"I'm piloting," Selena said, shoving him out of the way with a meaningful glance.
"I was about to suggest just that."
Back on Earth he'd never even learned to drive, and the two attempts he'd made at piloting gliders had almost resulted in disaster. Selena, on the other hand, could proudly look back on a whole list of citations for reckless speeding, which might not be much safer but, under the circumstances, would be an asset. All he'd have to do was close his eyes. He climbed into the glider, swiped a little mound of dirt from the passenger seat, settled in-and closed his eyes.
Not a moment too soon.
The next thing he knew was his head being slammed into the backrest by a jolt of sudden acceleration, then the glider banked sharply-hopefully around an obstacle-and soared off across the parking area and in the general direction of the hills.
Chapter twenty-one
Ronon peered through a tear in the sackcloth, checked for observers, and smoothly rolled out from under the stall when he saw that the coast was clear. The lump of oil-soaked wool and linen sat on the counter of the stall, nestled among wrapping material and well protected from the rain.
Which was more than could be said for Ronon. He took an experimental step and squirmed at the squelching of water in his boots. If there was one thing he hated… Early in the evening it had looked as though it might clear up, but the respite had lasted all of fifteen minutes. Then the downpour had resumed, more violent than ever, and you couldn't help thinking that it meant to scour this place off the face of the planet.
"How many left?" he asked softly. They'd set a total of fourteen of the makeshift incendiary devices, mostly in taverns, because access was easy and panic was more likely once the fires started. A couple he'd managed to plant in private houses where the backdoors had conveniently stood open.
Silent like a ghost, Teyla shifted from the shadows behind the stall and to his side. "Five more. I think we should place them all in the fortress. That's where-"
The noise reared up suddenly and didn't seem to want to stop-ever. It began as an almighty roar that rolled up the street, wave after wave of it, followed by a screech that ebbed and rose but never quite subsided. And then the screaming started. Ronon had a flash of that miserable shantytown, shoebox houses stuffed with enough people to make their walls bulge outward; dwelling after dwelling, crammed together as tightly as possible, because space was at a premium between the river and the city walls, and in those narrow, winding alleys hundreds and thousands of people, desperate to get out and drowning like rats. He felt sick to his stomach.
"What was that?" gasped Teyla.
"The levees. The levees have broken."
"The houses by the river…"
"Yeah. More of a diversion than we planned," he conceded grimly. "We can't help those poor bastards, so we might as well make use of it."
She nodded wordlessly.
Holding on to Teyla's arm, he led her away from the market and down the wide street they'd first walked up the evening before. It was virtually deserted now; everybody who could move had sought refuge from the torrential rain, and the porticoes were packed with countless prospective thrill-seekers, jostling for the premium places near the braziers and still hoping they'd see an execution the next morning. Some of them, the older, weaker ones or the very young, had given up on the notion of shouldering their way anywhere near that aura of warmth and sat bleakly staring into the rain. Invariably, they goggled with disbelief when they spotted him and Teyla out in the downpour.
Not good. The last thing Ronon wanted was to stand out.
"Play along with me," he whispered to Teyla. "We're drawing too much attention."
"Am I pregnant again?"
"No. This time you're a thief" He grabbed her a little tighter and shoved her in front of him.
"Hey!" she snapped. "That hurts!"
"Should have thought of that before you went snooping around the market!" he barked back. "Move!"
Ducking her head in a convincing kicked dog impression, she did just that. It had the desired effect. In the manner of people the universe over-or so he'd been told-the onlookers under the porticoes averted their eyes and withdrew deeper into sodden cloaks in an effort to become invisible in the eye of the law. Even better, with Teyla as his captive, he had a perfect excuse for reentering the fortress. Ronon snuffed a grin, and kept plodding on down the street, occasionally prodding his `captive' for show and noting that, if anything, the weather was getting worse. Some two hundred meters on, they reached an intersection and left the main street for a narrower alley that led up to the fortress.
The runoff down the streets had swelled dramatically, and despite the incline they were wading ankle-deep in water that gushed over cobblestones and lapped at walls and steps and sent all kinds of debris swirling around their feet. The footing was treacherous, to say the least. As if trying to match the rising water, the screaming and shouting beyond the walls had risen in volume, too.
"They're trying to get to high ground," Teyla said.
No need to elaborate. High ground was within the city walls, and by the sound of it a whole mob of terrified people was about to storm the gates. As if to confirm Ronon's speculation, a contingent of soldiers came barreling down the alley toward them.
Rushing past, one of them yelled, "Where do you think you're going, man? They need every hand at the gate! The filth is trying to get in!"
"Some already did!" Ronon yelled back, giving Teyla another shove. "Caught her trying to sneak into a house. I'll join you as soon as she's taken care of."
He wasn't sure whether the man had heard him or cared if he had. Essentially the same conversation repeated itself several times over as they climbed on toward the fortress and encountered more and more troops heading for the gate. At this rate there wouldn't be a guard left in the entire building.
Finally, the entrance to the fortress loomed above them like a huge maw, and for just a moment Ronon envied Teyla for not being able to see it. Had it looked this forbidding last night`?
As soon as the question popped into his mind, he chased it away. It was a little late to have second thoughts, especially since the sole guard left under the portcullis had spotted them. A bitter wind was sweeping the downpour almost horizontally into the gate, which, if the guy's face was anything to go by, hadn't improved his mood.
"Hey! Slacker! Aren't you going the wrong way?" he barked. "Now isn't the time to piss your pants. They need every man down there."
Ronon recognized the voice and almost did piss his pants. It belonged to none other than their friend from the city gate. Making a show of hunching his shoulders against the weather, Ronon tried to keep his face in the shadows as best he could, lowered his own voice to a ludicrous bass, and once more launched into the tale of how he'd arrested a piece of rabble about to sneak into a house.
The man squinted at Teyla and smirked. "Should have known. Watch yourself around that one, brother. She's trouble" Leaning in to Ronon, he added in a whisper, "She's a witch."
"She won't make trouble once I'm done with her." Ronon did his best to ignore the fact that the guy's breath reeked of bad teeth, booze, and garlic. How Teyla had come up with cheap perfume and home cooking beat him. Today at least the odor was rather more hellish.
"You'd better make it quick then. I don't trust her." The guard laughed, squinted again, and then an idea seemed to take hold. "Hey, make sure you let me know which cell she's in, brother. I could use a bit of warming up once my shift ends."