“She would never have killed me,” Rafaella insisted. They might all have been sitting around in the music room of the Guild-house, arguing a point in Training Session for the young Renunciates. “She wouldn’t have killed Margali, not even when she had the gun—blaster? Stunner—on her.”
If she can forgive Alexis that, how can I possibly keep on hating her? How can I keep on being angry with Rafi? We’ve quarreled before. Yet she’d speak up for me just the way she did just now for Lexie. She wanted suddenly to hug Rafaella, but she knew the other woman was still angry with her.
Well, she has a right to be. What I said was nasty, under the circumstances.
But if she can forgive Lexie, then I should be able to stop hating her. Magda made herself remember Lexie at her best; explaining Survey work to the young women for the Bridge Society; Lexie in Training School on Alpha, sharing experience with the younger students; Lexie, regressed to her early years… a little fair-haired girl, Cleindori’s age. I walked hand in hand with her like a younger sister… She sought the sympathy she had found for her then.
I don’t know if it will do any good. But I’m trying.
Vanessa said grimly, “I can just manage not to hate Lexie, if I have to. But don’t try asking me not to hate that woman Acquilara. That’s carrying good will too far. She’d have killed us all—”
“But the fact is that she didn’t kill us,” Cholayna said. “She even left us the blankets. ‘One who does good, having an infinite power to do evil, should have credit not only for the good she does but for the evil from which she refrains. ’ ”
“What in hell are you quoting?”
“I don’t remember; something I read as a student,” Cholayna said. “Remember, too: the woman’s psychotic. She can’t help herself.”
“I’ve never believed in diminished responsibility,” said Vanessa, frowning.
Magda wondered: did this in any way exonerate Acquilara, who was at least guilty of searching for power by any means she could grab it? Jaelle had defined that as evil. She didn’t know.
“Listen! What’s going on?” asked Cholayna, suddenly raising her head. At the far end of the cavern there was a stirring, women running in and out. Alexis Anders came up to one of the guards; they spoke urgently for a few minutes. Then the guards hurried toward the prisoners.
They held out four pairs of boots.
“Get into them! Hurry, or it will be the worse for you!”
“What are you going to do with us?” Vanessa demanded.
“No questions,” said one of them, but the other had already said, “You’re being moved. Hurry up.”
They hurried into their boots, afraid the guards would lose patience and force them to move without the boots. The guards prodded them to their feet with long sticks, urged them ahead. Cholayna found an opportunity to whisper to Vanessa and Magda, “If you’re right about Camilla organizing a rescue, this could be it. Keep alert and seize any chance to fight our way out!”
Magda tried to get her bearings—which way was she being taken into the labyrinth? The darkness made her nervous, with no light but that from the smoking torches, making wavering images on the uneven shapes of the walls. Something sticking to her sock inside her boot hurt her foot. She recognized the slippery stairway up which they had tried to escape.
Cholayna was breathing hard. She was not, after all, long out of bed after pneumonia. Rafaella grabbed her rudely around the waist. “Lean on me, Elder.” The respectful Guild-house term rang strangely here.
Vanessa bumped into her from behind. Magda felt the younger woman’s breath on her neck as she whispered hastily, “I’m going to try and get that stunner away from Lexie. It could even the odds against us.”
Magda’s first impulse was to protest—she had lived long enough as a Darkovan to be appalled at the thought of any weapon longer than arm’s reach. Also, Terran law prevented high-tech weapons on low-tech planets. But Alexis Anders had already used, displayed, the weapon here. And they were desperately outnumbered, four or five to forty or more. And—the final convincer— she didn’t think her protest would stop Vanessa anyway. She muttered back, “Get me to testify at the court-martial when we get back.”
But at first, when they were herded into a corner of the upper chamber, she did not see Lexie at all. She heard shouting, noise, commotion below, but they were in the dark, lighted only by one torch on the walls, sending out tarry choking smoke, and another wavering in the hands of an old woman, who stood against the cavern wall.
Then there was a clash like the sound of metal and Magda saw a press of people crowding around the head of the staircase. She could not see what was going on.
The Sisterhood do not kill. That was the one thing that was in all the legends, both Jaelle and Camilla had repeated that. Would they fight even for a rescue? Someone was screaming on the staircase. There was a new glare of freshly lit torches, and by their light Magda saw Camilla at the stairhead fighting.
It was time to act. She dashed at one of their guards; shoved her so hard that the woman toppled toward her, and she grabbed the sword out of her belt; as the woman scrambled up, she knocked her down again with a kick she had learned on another world. Her own violence spun her around and she saw that Cholayna and Rafaella were trying to follow her example, but she had no time to see what happened, as she ran toward Camilla, shouting. Where was Jaelle? In the torchlit shadows it was all but impossible to tell friend from enemy.
Camilla grabbed her hand, pulling her down the stairs, and they ran together. Somebody rose up in front of them and Magda struck out with the edge of her hand. She did not think to use the snatched-up sword instead. They ran right over her. Camilla was shouting, in a ringing voice that echoed through the caverns:
“Comhi’ letzii! Here. Gather here!”
Somebody came up and grabbed Magda; she almost struck her down before she realized it was Jaelle, in a thick pointed cap shoved down over her bright hair.
“They’re here.” Magda gabbled at her, breathless. “Rafi. And Lexie. Rafi’s all right. She’s on our side. Lexie has a stunner. Be careful. I think she’d use it.”
Acquilara’s women were crowding down the staircase. Magda heard Vanessa scream and whirled. Lexie had the stunner and was holding it almost in Cholayna’s face, in an attitude of wordless threat.
Cholayna’s foot swept up in a vaido kick and the stunner went flying, scooting over heads like a soaring ball. Magda ran for it, sliding, snatching it up before Acquilara’s hands closed on it. Acquilara had a knife; Magda kicked it out of her hand.
A woman with an evil scar halfway across her face closed with her. Magda kicked, fought, scrabbled, thrust the stunner inside her own tunic. It felt icy cold against her bare skin and she was suddenly terrified that Alexis had taken off the safety catch and it would go off. Where was Lexie? Frantically, Magda sought her in the flickering torchlight, where women were pushing and crowding and screaming. Cholayna. Where was Cholayna? Magda pushed back through the press of people to find her. Cholayna was lying on the ground and for a frightful moment Magda, seeing Alexis Anders standing over her, thought that Lexie had struck her down.
But Cholayna’s rasping breath could be heard halfway across the cavern. She struggled to rise, and realization swept over Magda. Cholayna was poorly acclimated to the altitude; she had been fighting like a woman half her age. Lexie was unarmed.
I have the stunner! And she hasn’t been checked out for the field here—she’s had unarmed-combat training, but against a knife—unarmed, Alexis was holding off two women with knives who were trying to get to Cholayna. Magda thrust frantically through the crowd toward them. Rafaella was right—Vanessa grabbed Cholayna, hauling her to her feet. The three of them backed off, slowly, toward the daylight that could be seen at the edge of the big chamber. The knife-bearers made a final rush, and Lexie went down in a sprawl of bodies.
Magda fought her way toward them, and saw Camilla rise upward, throwing off assailants. Vanessa dragged C
holayna up to her feet, gasping, leaning heavily on her arm. Camilla’s face was pouring blood from a slash on her forehead.
Lexie Anders lay motionless on the floor of the cavern, and for a moment Magda thought she was dead. Then she stirred, and Vanessa leaned down and grabbed her. She fought her way up, clinging numbly to Vanessa’s arm.
She wouldn’t let them kill Cholayna, I knew it. How badly is she hurt?
Magda’s throat was hurting, and she paused a moment, painfully catching her breath. Then she ran across the big chamber to where Cholayna and Camilla found shelter, with Vanessa supporting Lexie. Now Magda could see the great splotch of blood on the back of Lexie’s tunic. It looked bad. They were enormously outnumbered. Rafaella and Jaelle were back to back, trying to hold off another threatening rush by Acquilara’s women, who were all armed with knives and looked as if they would have no hesitation about using them. For the moment they were hanging back, but any second they might attack again.
The slash across Camilla’s forehead poured blood into her eyes turning her face into a bloody mess. Magda reminded herself that all head wounds, even minor ones, bled like that and if it was that serious Camilla would not still be on her feet. Still the sight terrified her, and she ran to join them. In this lower chamber they could dimly see daylight from the cave-mouth, but, before that, there seemed to be dozens of women with knives. Cholayna’s breath was still coming so hard that Magda wondered how she stayed on her feet. Vanessa, herself limping, was holding Lexie upright, half conscious.
Then as if from nowhere in a glare of light—torchlight? No, too bright!—half a dozen strange women, hugely tall, veiled in dark blue, with high-crowned vulture headdresses suddenly appeared. They bore great curved swords with gleaming edges, such swords as Magda, who had made something of a study of weapons, had never seen on Darkover anywhere, swords that glittered with a supernatural light. Magda knew they could not possibly be real. Acquilara’s women retreated. Even the one or two who had courage to try to rush up against the glare of those lighted swords fell back, cowering and screaming as if wounded to the death, but Magda could see no blood. Were they entirely illusion, then?
A familiar voice said, “Quick! This way!” and rushed her, a hand on her shoulder, across the lower chamber toward the daylight outside. Magda flinched at the paralyzing chill, the gust of wind, but Kyntha said in her ear, “Hurry! The fighters are illusion; they cannot hold long!” She pushed Magda along what looked like a concealed trail leading between the cliff wall and the caverns.
A swift glance behind her showed Magda that all her companions were gathered in that crevice, Camilla still trying to wipe blood from her eyes. Magda hurried back toward her, shaking Kyntha’s hand from her elbow. The wind flung her, slipping and sliding, toward the edge of the cliff; she brought herself up, terrified, clutching at the wall.
Camilla was all right. Where was Jaelle? Cholayna’s breath, rasping and harsh, could be heard even over the shouts from inside the caverns. Vanessa was limping. Two of the tall women in vulture headdresses were guarding the rear, covering their escape. Where was Jaelle?
Magda saw her now, behind the vulture-crowned women warriors. Illusion? How could it be? She hurried back toward her freemate. Suddenly there was a dread-fill glare of pallid light, like ultraviolet, and Acquilara rose up behind them. She had a dagger, and struck out at Vanessa, who was at the rear. One of the tall, robed women in the vulture headdresses was there with her blazing sword, but Acquilara made some strange banishing gesture and the woman in the vulture headdress exploded into blue light.
Jaelle flung herself at Acquilara, her sword out. Magda started to rush to her freemate’s side, her hand on her sword. The path was narrow, but she thrust herself through the others, uncaring.
Acquilara pointed. Another of the robed, vulture-crowned women warriors—illusion?—flared horribly into blue light and was gone. Magda tried to rush her.
“No! No!” Magda never knew whether Jaelle screamed the words aloud or not, “I’ll hold her back! Get the others away!” She flung herself on Acquilara with the knife.
Acquilara feinted with her long knife, and Jaelle brought up her arm in guard. Her sleeve was covered with blood. Then the sorceress’s knife came up, and Magda rushed forward—
And stopped, sick and dizzy with terror of the cliff edge before her. Jaelle’s knife went into Acquilara’s breast, and the sorceress shrieked, a frantic dying howl of rage, and jumped at Jaelle. Her arms locked around Jaelle’s neck.
Then the two slid together, slowly, slowly, with the dreadful inevitability of an avalanche, toward the edge, together slipped over the edge and fell. Magda screamed, rushed toward the cliff-edge; Camilla’s strong arm snatched her back as she tottered, shrieking, on the very brink.
From below came a rumble, a great shattering sound like the end of the world, and a thousand tons of rock and ice ripped away from the cliff and roared down to bury them both a long, long way below.
Camilla’s cry of horror and grief echoed her own. But even while Magda still heard the shaking of the avalanche, Kyntha pulled them away.
“Come! Quickly!” And as Magda turned back to where Jaelle had fallen, Camilla shouted, “No! Come! Don’t make her sacrifice useless! For the children—for both the children—bredhiya—”
But it was already obvious that the fight was over. With Acquilara gone, the remnants of her group were scattering, throwing down their arms, screaming in terror, like an anthill kicked over. The phantom women warriors rose up over them, triumphant.
Cholayna had sunk to her knees, gasping, unable to breathe. Magda looked back at them, numbly.
Jaelle. Jaelle. The fight was over, but too late. What difference did it make, now, if they all died? My own cowardice. I couldn’t face the cliff. I could have saved her.…
She was too numbed even to cry. But in the icy blast of the wind, the last sound she had expected to hear broke her out of her frozen despair.
In all the years she had known her she had never known Camilla to weep.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
« ^
Camilla’s eyes were swollen almost shut with unaccustomed tears. She had refused to let the old blind woman, Rakhaila, tend her wounds, the slash across her forehead, the knife wound in her hand that had nearly severed the sixth finger on her right hand.
Magda sat close to her, in the upper room in the cliff-top retreat of Avarra, where Kyntha had taken them when the battle was over. All the way up in the basket she had forced herself, self-punishing despite the the vertigo, to look down into the dizzying chasm.
Too late. Too late for Jaelle.
Less than an hour after the fight was over, she had felt the numbness leaving her; the raivannin was wearing off, her laran reasserting itself. Now, as she held Camilla, she felt the redoubled pain, her own and Camilla’s anguish. She had longed for so many years to share this with Camilla; and now it was only loss and bereavement they could share.
“Why couldn’t it have been me?” Magda was not sure, again, whether Camilla’s words had been spoken aloud or not. “She was so young. She had everything to live for, she had a child, there were so many who loved her… you at least tried to save her, but I couldn’t even see.… ” She struck, with a furious hand, at the slash on her forehead, a dreadful matted mess of hair and frozen blood.
“No, Camilla—truly, bredhiya, you have no reason to reproach yourself. It was my—my cowardice—” Again, in despair, Magda relived the moment when she had held back, in fear of the unguarded cliff-edge. Could that moment have saved Jaelle?
She would never know. For the rest of her life she would torment herself, in nightmares, about that memory. But whether or not—she forced her mind away from her own anguish, it was too late for Jaelle, nothing she did could change that now, but Camilla was still living, and it seemed that Camilla’s grief was worse than her own.
“Kima, bredhiya, love, you must let me care for this.” She went and fetched hot
water from the kettle over the fireplace, sponged away the frozen blood, revealing an ugly, but not dangerous slash.
“It needs stitches,” she said, “but I cannot do it, and I do not think Cholayna can. Not now, at least.”
“Oh, leave it, love, what difference does it make? One more scar,” said Camilla. Passive, uncaring, she let Magda bandage the wounded hand. “I did not even know they had kidnapped you—Acquilara and her crew— imagine, it was the blind woman who insisted we turn back, to find you gone. And Jaelle—” Camilla’s throat closed and her grief threatened to overwhelm her again. “Jaelle—tried to follow you with laran, and was not strong enough, she could not find you. So she—” Camilla bowed her scarred head on her hands and cried again, while Magda heard in her mind that shattering scene. Jaelle, crying, begging…
I can’t, Camilla. I am not strong enough. Only you can find them. They could be anywhere in these mountains, dead or alive, and if we do not find them soon they will starve, freeze, die…
I am no leronis…
Will you cling to that last lie to yourself until they are all dead? Is there no end to your selfishness, Camilla? For myself I do not care, but Magda—Magda loves you, loves you more than anyone alive, more than the father of her child, more than her sworn freemate…
As she heard those words in her mind, Magda felt that she too would be overcome again with weeping. Had it been true? Had Jaelle gone to her death believing that Magda loved her less?
Then, resolutely, Magda forced herself to abandon that lacerating train of thought. She told herself firmly: Either Shaya knows better now, or she is someplace where it makes no difference to her. She’s gone beyond my reach. Painful as it was, she could do nothing more for Jaelle. She brought her full awareness back to Camilla.