Well, if Don Furz didn’t sing them out, Clarin could. And Jamieson could, of course, without notes, having heard it only once, though his face showed none of what went on inside.
The score was effective enough, a little thin in places. There were several small tremors, nothing serious. Tasmin saw Clarin rescoring on her box, making lightning decisions as to what effects were needed to flesh out the notes and make them hold for Tripsinging purposes. She was faster at orchestration than Jamieson was. Not that they would ever need such a score. This canyon looked very much like a dead-end to nowhere.
Above them loomed the bloody pillars of the range, almost black in the dusk, with the jagged tooth of Redfang itself behind them. These were not Fanglings they went among. They were far too large for that, and Tasmin wondered briefly if they had been individually named and whether the same basic Password worked for them all.
The sounds of pursuit faded behind them. They came out of peril, down from the crystal pass to find a pocket of deepsoil, a hundred square yards of Jubal trees and shrubs gathered around a tiny spring, which filled a rock cup with reflected starlight.
They dismounted wearily, making no effort to set up camp. ‘How safe are we here?’ Tasmin asked.
Don wiped her forehead with an already dirty sleeve. ‘Well, if they can get a singer or two to help them, they might come in after us after a few hours’ work. More likely, they’ll use the standard route and come in east of us, then work this way. If they have access to a set of satellite charts of this area, it won’t take them long to figure it out.’ She stared back the way they had come, her back and shoulders rigid.
‘We shouldn’t stay here then.’
‘Just long enough to rest the animals and get some food for ourselves.’ She was still standing, still rigidly staring.
Tasmin put his hand on her arm. She turned slowly, glaring at him with angry, despairing eyes.
‘This is the third time they’ve tried,’ she said. The third time. They almost killed me twice before.’ She shook his hand away. ‘That is my synthesizer you’ve got. Lim gave it to you, didn’t he? You’re his brother. I didn’t know that …’ Her voice was ragged, jerky with half suppressed emotion.
‘Hush,’ Tasmin said firmly. ‘Get hold of yourself, Explorer. Clarin’s already brewing tea. I suggest we sit down quietly, have a cup together while you explain what all this is about.’
She shook her head, an unconscious gesture of negation.
‘We did save your life,’ drawled Jamieson, looking up from his position by the fire where he was blowing strips of dried settler’s brush into reluctant flame, his face speckled with soot. ‘I know you don’t trust anyone. Probably don’t know who’s coming at you next, but we are the good guys, really.’
Don laughed, a slightly hysterical laugh. ‘I keep escaping by the narrowest margins. As though I had a slightly incompetent guardian angel. Why in heaven’s name did you show up when you did?’
‘I believe someone thought you might be in trouble,’ Tasmin told her, digging in his pocket for the message the Grand Master had sent and explaining briefly how they had happened to seek her out near Redfang. ‘They gave us the rifle just before we left.’
‘On a very transparent pretext,’ Jamieson commented.
‘And it was set on kill,’ Tasmin concluded. ‘It was irresponsible of me not to have checked it before firing, but …’
‘But we were in a bit of a hurry,’ Jamieson concluded, irrepressibly.
‘Jamieson!’ Clarin said patiently. ‘Slash it off.’
‘You don’t really act like assassins.’ Donatella sighed as she opened the message. ‘But then, Zimmy didn’t either.’ She sank to the ground near the fire. ‘I don’t know what this means.’
‘What does it say?’
She spread the small sheet of paper on a rock by the fire and read its contents aloud.
‘The Grand Master is aware. What does that mean?’
‘He’s certainly being careful, isn’t he?’ said Tasmin. ‘I think he’s telling us he knows something, but he’s not putting anything on paper that would prove anything against him. Let’s get back to you, Explorer Furz. You’ve been attacked, but you’ve escaped. You’re still alive. On the other hand, my brother is dead. My wife is dead….’
‘Your wife! What did she have to do with –’
‘Leave that aside for the moment. Evidently the reason they’re dead has something to do with you. That’s why I’m here. The acolytes are here because one of them is presumptuous and the other got dragged in by the ears.’ Jamieson flushed, and Tasmin went on. ‘I suggest that now’s a very good time to find out where we all stand.’
‘I don’t know where to start,’ she said hopelessly.
‘At the beginning,’ suggested Clarin. ‘Where did it all start?’
‘In the library of the Priory at Splash One,’ Don said quietly. ‘When I found a letter Erickson had written….’
Half an hour later, she fell silent, the others still staring at her. There were things missing from her story. She knew it and they knew it. Still, they had the general outline.
‘Let me see if I understand this,’ Clarin said. ‘You found documents of Erickson’s that indicated a method of proving that the Presences are sentient.’
Don nodded.
‘You took
