“Hey, hey! What are you doing? Get away from there!” The guard’s voice sounded too close. Jace froze.
“What are you
Glancing up, Jace saw a boulder plummet through the canvas, ripping a huge and ragged hole. It hit the girder and split into two. Jace jumped backward.
“Why did you do that, you fligger?” yelled the guard. “You come back here!” His voice huffed and diminished as if he ran after the person.
A tingle zipped down Jace’s spine. Had he been seen? Was that boulder aimed for him? Was his enemy in the camp? Or in
Returning to the edge of the entry space, he peeked into the area. The tarp flapped in the wind, flickering the weak sunlight from a clouded-over sky. Canvas slapped against the ground, the hole tearing farther.
On the floor, the boulder had broken into several large and jagged pieces, one shard as tall as his knees. The rock must have been thrown with Flair.
Jace grimaced as he looked at the messy entrance, glanced up at the ripped covering. If he came back this way, he’d have to clean it up before he teleported—No. He’d just teleport to his tent.
For now, though, the entry area had changed so much that whoever was outside wouldn’t be able to teleport past the spellshield, not to mention what other covering they’d put over the hole. It looked as if the girder had moved a little, too.
But he had to get Lepid, so he turned toward the hallway. A few steps into the wide corridor and the darkness that infused the ship enveloped him and a shudder worked up his spine.
Like most other people, he could summon light-spells. He kept them dim until he was well away from the hole in case the guard was more alert than he thought.
His footsteps echoed as he walked on a floor that had nothing of Celta in it. Another odd-feeling thing—the darkness, the sound of his steps in a huge ship that had been home to Earthans several centuries ago, but had no human in them for so long.
He sniffed cautiously, smelled nothing unusual, but he sure didn’t have Lepid’s nose. As he trod through the eerily silent ship with deeper-than-night darkness just outside the circle of sun-white light provided by his spellglobes, he could understand the atavistic fear this atmosphere might have had on the two noble Comosums. They were women who moved in high strata where they knew everyone. Women who thought they knew everything there
But they knew nothing about how their ancestors lived—never had
The Comosums would have been unnerved and prejudiced. He wondered if they’d ever visited the starship in Druida City,
Not that he had before he’d gone with Laev.
Glyssa had visited
He passed through the corridor, and the longer he was in
His strong link with Lepid told him the Fam remained unconscious, a concern, but Jace sensed no terrible harm had come to the fox. Yet.
Straining his ears, he listened for any sound, nothing. He walked softly, rolled tension from his shoulders, but couldn’t determine whether anyone else lurked in the ship or not. The distance to Lepid was farther than he’d anticipated . . . more than a kilometer. Jace called up the blueprints in his mind, figured that the fox lay near the Captain’s Quarters.
An hour before NoonBell while they rode through a wide meadow, a baby’s cry split the air. Both Glyssa and Camellia flinched and looked at each other. From the beginning of the line, Del D’Elecampane took a scry pebble from a leather trous pocket.
Three minutes later she rode back to Glyssa and Camellia, her expression tight.
“Jace Bayrum has packed his tent and left the camp.”
Shock zinged along Glyssa’s nerves. She opened her mouth to deny he’d do such a thing . . . but shut it again. Blinking, she said, “Didn’t he arrive by airship?”
Del nodded. “Yes, but he has the skills to travel back to Druida on his own.”
Glyssa shook her head. “Over thousands of kilometers? I don’t know that he’d do that.”
“Or maybe he’s on our backtrail?” Camellia added. “Maybe he decided to join us.”
Grunting, Del said, “There’s also been some problems with the hole down into
Glyssa lifted her chin. “I’ve never seen Jace move heavy objects with Flair. In fact, when I loaned him my no-time for Zem, I was the one who set the anti-grav spell on it. Jace wouldn’t vandalize the camp like that.”
Del still scowled.
“He’s bought into the venture,” Glyssa added. “And he signed contracts. He wouldn’t violate them.”
“Lepid stayed with Jace,” Camellia said, smiling at Del’s FoxFam, Shunuk, who watched them from his seat behind Del.
“That’s right,” Glyssa said. “Jace wouldn’t leave camp for Druida City with Lepid.”
“So it’s more likely he’s coming after us.” Camellia beamed.
“I asked him not to,” Glyssa mumbled.
Camellia lifted her chin. “Coming after us to apologize.”
Glyssa caught her breath at the hope surging through her. Hope destroyed was so very painful, the worst experience in the world.
“Maybe you should contact your Fam,” Del said.
Glyssa feared to. Worse scenario was that Lepid had left her, too, preferring the more adventurous Jace.
“They’re poisonous!” Glyssa gasped.
“He’ll be fine,” Del said. “He loves to kill them. Good skins for boots. But, hell, we can’t leave something like that near the path ready to hurt human or animal.” She followed fast, mobilizing the small party to stamp out the vermin.
Adventure sang in Jace’s blood and he jogged lightly down the hall, ignoring open doorways he glimpsed on either side.
He even refrained from the temptation of examining objects along the corridor. Sacks, boxes, other items dropped by the colonists.
Finally he stopped before a huge bronze door. As he studied it, he gulped. Engraved on the door was a list of the Captains of the ship. What a find! He wished he had a recordsphere. He’d definitely acted without too much consideration. But who would have thought the fox would be so deep into the ship?
Legend had it that people had rushed back into the ship when it began to plummet. Thankfully he saw no human skeletons—no skeletons at all. But the ground access doors were stories beneath him. This hallway housed officers, those higher up in the status of the ship.
Jace shifted, trying not to think of the amount of dirt lying atop the ship, or the distance he’d walked from the only open entrance. The hair on his body rose. Once more he stretched all his senses for anything, anyone, any inimical feeling aimed at him. Still nothing.
He reached out, but stopped before he laid his hand on the doors . . . could they be booby-trapped? Maybe, maybe. And anyone with an iota of curiosity would yearn, as he yearned, to see beyond those doors, the most wondrous furnishings of the ship. This cabin might have the most valuable items.
