Unicorn Point (44 page)

Time passed. The distant clamor of battle came closer. The 1 goblin defense was understrength, because of the number be ing used in the tunneling, so it was hardly surprising that the wolves were making progress. But Kurrelgyre was not de pending on that to win the flag; he was depending on Sirel.
 
She had to have the patience to do it correctly, and that meant waiting, no matter what else happened.

Suddenly three wolves burst into sight, running for the flag.
 
They had won through! The goblin maidens saw them and screamed.

Then six turf-lids popped up, a goblin head showing in each hole. Six small spears flew at the wolves, who could not avoid them at such close range. All three were struck and wounded.

The goblins scrambled out of their holes, drawing their sharp little knives. The wounded wolves fought, snapping viciously, but each was beset by two goblins, and already bleeding. The action was fierce and brief. Then four goblins and all three wolves lay dead, and the remaining two goblins staggered away, injured.

The maidens went to the goblins, checking the dead and attending to the living.

Then a wolf in manform burst through, armed with a bow.
 
He put an arrow through one goblin, and was aiming at the other when two of the girls leaped at him, their knives flashing. He got the arrow off, and the remaining male died, but then he went down under the stabs of the girls. He changed to wolf form and snapped at them, and both girls screamed as the sharp teeth tore their tender flesh.
 
Then a third girl ran across with a club. She smashed it down on the wolf’s head with all her strength, and he went quiet.

Sirel knew that Forel could have taken out that third maiden with one of his arrows, and perhaps saved the wolf. But that would have revealed his presence, and that was forbidden.
 
He had had to exercise the discipline of his mission, and watch one of his own Pack brothers be killed.
 
Now only two gob girls remained to guard the flag. Sirel considered. Surely there would soon be replacements for the lost girls, because that flag was important. Now might be her best opportunity.

She assumed her gobliness form and walked toward the flag. “I be here to replace—“ She paused, as if just now spying the bodies. She screamed, emulating the manner of the others.

But one of the girls was not fooled. “How came thee from the other direction?” she demanded. “Give me the code word!”

Code word? Sirel had not anticipated this!

The girl drew her knife. “Say it now, or we skewer thee!”

These were not, Sirel now knew, quite as innocent or gentle as she had been led to expect. What was she to do?
 

She drew her own knife. “Say it thyself! I answer not to thee!”

But the second gobliness was approaching from the other side, her knife also drawn. “All answer to us, here. Methinks thou dost be a spy!”

Then the first girl leaped and fell, an arrow protruding from her back. Forel had struck.

Sirel whirled on the other, her own knife flashing. The gobliness, startled by the fall of her companion, was slow to counter, and Sirel’s knife plunged into her chest. She sighed and collapsed, looking so woebegone that Sirel felt horribly guilty. She wanted to stop and try to help the girl, but she remembered two things: her mission, and the warning about supposedly dead goblins. She turned away.
 
An arrow swished by her. Was Forel firing at her? Then something touched her leg, behind. She jumped and turned—and found the stabbed gobliness, fallen on her face, her arm outstretched, knife still in hand. Forel had caught her with the arrow as she tried to stab Sirel in the back. She had indeed not been quite dead! She had pretended to be more grievously wounded than she was, so as to put Sirel off guard, and it had worked. Except for Forel’s alertness.
 
Sirel went up to the flag. She climbed the tree and took it down. But as she touched the ground, another goblin appeared. His mouth opened—and Forel’s third arrow smashed into that open mouth and through the head.
 
Sirel tucked the flag out of sight in her clothing. She walked by Forel’s bush. “We must go!” she whispered.
 

“Thou must walk, masquerading,” he whispered back. “I will follow concealed and guard thee.”

She nodded. It was the best way. She had the flag, but she was not yet out of the goblin region. The longer she could pass for a gobliness, the better.

She walked back toward the region of the blue flag. All around were the bodies of wolves and of goblins; the carnage was horrible. She was glad that this was a siege and not a real battle; it certainly looked real!

A goblin staggered back from the front. “More troops!
 
More troops!” he gasped, seeing Sirel. “They ambushed the tunnel; we took awful losses! All’s lost unless—”

“Let me bandage that arm,” she said, realizing that she still had a part to play. She bent to rip the material of a dead gob’s shirt, to make a bandage. The goblin would not suspect her of being a wolf, this way!

“No time!” he protested. “Got to put in our reserves!”

“The ones guarding the flag are dead,” she said. “Wolves broke through. There was a terrible fight, and the wolves are dead, but so are the goblins.”

He sagged. “Then all be lost.” Then he looked more closely at her, as she approached him with a strip of cloth.
 
“In which case, might as well have some fun.” He grabbed for her.

Oops! Maybe she had played it too well. “Wait, let me bandage thee first! Thine arm—”

“Bandage me second,” he said, catching hold of her with his good arm, with surprising strength. He bore her back against a tree, crowding close.

Then he sagged. An arrow had sprouted from his back.

Forel had struck yet again.

But the delay had been critical. Now more gobs were straggling back from the front. “Hey, look what we got!” one cried, seeing Sirel.

“Change and run!” Forel cried. “I will hold them here!” She didn’t argue; she knew they would catch her, rape her, and soon discover her nature and kill her, in the process stop ping her ploy with the flag. She assumed wolf form and leaped away to the side, seeking the cover of brush.
 
“Wolf! Wolf!” the goblins cried, recovering excitement.

“Catch the bitch!”

But the first to start after her was felled by an arrow. The others whirled at this new menace. Much as they liked raping girls of any species, they liked living more. As Sirel reached the brush, she saw them closing in on Forel who, retaining manform, was methodically putting arrows through them. But she knew his supply was limited; he had already expended several in the course of guarding her. There were too many gobs; they would get him and kill him. So it was that Forel sacrificed himself to spring her free, and she had no choice but to accept.

She burst through to the wolf section of the range. Here the gob tunnel debouched. Goblins lay all around, and there was a huge pile of them in the depot; evidently in the end there had been too many bodies for the cleanup crew to drag, so they had been left. A few wolves were licking their wounds, getting ready to resume duty.

She looked to the blue flag—and it was gone! The gobs must have gotten it! But they had not brought it back to their own flag. It must be somewhere in between.
 
She assumed girlform. “Where be the flag?” she called to the nearest wolf.

He looked at her—and growled. Suddenly all the few wolves of the vicinity were growling, coming for her.
 
“Wait!” she cried. “This be but a costume. I be no gob girl!” She changed back to wolf form, to prove it.
 
They relaxed. One of them turned out to be Kurrelgyre.

He was wounded, but could still fight. “Didst get it?”

“Aye!” she said, returning to girlform and pulling out the red flag.

“One got our flag, but we killed him,” he said. “We were resting, making ready for the final effort. But now, with thy success—“ He relaxed, and she saw that his injuries were worse than they had seemed at first. He had been putting on a brave show, and was near collapse. “There, across the field,” he said, sinking down as he pointed.
 
Now she saw the dead gob. The blue flag was clutched in his hand. The wolves had not been allowed to touch it, of course, so it remained there where he had fallen. Obviously this had been a near thing!

She reached the body, and extended the captive red flag.

Victory!

The dead gob came to life. He snatched up a dagger that had been hidden beneath him and plunged it into her belly.
 
Then, as she fell back, shocked, not yet feeling the pain, he bashed her hand so that the red flag fell out. He jammed the blue flag on top of it! “Victory!” he cried.
 
The final goblin trick had been so obvious—and it had worked. If only she had remembered to make sure he was dead! She had labored so hard, only to cast it away so fool ishly.

The gong sounded. The siege was over—and the goblins had won. The enemy had won two of three sieges, just as in Proton-frame. Sirel’s anguish was worse than the pain in her body.

Citizen Purple did not waste time performing any jig of joy.
 
He had been planning and organizing throughout, and now with the victories in both frames he had to act with speed and authority. What he did in these few hours could deter mine the fate of the frames for the next generation.
 
First he summoned Tsetse. Others had assumed that it was mere lust that had caused him to appropriate her services, but they were only half right. Lust was the cover for her potential usefulness in other respects.

She entered his office, as luscious as ever. “Sir?” she in quired hesitantly. She had been subdued since losing her contest, and he had not reassured her. She feared she would be punished.

“The situation has turned to our favor,” he said. “Your little misstep with the machine turned out not to be critical.”

“Yes, sir.” Now she was almost sure she was about to be punished; she was maintaining as brave a front as she was able, but she was trembling.

“I believe there remains a place for you in this organization, but under probation. You will have to prove yourself.”

“Anything, sir!” she exclaimed, pitifully eager. She thought he was going to come up with some new and strenuous sexual activity. All in good time.
 
“I want you to take a package to Citizen Translucent, for delivery to his hands only, in strict privacy, without delay.”

“Immediately, sir!”

“And when you return, bring the child here. I believe you know her personally; she should trust you.”

“Nepe? I put her on the shuttle four years ago, when she—“ She broke off, realizing that this too might be construed to her disfavor.

He raised an eyebrow. “Continue.”

“When she went into hiding,” she finished reluctantly.
 

“So you were involved in her disappearance. It seems fit ting that you should be involved in her reappearance. Bring her to me.”

“But sir, Citizen Translucent—“

Purple frowned. “Am I mistaken? I had understood that you wished to redeem yourself for past indiscretions.”

“I do, sir! But if Citizen Translucent does not release the child—“

Purple waved a hand negligently. “Have no concern. He will not object to your taking her.”

“Yes, sir.” Greatly relieved, she accepted the package he gave her, and departed with alacrity.

Purple smiled. The package contained a gas bomb that would detonate five seconds after Translucent’s contact triggered it. It would render him unconscious for four hours or more depending on his health. Tsetse would be appalled to see him fall, but would realize that she would be blamed unless she made a quick exit. Further, she would have to have protection—which meant Purple himself. So she would have to win his favor by bringing him the brat. Tsetse was certainly going to earn her keep!

Meanwhile, he had to set up for the next stage: possession of the Oracle. Citizen Translucent was slated to take it from Citizen Blue in three hours, but Translucent would prove to be indisposed. Citizen Purple would do it instead.
 
Soon his various minions were doing their things; Purple had planned for this coup for some time. He had been grudgingly content to let Translucent carry it hitherto, because the job was getting done, but he distrusted the other Citizen’s long-range intentions. Translucent was too apt to be generous to his opposition, and that only set up problems for the fu ture.

A call came in. He accepted it immediately, knowing its nature.

Tsetse’s face showed. “Sir, I have Nepe. But we are pursued, and I can’t get through.”

“On the way,” Purple said, gratified. His monitor showed that the call was from a privacy stall, the natural place for a woman to hide. This was a matter to cover personally.
 
He plunged into his transport and barked coordinates. The craft passed through the wall and into the Citizen network.
 
In moments he was there, opposite the stall. He stepped out—to encounter several android servitors. “Out of my way, vermin!” he snapped.

“But sir, our charge has been kidnapped,” one protested. “Our employer’s residence was raided—“