«Ah,» Brannel said, docketing «injenooety» as a word of the linga esoterka he had not previously known. «You are too kind, Mage Keff. I'd do anything you wish.»
Inwardly, Brannel was jubilant. The mage had sought him out, Brannel, a worker male! He could serve this mage, and in return, who knew? Keff possessed many great talents and wide knowledge which, perhaps, he might share as a reward for good service. One day, Brannel, too, might be able to achieve his dream and take power as a mage.
Keff looked around. «I don't wish to talk here. We might be overheard. Come with me to the silver tower.» When Brannel looked askance at him, he asked, «What's wrong?»
«The noise it made. Mage Keff,» Brannel said, and put his fingers in his ears. «It drove me outside.»
«Oh,» Keff said. «That won't happen again. I want you to come in and stay this time. All right?»
Brannel nodded. The magelord rose to a stoop and began to make his way across the field. None of the workers looked his way. Brannel hurried after him, full of hope.
Instead of entering by the ramp through the open door, Keff directed Brannel around the rear of the tower and pointed upward. A slit as wide as his forearm was long had opened in the smooth silver wall.
«But why . . .?» he asked.
«The front's being watched,» Keff said. He joined his hands together and propped them on one knee. «Put your foot here—that's good. Now, reach for it. Up you go.»
Brannel grabbed the edge of the opening and heaved himself into it. Once he was up, he helped pull Mage Keff into a room crowded with boxes. They had to climb down from a high shelf with great care. When Brannel and Keff were inside, the opening in the wall closed. The female voice of the tower spoke in its strange tongue.
«Aha,» it said. «Come on through.»
«Come with me,» Keff said, in Ozran.
They walked down a short corridor. Two figures sat together in front of the great pictures of the outside. One of them rose and stared at him in horror and surprise.
The feeling was mutual.
«Magess Plennafrey!» Brannel, with one fearful glance at Keff, dropped to his knees and stared at the floor.
«It's okay, Brannel,» Keff said, reassuringly, plucking at the worker males upper arm. «We're all working together here.»
«Hush, everyone,» the other magess said in the towers voice. «Here comes our diversion. I don't want the spies to pick up any sound from in here.»
Carialle turned on a magnetic field in the airlock, strong enough to disable the spy-eyes, should any be bold enough to try to pass inside, but not enough to stop the servo. She slid the door upward. The low-slung robot rumbled imperturbably up the ramp and through the arch. In one slim, black, metal hand it held very carefully a single marsh flower.
Immediately, the spy-eyes thought they had their opportunity to storm the tower and zoomed after the servo. One hit the field before the others and clanked noisily to the ground, disabled. The over-the-air chatter became excited, and the other spheres reversed course at once, speeding away.
«That'll make them crazy,» Carialle said. The first spy sphere rolled halfway down the ramp before its owner, on the other side of the continent, was able to take charge of it once again. As soon as it was airborne, it flitted off.
«Good riddance,» Carialle said, and returned her attention to the situation inside the cabin.
Keff stood between Plennafrey and Brannel with his hands out. Brannel was on his feet, with his mutilated hands balled into fists by his sides. Plenna had both her long-fingered hands planted protectively on her belt buckle. The Ozrans were glaring at each other.
«Now, now,» Keff said. «I need you both. Please, lets make peace here.»
«You intend to explain to a worker what we are doing?» Plenna asked, appealing to Keff. «This one only has four fingers! You can give them directions, but they cannot understand detailed instructions or complicated situations.»
Brannel, following the secondary dialect with evident difficulty, replied haltingly in that language, which surprised the magiwoman as much as his daring to speak out in her presence. «I can understand. Mage Keff has agreed to give me a chance to help. I will do whatever Mage Keff wants,» he said staunchly.
Carialle made her image step forward. «Lady Plennafrey, you are suffering from a preconceived notion that all the people who have had the finger amputation are stupid. Brannel is the exception to almost any rule you can think of. He has superior intelligence for someone brought up with the hardships he suffered. I think he's far smarter than the favored few who live in the mountains with you mages. You're not that different. You belong to the same species,» she said, reaching for an example, «like . . . like Keff and I do.»
«You?» Plennafrey asked.
Almost amazed that such a thought had come from her own speakers, Carialle had to pause to consider the change of attitude she had undergone. Much of it was due to seeing the division of a single people on this world into masters and slaves. She now realized that it was counter-productive to separate herself from her parent community. Yes, she was different, but compared with everything else she and Keff encountered, the similarities were more important. Acknowledging her humanity at last felt right and proper. In spite of the way she always pictured herself, she knew inside the metal shell and the carefully protected nerve center was a human being. She felt warmed by the perception.
«Yes,» she said, simply. «Me.»
Keff beamed at her pillar. Her Lady Fair image beamed happily back at him. Plennafrey fumed visibly at the interplay. If Carialle was human, then the Ozran had a genuine rival. This, combined with her lovers liberal attitude toward the lower class, obviously dismayed the young woman. As she had proved before, she was resilient and adaptable. Plenna seemed to be considering Keff's point of view, but she thoroughly disapproved of Keff having another woman in his life. To disarm the magiwoman, Carialle made her image step back onto the wall. Plennafrey relaxed visibly.
«So I think you should understand that Brannel deserves an explanation if he is to help us.»
«Well . . .» Plennafrey said.
«I heard that some of the mages are descended from Brannel's kind of people,» Keff said persuasively. «Isn't Asedow's mother one like that? I heard Potria call her a dray-face.»
«That's true,» Plenna said, nodding. «And he is intelligent. Not good at thinking things through, but intelligent.» She smiled ruefully at Keff. «I don't wish to make things harder for my people or for myself. I will cooperate.»
«For what am I risking myself?» Brannel asked hoarsely, looking from one mage to another.
«For a sheaf of papers,» Keff said. «I need to see them. Magess Plenna will describe them, and Carialle will create an image for you to see.»
Brannel seemed unsatisfied. «And for me? For what am I risking myself?» he repeated.
«Ah,» Keff said, enlightened. «Well, what's your price? What do you want?»
Plennafrey, losing her newfound liberalism, drew herself up in outrage. «You dare ask for a reward? Do the mages not give you food and shelter? This is just another task we have given you.»
«We have those things, Magess, but we want knowledge, too!» Brannel said. Having begun, he was determined to put his case, even in the face of disapproval from an angry overlord, though somehow he was begging now. «Mage Keff, I . . . I want to be a mage, too. For a tiny, small item of power I will help you. It does not need to be big, or very powerful, but I know I could be a good mage. I will earn my way along. That is all I have ever desired: to learn. Give me that, and I will give you my life.» Keff saw the passion in the Noble Primitives eye and was prepared to agree.
«To give a four-finger power? No!» Plenna protested, cutting him off.
«Not good for you, Brannel,» Carialle said, emphatically, siding unexpectedly with Plennafrey. «Look what a mess your mages have made of this place using unlimited power. How about a better home, or an opportunity for a real education, instead?»
«What about redressing the balance of power. Cari?» Keff asked under his breath.
