Patternmaster

Chapter 6

“You see,” Amber was explaining, “we can’t afford to waste our time and strength punching holes in the Clayarks. That’s what they’re trying to do to us with their guns. Fight them on their own terms and sooner or later they’ll get you. There are just too many of them. In a large attack you’d have some of them blasting you apart while you were trying to punch holes in others.”

Teray only half listened. His ears were full of the unfamiliar sound of the surf. He had spent all his life no more than a day’s ride from the beach, yet he had never seen the ocean through his own eyes. He had seen it through the eyes of others in the learning stones he had studied, but that was not the same. Now, as he and Amber rode down toward the oceanside trail, he gazed out, fascinated, at the seemingly endless water.

He could see tiny rocky islands off shore. Nearer, the waves broke against sand and rocks with a noisy vigor that sometimes drowned out what Amber was saying. But that did not matter. She was only emphasizing the information she had already given him mentally. Mental communication detracted from their awareness of the had—and possibly the Clayarks—around them. Thus she was repeating, summarizing aloud.

“I can do it,” he told her.

“Try it as soon as possible.”

“The next time we meet Clayarks.” But he was not eager to try her method of killing, or any method of killing, again soon. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the Clayarks he had already killed. Maybe it would be easier if they were not human-headed or if he had not had a conversation with one. But she was right. He would not only have to get used to killing them, but he would have to kill more efficiently, in the way that she had shown him, if the two of them were to survive. He recalled the memory that she had given him of herself on foot, alone, running for the safety of Redhill two years before. She had been wounded but she had kept going. Her healer’s skill had kept her alive and conscious. And she was still killing, limiting the area of her perception to a long narrow wedge, sweeping that wedge around her like a hand of a clock. The Clayarks she touched in the deadly sweep convulsed and died. By the time they were dead, she had swept over six or seven more. They had managed to shoot her by firing from beyond the range of her sweep. But such long-range shooting required marksmanship that not all of them—not enough of them—possessed.

Her sweeps turned the Clayarks’ own brains against them. She used their own energy to stimulate sudden, massive disruptions of their neural activities. The breathing centers in their brains were paralyzed. Their hearts ceased to beat and their blood circulation stopped. They died, almost literally, as though they had been struck by lightning. Or as though …

Teray frowned. “You know,” he said after a while, “your way of killing Clayarks isn’t that different from the way we Patternists kill one another.”

“It’s not different at all,” she said. “You just focus differently to kill Clayarks. You focus directly on the Clayark’s body—his brain—instead of focusing on his thoughts.”

“But… Then why do they teach us in school that you can’t kill a Clayark the same way you kill a Patternist?”

She shrugged. “Probably because they don’t know any better. Most Patternist nonhealers don’t have any idea why other Patternists die when they hit them in a certain way. And they don’t care, as long as it works.” She frowned, and thought for a moment. “The focus is everything, Teray. Of course, we can’t lock in on Clayarks the way we can on each other. We can’t read their thoughts or even sense that they have thoughts, so we can’t go after one of them the way we’d go after one of our own.”

“What happens if you try—if you focus on a Clayark by sight, or you sense his physical presence and then hit him as though you were hitting a Patternist?”

“What would you be hitting?”

“His head, of course.”

“I wouldn’t,” she said. “You might give the Clayark time to put a bullet through your head. The only people we can hope to kill by just mindlessly throwing our strength at them are mutes and other Patternists. With Clayarks, you have to know exactly what you’re doing, and do it just right, or you’ll get killed.”

“A Clayark wouldn’t be harmed at all if you hit him?”

“If you hit him—his head—with all your strength, he might have a seizure. But for most people, nothing.”

Teray frowned, not understanding but not wanting to question further.

“Feel the wind?” she said.

“What?”

“The wind. There’s a pretty good breeze blowing in from the ocean. There’s a lot of power in the wind—even in a breeze like this. Ask Joachim.

His House uses windmills. It doesn’t usually seem like much power, though. Not until you find specific ways to use it, ways to make it work for you.”

“I understand,” he muttered.

“If I hit a Clayark as though he were a Patternist, he’d notice it about as much as you noticed the wind before I mentioned it.”

“I said I understood.”

“All right.”

It was the disease again, blocking the way. A disease that protected its carriers and killed their enemies. The disease of Clay’s Ark, brought back hundreds of years before, so the old records said, by the only starship ever to leave Earth and then return. A starship. A mute contrivance that had supposedly ended the reign of the mutes over the Earth they had sought to leave. That part of history had always held a grim fascination for Teray. His own race had been small then, scattered, disunited, a mere offshoot of the mutes. His people had been carefully bred for mental strength—bred by one of their own kind who happened to have been born with as much mental strength as he needed. One whose specialty had not been healing, teaching, creating art, or any of the ordinary talents. The Founder’s specialty had been living. He had lived for thousands of years, breeding, building the people who were to become Patternists. Finally, he had been killed by one of his own daughters—she who first created and held a Pattern.

And meanwhile, mutes had been building a society more intricate, more mechanized, than anything that had existed since their downfall. Some Patternists refused to believe this segment of history. They said it was like believing that horses and cattle once had mechanized societies. But in Coransee’s House, Teray had seen for himself that mutes were more mechanically inclined than most Patternists. And mutes were intelligent. So much so that Teray would have enjoyed challenging them—letting them have more freedom, encouraging them to use their minds and their hands for more than drudgery. Then he could find out for himself whether the inventive ability that had once made them great still existed. After all, even now it was the mutes who handled what little machinery there was in Patternist Territory. And the Clayarks, who were only physically mutated mutes, were said to use simple machinery in their settlements beyond the eastern mountains. On the western side of the mountains, however, Clayarks produced nothing but weapons and warriors. At least, that was all Patternists had ever known them to produce. Yet Teray found himself thinking about the Clayark he had talked to. The creature had known Teray’s language, at least enough to communicate. But Teray, like most Patternists, knew nothing of the language the Clayarks spoke among themselves. Patternists almost never let Clayarks get close enough to them to hear them talk. Patternists and Clayarks stared at each other across a gulf of disease and physical difference and comfortably told themselves the same lie about each other. The lie that Teray’s Clayark had tried to get away with: “Not people.”

That night another group of Clayarks drifted near them. Teray and Amber were camped on the beach, back against a hill. Amber had checked the horses over very carefully in what was to become a nightly ritual. She healed any injuries she found before they became serious, seeing to it, as she said, that they did not wind up on foot, and Clayark bait. They saved their rations and ate quail that Teray had mentally lured from one of the canyons in the hills. The Clayarks came into range behind them while they were eating.

Amber, aware of the danger the moment Teray sensed it, opened to offer him her strength. He accepted it, and used it to extend his range.

At once, he could sense the entire group of Clayarks walking toward them, moving through the hills rather than along the trail. Very shortly, those in the lead would see the two Patternists’ fire.

Swiftly Teray reviewed the technique he had learned from Amber, then he swept over them like an ocean wave. A wave of destructive power, killing.

The Clayarks had almost no time even to scatter. The group was slightly larger than the one they had met earlier. But Teray handled it in a fraction of the time he had needed to handle the first group. He handled it using less energy, since he was not required to puncture or tear anything. And since he handled it so quickly, he did not need Amber to spot potential escapees for him. There were no potential escapees.

Since he would never see them physically, he swept over them once more to see that they all were dead. There was no movement at all.

He turned to look at Amber. “Satisfied?”

She nodded gravely. “I’ll sleep better.”

“You ought to pass your methods on to the schools— the one in Redhill, anyway. Save some Patternist lives.”

“Healers usually stumble across it on their own. Most nonhealers can’t learn it even with teaching. They have to either rip or puncture something, or they have to hit as though at a Patternist. My way is somewhere in between. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“You didn’t act as though you were afraid.”

“Of course not. I didn’t want you to try it with the idea that you couldn’t really expect to succeed.”

He looked at her, shook his head, and smiled slightly.

“Has anyone ever tried to make a healer of you?” she asked.

“They taught me what they could in school. I don’t have much of an aptitude for it, though.”

“So a lot of nonhealers told you.”

“I don’t, really. I don’t have the fine perception for it. I miss symptoms unless they’re really obvious. Pain, profuse bleeding, no one could miss those. But little things, especially things that are caused by disease instead of injury— I can’t sense them.”

She nodded. “Coransee has that problem, too, but you might not be as bad as he is. If you want to, when we get to Forsyth I’ll try teaching you a little more. I think you’re underrating yourself.”

“All right.” He hoped she was right. It would be reassuring to be able to do something better than Coransee could.

Travel grew more difficult the next day. They reached the higher mountains and found that the trail lost itself among them, “washed out, as usual,” Amber said. The sectors nearest the coast were supposed to keep it clear, but during Rayal’s long illness such work had become too dangerous. Teray and Amber walked and led their horses more than they rode.

On the third day they did no riding at all. There was no longer a beach. The waves broke against rocks and the rocky base of the mountains. They knew the canyons and highlands that they had to travel. These they had memorized. There was no chance of their getting lost. But they were losing time. Walking, scrambling over rock and brush, wondering themselves where they and the horses were finding footholds. The trek was physically wearing, but at least they encountered few Clayarks.

There were deer and quail for hunting, and there were cattle that they left alone. The cattle belonged to coastal sectors whose attention they did not want to attract. On the fourth day they traveled within the boundaries of one of these sectors. They passed through as quickly and carefully as they could. They were farther inland than they wanted to be. At one point they found themselves looking down on a large House comfortably surrounded by its outbuildings, which lay below them in a small valley. They hurried on.

It was while they were passing through this sector that they became aware of a great tribe of Clayarks. They were well out of sight of the House, riding easily now since the people of the sector took care of their part of the trail. But they didn’t take care of themselves very well if they let themselves be invaded by so many Clayarks.

The Clayarks were resting—or at least they were not moving. Teray and Amber, their strength united, tried to find out how large the tribe was. They could find no end to it. It extended beyond their double range. Hundreds and hundreds of Clayarks; surely death to any but a large, strong party of Patternists. Teray and Amber detoured widely to avoid any possible contact with them. The Clayarks seemed not to notice, but neither Teray nor Amber could relax again for some hours.

Midway through the journey—on the ninth day rather than on the fifth, as it should have been—they had to leave the trail entirely even though it was well kept and smooth now. Here, it left the coast and ran through the middle of a large sector. It had only gone through an edge of the sector in which they had found the Clayarks. Now, though, the coast jutted out in a large peninsula while the trail continued on due south. Teray and Amber decided to lose a little more time and stay near the coast. They would not follow it as closely as they had, but they would stay well away from the Houses of the sector. As careful as they were, though, early the next day they suddenly became aware of Patternists approaching them on horseback. Seven Patternists.

By now Teray and Amber worked together almost instinctively, worked together as though they had been a team for months instead of days. And they both were strong. It was possible that together they could take on seven Patternists and have a chance of winning—if none of those Patternists was Coransee. Amber spoke as though on cue.

“I don’t think any of them is Coransee. I only got a flash of them before I shielded, but I think I would have sensed him if he had been with them.”

“People from this sector, perhaps,” said Teray.

“No matter who they are, we’re fair game.”

The two groups met in a grove of trees, Teray and Amber on one side, and the seven strangers—four men and three women—on the other. Teray and Amber sat still, tense, shielded from the strangers, joined to each other only by the link. They waited.

“It would be best for you,” said a small, white-haired woman in the center of the seven, “if you came with us without fighting.”

The woman’s hair was naturally white, not graying with age, yet Teray knew she was old. He could not have explained how he knew. Her age did not show in any definable way. Either she or her healer had stopped all physical signs of its progress, to leave her looking about thirty-five. Yet Teray had no doubt that the woman had lived more than twice her apparent thirty-five years. Which was unusual for a Housemaster—as this woman seemed by her manner to be. Most Housemasters were killed for their Houses long before they reached this woman’s age.

“There are seventeen of us,” the woman said quietly. “Ten that I don’t think you’ve noticed yet. We’re all linked. Attack one of us, and you attack us all.”

Immediately Teray and Amber became aware of the ten others approaching from the opposite direction, only now corning within range of the quick scan that they dared to make. Teray looked at Amber. Amber shrugged, then relaxed into a posture of apparent submission. What could they do against seventeen linked Patternists?

“What do you want of us?” asked Teray.

“To pay a debt,” said the woman.

Teray frowned. “A debt to whom?”

“Unfortunately for you, young one, to your brother. To Coransee.”

“You mean to hold us for him?”

“Yes.”

Teray relaxed as Amber had, aware of the tension in the link between them. It was not the tension of a thing on the verge of breaking, but of a thing held in check, ready to spring into action.

“No,” said Teray quietly.

The ten approaching Patternists came into view from among the trees. Teray ignored them, and felt Amber turn her attention to them, as he had expected her to. She was fast enough to sense any attack from their direction before it could do damage. Teray spoke again.

“If Coransee catches me, he’ll kill me. So I don’t have anything to lose in defying you.”

“You have the life of your woman to lose. I can see that you and she are linked.”

And Amber spoke up: “I’m not eager to have Coransee catch me either. And I’m my own woman, Lady Darah. Now as before.”

For the first time, the woman took her eyes off Teray. “I was afraid you might be. Hello, Amber.”

Amber lowered her head slightly in greeting. “You’re right, Lady. We are linked. We’re going to stay linked. And you should be able to guess where we’re going to direct all our power the moment you attack us.”

Teray picked it up at once, suppressing his surprise that Amber knew the woman. “You know Coransee is my brother, Lady. That should give you some idea of my strength. Unless you’re willing to sacrifice your own life as well as the lives of several of your people, let us go.”

“I know you’re strong,” she said. “But I don’t believe you could kill me. Not linked as I am with so many. If you think about it, you won’t believe it either.” She signaled the ten riders now waiting a short distance behind Amber and Teray. The ten began to move forward, clearly intending to herd Teray and Amber before them.

But neither Amber nor Teray moved. Through the link, Teray felt Amber’s slight expenditure of strength an instant before he realized what she had done. Then he understood.

Six of the horses approaching them—the six closest— collapsed. Shouting with surprise, some of the riders jumped clear. Some fell. All seventeen Patternists had been expecting an attack on themselves, or at least on Darah. This attack on their horses caught them completely by surprise. Amber finished it quickly, giving them no chance to take advantage of the momentary opening in her shield. Teray was instantly on guard to stop any who tried.

But there was no movement other than that of the fallen riders and their horses picking themselves up from the ground. None of them seemed to be hurt. And as the Patternists remounted, none of them seemed eager to close with Teray and Amber again.

“Lady,” said Amber softly, “you may have forgotten my skill, but I haven’t. I can kill you here and now, no matter who you’re linked with. I can kill you as easily as I’d kill a Clayark. I’m fast enough to do it to at least one person before anyone reaches me.”

The woman held Amber’s gaze steadily. “You’d die for it. My people would kill you.”

“No doubt. But what good would that do you?”

“You’re not under any death sentence from Coransee.”

“No.”

“And … in view of the favor you once did me, I might be willing to let you go. If you go alone.”

“Might you?”

“Do you want to die, Amber?” The woman’s voice had become hard.

“No, Lady.”

“Then go!”

“No … Lady.”

“I don’t believe you’re willing to sacrifice your life for him.”

Amber smiled. “Yes, you do.”

“And,” the woman continued over Amber’s words, speaking to Teray again, “I don’t believe you’re the kind to let someone else do your fighting for you.”

“Do you think I’d be foolish enough to refuse her help against you and sixteen other people?”

“I just wanted to give you a chance to save her life— since you can’t save your own.”

“Lady, you choose any three of your people. Keep linked with them and sever with the others. I’ll take the four of you on alone. That’s the kind of chance I’d like.”

The woman stared at him, then laughed aloud. “Boasting in a situation like this. You’re his brother all right.”

She didn’t think he was boasting. In fact, Teray thought, in a way she was boasting—assuring him that he was doomed, yet not attacking. Trying to separate Amber from him.

“Are you ready to die now, Lady?” he asked.

She said nothing but her people looked more alert.

He nodded. “I thought not. I have no more time for you.” He whipped his horse forward suddenly, sending it straight into Darah and her companions. He was aware of Amber moving beside him but he kept his attention on Darah and her people. Their horses reacted, leaping aside, startled, half rearing before their riders tightened controls on them, calmed them.

At a canter, Teray and Amber continued on, Teray now focusing his awareness ahead while Amber focused hers behind on Darah and her people. But Darah was not following.

Teray wanted to urge his horse into a headlong gallop, get away before the woman changed her mind. But he knew better. There was no “away” within his immediate reach. Darah could catch him if she wanted to as long as he was anywhere near her home sector. She had allies, no doubt—other Housemasters who would be willing to help her. And she had other members of her own House whom she could command to help her. It was all a matter of how much she was willing to lose to repay her debt to Coransee. He had no doubt that she was willing to sacrifice a few of her people. But apparently her own life was another matter. Now if only she did not find someone else more courageous—or foolhardy—to lead another attack in her place.

They rode on, no longer following their roundabout route, but traveling due south across the peninsula. It seemed better to take the chance of riding through more of the sector now than to take the time to ride around it. If Coransee wanted Teray held, then he was coming after him. He was probably already on his way, and possibly not far behind.

Teray and Amber had not spoken since their escape, but through the link, Teray could feel Amber’s anxiety. She was as eager to put the sector behind them as he was. She was grimly alert, her awareness now mingling shieldless with his. Together they covered an area nearly twice the size that either of them could have managed alone.

With only brief rest stops, they rode on through the evening and into the night, not stopping until they had to, until both they and the horses were too weary to go on.

Then they camped in the hills, in a depression too small to be called a valley. It was surrounded by low grassy hills, so that while a Patternist passing nearby might sense them, no one who failed to sense them would see them and have reason to be curious. They lit no fire, ate a cold meal from the rations they had been conserving. Biscuits made that morning, water, jerked beef, and raisins. And for the first time they felt like the fugitives they were.

The night passed uneventfully. They slept as usual since the canopy of their awareness guarded them, once set, whether they were awake or asleep. The next morning they ate a quick skimpy breakfast and rode on early. They were no longer within Darah’s sector but they were still close enough to it to be nervous.

A little of their urgency was gone, though. They reassured each other, calmed each other, without intending to. They had hardly spoken since escaping from Darah—had hardly communicated in any way beyond sensing each other’s feelings. That had been enough until now. Now Teray was in a more talkative mood. And now he had something to say—perhaps.

“Amber?”

She glanced at him.

“Where did you know Darah from?”

“Here,” she said. “The last time I came through, Darah didn’t have a decent healer and she looked twenty years older than she does now. Of course forty years older would be more accurate. Anyway, I helped her. I had thought of her as an old friend. Until now.”

“An old lover, you mean?”

She raised an eyebrow. “No. All her lovers are men.”

He looked at her for several seconds, studying her. Golden-skinned, small-breasted, slender, strong. Sometimes she looked more like a boy than a woman. But when they lay together at night, their minds and their bodies attuned, enmeshed, there was no mistaking her for anything but a woman. Yet…

“Which do you prefer, Amber, really?”

She did not pretend to misunderstand him. “I’ll tell you,” she said softly. “But you won’t like it.”

He looked away from her. “I asked for the truth. Whether I like it or not, I have to know.”

“Already?” she whispered.

He pretended not to hear.

“When I meet a woman who attracts me, I prefer women,” she said. “And when I meet a man who attracts me, I prefer men.”

“You mean you haven’t made up your mind yet.”

“I mean exactly what I said. I told you you wouldn’t like it. Most people who ask want me definitely on one side or the other.”

He thought about that. “No, if that’s the way you are, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You know I didn’t mean any offense.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“And I wasn’t asking just out of curiosity.”

“No.”

“You risked your life for me with Darah.”

“Not really. I know her. She’s managed to live as long as she has by gathering a solidly united House, and by avoiding situations that could kill her. She talks a good fight.”

“She believed you were ready to die with me.”

Amber was silent for a moment. Then she smiled ruefully. “I was. She’s not only good at bluffing, but at seeing through a bluff, so I had to be.”

“No, you didn’t.”

She said nothing.

“Stay with me, Amber. Be my wife—lead wife, once I have my House.”

She shook her head. “No. I warned you. I love you—I guess we’re too close not to get to love each other sooner or later. But no.”

“Why?”

“Because I want the same.thing you want. My House. Mine.”

“Ours…”

“No.” The word was a stone. “I want what I want. I could have given my life for you back there if we had had to fight. But I could never give my life to you.”

“I’m not asking for your life,” he said angrily. “As my lead wife, you’d have authority, freedom ”

“How interested would you be in becoming my lead husband?”

“Be reasonable, Amber!”

“I am. After all, I’m going to need a lead husband.”

He glared at her, thoroughly angry, yet still searching for the words that would change her mind. “Why the hell did you stay two years with Coransee if you wanted your own House?”

“To enjoy the man, and to learn from him. I learned a lot.”

“You needed that on top of what you already had from Kai?”

“I needed it. I didn’t want to be just a copy of Kai, running on her memories. Clayarks, Teray.”

Her tone did not change as she gave the warning, but through the link he was instantly aware of her alarm. She had reason to be alarmed. She had sensed the edge of a vast horde of Clayarks—perhaps the same tribe that they had noticed days before. They were behind Teray and Amber, approaching from the direction of Darah’s sector. It was possible that they had attacked one of the Houses there.

Teray and Amber had come through the hills to finally meet the old coastal trail, but the Clayarks were still in the hills. By the way they were moving, they meant to stay in the hills. There was game in the hills, and there were edible plants. The Clayarks were moving on a course that roughly paralleled the coastal trail. It was possible, even likely, that they would pass the two Patternists without ever seeing them. Unless they changed course. Or unless they spread out more widely. Or unless they had already seen Teray and Amber—spotted them from their higher vantage point before they blundered into the Patternists’ range.

That last was a real possibility. Clayarks knew that two Patternists alone would not dare to attack a tribe.

“If they don’t go any faster,” said Teray, “we can keep ahead of them.”

“I’m not so sure I wouldn’t rather be behind them. I don’t like the idea of their driving us.”

“There are supposed to be some mute-era ruins not far ahead of us. Maybe the Clayarks will settle there for a while.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve been through those ruins. There’s not enough left standing to give shelter to a family of Clayarks, let alone a tribe.”

“That’s not what one of the stones I studied said.”

“Then that stone was out of date. I think people from Darah’s sector tore the ruins down because they attracted Clayarks.”

That was reasonable. That was why most of the ancient mute ruins had been leveled over the centuries, at least in Patternist Territory. But he was in no mood to be agreeable.

“Maybe they’ll stop there out of habit,” said Teray. “Whether they do or not, we’d better keep ahead of them.”

“Or find some cover and let them pass.”

“No. If they get ahead of us and stop, they’ll spread out. We’ll have to detour back through the hills to get around them.”

“Fine. At least we’ll be alive to make the detour. If we stay ahead of them, and they decide to come out of the hills, we’ll have nowhere to go.”

She was at least partly right, Teray knew. She was always right. He was getting tired of it. “Listen,” he said, “if you want to stay here and let them pass you, go ahead.”

“Teray…”

He looked at her angrily.

“We can’t afford this. Only people safe and secure in Houses can afford to let their emotions get in the way of their judgment.”

“Do you want to stay behind?”

“Yes. But I won’t. I’ll stay with you unless the Clayark’s start to veer in our direction. If that happens and you still haven’t cooled off, I’ll stay back and watch you go to meet them.”

And that, he thought bitterly, was probably the closest thing to a victory that he would ever have with her. Surely she had done him a favor by refusing to become his wife.

The Clayarks picked up speed a little and more of them came into range. Without thinking about it, Teray and Amber also moved faster. Then the Clayarks began to catch up again.

At that moment Teray realized that he and Amber were being pursued—or driven. Abruptly, there was no longer any question of what they should do. They had to find cover, a place from which they could make a stand. They could not outrun the Clayarks if the Clayarks were aware of them and intent on catching them.

Teray looked around quickly for a place where they could take shelter. Even as he looked, the Clayarks increased their speed again and turned toward the two Patternists.

Clayarks were, if nothing else, magnificent physical specimens. Running without restraint on level ground, they could reach speeds of one hundred kilometers per hour. Of course, they were running on hilly ground now— but they were running.

They were in a kind of flying wedge formation, and they were holding back, not running even as fast as the hilly terrain would allow. Even at their present speed, though, they could run down a horse. Left alone, they could race past the horses, stop more quickly than anything moving that fast should be able to stop, turn, and fire at the passing horse and rider. They had been known to do such things to mutes. More-daring ones had even been known to attack the horse and rider directly, leaping onto the horse’s back or neck. They seemed totally oblivious to the risk to their own lives if they saw a chance to kill their enemies.

At a full gallop, Teray and Amber passed a grove of trees, ignoring them because they did not offer enough protection. There were rocks ahead, jutting up from the sand and continuing at irregular intervals out into the surf. Teray could see one place where they seemed to be high enough and wide enough to give shelter even to the horses. He directed Amber’s attention toward it and left it to her to see that they got there. He turned his own attention back to the Clayarks.

With shock, he realized they were in sight. He looked back to verify the impression and saw them first as a line, then as a wave coming over the crest of a hill, far too close behind the fleeing horses.

He began to kill.

The first ones died easily, their legs collapsing under them. Their bodies, impelled by their speed, rolled over and over, tripping those behind them who did not see them in time, causing some to dodge or leap over the sudden tangle of bodies.

There was a sound like a baying of hounds, and the formation broke. Hundreds of howling Clayarks scattered, put distance between one another, some speeding up, some slowing, many keeping to the other side of the hill where they could not be seen, where most could not even be sensed. A few rushed completely out of the hills, speeding toward the two Patternists until Teray cut them down.

The shooting began.

The horses, sides heaving, reached the rocks, outran them slightly, and twisted back as more shots rang out. Teray’s horse stumbled and almost fell. He did not realize until he had jumped off that it had been hit. Even then, his attention remained on the scattering Clayarks. He was only peripherally aware of Amber beside it, cursing and apparently healing. It was a Clayark habit to shoot Patternists’ horses since shooting Patternists themselves was not as immediately effective. A Patternist on foot was at least a slower-moving target.

Amber controlled the horses totally for a moment, made them lie down in the shelter of the rocks, then pushed them into unconsciousness. That was safest. It eliminated the possibility of their being frightened, or their bolting and being lost. Teray was aware of Amber shifting her attention, turning to help him. Then abruptly her attention was elsewhere.

He needed her strength to extend his range, to reach the Clayarks who had fled back into the hills and who were now trying to approach them, shoot at them from a better angle. They were managing to stay just out of his range. He looked at her angrily.

She was gazing off into space, her mind closed to him except for the link, and she was making no use of the link. He realized suddenly that she was in communication with someone. Another Patternist. Through the link, he received shadowy impressions of her fear, desperation, and hopelessness. Only one person could excite such emotions in her. Coransee.

He turned furiously and swept for Clayarks. He found only a few within his range, and those he killed instantly. Then he snapped back to Amber.

“How far away is he?” He did not want to reach out himself and touch his brother. That would come soon enough. That would come when for the second time he tried to kill Coransee.

“Not far. He’ll be here in a few minutes.” Amber’s voice was soft, faraway. She was still in communication with Coransee. Teray seized her by the shoulders and shook her.

“Cut him off!”

Her eyes refocused on him sharply. She sat still, glaring at him until he let her go.

“If he’s almost here, surely you can wait to talk to him.”

Her gaze softened. She sighed. “I was trying to bargain with him.”

He swept once more for Clayarks, and found none, but was now aware of the larger shapes of several approaching horses and riders. The Clayarks were leaving. Coransee had a party of about ten—ten, yes—of his people with him. Apparently that was more Patternists than the Clayarks thought they could pin down and kill. The shooting had stopped entirely.

Teray sighed and turned his attention again to Amber. “I assume you failed—in your bargaining.”

“I think so.”

He put an arm around her. “I could have told you you would. But thanks anyway.”

“He wants to take you back alive.”

“He won’t.”

She winced. “If we weren’t so close, you and I, I’d try to get you to change your mind.”

“No.”

“I know. We’re alike that way. Stubborn beyond any reasoning.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then drew her to him. “Look, I want you to stay out of it when he gets here.”

“No.”

He pushed her away in alarm. “Amber, I mean it. He isn’t Darah, to be frightened off. He’ll kill you.”

“Maybe. But he’ll surely kill you alone.”

He severed the link with her and almost gasped at the sudden terrible solitude. Solitude had never seemed terrible before. He had come to depend on the link more than he had realized.

“Teray,” she pleaded, “please. This isn’t an ordinary confrontation. He made you his outsider illegally. You haven’t challenged him. You don’t want anything he has. He’s dead wrong, but he’s still going to kill you. Your only possible chance is for me to help.”

“I said no. He’ll face me alone, without any of his people backing him. That’s the way I’ll have to face him.”

She looked up at the riders now in sight, coming down the trail. “The hell with your stupid pride,” she said. “You’ve forgotten that I don’t want to go back to Redhill any more than you do. You’d better link up with me again, because when he hits you, I’m going to hit him. If we aren’t linked, one of us is liable to get killed, without doing the other any good at all.”

“Amber, no …!”

“Link. Now!”

He linked, furious with her, half hating her, feeling no gratitude at all. Pride. He was trying to save her life.

He stood up to meet Coransee and his people. Amber stood next to him, close enough to make Coransee aware that his arrival had not caused her to change sides. She was the one Coransee spoke to as he dismounted. He came up to them, but his people stayed back, still mounted, apparently watching for Clayarks.

“I don’t suppose you persuaded him to submit.”

“I didn’t try.”

“And you’re staying with him. I thought you were brighter than that.”

“No, you thought I was more frightened of you than that. You were mistaken.”

He turned away from her with a sound of annoyance. “Teray … do you really want to die here?”

“I’ll either die here or I’ll go on to Forsyth. Nothing is going to get me to go back to Redhill with you.”

Coransee frowned. “What did you expect to find in Forsyth, anyway?”

“Sanctuary.” Coransee would find out sooner or later anyway.

“Sanctuary? For how long?”

“Even if it was only a few months, at least I’d spend them in freedom.”

“You’d spend them learning everything you could to defeat me.”

“Only because you’ve left me no choice.”

“I left you one very simple choice and you …” Coransee stopped and took a deep breath. “There’s no point in arguing that with you again. Whether you believe it or not, though, I really don’t want to kill you. Look… I’ll give you one more choice.”

“What choice?” asked Teray suspiciously.

“Not much of one, maybe. It’s just that even with our ancestry, I find myself wondering more and more how much of a threat you could become.”

Teray ignored the implied insult in Coransee’s words. “Left alone I’d be no threat to you at all. I’ve already told you that.”

“And it still doesn’t mean a thing. It’s not your promises I’m interested in, it’s your potential, and that’s something I can only guess at. Rayal would be able to do more than guess.”

“You want Rayal to evaluate me?”

“Yes.”

“What would happen if he found out that I… that I didn’t have the potential to interfere with you?” It was a humiliating question to have to ask. No matter what words he used, he was really saying, “What will you do with me if I turn out to be too weak ever to stand against you?”

“What do you want to happen?”

“I want my freedom!”

“No more?”

“Freedom from you will be enough.”

Coransee smiled. “You wouldn’t ask me for more, no matter how much you wanted it, would you, brother?”

Teray said nothing.

“No matter. Are you willing to be judged by Rayal?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll go on to Forsyth, then. We’re nearly there and I want to see Rayal anyway. But there is one more thing. Only Rayal’s findings can free you. You go to Forsyth as my outsider.”

Teray shrugged.

“My property.”

“You’ve captured me.”

“Say the words.”

Teray stared at him in silent hatred.

“I’ve wasted enough time with you, Teray. Say the words or face me now.”

Say the words and give up any right to sanctuary in Forsyth, should Rayal’s decision leave him still in need of sanctuary. Say the words that could later be picked from his own memory and used to damn him. Or refuse to say them, and die.

“I am your outsider,” said Teray quietly. “Your property.”