Logos Run (31 page)

Rebo thanked the woman, tipped her, and handed a mug of tea to Norr. Hopefully, with any luck at all, the vendor would go home before anyone came by to question her. The sun parted company with the horizon shortly after the off-worlders left the tea stand, and wings could be seen circling off to the east as Rebo and Norr made their way through Pohua’s unpaved streets. None of the city’s structures stood more than three stories tall, most presented blank faces to the street, and all of them were mud brown. Gray smoke dribbled from round chimneys, and the tantalizing odors of a hundred breakfasts wafted through the cool air as Rebo and Norr made their way up Bako Street. The city’s shops had just started to open, and the only other pedestrians were children sent to fetch water from the local fountain.

The nunnery was housed in a long, low building no different from those around it except for the fact that it boasted a gently curved dome rather than the flat roof typical of the structures to either side, and double doors opened onto the street.

Rebo took a quick look around to assure himself that no one was watching them, took Norr’s hand, and tugged the sensitive toward the entryway. “Come on, let’s get out of sight.” Norr, who often had trouble blocking out the ebb and flow of raw emotion normally associated with cities of any size, was enveloped by a feeling of serenity as she followed the runner into a spartan reception area. The sensation was akin to entering a pool of cool water on an extremely hot day. A novice emerged from the surrounding murk to greet them. She was young and dressed in black. “Good morning,” the aspirant said cheerfully. “Can I be of assistance?”

Rebo was somewhat taken aback, since he knew The Way was divided into
two
sects, the red hats and the black hats. Both were united, or
supposed
to be, but the reconciliation had taken place only recently, and it might be months before word of the change arrived on Haafa. If so, the medallions that the runner and the sensitive wore around their necks might have no value at all, or worse yet, could elicit suspicion. But that was a chance he had to take. Rebo forced a smile. “Is the abbess available? If so, we would like to speak with her. Please show her
this
by way of an introduction.”

So saying, Rebo removed the chain from around his neck and passed the bronze medallion over to the novice. If the aspirant was curious about the medal, or the people who had given it to her, she gave no sign of it as she bowed her head. “Please wait here. . . . I will convey your message to the abbess.” There was a
swish
of fabric as the young woman left.

Now that Rebo’s eyes had adjusted to the relative darkness within the reception area, he could see that while the walls were nearly bare in keeping with black-hat sensibilities, a lushly green garden was partially visible through an intricately carved wooden screen. And it was from that direction that the young woman returned. “Please follow me. . . . The abbess is in the garden.”

The off-worlders followed the young woman out into a large inner courtyard, where Norr expected to find the abbess seated on a chair. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Rather than sit and meditate in the early-morning sun, the abbess was down on hands and knees, pulling weeds out of the nunnery’s vegetable garden. She stood as the couple stepped out of the shadow cast by the inward-slanting roof that ran the perimeter of the courtyard and wiped a wisp of hair back out of her face. The hand pump, along with the well that it served, was the nunnery’s pride and joy. And the medallion had been hung from its spout. “Hello,” the abbess said as she gestured toward the medal. “That’s an interesting medallion. May I ask where you got it?”

Rebo didn’t want to answer the question, especially since doing so would inevitably give the holy woman power over both Norr and himself, but knew there wasn’t much choice. Not if they wanted a safe place to stay. “The reincarnated spirit of Nom Maa presented that medal to me within the holy city of CaCanth,” the runner answered truthfully. “My companion wears one exactly like it. His Holiness told us that should we ever be in need of food, shelter, or some other form of assistance, all we would have to do was present the medallions to any monastery or nunnery.”

In spite of the fact that the abbess had white hair, her face was unexpectedly free of lines, as if somehow frozen in time. Although her voice was even, Norr could see the tendrils of skepticism that continued to swirl within the other woman’s aura. “How nice,” the abbess said lightly. “So, tell me, does the Inwa still affect chin whiskers?”

“The present Inwa isn’t old enough to have whiskers,” Rebo replied. “And, based on the portraits I’ve seen, the
last
Inwa didn’t have chin whiskers, either.”

The abbess smiled and came forward to embrace them. “Forgive me,” she said. “But the streets of Pohua are thick with liars—and it’s my task to protect the sisters from them. A ship landed in Omu about three weeks ago, and it was about a week after that the good news arrived in Pohua. My name is Kartha,
Sister
Kartha, and you are welcome to stay with the sisters and me as long as you wish.”

The merchants who owned stores in the area around the
Techno Society’s headquarters stood in their various doorways, sipped their morning tea, and watched wagon after wagon arrive in front of the heavily guarded building. A sight they had witnessed before. It wasn’t the number of crates that the metal men carried into the structure that made them wonder—but the fact that they rarely saw more than a half dozen boxes come
out.
It was a much-discussed phenomenon that would probably go unsolved given how inhospitable the technos were.

None of which was of the slightest interest to Shaz, who had not only been up all night, but wound up in charge of the off-loading process, which had been under way for hours by then. Many of the crates were headed for Techno Society headquarters on Seros, but there were other destinations as well, depending on what the boxes contained.

Shaz felt the sun warm his shoulders as it climbed up over a building across the street, and was just about to follow the last box inside when Phan emerged from the mouth of an alley halfway down the block. The assassin was on foot, and a squad of metal men marched behind her. “You look like hell,” the combat variant observed tactlessly, as the assassin drew near. “Any luck?”

Phan shook her head. “Nothing,” she said disgustedly. “It’s like they vanished into thin air.”

“I know how you feel,” Shaz said sympathetically. “Well, once we step through the gate onto Zeen, someone else can worry about them. The chances are good that some bounty hunter or other will nail them. One thing’s for sure, though, if they plan to break in and use
this
gate, they’re in for a big surprise. I tripled the guards.”

“Zeen?” Phan inquired halfheartedly. “I thought we were going to a place called Socket.”

“And so did I,” Shaz replied. “But that was before Logos announced that Socket is in orbit
around
Zeen. . . . And the only way to reach Socket is via a gate located on the island of Buru. The single point of access was part of a security system put in place by Hios.”

The assassin frowned. “Will the gate be operational?”

“Logos says that it will be,” the combat variant replied. “As to whether we should trust him, well, you can be the judge of that.”

Phan laughed, followed Shaz into the building, and went in search of a bath.

The inside of the curtained four-wheeled hearse was
scrupulously clean, but Rebo didn’t like the notion of riding in the same vehicle that had been used to transport hundreds of dead bodies, and he fervently hoped that he would still be alive at the conclusion of
his
journey. Though still tired, the runner felt better in the wake of a two-hour nap, even though it was oppressively hot in the back of the wagon.

The hard-faced nun who was in charge of the hearse whistled to her team as she guided them around a corner. The wagon had only a minimal suspension, and the runner bounced up into the air each time the iron-shod wheels dropped into each pothole only to be jerked out again. But, unpleasant though the tour of Pohua was, examining the city from the back of a hearse was better than making the same journey on foot. Especially since Tepho’s metal men were out looking for him.

The objective of the reconnaissance was to take a look at Techno Society headquarters with an eye toward breaking in and using the star gate concealed within. No small task in the best of circumstances but especially iffy without the element of surprise and Hoggles to back him up. Still, the possibility existed, and was therefore worthy of consideration. Especially since Sogol said that while she could “sense” the presence of a gate seed in Pohua, the artifact was bound to be under lock and key and difficult to get at.

But as the wagon approached Techno Society headquarters, any hope of breaking into the building was crushed. As Rebo peered out through the dusty curtains he saw that a force of metal men had been stationed out front along with one of Tepho’s raptors. The machine’s energy weapons tracked the hearse as it rolled past.

And it was then, as the runner eyeballed the building’s defenses, that he saw Phan walk toward the entrance with a combat variant at her side. Then the scene was gone as an old man bowed to the body in the hearse and the wagon rattled through a drainage ditch. Once the ride smoothed out, the runner rolled over to stare up at the canopy. Six or seven insects buzzed around over his head. There might be some way to get off Haafa, the runner thought to himself—but it sure as hell wouldn’t be through Techno Society headquarters. The nun whistled, the angens plodded down a side street, and the afternoon sun scorched the sky.

The lamp, which was not fueled by oil, or any known source
of power for that matter, had burned day and night for the entire three-hundred-plus years since a long-dead member of the Alzani clan had purchased the object more than a thousand miles south of Pohua. And, because the merchant family had prospered during the years since, many members of the family, including the current patriarch, Ubri Alzani, had come to believe that the clan’s material well-being was somehow linked to the lamp and its seemingly inexhaustible source of power.

Now, as Alzani and his number three son sat at the ancient counting table totaling the week’s profits, light from the lamp cast a soft glow over stacks of gleaming coins and threw black silhouettes onto the wall behind them. Both men had black hair, aquiline noses, and long, narrow faces.

A breeze found its way in through open double doors to stir the gauzy curtains and cool the room’s interior. The abacus made a steady
clack
,
clack
,
clack
sound as the younger Alzani flicked beads along their various wires, and distant laughter could be heard as a flock of children chased each other down long, empty halls.

Perhaps, had the two men been paying more attention, they might have detected other sounds as well. Like the soft
thump
as someone vaulted over the low wall that defined the space just outside the double doors, the subtle
rasp
of steel as a sword left its scabbard, and the gentle
rustle
of Norr’s clothing as the sensitive positioned herself just outside the counting room.

But before Norr entered the room, it was important to make sure that the object she sought was actually there. With that in mind, the sensitive shifted the sword to her left hand and elevated her right hand so that Sogol could see into the room as well. Then, having pulled the serpent-like AI back beside her ear, she listened to the construct speak. “The object you want is sitting in the middle of the table,” One-Two whispered urgently. “Somebody figured out a way to tap the power core—and turned the gate seed into a lamp.”

The sensitive shifted the sword back into her right hand, peered into the room, and stared at the lamp. The shade was yellowed with age, and the lower edge wore a dark red fringe. Below that, suspended within a wrought-iron framework, a shiny sphere could be seen. There was a sudden stirring inside the room as coins were added to already bulging leather bags, and the men stood, ready to call it a night.

Fearful that the merchants would take the lamp with them when they left, Norr stepped through the door and placed her left index finger against her lips. Both men froze as the woman appeared, but only for a moment, as the younger of the two made a move toward the pull cord that dangled nearby. But the sensitive was fast. Three quick strides and a jump carried her up onto the surface of the table. Coins scattered as Norr turned, the blade flashed, and the pull cord parted. Then, having spun full circle, the variant paused. The razor-sharp edge was in contact with Ubri Alzani’s throat. The younger man stood by the door. “If you run,
he
dies,” Norr told the younger man emotionlessly. “The choice is up to you.”

The sensitive saw emotions swirl as the son battled temptation. It would have been easy to run and thereby receive his portion of the family business years early, but the better part of him won out. The younger man held both hands palm out. “Take the money. . . . I will do as you say.”

“Good,” Norr replied equably. “Except that I don’t want your money . . . Both of you—back into the corner.”

“
What
then?” Ubri Alzani wanted to know, as he and his son backed away.

“The lamp,” Norr answered, as she bent her knees to the point where she could grab the object. “All I want is the lamp.”

“
No
!” the patriarch objected. “Please! I beg of you! Not the lamp. . . . Take the money. All of it. I promise no one will follow.”

“I’m sorry,” the sensitive replied sincerely, “but it’s the lamp that I need. Now, assuming that you want to keep your heads on your shoulders, stay right where you are.” There was a gentle
thump
as the variant landed on floor, the curtains billowed, and Norr was gone.