The Spirit of Dorsai Page 5

  It was a stroke of bad luck, Dow's determination to send out patrols and go so immediately to Foralie himself Bad on two counts. Patrols out meant some of the troops away from the immediate area of the town, at all times. It would have been much better to have them all concentrated there. Also, patrols out meant that sooner or later some of them would have to be taken care of by the teams—and that, while it would have to be faced if and when it came, was something not good to think about until then. There would be a heavy load thrown on the youngsters—not only to do what had to be done, but to do it with the coolheadedness and calculation of adults, without which they could not succeed, and their lives would be thrown away for nothing.

  She reminded herself that up through medieval times, twelve- and fourteen-year-olds had been commonly found in armies. Ship's boys had been taken for granted in the navies of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. But these historical facts brought no comfort. The children who would be going up against Earth-made weapons here would be children she had known since their birth.

  But she must not allow them to guess how she felt. Their faith in their seniors, well-placed or misplaced, was something they would need to hang on to as long as possible for their own sakes.

  She came at last to a mountain meadow a full meter high with fall grass. The meadow was separated by just one ridge from Foralie homestead. Amanda turned her skimmer into the shade of a clump of native softwoods on the upslope edge of the meadow, below the ridge. On the relatively open ground beneath those trees she put the vehicle down and waited.

  It was all of twenty minutes before her ear picked up—not exactly a sound that should not have been there, but a sound that was misplaced in the rhythm of natural noises surrounding her. She lifted her voice.

  "All right!" she called. "I'm in a hurry. Come on in!"

  Heads emerged above the grasstops, as close as half a dozen meters from her and as far out as halfway across the meadow. Figures stood up; tanned, slim figures in flexible shoes, twill slacks strapped tight at the ankle and long-sleeved, tight-wristed shirts, all of neutral color. One of the tallest, a girl about fifteen, put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

  A skimmer came over the ridge and hummed down toward Amanda until it sank to a stop beside her on the ground. The team members, ranging in age from eight years of age to sixteen, were already gathering around the two of them.

  Amanda waited until they were all there, then nodded to the man on the other skimmer and looked around the closed arc of sun-browned faces, sun-bleached hair.

  "The invaders are here, in Foralie town," she said. "Coalition first-line troops under a brigadier and staff, with Dow deCastries."

  The faces looked back at her in silence. Adults would have reacted with voice and feature. These looked at her with the same expressions they had shown before; but Amanda, knowing them all, could feel the impact of the news on them.

  "Everyone's out?" the man on the other skimmer asked.

  Amanda turned again to the Ancient. Perched on his skimmer the way he was, Ramon Dye might have forced a stranger to look twice before discovering that there were no legs below Ramon's hips. Strapped openly in the boot of his vehicle, behind him, were the two artificial legs he normally used in town; but out here, like the team members, he was stripped to essentials. His square, quiet face under its straight brown hair looked at her with concern.

  "Everybody's out but those who're supposed to be there," said Amanda. "Except for Marte Haugsrud. She decided to stay with her grandmother."

  Still, there was that utter silence from the circle effaces, although more than half a dozen of them had grown up within a few doors of Berthe. It was not that they did not feel, Amanda reminded herself; it was that by instinct, like small animals, they were dumb under the whiplash of fate.

  "But we've other things to talk about," she said— and felt the emotion she had evoked in them with her news, relax under the pressure of her need for their attention. "DeCastries is taking an armed escort with him to Foralie to wait for Cletus; and he's also going to start sending out patrols, immediately."

  She looked about at them all.

  "I want you to get runners out to the nearest other teams—nothing but runners, mind you, those troops will be watching for any recordable signalling —and tell them to pass other runners on to spread the word. Until you get further word from me, all patrols are to be left alone; completely alone, no matter what they do. Watch them, learn everything you can about them, but stay out of sight. Pass that word on to the homesteads, as well as to the other teams."

  She paused, looking around, waiting for questions. None came.

  "I've made an agreement with deCastries that I'll bring all the teams and all the able adults in from the homesteads to Foralie Town, to be told the rules of the occupation. I've told him it'll take me at least a week to round everyone up. So we've got that much time, anyway."

  "What if Cletus doesn't come home in a week?" asked the girl who had whistled for Ramon.

  "Cross that bridge when we come to it," said Amanda. "But I think he'll be here. Whether he is or not, though, we've still got the district to defend. Word or orders from Arvid Johnson and Bill Athyer is to be trusted only if it comes through someone you trust personally—pass that along to the other teams and homesteads, too. Now, I'm going on up to Foralie to brief them on Dow's coming. Any questions or comments, so far?"

  "Betta hasn't had her baby yet," said a young voice.

  "Thanks for telling me," said Amanda. She searched the circle with her eyes, but she was not able to identify the one who had just spoken. "Let's stick to business for the moment, though. I've got a special job for your best infiltrator—unless one of the neighboring teams has someone better than you have. Have they?"

  Several voices told her immediately that the others had not.

  "Who've you got, then?"

  "Lexy—" the voices answered.

  An almost white-haired twelve-year old girl was pushed forward, scowling a little. Amanda looked at her—Alexandra Andrea, from Tormai homestead. Lexy, like the others, was slim by right of youth; but a squareness of shoulder and a sturdiness of frame were already evident. For no particular reason, Amanda suddenly remembered haw her awn hair, as a child, had been so blond as to be almost white.

  The memory of her young self brought another concern to mind. She looked searchingly at Lexy. What she knew about Lexy included indications of a certain amount of independence and a flair for risk-taking. Even now, obviously uncomfortable at being shoved forward this way, Lexy was still broadcasting an impression of truculence and self-acknowledged ability. Character traits, Amanda thought, remembering her own childhood again, that could lead to a disregard of orders and to chance-taking.

  "I need someone to go in close to the cantonments the occupation troops have set up at Foralie Town," she said aloud. "Someone who can listen, pick up information, and get back with it safely. Note —I said safely."

  She locked eyes with Lexy.

  "Do you take chances, Lexy?" she asked. "Can I trust you to get in and get out without taking risks?"

  There was a sudden outbreak of hoots and laughter from the team.

  "Send Tim with her!"

  Lexy flushed. A slight boy, Lexy's age or possibly as much as a year or two younger, was pushed forward. Beside Lexy, he looked like a feather beside a rock

  "Timothy Royce," Amanda said, looking at him. "How good are you, Tim?"

  "He's good," said Lexy. "That is, he's better than the rest of these elephants."

  "Lexy won't take chances with Tim along," said the girl who had whistled. Amanda was vainly searching her memory for this one's name. Sometimes when they shot up suddenly, she lost track of who they were; and the tall girl was already effectively an adult.

  "How about it, Tim?" Amanda asked the boy. Tim hesitated.

  "He gets scared," a very young voice volunteered.

  "No, he doesn't!" Lexy turned on the crowd. "He's cautious, that's all.
"

  "No," said Tim, unexpectedly. "I do get scared. But with Lexy I can do anything you want."

  He looked openly at Amanda.

  Amanda looked at Ramon.

  "I can't add anything," he said, shaking his head. "Lexy's good, and Tim's pretty good—and they work well together."

  His eyes settled on Amanda's suddenly.

  "But do you have to have someone from one of the teams?"

  "Who else is there?"

  "One of the older ones, then…" his voice trailed off. Amanda looked back at the faces ringed about.

  "Team?" she asked.

  There was a moment of almost awkward silence and then the girl who had whistled—Leah Abo, the name suddenly leaped into existence in Amanda's mind—spoke.

  "Any of us'll go," she said. "But Lexy's the best."

  "That's it, then," said Amanda. She put the power to her skimmer, and lifted it off the ground. "Lexy, Tim—I'll meet you after dark tonight, just behind the closest ridge above the meadow north of town. All of you—be careful. Don't let the patrols see you. And get those runners out as fast as you can."

  She left them, the circle parted and she hummed up and over the ridge. Foralie homestead lay on a small level space a couple of hundred meters beyond her, on a rise that commanded a clear view in all directions as far as the town itself.

  Behind the long, low, timbered house there, she could see the oversize jungle gym that Cletus had, caused to be constructed at Grahame-House and then moved here, after his marriage to Melissa. It had been a device to help him build himself back physically after his knee operation, and there was no reason for it to evoke any particular feeling in her. But now, seeing its spidery and intricate structure casting its shadow on the roof of the long, plain-timbered house beneath it, she suddenly felt—almost as if she touched the cold metal of it with her hand—the hard, intricately woven realities that would be bringing Dow and Cletus to their final meeting beneath that shadow.

  She slid the skimmer down to the house. Melissa, with the tall, gray-mustached figure of Eachan Khan beside her, came out of the front door; and they were standing, waiting for her as she brought the skimmer up to them and dropped it to the ground.

  "Betta's fine, Amanda," said Melissa. "Still waiting. "What's going on?"

  "The occupation troops are down in Foralie Town."

  "We know," said Eachan Khan, in his brief, clipped British-accented speech. "Watched them drop in, using the scope on our roof."

  "They've got Dow deCastries with them," Amanda said, getting down from the skimmer. He's after Cletus, of course. He plans to come up here to Foralie right away. He may be right behind me—"

  The ground under her feet seemed to rock suddenly. She found Eachan Khan holding her up.

  "Amanda!" said Melissa, supporting her on the other side. "When did you eat last?"

  "I don't rememb…" she found the words had difficulty corning out. Her knees trembled, and she felt close to fainting. A distant fury filled her. This was the aspect of her age that she resented most deeply. Rested and nourished, she could face down a de-Castries. But let any unusual time pass without food and rest and she became just another frail oldster.

  Her next awareness was of being propped up on a couch in the Foralie sitting room, with a pillow behind her back Melissa was helping her sip hot, sweet tea with the fiery taste of Dorsai whisky in it. Her head began to clear. By the time the cup was empty, there was a plate of neatly cut sandwiches made by Eachan Khan, on the coffee table beside her. She had forgotten how delicious sandwiches could be.

  "What's the rest of the news, then?" Eachan asked, when she had eaten. "What happened to you today?"

  She told them.

  "… I must admit, Eachan," she said, as she wound tip, looking at the stiff-backed ex-general, "I wasn't too pleased about Cletus asking you to sit on your hands, here—and even less pleased with you for agreeing. But I think I understand it better since I met deCastries, himself. If any one of them's likely to suspect how we might defend ourselves, it'll be him, not those officers with him. And the one thing that'll go farther to keep him from starting to suspect anything, will be finding you puttering around here, keeping house right under his nose while he waits for Cletus. He knows your military reputation."

  "Wouldn't call it puttering," said Eachan. "But you're right. Cletus does have a tendency to think around corners."

  "Let alone the fact—" Amanda held his eye with her own, "that if something happens to me, you'll still be here to take over."

  "Depends on circumstance."

  "Nonetheless," said Amanda.

  "Of course," Eachan said. "Naturally, if I'm free —and needed—I'd be available."

  "Yes-" Amanda broke off suddenly. "But I've got to get out of here!"

  She sat up abruptly on the couch, swinging her feet to the floor.

  "DeCastries and his escort are probably right behind me. I'd just planned to drop by and brief you-"

  She got to her feet, but lightheadedness took her again at the sudden movement and she sat down again, unexpectedly.

  "Amanda, be sensible. You can't go anywhere until you've rested for a few hours," said Melissa.

  "I tell you, deCastries-"

  "Said he'd be up here yet today? I don't think so," said Eachan.

  She turned, almost to glare at him.

  "What makes you so sure?"

  "Because he's no soldier. Bright of course—Lord yes, he's bright. But he's not a soldier. That means he's in the hands of those officers of his. Earth-bound types, still thinking in terms of large-unit movements. They might get patrols out, late in the day, but they won't get Dow off."

  "What if he simply orders them to get him off?" Amanda demanded.

  "They'll promise him, of course, but somehow everybody won't be together, the vehicles won't be set, with everything harnessed up and ready to go, before sundown; and even Dow'll see the sense of not striking out into unfamiliar territory with night coming on."

  "How can you be that sure?" Melissa asked her father.

  "That brigadier's got his own future to think of. Better to have Dow down on him over not getting off on time than to send someone like Dow out and turn out to be the officer who lost him. The day's more than half over. If Dow and his escort get bogged down for even a few hours by some hairbrained locals fighting back—that's the way the brigadier'll be thinking— they could end up being caught out, unable to move, in the open at dark Strange country, nighttime, and an open perimeter's chancy with a prize political package like Dow. No, no—he won't be here until tomorrow at the earliest."

  Eachan cocked an eye on Amanda.

  "But if you like," he said, "Melly and I'll take turns on the scope up on the roof. If anything moves out of Foralie we can see it; and by the time we're sure it's definitely moving in this direction, we'll still have two hours before it can get here at column speed. Take a nap, Amanda. We'll call you if you need to move."

  Amanda gave in. Stretched out on a large bed in one of the wide, airy bedrooms of Foralie, the curtains drawn against the sunlight, she fell into a heavy sleep from which she roused, it seemed, within minutes.

  But, blinking the numbness of slumber from her vision, she saw that beyond the closed curtains there was now darkness, and the room around her was plunged in a deeper gloom that that of curtained daylight.

  "What time is it?" she called out, throwing back the single blanket with which she had been covered. No answer came. She sat on the edge of the bed, summoning herself to awareness, then got to her feet and let herself out into the hall, where artificial lights were lit.

  "What time is it?" she repeated, coming into the kitchen. Both Eachan Khan and Melissa looked up from the table there, and Melissa got to her feet.

  "Two hours after sunset," she answered. But Amanda had already focused on the wall clock across the room, which displayed the figure 21:10. "Sit down, Amanda. You'll want some tea."

  "No," said Amanda. "I "was supposed to meet two of
the youngsters from the local team just above Foralie Town before sunset—"

  "We know," said Eachan. "We had a runner from that team when they saw you didn't leave here. The two you're talking about went, and Ramon went with them. He knows what you want in the way of information."

  "I've got to get down there, to meet them."

  "Amanda—sit!" said Melissa from the kitchen unit. "Tea'll be ready for you in a second."

  "I don't want any tea," said Amanda.

  "Of course you do," said Melissa.

  Of course, she did. It was another of her weaknesses of age. She could almost taste the tea in anticipation, and her sleep-heavy body yearned for the internal warmth that would help it wake up. She sat down at the table opposite Eachan.

  "fine watch you keep," she said to him.

  "Nothing came from Foralie Town in this direction before sunset," he said. "They're not starting out with Dow in the dark, as I said. So I came back inside, of course. You could stay the night, if you want."

  "No, I've got to get there; and I've a lot of ground to cover—" she broke off as Melissa placed a steaming cup before her. "Thanks, Melissa."

  "But why don't you stay the night?" Melissa asked, sitting back down at the table, herself "Betta's already asleep, but you could see her in the morning

  _"

  "No. I've got to go." Melissa looked at her father. "Dad?"

  "No," said Eachan, "I think perhaps she's right. But will you come back for the night, afterwards, Amanda?"

  "No. I don't know where I'll light."

  "If you change your mind," said Melissa. "Just come to the door and ring. But I don't have to tell you that."

  Amanda left Foralie homestead half an hour later. The moon, which had been full the night before, was just past full, but scattered clouds cut down the brilliant night illumination she had woken to early that morning. She made good time on the skimmer toward the ridge where she had arranged to meet Lexy and Tim. A hundred meters or so behind it, she found Ramon's skimmer, empty, and dropped her own beside it. No one was in sight. Ramon could not walk upright without his prosthetics, but he could creep-and-crawl as well as any other adult. Amanda was about to work her way up to the ridge, herself staying low so that any instruments in the cantonment below would not discover her, when a rustle in the shadows warned her of people returning. A few moments later, Ramon, Lexy and Tim all rose from the ground at arms-length from her.