Vlad Taltos - Phoenix Part 6

Maybe they were just sitting around playing s'yang stones long enough to make it look good. Or maybe they really believed he was helping me. Or maybe there was something else entirely going on that I was completely missing. It wouldn't be the first time.

They left us there for two more days, during which I learned the distinction between "popping" a beat and "rolling" a rhythm, between fish and animal skin heads, how to tell if there is a small crack in the jawbone one intends to use as a beater, and the training that goes into making a festival, or "hard-ground" or "groundy," drummer; a ritual, or "cras.h.i.+ng surf" or "surfy," drummer; and a spiritual, or "deep water" or "watery," drummer. Aibynn had studied all three, but preferred surfy drumming.

I was less interested in all of this than I pretended to be, but it was the only entertainment around. I was interrogated twice more during this time, but you can probably fill in those conversations yourself.

Conversation with Aibynn was more interesting than the interrogations, when he wasn't drumming, but he didn't say anything that helped me figure out if he was really working with them or not.

At one point he made a pa.s.sing reference to the G.o.ds. I considered the differences between Dragaeran att.i.tudes toward the divine and Eastern att.i.tudes, and said, "What are G.o.ds?"

"A G.o.d," he said, "is someone who isn't bound by natural laws, and who can morally commit an action which would be immoral for someone who wasn't a G.o.d."

"Sounds like you memorized that."

"I have a friend who's a philosopher."

"Does he have any philosophy on escaping from cells?"

"He says that if you escape, you are required to bring your cellmate with you. Unless you're a G.o.d," he added.

"Right," I said. "Does he have a philosophy about drumming?"

He gave me a curious look. "We've talked about it," he said.

"Sometimes, you know, when you're playing, you're in touch with something; there are things that flow through you, like you aren't playing at all, but something else is playing you. That's when it's best."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's the same thing with a.s.sa.s.sination."

He pretended to laugh, but I don't think he really thought it was funny.

After he came back from his second session with the Royal Whootsidoo, I said, "What did he ask you about?"

"He wanted to know how many sounds I could get out of my drum."

"Ah," I said. "Well?" *

"Well what?"

"How many?"

"Thirty-nine, using the head and the sh.e.l.l, both sides of the beater, fingers, and m.u.f.fling. And then there are variations."

"I see. Well, now I know."

"I wish I had my drum."

"I suppose so."

"Has it rained since you've been here? I didn't have a window at first."

"I'm not sure. I don't think so."

"Good. Rain would ruin the head."

A little later he said, "Why did we kill the King?"

I said, "We?"

"Well, that's what they asked me."

"Oh. He didn't like our drum."

"Good reason."

Silence fell, and, when we weren't talking, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to live, which got pretty depressing, so I said, "Those times you feel like you're in tune with something, do you think it might be a G.o.d?"

He shook his head. "No. It isn't anything like that. It's hard to describe."

"Try," I said, and he cooperated by keeping me distracted until I drifted off to sleep.

Early in the afternoon on the second day after Aibynn had joined me, I was listening to an impromptu concert on iron bar (tuned with pieces of a towel), wooden spoon, and porcelain mug, when I felt a faint twinge in the back of my head. I almost jerked upright, but I held myself still, relaxed, and concentrated on making the link stronger.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Boss?"

"Loios.h.!.+ Where are you?" "I. . . coming . . . later . . . can't. . ." and it faded out. Then there was connection with someone else, so strong it was like someone shouting in my ear. "h.e.l.lo Vlad. I hope all is well with you."

It only took me a moment to recognize the psychic ' 'voice." I almost shouted aloud. ' 'Daymar!" "

' 'Himself."

' 'Where are you?"

"Castle Black. We've just finished dinner. " ' 'If you tell me about your dinner I 'II fry you. "Quite. We understand from Loiosh that you're in something of a predicament. "

"I think the word predicament is awfully well chosen." "Yes. He says that sorcery doesn't work there. " * ' 'Seems not to. How did he get there ?" "He flew, apparently. "

"Flew? By the Orb! How many miles is that?" "I don't know. He does seem rather tired. But don' worry. We 'II be by for you as soon as we can."

"How soon is that? They're planning to execute me, y know."

"Really? For what?"

"A misunderstanding involving royal prerogatives." "I don't understand."

"Yes. Well, never mind. When can you get here?" "Since we can't telep-" And the link broke. Daymar a n.o.ble of the House of the Hawk and a fellow who worked very hard at developing his psychic abilities, is capable of being arbitrary and unpredictable, but I didn't think he'd chop off a conversation in midsentence. Therefore something else had. Therefore, I was worried.

I cursed and tried to reestablish the link, but got not ing. I kept trying until night had fallen and I had a head ache, but I got nothing except morbid thoughts. I fell asleep hoping for rescue and vaguely wondering if I dreamt it all. I woke up in the middle of the night with the half memory of a dream in which I was flying over the ocean, into a nasty wind, and my wings were very tired. I kept wanting to rest, and every time I did an orca with the face of a dragon would rise out of the water and snap at me.

If I'd've had half a minute to wake up, I would have figured out what the dream meant without any help, but I didn't have the half a minute, or any need for it.

' 'Boss! Wake up." His voice in my head was very loud, and very welcome.

"Loios.h.!.+"

"We're coming in, boss. Get ready. Is anyone with you?"

"No. I mean, yes. A friend. Well, maybe a friend. He might be an enemy. I don't-"

"That's what I like about working with you, boss: your precision. "

"Don't be a wiseacre. Who's with you?"

But there was no need for him to answer, because at that moment the wall next to me turned pale blue, twisted in on itself, and dissolved, and I was face-to-face with my wife, Cawti.

I stood up as my roommate stirred. "You and how many Dragonlords?" I said.

"Two," she said. "Why? Do you think we need more?"

She tossed me a dagger. I caught it hilt-first and said, "Thanks."

"No problem." She walked over to the door, played with it for a while, and I heard the iron bar outside hit the floor. I looked a question at her.

"There may be things in the building you want," she for Spellbreaker, for example." She said.

"A point. Is, um, anyone still alive?' "Probably."

Enter Aliera: very short for a Dragaeran, angular face-, green eyes.

She gave me a courtesy.

I nodded.

"I found this." She handed me a three-foot length of gold chain, which I took and wrapped around my wrist.

"Cawti had just mentioned it," I said. "Thanks."

My roommate, who didn't seem at all disturbed by these events, stood up. "Remember what we said about the philosophy of escaping from cells?"

Cawti looked at him, then back at me. I considered. He might really be just what he seemed, in which case I'd gotten him into a great deal of trouble for helping me. I glanced at the door to the cell. Aliera was now in the room, and there was no commotion to indicate anyone had noticed us escaping. Behind me was a roughly circular gap in the wall, eight feet in diameter, with nothing on the other side but island darkness, fresh with the smell of the ocean.

I said, "Okay, come on. But one thing. If you have any thoughts of betraying me-" I paused and held up the dagger. "In the Empire, we call this a knife.'"

"Knife," he said. "Got it."

Loiosh flew in and landed on my shoulder. We stepped through the wall and out into the night.

Lesson Five.

RETURNING HOME.

CAWTI LED THE way, with Aliera bringing up the rear. We slipped past the single row of structures that represented the city. I realized that I'd been right next to the Palace, and that we were copying almost exactly the route I'd taken after the a.s.sa.s.sination. We entered the woods outside of the town and stopped there long enough to listen for sounds of pursuit. There were none. My feet were not enjoying the woods. I considered sending Loiosh back to find my boots, but I didn't consider it very seriously. I glanced back at Aibynn, who was also boots. It didn't seem to be bothering him.

"It's good to have friends," I remarked as we started walking again.

Cawti said, "Are you all right?"

"Mostly. We'll have to take it slow."

"Were you, um, questioned?"

"Not the way you mean it. But I've managed to damage myself a bit."

"It's well past the middle of the night already. We're going to have to hurry to be there by morning, not to mention losing the tide."

"I'm not sure I can hurry."

"What happened?"

"I'm too old to be climbing trees."

"I could have told you that."

"Yes."

"Do the best you can," she said.

"I will." My back already hurt, and now my hand started throbbing. I said, "If we meet anyone drumming in the woods, let's not stop for conversation."

"You'll have to tell me about that," said Cawti. I heard Loiosh laughing inside my head. Aibynn, walking directly in front of me, either didn't hear the comment or chose to ignore it. Branches slapped against my face, just as they'd done last time. Last time I hadn't had Cawti and Aliera with me, so I had cause to be optimistic. On the other hand, the branches still stung. Cheap philosophy there, if you want it.

After an hour or so we stopped, as if by consensus, though no one said anything. I sat down with my back against a tree and said, "What's the plan?"

Aliera said, "We have a s.h.i.+p waiting for us in a cove a few miles from here."

"A s.h.i.+p? Can you drive one of those things?"

"It has a crew of Orca."

"Are you sure they'll be waiting for us?"

"Morrolan is there."