* * *
They swept in carefully, and this time it paid off. The second-story crew took the gun on the roof across from the place Aelliana had showed him on the map without even raising dust. There were two on the door; one bolted, and fell to a trank gun; the other ran into Rof Tin's fist.
Upstairs, a burly woman in a faded orange mechanic's coverall drew a gun—and dropped it, jerking her head at a sealed closet.
“Put her to sleep,” Clarence snapped, remembering the first time, when he and Daav had lost the reaper to a poison tooth . . .
Standing to one side, gun ready, he triggered the door to the closet. What was inside—
For a moment, he thought he'd come too late; the form on the cot lay so still. Then he saw the chest move, heard the harsh sound of panting, and yelled for the kit.
They hit him with a general detox, full-spectrum antibiotic, and got a balloon brace on the leg. It was only then that they turned their attention to the cuffs, Clarence picking one and Sara on the other.
“Boss.” The word was raw, barely above a whisper. Clarence looked down into half-crazed black eyes.
“Daav.”
“It was you, harvesting pilots. She said you were coming . . . ”
“You,” Clarence said in Terran, “have just spent the last day or two in hell; there's drugs I don't care to think too close on soaking up your blood and your good sense, and you've no business thinking anything at all.”
“She said—”
“You'll tell me what she said later,” Clarence said firmly. “I'm here to fetch you home to your wife, laddie, just like she asked me to do. You've been gone too long, and she's having the devil's own time keeping your brother to the High Port.”
Daav drew a sharp breath.
“That was my thought, too,” Clarence said comfortably. “Now, listen to me, Daav. You're a fair mess and I don't want to distress Aelliana any more than she already is. We'll make a stop at my office and get you half- patched, then we'll all have a nice chat at Ongit's. Does that suit you?”
It probably scared the heart out of him, Clarence thought, but Daav yos'Phelium wasn't one to let mortal terror stop him.
“It suits me,” he said in a raw, rasping voice. He shifted on the bed, newly freed hand groping along his belt.
“What's missing?” Clarence asked, though he thought he knew.
“Gun.”
“Right.” He slid his spare out and put it in the other man's hand. “You're welcome to mine. Have a care; it's loaded.”
Daav nodded, his arm, with the gun in his hand, stretched along the edge of the cot.
“Thank you, Clarence.”
He stood and motioned to Sara that she should take up her end of the cot.
“No trouble at all, laddie,” he said. “Not a bit o' trouble at all.”
* * *
She hadn't told Er Thom where she was going or whom she was to meet. It was foolish; she knew it was foolish and yet she did it. Which was, she thought, taking her seat in the private room deep in the heart of Ongit's, precisely what Daav had done and for precisely the same reason.
Korval was too thin. The former delm had not gone to Low Port herself, she had sent her heir. His loss would have wounded the clan, but it would not have crippled it. There was no heir or maiden uncle for Korval's present delm to send upon difficult missions. Every life was precious, and the combination of duty and necessity put them all at risk. The delm's duty, to preserve the clan, became the duty to preserve the future of the greater number of the clan, thus increasing the delm's personal danger.
She could see the graph inside her head; she could trace the lines of causation, and—
There was a tap at the door, and the elder Mr. Ongit stepped in, followed by Clarence, moving slowly, to accommodate the comrade who leaned hard on him, face drawn, and eyes haunted. Weariness flowed out from him, and a toxic wash of horror, pain, shame, and self-loathing.
She spun to where the elder gentleman waited by the door.
“Of your goodness summon a Healer immediately. Say that Korval is in need—wait!” She spun back to Clarence. “Yourself?”
He shook his head, and offered her a smile so weary it barely curved the straight line of his mouth. “I'm good, thanks,” he said in Terran.
She nodded and looked back to Mr. Ongit. “One Healer—as quickly as you can.”
He bowed and was gone. Aelliana turned again, finding that Clarence had gotten Daav seated and dropped into the chair opposite.
“Well,” she said, taking the last chair, “which of you has the strength to tell me what has happened?”
Clarence laughed tiredly and shook his head.
“Short form, there's somebody else trying to set themselves up as boss. Whoever that is has a hit list and a nice crew of reapers. Daav's name was on the list and they took him down for the bounty, as Daav says his keeper
