Carialle joined Plennafrey's delighted chuckle.
Keff ran to the far side of the cave mouth so the hill would block the view of him from the spy-eyes' position. The Noble Primitives, still wiping traces of breakfast from their faces and chest fur, were listening to their crew chiefs assigning tasks for the day. Brannel, near Alteis's group, seemed bored with the whole thing. Keff now suspected that there was something in the Noble Primitives metabolism that rejected the amnesia-inducing drug, or he was cleverer than his masters knew. He was banking on the latter possibility.
«Ssst, Brannel!» he whispered. A child turned around at the slight noise and saw him. Sternly, Keff shook his head and twirled his finger to show the child she should turn around again. Terrified, the youngster clamped her hands together and returned to her original posture, spine rigid. Keff fancied he could see her quivering and regretted the necessity of scaring her. It was easier to frighten the child into submission than make friends. He hissed again.
«Ssst, Brannel! Over here!»
This time Brannel heard him. The Noble Primitives sheeplike face split into a wide grin as he saw Keff beckoning to him. He rose to hands and knees and crawled away from the work party.
Alteis saw him. «Brannel, return!» he commanded.
Wordlessly, Brannel pointed to his belly, indicating the need to go relieve himself. The leader shook his head, then lost all interest in his maverick worker. Keff admired Brannel's quick mind; the fellow had to be unique among the field workers on Ozran.
«I am so glad to see you safe, Magelord,» Brannel said, when they had retreated around the curve of the hill. «I was concerned for your safety.»
Keff was touched. «Thank you, Brannel. I was worried for a while, too. But as you see, I'm back safe and sound.»
Brannel was impressed. Only yesterday Mage Keff could speak but a little of the Ozran tongue. Overnight, he had learned the language as well as if he had been born there.
«How may I serve, Magelord?»
«I wonder if you would be willing to do me a favor. I need someone with your injenooety,» Keff said. Brannel shook his head, not comprehending. «Er, your smart brain and wits.»
«Ah,» Brannel said, docketing «injenooety» as a word of the linga esoterka he had not previously known. «You are too kind, Mage Keff. I'd do anything you wish.»
Inwardly, Brannel was jubilant. The mage had sought him out, Brannel, a worker male! He could serve this mage, and in return, who knew? Keff possessed many great talents and wide knowledge which, perhaps, he might share as a reward for good service. One day, Brannel, too, might be able to achieve his dream and take power as a mage.
Keff looked around. «I don't wish to talk here. We might be overheard. Come with me to the silver tower.» When Brannel looked askance at him, he asked, «What's wrong?»
«The noise it made. Mage Keff,» Brannel said, and put his fingers in his ears. «It drove me outside.»
«Oh,» Keff said. «That won't happen again. I want you to come in and stay this time. All right?»
Brannel nodded. The magelord rose to a stoop and began to make his way across the field. None of the workers looked his way. Brannel hurried after him, full of hope.
Instead of entering by the ramp through the open door, Keff directed Brannel around the rear of the tower and pointed upward. A slit as wide as his forearm was long had opened in the smooth silver wall.
«But why . . .?» he asked.
«The front's being watched,» Keff said. He joined his hands together and propped them on one knee. «Put your foot here—that's good. Now, reach for it. Up you go.»
Brannel grabbed the edge of the opening and heaved himself into it. Once he was up, he helped pull Mage Keff into a room crowded with boxes. They had to climb down from a high shelf with great care. When Brannel and Keff were inside, the opening in the wall closed. The female voice of the tower spoke in its strange tongue.
«Aha,» it said. «Come on through.»
«Come with me,» Keff said, in Ozran.
They walked down a short corridor. Two figures sat together in front of the great pictures of the outside. One of them rose and stared at him in horror and surprise.
The feeling was mutual.
«Magess Plennafrey!» Brannel, with one fearful glance at Keff, dropped to his knees and stared at the floor.
«It's okay, Brannel,» Keff said, reassuringly, plucking at the worker males upper arm. «We're all working together here.»
«Hush, everyone,» the other magess said in the towers voice. «Here comes our diversion. I don't want the spies to pick up any sound from in here.»
Carialle turned on a magnetic field in the airlock, strong enough to disable the spy-eyes, should any be bold enough to try to pass inside, but not enough to stop the servo. She slid the door upward. The low-slung robot rumbled imperturbably up the ramp and through the arch. In one slim, black, metal hand it held very carefully a single marsh flower.
Immediately, the spy-eyes thought they had their opportunity to storm the tower and zoomed after the servo. One hit the field before the others and clanked noisily to the ground, disabled. The over-the-air chatter became excited, and the other spheres reversed course at once, speeding away.
«That'll make them crazy,» Carialle said. The first spy sphere rolled halfway down the ramp before its owner, on the other side of the continent, was able to take charge of it once again. As soon as it was airborne, it flitted off.
«Good riddance,» Carialle said, and returned her attention to the situation inside the cabin.
Keff stood between Plennafrey and Brannel with his hands out. Brannel was on his feet, with his mutilated hands balled into fists by his sides. Plenna had both her long-fingered hands planted protectively on her belt buckle. The Ozrans were glaring at each other.
«Now, now,» Keff said. «I need you both. Please, lets make peace here.»
«You intend to explain to a worker what we are doing?» Plenna asked, appealing to Keff. «This one only has four fingers! You can give them directions, but they cannot understand detailed instructions or complicated situations.»
Brannel, following the secondary dialect with evident difficulty, replied haltingly in that language, which surprised the magiwoman as much as his daring to speak out in her presence. «I can understand. Mage Keff has agreed to give me a chance to help. I will do whatever Mage Keff wants,» he said staunchly.
Carialle made her image step forward. «Lady Plennafrey, you are suffering from a preconceived notion that all the people who have had the finger amputation are stupid. Brannel is the exception to almost any rule you can think of. He has superior intelligence for someone brought up with the hardships he suffered. I think he's far smarter than the favored few who live in the mountains with you mages. You're not that different. You belong to the same species,» she said, reaching for an example, «like . . . like Keff and I do.»
«You?» Plennafrey asked.
Almost amazed that such a thought had come from her own speakers, Carialle had to pause to consider the change of attitude she had undergone. Much of it was due to seeing the division of a single people on this world into masters and slaves. She now realized that it was counter-productive to separate herself from her parent community. Yes, she was different, but compared with everything else she and Keff encountered, the similarities were more important. Acknowledging her humanity at last felt right and proper. In spite of the way she always pictured herself, she knew inside the metal shell and the carefully protected nerve center was a human being. She felt warmed by the perception.
«Yes,» she said, simply. «Me.»