Jago brought a bag. Banichi did. That was all. Jago came close and hissed, “Bren-ji. Come.”

He didn’t ask questions. He took careful hold of the prickly brush and hauled himself to his feet, trying to stay as involved with the brush as he could. He thought about his wardrobe. He didn’t havea darker coat, damn his planningc he’d not brought one. And hell with it: if they were going cross-country, hewas no help lugging that bag along, and his bodyguard had enough with their own gear. “Leave mine,” he whispered. “I shall manage. My notes. Just get my notes, nadiin-ji.”

Two other shadows materialized from around the end of the van, drawing his tense attention; but atevi vision was keener in the dark, and Banichi took no alarm, only passed the luggage to the shorter one—that would be Tano—and relayed the request.

Jago tugged, drew him away from the van. Banichi was right behind them.

How far to the border? Immaterial, he said to himself; borders meant less now than they usually did on the mainland.

Get to Targai if they could. If not Targai, then Najida or Kajiminda—any place where shots didn’t crash through the walls. They hadn’t even attempted to get the van out of its predicament. They just left it, committed to getting out on foot.

Maybe getting to a safe spot, where they could sit it out and wait for rescue.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t offer an opinion, whatever his bodyguard decided to do. If they were going to try to make it to Targai, he had to keep his discomfort quiet and try not to slow them down with personal problems.

13

« ^ »

They kept as much as possible to stony surfaces, in the higher areas of the hills, disturbing the ground as little as possible. “One is willing,” Bren said, at a stop where he could find breath enough for coherency, “one is willing to go a little faster. I think I can, nadiin-ji. Or find me a place to dig in and wait for you. Then you go for reinforcement and come back.”

“No, Bren-ji,” Banichi said quietly. “Our best hope is to go, now.”

Theyknew how the Guild was likeliest to proceed and what they could rely on; he didn’t. He could do nothing about his clothing: he shone in the dark, he was certain of it. And they were going slower than he was, even when he tried to forge ahead.

And a request to shed the damned vest? They wouldn’t hear of it.

A second shot like the last one, he thought glumly, and I’ll be dead anyway. I couldn’t stand it.

But two hours or so on, at the same steady pace, and he swore the whole of the Tasaigin Marid was uphill. They moved, and they stopped, and sometimes either Jago or Banichi left the rest and went on ahead, scouting during their rest time. Sometimes they would come back to report, or now and again the rest of them would just barely catch up, and then the one scouting would immediately be on ahead on another foray. Tano assigned himself to Bren, and Algini kept an eye to an occasional light-flash on his bracelet, that item of equipment like Jago’s, that Bren had only once or twice seen them wear. He couldn’t read it, no more than he could penetrate the verbal code that passed now and again, curt and infrequent; but green was good. Green was the good one. He’d observed that before.

Finally—Bren found himself increasingly scattered in his thinking, and mostly concentrating on not breaking his neck— his concentration lapsed. He managed to hook a dragging toe on a scrub root and took a stumble; he would have gone down a human-high edge, if not for Tano’s arm.

He looked around to nod a thanks, and that movement did it: his head went light, his vision went iffy, and his knees went to water.

This is going to hurt, he thought calmly. He was standing on a rocky slope, or falling onto one, except Tano wrapped his arms around him and steadied him, and the fall didn’t happen.

Sky replaced itself with Tano’s shadowed face.

“Bren-ji has to catch his breath,” Tano said to his partner.

Bren-ji had to catch a good deal more than that. A functioning sense of balance would help.

“Have to take the vest off,” he said.

“Sugar,” Algini said instead, and, Algini and Tano having all the baggage between them, got into one bag and came up with, of all things, a packeted soft drink.

Bren took it. It went down as sweet as fruit juice and hit his system like a hammer—

stimulant, among other things, probably a dose of minerals. He thought for a moment he was going to be sick, then that his breathing couldn’t possibly keep up with his heart rate, and then that it probably had helped him, once his body adjusted to it. He was not as dizzy, whether because of the stimulant or that he had had a little while to get his balance and catch his breath.

“I can walk,” he said.

And they did.

An atevi border was soft for about half a day’s walk, in a vague overlap of property rights.

But it got to be more the other side’s territory the closer you got to the middle. He thought if they had more of that fruit drink, and he could keep hitting it, he could keep going until morning.

Maybe that could get them to a safer place.

Tano kept a hand at his elbow, carrying a rifle and the baggage on the other side, hardly balanced, he told himself. They hiked down an increasingly deep ravine for a considerable distance, with Algini going ahead of them to find the way and occasionally, very occasionally, when they were stopped for a second, showing that spark of green that meant either Banichi or Jago was all right out there.

Three or four rests later, and when his legs had ceased to report accurately what footing he was on, a shadow rose out of the brush ahead, and the fact Algini had not taken cover or opened fire on it informed him that that was probably either Banichi or Jago.

Good, he thought, and didn’t try to ask questions. His bodyguard conferred together. Bren just half-sat against a rock and breathed for a while.

Jago came up to him then, and asked, “How are you faring, Bren-ji?”

She wanted, he told himself, no optimistic stupidity.

“Accurately, Jago-ji, one has availed oneself of drink from the baggage, and perhaps another one would be helpful. One is tiring, one has no idea where one is going, and one is a little light-headed. But one is doing fairly well—with Tano’s help. Alone, I believe I would make progress, but far more slowly. I do think—if I rest too long, I shall get stiff.”

She laid a hand on his arm, wanting to be sure he was focused, he thought. Human gestures of comfort were not likely when she was on duty. “We are one day, by foot, from the boundary, Bren-ji. We want to go until near dawn or until we find a defensible position. We are not yet in position to make contact with Guild forces. An attempt could attract unwelcome attention in numbers greater than we can deal with.”

“Understood. We shall just keep going, then. Is there more of that drink?”

“Best wait, Bren-ji. It could make you sick.”

“I shall make it, Jago-ji,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, thoroughly in Guild mode, and went back into the dark, leaving him to Tano and Algini. In a moment more, a trick of the eyes, she was gone.

He was glad they were not stopping and risking themselves because of him. Tano and Algini gathered up the baggage they were managing between them—maybe weapons, electronics, even explosives—given Tano’s and Algini’s special skills, the latter was not impossible.

They had, he told himself, enough to deal with without hauling him uphillc and he had gotten a little second wind.

It didn’t last beyond the next small valley and another climb. Near the top, he had to be pushed and pulled up the hill, by Tano, he supposed. In the ebbing of the boost from the juice, he was far too winded and dizzy to take account of who was ahead and who was behind him.

But he kept going once he hit the stony flat at the top, staggering a bit, until they encountered Banichi in the starlight. Jago, Banichi said, had gone somewhat ahead, and they should rest for the while.