fatal in and of itself, the injury was a shock and prevented Tova from issuing further orders. That was unfortunate since all the members of the band had been told not to kill anyone without their chieftain’s express permission. The problem was rendered moot by the fact that three of them were dead by then, spikes protruding from their eye sockets, each having been thrown by Phan.

That was when the Hogger went off and one of the remaining bandits was snatched off her feet. Both of the surviving brigands fired weapons of their own. A rifle slug went wide, but pellets from a sawed-off shotgun struck Phan’s angen and caused the beast to shy sideways. Rebo pulled the Crosser, and was in the process of bringing the weapon into firing position, when Phan lifted one leg up over her animal’s neck and jumped to the ground. The remaining bandits both stood motionless and bug-eyed as the woman marched straight at them. Norr felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, and had already shouted, “No!” when the runner whirled. Heads jerked sideways, and sheets of blood flew, as two carefully honed knives sliced through leather, wool, and unwashed flesh. There was something beautiful about the movement, and something horrible, too, since there had been no signs of further resistance from either victim.

Three long seconds passed as a cold breeze rumbled across the plain, tugged at the no-longer-legible sign that dangled in front of the hut, and sang through the durasteel cables that kept the bridge aloft. And it was then, during what felt like a short eternity, that Tova managed to remove the spike from her throat. That proved to be a mistake, however, since once the plug was removed, a quantity of blood spurted out of the hole. But there was still time for revenge. Or so it seemed to Tova, because
her
world had slowed, and it now seemed as though there was time for everything.

In spite of the fact that both of the bandit chieftain’s hands were slippery with blood, she still managed to pull both pistols and was busy hauling the hammers back when Phan realized how exposed she was. Rebo saw the movement, initiated what promised to be a lengthy turn to the right, and knew he wouldn’t make it in time. Not before at least two shots had been fired at Phan.

But it wasn’t to be. Both Norr and Hoggles had exited the cart by then and come forward to help. Though still reeling from the manner in which Phan had executed two of the bandits, Norr was in a perfect position to see the bandit leader remove the spike, and knew that no one else could stop the woman from firing. The sensitive took two steps forward, twisted her staff in order to unlock it, and pulled the vibro blade free. Power flowed as she thumbed the switch, the sword
sizzled
as it swept through the air, and Norr barely felt the momentary resistance as the blade passed through Tova’s neck.

The bandit’s fingers jerked convulsively, followed by two loud reports as the pistols fired. The bandit’s head made a soft
thump
as it hit the ground and rolled away from the cone-shaped hat. Despite its considerable size, there was nothing more than a gentle rustle as Tova’s body swayed and collapsed.

One of the bullets from the bandit chieftain’s gun had blown air into Phan’s right ear as it whizzed past her head. Now, as she looked at Norr, it was with a newfound sense of respect. “Well,” she said calmly. “The spook has teeth. . . . Who would have guessed?”

Norr thumbed the power switch into the OFF position and returned the weapon to its wooden scabbard while wondering if she’d done the right thing. What if the killing blow had been withheld for two seconds? Would Phan lie dead? And would she be happy rather than sad?

Rebo looked from one woman to the other. The animosity was clear to see. That meant he would have to take sides at some point. Norr was the obvious choice. Hell, Norr was the
only
choice. So why not signal his allegiance now? A snowflake twirled before landing on his nose, and the question was left unanswered. “All right,” Rebo said, as his breath fogged the air. “Let’s take a few minutes to search both the bodies and the huts for anything we can use or trade. . . . I want to cross the bridge before nightfall. Who knows? There could be
more
bandits on the other side.”

It was an unpleasant albeit necessary task because travelers who failed to scavenge what they could were likely to regret the omission later. It took a full fifteen minutes to complete the job, and by the time it was over Rebo noticed that not only had Phan retrieved all of her throwing spikes, but appropriated the bandit chieftain’s revolvers as well. There was something cold-blooded about the way the other runner went about the chore, but Rebo knew it was hypocritical to criticize Phan for carrying out his orders, and made a point out of thanking her for what she’d done.

The female runner smiled warmly, and once the others were ready, the twosome rode out onto the bridge deck together. It was difficult to see the bottom of the canyon without venturing out to the edge of the ancient span, but Rebo had an impression of a ribbon of white water, bordered by sheer rock walls. Norr had saddled the fifth angen by then, but rather than attempt to ride with the runners, she chose to follow behind them instead. The cart brought up the rear, and it wasn’t long before a swirl of thickly falling snow swallowed them all.

What remained of the filtered daylight was nearly gone,
and the dead lay under a layer of shroudlike snow by the time Shaz, Dyson, and the four metal men arrived at the bridge. Shaz pulled back on the reins, brought his heavily encumbered angen to a halt, and eyed the wild sprawl of bodies. “Check the huts,” he said coldly. “Bring anyone you find out to me. . . . And let me know if you come across any food. We need to make our supplies last.”