“Keep that in mind.” The giantess moved along, found no fault with the rest of the straps.
Ruiz sat with Dolmaero on one side and the two mages on the other. Molnekh was closest to Ruiz, the sniveling Kroel at the far end. Nisa was secured across the narrow aisle, still flat-eyed with whatever drugs the philterer had dosed her with. He gave her a tentative smile, but she stared back without any discernible emotion.
They waited. The warm humid air of Sook filled the hold, and the prisoners sweltered. Ayam settled beside Nisa, and amused itself for a bit by peering into her drugged face. The herman touched her where her tunic had rucked up, smoothing its fingers across her knee. Ruiz glared. Ayam glanced at him, smiled maliciously, and slid its fingers a little higher. Nisa took no notice. Ruiz looked away, and eventually Ayam tired of its game and went forward to the control blister. Ruiz could hear a mutter of voices, and he thought he recognized the artificial tones of the cyborg, Marmo, raised in impatience.
A clatter on the cargo ramp announced the arrival of Flomel, strapped to a floater. Ayam rushed down to take the floater from the Pung guard who had delivered it, and the herman secured it to the empty bench next to Nisa. Flomel looked much improved, though the limpet still laced his belly. He craned his neck and realized that Nisa was sitting beside him.
“Help!” he shouted, in remarkably vigorous tones. “It’s her — keep her away; she wants to kill me!”
Ayam laughed and patted his face. “Not to worry, O exalted sir, her claws have been clipped. This lowly one will see to your safety.” Ayam fastened a control collar around the mage’s bony neck. “Here’s a valuable amulet for you. No, no, don’t thank me!”
When the herman had gone forward again, Dolmaero spoke. “Good to see you so lively. Master Flomel.”
Flomel turned his head to take in the opposite bench. “It’s a miracle, Guildmaster. There’s nothing like feeling your guts slipping through your fingers… gives you a new appreciation for life. Though I don’t recommend it as a routine physick. Is she truly safe?” Flomel jerked his head at Nisa.
“Yes, I would think so. The philterer has done well with her. She should be calm enough.”
“Good, good. Have you any idea where we’re bound, Guildmaster?”
“The herman told us a little, but we all hoped that the Lady Corean had taken you into her confidence.”
Flomel looked uncomfortable. “Apparently the Lady has been quite busy. Otherwise I’m sure she’d have instructed me at length. But from the remarks of my attendants, I gather that we’re going for some type of orientation or training, to better fit us for our new life in the pangalac worlds.” He sniffed. “Though I can’t imagine why the casteless one is being sent with us. Another mystery, eh?” Flomel looked at Ruiz, eyes glittering.
Dolmaero leaned forward. “The pangalac worlds? What are they, exactly?”
Agitation surfaced on Flomel’s face. The monitor lights on his limpet flickered toward amber. With a tiny hiss, the limpet injected a soporific, and calm washed over Flomel’s lean features. “I must rest now, Guildmaster. We’ll talk later.”
Flomel’s eyes dropped shut, and presently he began to snore.
Except for Flomel’s noisy exhalations, silence reigned in the hold again.
When the boat’s engines came up to speed, filling the hold with a metallic whine, the Pharaohans shifted uneasily in their bonds.
“What’s that sound, Ruiz? It sounds like a thousand headsmen whetting their axes.” Dolmaero’s voice cracked nervously.
“The engines — nothing to be alarmed at.”
Molnekh turned to Ruiz with a look of startled interest. “How is it,” he asked, “that you are so knowledgeable? I mean no offense, understand.”
Ruiz shrugged, but Dolmaero spoke. “Perhaps he’s from one of these ‘pangalac worlds.’ You can see he’s no Pharaohan.” Dolmaero nodded at Ruiz’s naked face.
“Ah?” Molnekh smiled. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell us what you know of our fate?” The mage touched his control collar with a bony finger. “Of course, I recognize the slave collar.”
Before Ruiz could reply, Corean swept into the hold, followed by Marmo.
“All set?” She seemed distracted.
“Yes. One last time, I ask you if this is wise. Wait two weeks and the circuit collector will be here. Does it make sense to accept the cost of shipment, the security problems, when all this could as easily be their problem, not ours?” Marmo gestured with his prosthetic arm, now fitted with a nerve lash.
“One last time, I will tell you why. We cannot start the rehearsals until they’ve been processed. Time presses. And, as you know, there is at least one dangerous creature in this cargo.” She favored Ruiz with a smile almost affectionate. “Do your job, Marmo, and all will be well.”
“As you say.”
Corean stroked Ruiz’s shoulder. “Be good,” she said, bending close. She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
She turned to Nisa with a frown. She studied Nisa’s drug-frozen face. She patted Nisa’s sleek head in a proprietary manner. “Won’t we all have fun when you get back?” Her tone was bright. She cast one last look about the cargo hold, and left.
Marmo fixed his sensors on Ruiz. “Yes, do be good,” the cyborg said. “I would love an excuse to be done with you.” He rotated, floated forward.
The boat left the ground with a lurch and stagger, then lifted slowly until it cruised over the pens at an altitude of a hundred meters. The Pharaohans paled.
“Don’t worry,” Ruiz reassured them. “This is a safe mode of travel.”
“If you say so, Ruiz.” Dolmaero’s voice shook slightly.
Kroel whimpered. Molnekh leaned a skinny, comforting shoulder against his fellow mage. “Now, now, Kroel. The outworlder says we’ll survive. That’s good enough for me.” Molnekh winked hugely at Ruiz. Ruiz smiled back, amused by Molnekh’s resilience in these alien circumstances. He found himself warming to the cadaverous mage. Molnekh seemed the best and bravest of the conjurors, despite his apparent frailty. Ruiz wondered how the timid Kroel had managed to play, so effectively, the powerful god of slavery.
The engines whined, they flew out over the purple jungle, and the hours passed. Ruiz fell into a drowse, his head tipping forward onto his chest.
He woke when he felt the jolt of landing. Ruiz looked about alertly.
“You do awaken swiftly,” Dolmaero said.
Nisa was watching him, her eyes huge. Only traces of the drug’s confusion showed on her face. “You’re a prisoner, too,” she said.
Ruiz smiled, shrugged. She did not smile back, and after a moment she looked away.
Banessa descended into the hold, trailed by Ayam. “Lunch,” the giantess announced. The Dilvermooner unsealed their straps, contriving to pinch Ruiz painfully in the process. Banessa watched impassively. Her clawed fingers hovered over the collar controller.
They left Flomel sleeping in his floater, but the others walked down the ramp into a grassy clearing.
Sook’s sun burned down brilliantly on the feathery pink grass, struck a blue glitter from the surrounding jungle. Beneath the sinuous trees, a noisy darkness crouched. Alien scents tingled Ruiz’s nose.
The Pharaohans, oppressed by this strangeness, clustered together at the base of the cargo ramp. Banessa gestured with the controller. “Remember the lesson. And the ruptor. It will kill anything that crosses our perimeter, coming in or going out. Besides, there’s nowhere to run to.” She looked at the jungle, a touch of dread on her vast face.
Presently Ayam passed among them with self-heating packets of standard shipfare. Ruiz showed the Pharaohans how to pull the activator strip, and they marveled. Ruiz wolfed his down, though it was bland amorphous stuff, and he advised the others to do the same. “Eat when you can, sleep when you can,” he said, smiling. “That’s the secret to successful travel.”