Dying of the Light

Dirk was not startled. Beneath his clothing the whisperjewel was still cold against his skin, reminding him of past promises and past betrayals. He had almost ceased to care. He folded his arms and waited.

Janacek looked disappointed. 'You do not seem concerned,' he said.

'It doesn't matter, Garse,' Dirk answered. 'When I left Kryne Lamiya, I expected to die.' He sighed. 'How is all this going to do Jaan any good?'

Janacek did not answer at once; his blue eyes appraised Dirk carefully. 'You are changing, t'Larien,' he said at last, the smile gone from his face. 'Do you truly care more about Jaan Vikary's fate than about your own?'

'How would I know?' Dirk said. 'Get on with your plan!'

Janacek frowned. 'I considered a landing in the Braith camp and a direct confrontation. I rejected the idea. My death wish has not waxed so greatly as yours. While I might call one or several of the hunters to duel, it would be too obviously in aid of a criminal outbonder. They would never face me. My own status is tenuous at the moment; because of my words and actions in Challenge, the Braiths still think me human, although in disgrace. Should I openly seek to help Jaan, however, I would taint myself in their eyes. The courtesies of code would no longer rule. I too would become a criminal, a probable mockman.

'A second alternative was to attack them suddenly, without warning, and kill as many as we could. I am not yet so depraved as to consider that idea. Even Jaan's deed against Myrik would be clean compared to such a crime.

'It would be best, of course, if we could fly in and locate Jaan and get him away, safely and secretly. Yet I see little chance of this. The Braiths have hounds. We have none. They are experienced hunters and trackers, particularly Pyr Braith Oryan and Lorimaar high-Braith himself. I am less skilled, and you are useless. The chances are excellent that they would find Jaan before we did.'

'Yes,' said Dirk. 'So?'

'I am being a false Kavalar in aiding Jaan at all,' Janacek said in a faintly troubled voice. 'Thus I will be just a bit more false. In that lies our best chance. We will fly in openly, and I will hand you over, as I have said. That act should gain at least a grudging trust from them. Then I will join the hunt, and do all that I can short of murder. Perhaps I can provoke a quarrel and call some of them to duel in a manner that will not make it seem as though I am protecting Jaan Vikary.'

'You could lose,' Dirk pointed out.

Janacek nodded. 'Truth enough. I could lose. Yet I do not think so. In singled duel, only Bretan Braith Lantry is a really dangerous antagonist, and he and his teyn are not among the hunters, if the aircars you saw are all. Lorimaar has his skills, but Jaan wounded him in Challenge. Pyr is fast and talented with his little stick, but not with a blade or a sidearm. The others are old men and weaklings. I would not lose.'

'And if you can't trick them into dueling?'

'Then I can be near when they run down Jaan.'

'And then?'

'I do not know. They will not take him, though. I promise you that, t'Larien. They will not take him.'

'And meanwhile, what about me?'

Janacek looked over once again, and once more the blue eyes regarded him thoughtfully. 'You will be in great danger,' the Kavalar said, 'but I do not think they will kill you immediately, and certainly not as I will hand you to them, bound and helpless. They will wish to hunt you. Pyr will probably claim you. I hope that they will cut you free and strip you and set you to running in the forest. If some of them elect to hunt you, less will be hunting Jaan. There is another possibility as well. In Challenge, Pyr and Bretan were near to quarreling over you. Should Bretan ever join the hunters, it is likely they would resume their conflict. We can only benefit by that.'

Dirk smiled. 'Your enemy has an enemy,' he said sardonically.

Janacek grimaced. 'I am no Arkin Ruark,' he said. 'I will help you if I can. Before we enter the Braith camp, we will drop-dark and secret, if we can-to this downed aircar you saw, this dead fire. We will leave your laser in the wreck. Then, after they have cut you free and sent you naked into the forest, you can make for the weapon, and hopefully surprise those who come after you.' He shrugged. 'Your life may depend on how fast and straight you can run, and how accurately you can fire your rifle.'

'And whether I can kill,' Dirk added.

'And whether you can kill,' Janacek acknowledged. 'I can give you no better chances, t'Larien.'

'I accept the ones you offer,' Dirk said. Then they flew in silence for a long time. But when the black knives of the mountainwall had finally fallen behind them, and Janacek had doused all the aircar's lights and begun his slow, careful descent, Dirk turned to speak to him once more. 'What would you have done,' he asked, 'if I had refused to play along with your deceit?'

Garse Janacek swiveled in his seat and laid his right hand on Dirk's arm. The untouched glowstones burned very faintly in the iron of his bracelet. 'The bond of fire-and-iron is stronger than any bond you know,' the Kavalar said in a grave voice, 'and far stronger than any bonds of fleeting gratitude. Had you refused me, t'Larien, I would have cut your tongue from your mouth so you could not tell the Braiths of my plans, and I would have proceeded. Willing or unwilling, you would have played your role. Understand, t'Larien, I do not hate you, though you have earned my hate several times over. At times I have even found myself liking you, as much as an Ironjade may like an outbonder. I would not have hurt you out of malice. Yet I would have hurt you. For I have considered carefully, and my plan is Jaan Vikary's best hope.'

As he spoke, not the faintest trace of a smile could be seen on Janacek's face. For once he was not joking.

Dirk did not have long to reflect on Janacek's words. They dropped down through the night like some impossibly light boulder and flitted wraithlike above the tops of the chokers. The wreck still smoldered a dim orange (the light seeping from the core of a blackened, fallen tree), and a haze of smoke obscured its contours. Janacek hovered over the crash, opened one of the great armored doors, and tossed the laser rifle to the forest floor a few meters below. At Dirk's insistence, he also threw out the Braith jacket Dirk had been wearing, whose fur and heavy leather would be a godsend to a man running naked through the forest.

Afterwards they soared straight up again, high into the sky, and Garse bound Dirk hand and foot, the thin cords tight and painful, threatening to cut off circulation, and so very authentic. Then, after flicking on his headlamps and running lights, Janacek took them swooping toward the circle of lights.

The hounds were staked out and sleeping by the water's edge, but they woke when the strange aircar descended, and Janacek landed in the midst of their wild howling. Only one of the Braiths was about, the skin-and- bones hunter whose unkempt black hair stood out as stiffly as if it had been fried to a charcoal crisp. Pyr's teyn, Dirk knew, though he did not know his name. The man was sitting by a low campfire near the Braith hounds, a laser rifle by his side, when they first saw him, but he scrambled to his feet swiftly enough as they came down.

Janacek unsealed the massive door again, swinging it up and open and letting the cold night flow into the warmth of the cabin. He pulled Dirk to his feet and shoved him roughly outside, forcing him to kneel in the cool sand.

'Ironjade,' the man on guard said harshly. By then his kethi had started to gather, pulling themselves from their sleeping bags and piling out of the aircars.

'I have a gift for you,' Janacek said, his hands on his hips. 'An offering from Ironjade to Braith.'

The hunters were six in number, Dirk saw as he looked up from where he knelt; all of them had been in Challenge. Bald, bulky Pyr had been sleeping outside near his teyn; he was the first one on hand. Soon afterwards Roseph high-Braith and his quiet muscular companion joined them. They too had been asleep on the ground near their aircar. Lastly Lorimaar high-Braith Arkellor, the left side of his chest wrapped in dark bandages, came slowly from the domed red air-car, leaning on the arm of the fat man who had been with him before. All six of them appeared as they had slept-fully dressed, and armed.,

'The gift,' Pyr said, 'is appreciated, Ironjade.' He wore a sidearm on a black metallic belt, but his baton was missing, and he looked almost incomplete without it.

'Your presence is not appreciated,' Lorimaar said, as he struggled to join the circle. He was leaning much of his weight on his teyn, so that he seemed hunched and broken, no longer quite the giant he had been. And Dirk, looking at him, thought he could see new creases in the