to sleep. Carialle occupied herself in the hours before dawn by doing maintenance on her computer systems and keeping an eye on the hunters who had to be wearing themselves out by now.
Carialle gave Keff a decent interval to wipe out sleep toxins, and then switched on again. Her video monitors beside his eyes offered her a most romantic tableau.
On the small bed against the bower wall, the young magiwoman was cuddled up against Keff's body. They were both naked, and his dark-haired, muscular arm was thrown protectively over her narrow, pale waist. Their ankles overlapped and then he started running a toe up and down her calf. Carialle took the opportunity to scan Keff's companion and found her readings of great interest. Keff snorted softly, the sound he always made when he was on the edge of wakefulness.
«Ahem!» Carialle said, just loudly enough to alert, but not loud enough to startle Keff. «Are you certain this is what Central Worlds means by first contact?»
Keff gave a deep and throaty chuckle. «Ah, but it was first contact, my lady,» he said, allowing her to infer the double or triple entendre.
«A gentleman never kisses and tells, you muscled ape,» Carialle chided him. He laughed softly. The girl stirred slightly in her sleep, and her hand settled upon the hair on his chest. She smiled gently, dreaming. «Keff, I have something I need to tell you about Plennafrey, in fact about all the Ozrans: they're human.»
«Very similar, but they're humanity's cousins,» Keff corrected her. «And wait until I show the tapes to Xeno. Not of this, of course. They'll go wild.»
«She is human, Keff. She must be the descendant of some lost colony or military ship that landed here eons ago. Her reactions, both emotional and bodily, let alone blood pressure, structure, systems—she was close enough to your contact implants for me to make sure. And I am sure. We have met the Ozrans, and they is us.»
«Genetic scan?» Keff was disappointed. Carialle could tell he was still hoping, but he was a good enough exobiologist to realize he knew it himself.
«Bring me a lock of her hair, and I'll prove it.»
«Oh, well,» he said, gathering Plennafrey closer and tucking her head into his shoulder. «I can still rejoice in having found a mutation of humanity that has such powerful TK abilities.»
Carialle sighed. Bless his stubbornness, she thought.
«It's not TK. It's sophisticated tool-using. Take away her toys and see if she can do any other magic tricks.»
Keff reached over the edge of the small bed and picked up the heavy belt by its buckle. He weighed it in his hand, then let it slip on his palm so his fingers were pointing toward the five depressions. «Does that mean I can use these things, too?»
«I should say so.»
The links of the belt clanked softly together. The slight noise was enough to wake the young magiwoman in alarm. She sat up, her large eyes scanning the chamber.
«Who is here?» she asked. Keff held out her belt to her and she snatched it protectively.
«Only me,» Keff said. «I'm sorry. I wanted to see how it worked. I didn't mean to wake you up.»
Plenna looked apologetic for having overreacted to simple curiosity, and offered the belt to him with both hands and a warning. «We mustn't use it here. It is the reason that my bower is secure. We are just on the very edge of the ley lines, so my belt buckle and sash resonate too slightly to be noticed by any other mage.» She swept a hand around. «Everything in this room was brought here by hand. Or fashioned by hand from new materials, using no power.»
«That's in the best magical tradition,» Keff noted approvingly. «That means there's no 'vibes' left over from previous users. In this case, tracers or finding spells.»
«Or circuits,» Carialle said. «How does their magic work?»
Her question went unanswered. Before Keff could relay it to Plenna, he found himself gawking up toward the ceiling. As neatly as a conjurer pulling handkerchiefs out of his sleeve, the air disgorged Chaumel's flying chair, followed by Potria's, then Asedow's. Chaumel swooped low over the bed. The silver mage glared at them through bloodshot eyes.
«What a pretty place,» he said, showing all his teeth in a mirthless grin. «I'll want to investigate it later on.» He eyed Plennafrey's slender nakedness with an arrogant possessiveness. «Possibly with your . . . close assistance, my lady. You've been having a nice time while we've looked everywhere for you!»
Keff and Plennafrey scrambled for their clothes. One by one, the other hunters appeared, crowding the low bubble of stone.
«Ah, the chase becomes interesting again,» Potria said. She didn't look her best. The chiffon of her gown drooped limply like peach-colored lettuce, and her eye makeup had smeared from lines to bruises. «I was getting so bored running after shadows.»
«Yes, the prey emerges once again,» Chaumel said. «But this time the predators are ready.»
Plenna glared at Chaumel as she threw her primrose dress over her head.
«We should never have traveled in here by chair,» she snarled. Keff stepped into his trousers and yanked on his right boot.
«That is correct,» Chaumel said, easily, sitting back with his abnormally long fingers tented on his belly. «It took us some time to find the vein by which the heart of Ozran fed your power, but we have you at last. We will pass judgment on you later, young magess, but at this moment, we wish our prize returned to us.»
The two stood transfixed as Nokias, Ferngal, and Omri slid their chairs into line beside their companion.
«Your disobedience will have to be paid for,» Nokias said sternly to Plenna.
The young woman bowed her head, clasping her belt and sash in her hands. «I apologize for my disrespect, High Mage,» she said, contritely. Keff was shocked by her sudden descent into submissiveness.
Nokias smiled, making Keff want to ram the mage's teeth down his skinny throat. «My child, you were rash. I can forgive.»
The golden chair angled slightly, making to set down in the clear space between Plenna's small bed and her table. With lightning reflexes, Plennafrey grabbed Keff's hand, jumped over the lower limb of the chair, and dashed for her own chair. Clutching his armload of clothes and one boot, Keff had a split second to brace himself as Plenna launched the blue-green chariot into the gap left by Nokias and zoomed out into one of the tunnels that led out of the bubble.
Keff threw his legs around the edges of Plennafrey's chariot to brace himself while he shrugged into his tunic. The strap of the IT box was clamped tightly in his teeth. He disengaged it, dragged it out from under his shirt, and put it around his neck where it belonged. His boot would have to wait.
«Well done, my lady,» he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls of the small passage that wound, widened, and narrowed about them.
«How dare they invade my sanctum!» Plennafrey fumed. Instead of being frightened by the appearance of the other mages, she was furious. «It goes beyond discourtesy. It is—like invading my mind! How dare they? Oh, I feel so stupid for teleporting in. I should never have done that.»
«I'm responsible again, Plenna,» Keff said contritely. He hung on as she negotiated a sharp turn. He pulled his legs up just in time. The edge of the chair almost nipped a stone outcropping. Plennafrey's hand settled softly on his shoulder, and he reached up to squeeze it. «You were saving my life.»
«Oh, I do not blame you, Keff,» she said. «If only I had been thinking clearly. It is all my fault. You couldn't know what I should have kept in mind, what I have been trained in all my life!» Her hand tightened in his, and he let it go. «It is just that now I don't know where we can go.»
The posse was once again in pursuit. Keff heard shouting and bone-chilling scrapes as the hunters organized themselves a single-file line and attempted to follow. This tunnel was narrower than the ones underneath Chaumel's castle. A fallen stalactite aimed a toothlike pike at them, which Plenna dodged with difficulty. She scraped a few shards of wood off the side of her vehicle on the opposite wall. Keff curled his legs up under his chin away from the edge and prayed he wouldn't bounce off.
«Usually I enter on foot,» Plenna said apologetically. «A chair was never meant to pass this way.»
Keff was sure that Chaumel and the others were figuring that out now. The swearing and crashing sounds were getting louder and more emphatic. If Plenna wasn't such a good pilot, they'd be coming to grief on the rocks, too.
«Can't we teleport out of here?» Keff asked.
