She sat down cross-legged on the roof and composed her mind. From that calm pool, she called out. The summons took the form of an odoriferous scent wafting on the breeze. It was not long before the first rat showed up. It snuffed the air as though slightly confused, then scampered closer. It was no bolder than many city rats she had seen, but no less bold either. It circled her once, then stopped in front of her and stood on its hind legs. The tiny forepaws patted at the air as its whiskers quivered to the motion of its overactive nose.

Her hand darted out and pinned the beast to the roof. Her grip behind its head held it helpless despite its violent squirmings. She touched the back of its skull with the index finger of her free hand and intoned the spell of preparation.

Aleph!

Affirmation of attention entered her mind.

Take this one as a body. I want you to spy below.

Acknowledgement touched her mind, then the rat stopped twisting in her grip. She released it and it sat back on its haunches to stare at her with suddenly intelligent eyes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

The rat squeaked once and dashed away.

Hart closed her eyes in order to better comprehend the inflow of data from the rat’s senses. Her Ally Spirit Aleph had taken control of the animal, which would let her see and hear what the rat saw and heard through her link with the Spirit. In this part of town, a rat made a very inconspicuous spy.

It took Aleph only a few minutes to guide the rat through the byways of its kind and down onto the floor of the building. The reek of oil was almost overwhelming and the dark-adapted eyes of the beast showed her what she didn’t want to see. The warehouse was empty. She had arrived too late.

“Frag it!”

The panzer, with Verter in it, was gone.

Release it, Aleph. We’ve got to hit the road.

Acknowledgement from below and she was alone on the rooftop, all dressed up for a party that was already over.

31

As Begay had promised, the run through the Tir was easy. Except for the border crossings, they had traveled by day, which gave Sam a chance to see some of the magically restored forest. Beautiful as the Land was in its natural state and vigor, the thought that powerful magics had made it so disturbed him. It was still more evidence he could not deny. As lush and cool as was the forest, Sam seemed to notice only the pools of shadow and the dark spaces under the trees, as though some danger or precarious instability hid within the leafy canopy. Or was it only his doubts?

Begay assured him that travel by day was a practical matter rather than for sightseeing purposes. Less local wildlife was active with the sun high in the sky, he said, leaving Sam to ponder what kind of animal could threaten a panzer. An Begay would tell him was to watch the target screens, which he did, though his datajack connection to the sensors brought on the usual headache. Strain, he told himself. Magic had nothing to do with it.

Once through the Tir, they traveled by night. “Sure, the IR signature’s easier to spot,” Begay said, “but watching an IR screen is like watching any screen. Ain’t easy to do for long. People get tired and forget to watch their screens.” Sam trusted his judgement. After all, Begay was the professional.

Crossing through what used to be Idaho, they had a run-in with a Salish-Shidhe helicopter, but Begay found a hiding place in the canyons along the Snake River. After that, he launched the T-bird’s remotely piloted ultra-light aircraft to fly overwatch so that it might spot any telltale activity. Later, while pulling the RPV back as they bivouacked for the day, the rigger’s control panel blew a chip, sending the aircraft crashing out of control at the edge of the river. They lost half the night salvaging the wreck, for Begay wouldn’t leave without it. “Too fragging expensive,” he said.

It was near dawn when they pulled into the shanty town on the Dworshak Reservoir. Begay turned the Thunderbird toward a dilapidated barn where a bunch of the locals were lounging. As the panzer neared, however, they sprang up and opened the barn doors for the T-bird. The panzer tucked itself in and settled to rest.

From what Sam could see, the interior of the barn was at odds with the exterior; the floor was concrete and the walls some kind of solidified foam material. Benches, power tools, vehicles, boxes, and crates were scattered about in haphazard array. Overhead, a heavy-duty crane held what looked like an engine within a net of braided wires. The locals, most of them Orks, closed the outer doors and moved toward the Panzer. Sam was still trying to understand what was going on when Begay popped the driver’s auxiliary hatch and crawled out.

“Fill her up.”

“You want your oil checked?” asked an Ork in grimy coveralls.

“I’ll let you check the oil the day I own a well, Thumper.”

“Ya got no faith, Begay.”

“Your dipstick’s too short.”

“Man’s gotta stay in the biz.”

“Got that right.”

To Sam, the exchange had the ring of an old routine. Climbing out himself, he saw the two exchanging handshakes, and knew they were old buddies. Begay waved him over.

“Twist, want you to meet Thumper Collins, best panzer mechanic in the west.”

“Second best,” the Ork contradicted. “Don’t believe everything the Injun tells ya, kid. Willy Stein’s still working with the Cascade boys.” Collins held out a hand. “Pleased to meet ya, Twist.”

Sam took the callused hand. Collins’ grip was so strong that Sam got the impression that the Ork could crush the bones in his hand with only a fraction of his strength; ridged muscles made the Ork’s already blocky frame more massive. Introduction over, Collins turned his attention to the rigger.

“Real mess you got in the starboard carry slot.”

“Drek, yeah. Blew a chip on recovery.”

“I can patch the R-P today, but the chip…” Collins shook his head, making reflections dance on his bald pate. “Ain’t got nothing like that on the shelf and ain’t nobody this far out can cut you one.”

“Frag it. I need that bird.” Begay spat on the floor and stared at the star pattern the spittle made on the concrete floor.

“Begay?” Sam waited until the Navaho looked up. “It looked like your aircraft had manual controls.”

“Yeah. Used to be a spy dropper before I put in the rigger controls. Left them manuals in, ’cause I thought I might want to take up flying someday.”

Collins snorted. “He means it was his backup getaway.” Begay gave the Ork a snarl, but there was no real heat to it. Sam realized the drone’s use as an escape vehicle must be an open secret, but the rigger needed to establish that it was his secret to share.