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"We're aware of that," the ambassador replied. "We should have liked to have
a few more days to gather together some better people to go with you. The
trouble is, the best-qualified help is too distant, and the more local help is
either conquered, under siege, or unwilling to get involved, the fools. The
best we can do is have an expert Dillian get around and meet you near the
Gedemondas border. They are neighbors, good in cold weather, and know about
as much of the
Gedemondans as anybody. At least, you're not as likely to be ambushed by the
Gedemondans with a nonthreatening life form they at least know accompanying
you."
"I'll go, too," Renard volunteered. "Doma can carry Mavra as well as me, and
that should speed things up."
The ambassador nodded. "We had planned on it. We're not a hundred percent
trusting of you, Agitar, but we believe sincerely in your attachment for Mavra
Chang. That is enough. Vistaru and
Hosuru, another Entry and former pilot, will also go with you."
"Another Entry?" Mavra asked. "I thought they were scarce and that Vistaru,
here, was the only one of my kind-"
"That is true," the ambassador cut in. "Hosuru was not one of your kind
before."
It may have been racial pride, or ego, or just chauvinism, but it was the
first time either
Renard or Mavra Chang had even considered a spacefaring race other than their
own.
"What was this Hosuru?" Mavra asked. "And how many other spacefaring races
are there that wound up here?"
"Sixty-one at last count, in the South. Nobody knows about the North," the
ambassador replied.
"Certainly as many. She was once one of what we call the Ghlmones, which one
of your people long ago described as little green fire-breathing dinosaurs,
whatever that means."
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Hosuru wasn't a fire-breathing dinosaur anymore. Still in the female mode,
she looked absolutely identical to Vistaru except for being a deep brown in
contrast to the other Lata's passionate pink.
The ambassador opened a map. "We are here," he told them, pointing to a hex.
"To our east is
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the Sea of Storms. As you can see, the best route would be over Tuliga and
Galidon to Palim, which has to be crossed sooner or later anyway. However,
the Galidon are fierce carnivores and the atmosphere above the waters is not
conducive to flying, so that's out. That means crossing
Tuliga to this point here, landing in Olborn. The Tuliga are rather nasty
giant sea slugs, but they shouldn't bother you if you don't bother them."
"Doma's good for about four hundred kilometers if pushed," Renard said, "but
that's a good deal farther."
"It is," the ambassador agreed. "There are, however, a few small islands
along the way, so you can set down to rest. On no account must you go into the
water! It is also brackish, not good for drinking, but the islands are
volcanic and should have small crater lakes. Pick your camp spot well."
"Anything living on the islands we should know about?" Mavra asked
cautiously.
The ambassador shook his head. "Nothing but birds, perhaps a few crustaceans
of no importance.
No, the problem will be when you reach land again- with the Porigol
supporting the Yaxa, there is simply no way around Olborn."
"But this Olborn-isn't it the next target of the Makiem, Cebu, and Agitar?"
Renard asked worriedly. "Won't they be likely to confuse us with their enemy?"
"Truthfully, we haven't the slightest idea," the ambassador admitted. "They
are in many ways as unknown as the Gedemondas. Catlike creatures, I
understand, with semitech capabilities and, it says in the references,
limited magic, although I don't quite know what that means. Even so, you need
only cross it at the top. The attack from Zhonzorp to the extreme south might
actually help you by drawing off whatever fighters and major power the
Olbornians have."
"We hope," sighed the worried Renard. "Then what?"
"By air over Palim, as close to the border as you can in order to avoid as
much as possible meeting the Yaxa alliance that might well be marching through
at about the same time. Don't cut south into Alestol, though, whatever you
have to do! They are fast-moving plants that can direct poisonous gases that
have effects that are sometimes fatal and always bad. They are carnivores who
could digest any of you. Leave them to the Makiem and their cohorts to deal
with. You must get to Gedemondas ahead of the others at all costs! Our only
hopes rest with you. Can you do it?"
Mavra Chang wanted action so badly she could taste it. "With a little luck,
and occasional help, I've never failed a commission yet," she said
confidently. "This is the sort of mission
I've been waiting for!"
The ambassador looked at her warily. "This is not the Com," he reminded her.
"The rules change quickly here."
THE TULIGA-GALIDON-OLBORN TRIANGLE, DUSK
Their crossing, while uneventful, took three precious days. They flew over
choppy seas in
Tuliga, and the wind was against them most of the way. On the few daylight
hours of relative calm they were able to spot coral reefs teeming with great
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numbers of multicolored fish, and, then and there, shadowy black bulks of
great size.
They kept at a safe altitude, not wanting to risk any chance that one of
those dark shapes might somehow rise out of the water and bring them down. It
was more peaceful when they reached the Galidon border, but the atmosphere
looked a little strange over there, and they headed in toward the point of
land that marked one of Olborn's six points on the Tuligan side.
Olborn itself seemed a welcome relief-solid-looking, mostly coastal plain, a
little chilly, but they had brought protective clothing with them. Nothing in
the place looked grim, foreboding, or threatening.
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They waited until darkness fell before making a landfall on the beach. They
had decided to camp there, within easy reach of a quick getaway and with the
great Doma as concealed as she could be.
No roads had led down to the coast, they'd been certain of that. With watery
neighbors like the Galidon, they didn't find this the least bit unusual.
It was a clear night; above, the spectacular sky of the Well World was
displayed in all its glory, and, off to the north, a silvery disk covered part
of the horizon.
It was the first time they had been in the right position with the right
weather at the right moment to see New Pompeii. They stared at it in silence,
thinking.
"So close, so damned close," Mavra Chang whispered under her breath. It
looked like you could reach out and touch it. She thought of the poor people
who had almost certainly died there by now, and of the kindly, near-human
computer, Obie, who had helped her escape. She wanted to get back to that
place, and she swore to herself that she would, someday.
They turned in. Although the Lata were nocturnal, the trip had been a long
and tiring one, the daytime travel taking more out of them, and they, too,
slept. A watch was established, of course.
Mavra had second watch; the Lata would take the later ones, when they'd be at
their peak. She sat there, looking out at the slightly rough sea, hearing the
roar of the surf, and watching the skies.
They were glorious skies, she thought. Her element, the place to which she'd
been born, the place for which she's done everything, even sold herself, to
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