Soothsayer Page 19

  “Pictures? Images? Whole scenes?”

  “I can't explain it,” answered the girl. “It's just much more complicated than it was.” She paused, frowning. “You'd think it would get easier now that I'm getting bigger.”

  “Maybe you're getting more powerful,” suggested the Mouse. “Maybe you see more things and can influence more things.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “It's possible.”

  “Then why can't I always understand what I see?” asked Penelope.

  “Because you're still a little girl, and you don't have enough experience to know all the things that you're seeing, all the permutations of each choice you make.”

  “I don't know what you mean.”

  The Mouse smiled. “When you do, then perhaps you'll also know what you're seeing.”

  “I hope so,” said Penelope earnestly. “It's very confusing. I used to see everything so very clearly. Now there are some things that I don't see at all, that I just seem to know, and other things that I don't understand.”

  “I'm sure someday it will all make sense,” said the Mouse.

  “I'm glad you can't see what I see, Mouse,” said Penelope. “Sometimes it can be very confusing—and scary.”

  “Scary?”

  Penelope nodded. “I can see the Iceman and the Forever Kid finding us, and I can see the Yankee Clipper killing you when he finds out.”

  “Oh?” said the Mouse apprehensively.

  “I won't let it happen,” said Penelope. “There are lots of other futures.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “But I don't understand all of them.”

  “Just pick one in which I don't get killed, and I'll settle for it,” said the Mouse.

  “You won't get killed,” Penelope assured her.

  “Are Carlos and the Kid on Calliope already?” asked the Mouse.

  “I don't know,” said the girl. “But I know they'll find this room by tonight, so if they're not here, they're very close.” Suddenly she tensed.

  “What is it?”

  “In some of the futures they die, and in some they don't.”

  “Let's hope for one in which they don't,” said the Mouse.

  “That's what I'm seeing now,” said Penelope.

  “Then why do you look so upset?”

  “Because if they both come into this room, they're going to try to kill each other.”

  “Why?” asked the Mouse, puzzled.

  “Because of me.”

  “You're absolutely sure?”

  Penelope frowned. “No. The Iceman hasn't made up his mind yet.”

  “About what?”

  “About whether to kill me or not.”

  “Well, if he tries, the Kid won't let him.”

  Penelope closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate. Finally she opened them, visibly shaken.

  “I don't know. I can't see who wins.”

  “Carlos is a middle-aged man who probably hasn't fought anyone in years,” said the Mouse. “The Kid is a professional killer. I've seen him in action. There's no way that Carlos can beat him.”

  “I still can't see,” repeated Penelope. Suddenly she started trembling. “We have to get away from here, Mouse.”

  “That's what I keep saying.”

  “You don't understand,” said the girl urgently. “I don't want to be here when the Iceman gets here. If he wants me dead, and he can kill the Forever Kid, I'm not strong enough to stop him yet.”

  “Yet?” repeated the Mouse.

  “Someday I may be, but not yet.” Penelope's face was ashen white. “Don't let him kill me, Mouse!”

  “I won't,” said the Mouse, putting her arms around the frightened little girl, and wondering how strong Penelope planned to become if she lived long enough.

  22.

  The door slid open and the Yankee Clipper stepped into the parlor.

  “I'm sorry to trouble you lovely ladies,” he said. “We'll be just a minute.”

  He was followed by a pair of bounty hunters Mouse recognized from Westerly. One of them took a couple of steps toward Penelope, who stared at him curiously but without any trace of fear, then nodded to the pirate. A moment later both bounty hunters left.

  “The interested parties are beginning to arrive,” explained the Yankee Clipper. “Each, of course, wants to make sure that I can really deliver Penelope Bailey, so I'm afraid we'll be intruding upon your privacy from time to time.”

  “I can tell how it upsets you,” said the Mouse sardonically.

  “Believe it or not, I take no pleasure in selling human beings,” said the pirate. “But we're talking about a great deal of money here—and frankly, I'll feel much safer once she's halfway across the galaxy.” He paused. “And of course, she's not being sold into slavery. Given the price that she commands, I'm sure she'll be treated with the utmost consideration and kept in luxury.” He smiled again. “At least, it comforts me to think so.”

  He left the parlor, and one of his guards entered a moment later.

  Penelope busied herself dressing Maryanne with the new clothes she had ordered earlier in the day, while the Mouse activated the holovision and tried to concentrate on the results of the day's seemingly endless procession of sporting events. Twice more the Yankee Clipper brought people up to the suite—once it was a member of the Democracy's military, once a nondescript woman who might have been anything from a bureaucrat to a bounty hunter—and finally the Mouse ordered lunch for herself and Penelope.

  A waiter from room service arrived about ten minutes later, guiding a small aircart that held their meals. He waited patiently while the guard searched him, then walked across the room to the polished hardwood table where the Mouse was sitting.

  “Your lunch, madam,” said the waiter.

  The moment she heard his voice the Mouse turned from the holoscreen to look at his face.

  The waiter, his back to the guard, winked at her and smiled, and suddenly the Mouse felt an enormous sense of relief.

  “Where will the young lady be taking her lunch?” asked the waiter.

  “Right here,” answered the Mouse, hoping that her voice didn't reflect her excitement.

  “As you wish,” said the waiter, arranging a place setting for Penelope, who was still playing with Maryanne and seemed oblivious to his presence.

  “Excuse me,” said the waiter, turning to the guard, “but there seems to be an extra dessert here. Would you care for it?” He smiled ingratiatingly. “There will, of course, be no additional charge.”

  The guard shrugged. “Why not?”

  The waiter placed a covered dish at the far end of the table.

  “Bring it over,” said the guard.

  “Certainly,” said the waiter. He picked up the dish and walked across the room, stopping in front of the guard.

  “What is it?” asked the guard.

  “One moment, sir,” said the waiter, removing the lid from the dish and handing it to the guard.

  The guard leaned forward to take the dish, and suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of a small laser pistol.

  “Where the hell did you get that?” he demanded.

  “The hand is quicker than the eye,” replied the waiter. He reached over his head with his free hand and suddenly pulled a bouquet of flowers out of the air. “Take a sniff,” he said, holding them up to the guard's nose. “I know they're not roses, but this is less painful and less permanent than forcing me to use the gun.”

  “What are you—?” began the guard, who collapsed before he could complete his question.

  The waiter looked at the unconscious body for a moment, then tossed the bouquet on top of it and turned to face the Mouse and Penelope.

  “Hi, Merlin,” said Penelope.

  “Am I ever glad to see you!” said the Mouse, getting to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

  “Save your questions for later,” said Merlin. “We're got to move fast. I shorted out the monitoring device just
before I entered the suite, but it'll only take them a couple of minutes to figure out that it's not an electronic failure.”

  “Are the other guards still outside in the corridor?” asked the Mouse.

  Merlin nodded. “Mean-looking bunch. There's no way we can get out past them.”

  He walked to the window and examined it. “Is it rigged?” he asked the Mouse.

  “Of course not,” she answered. “We're seventeen floors up. Who is going to break in?”

  “You've got a point,” admitted Merlin.

  As they were speaking, Merlin examined the huge picture window, then made a fist and pressed his ring up against the glass, very near the bottom. “I just love magician's props,” he said with a grin.

  The Mouse could hear the whirring of a tiny motor inside the ring, and it cut through the glass with no difficulty. Merlin completed about 320 degrees of a large circle, perhaps 30 inches in diameter, then reached into his pocket for a small suction device, which he attached to the glass. He then cut the remainder of the circle, and used the device to pull the glass into the room.

  “Even if the building has enough handholds, someone's bound to see me before I climb down to the ground,” said the Mouse. “And even if no one saw me, there's no way the two of you could follow me down the side of a building.”

  “You're not going down, you're going up,” said Merlin.

  “Up?” she repeated.

  He nodded. “This is the penthouse. The roof's about eight feet above the window.”

  “And what about you and Penelope?”

  Merlin took off his timepiece and pressed a hidden release.

  “Here,” he said, withdrawing a thin, incredibly strong wire from the band and attaching it to the Mouse's waist. “It's a titanium alloy with a tight molecular bonding; it'll hold more than a ton before it snaps. Once you get to the roof, tie your end to something secure, and then Penelope and I will climb up.”

  “You can't climb hand-over-hand on that thing,” said the Mouse. “It'll cut right through your fingers.”

  Merlin smiled. “I won't have to. There's a little pulley mechanism in there that'll reel the wire in.”

  “It'll dislocate your arm.”

  He smiled. “I'm wearing a harness beneath my waiter's jacket. I'll be fine.”

  The Mouse looked unconvinced. “Have you ever tried this stunt before?”

  “No ... but I got the wristband from a friend who does it every night in the circus.”

  “Why did he part with it?”

  “He was in hospital getting a pair of prosthetic legs,” answered Merlin. “He hadn't any use for it.” He saw her worried expression. “He was there because of a different trick, not this one.”

  “I don't know...” said the Mouse.

  “Please, Mouse,” said Penelope. “We have to hurry!”

  “All right,” said the Mouse instantly.

  She ducked her head, stepped through the hole in the window onto the ledge, quickly and expertly found some handholds and footholds, and began making her way up the outer wall of the building.

  “Careful,” whispered Merlin, more to himself than to the Mouse, who was now halfway to the roof. “Careful.”

  “It's all right,” said Penelope, picking up Maryanne from the floor, where she had been playing with her before Merlin arrived. “She's not going to fall.”

  “I wish I was as sure as you,” said Merlin, craning his neck to watch the Mouse.

  Penelope walked over to the table and calmly ate one of the sandwiches that Merlin had delivered in his guise as a hotel waiter.

  “Don't you give a damn what happens to her?” he demanded irritably when he saw what she was doing.

  “I told you—she's not going to fall.”

  “You'd better be right,” he said. “Because if you're not, I'm not only going to lose a partner, but you and I are still stuck in this room.”

  Penelope held a final bite of the sandwich up to Maryanne's mouth, then placed it on the table and carefully dabbed at the doll's lips with a linen napkin. Then she tucked the doll under her arm and walked to the window.

  “She should be there now,” she announced.

  “She is,” said Merlin with a sigh of relief. He turned to Penelope. “Let's figure out the logistics here. We can't both fit through the hole together, and if we break the glass and it crashes down to the street, we'll give ourselves away.” He examined the window again. “Grab a couple of napkins from the table.”

  Penelope smiled and held up the napkins she had brought with her.

  “So you figured it out, too?” he said. “Smart kid.” He attached the wire to his harness. “Be very careful going through the hole here. Then, once you're on the ledge, wrap your hands in the napkins and hold onto the edge of the glass while I climb through.” His gaze went from the girl to the ledge to the roof and back again. “I don't suppose you're strong enough to hold on to my back?”

  “I don't think so,” answered Penelope.

  “All right,” he continued after a moment's thought. “Once I get out on the ledge too, I'll lift you up until you can wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. That way I'll be able to keep an arm around you as well.” He paused. “Try not to worry. It won't take us very long once the pulley mechanism starts working.”

  “I'm not worried at all,” said Penelope.

  “I wish I could say the same,” muttered Merlin. “Everything should work, but this is the Mouse's specialty. I've never done anything like this.”

  “We'll be fine.”

  He felt the cord jerk against his harness; the Mouse was signaling him that she had secured her end on the roof.

  “I hope so,” he said. “Put the doll down and I'll lift you through the hole.”

  “Maryanne goes where I go,” said Penelope.

  “It's just a doll,” said Merlin. “I'll buy you another.”

  “I don't want another. I want her.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged and sighed. “Okay, give her to me and I'll put her in a pocket.”

  “No you won't,” said Penelope. “You'll leave her behind.”

  “All right—carry her yourself,” said Merlin irritably. “See if I give a damn.”

  He guided Penelope through the hole in the window, while she clutched Maryanne to her chest. Then he maneuvered her until she was balanced on the narrow window ledge. She grasped the edge of the glass with a napkin-wrapped hand while the other held the doll.

  A moment later Merlin was standing on the ledge beside her, and then, with the Mouse guiding them, they began their ascent. For a instant they got caught at the edge of the roof, and Merlin was absolutely certain the titanium cord would break or the pulley mechanism would fail, but eventually, with the Mouse's help, they reached the temporary safety of the roof.

  “Follow me,” said the Mouse, as Merlin stood, hands on knees, gasping for breath, and Penelope inspected Maryanne for abrasions.

  Merlin nodded and forced himself to follow the Mouse and Penelope across the rooftop. When they reached the edge, they looked down some 60 feet at the rooftop of an adjacent building.

  “We can't chance taking the firestairs here,” explained the Mouse, “because we might run into the Yankee Clipper's men in the lobby. I think our best bet is to get to the building next door and leave through its lobby. How long is that cord of yours, Merlin?”

  “Long enough to reach that rooftop, anyway.”

  The Mouse smiled. “Don't look so worried. Going down is much easier than going up.”

  “Faster, at least,” he muttered.

  They were both right: it was easier and it was faster, and five minutes later the three of them walked down the firestairs to the ground floor.

  23.

  The stairwell let them out in the bustling lobby of an office building. Most of the shopping arcade seemed to consist of local travel agencies, but there was also a small branch bank and a clothing store that specialized in safari o
utfits.

  “How did you find us?” asked the Mouse, as they walked to the main exit. “In fact, how did you even know we were on Calliope?”

  “Later,” said Merlin, looking around. “Let's put a little distance between us and your pirate friend first.”

  He summoned a groundcab, asked the driver to recommend an inexpensive family hotel near one of the smaller entertainment complexes at the south end of town, and they rode in silence until they reached the hotel some fifteen minutes later.

  Merlin walked up to the desk, explained that there had been a mix-up at the spaceport and that their luggage would be arriving that evening or the next morning, and booked two adjoining bedrooms. No comment was made: misplaced luggage was a common occurrence, given the quantity of luggage that had to move through the spaceport, and certainly the three of them appeared to be a typical family, operating on a budget but still determined to enjoy those features of Calliope that they could afford.

  When they reached their rooms and opened the connecting door between them, Penelope approached the Mouse. “I saw some little girls outside on the play equipment,” she said. “Can I go play with them?”

  The Mouse shook her head. “I'm afraid not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because those little girls don't have 18 pirates and half the bounty hunters in the Cluster looking for them, and you do. We can't take a chance that someone might identify you.”

  “No one will,” said Penelope. “Not today.”

  “You're sure?” said the Mouse.

  “Yes.”

  “You're taking her word for it?” demanded Merlin.

  “Of course,” said the Mouse.

  “If she's spotted, we're all in trouble,” continued the magician, and suddenly the Mouse remembered that he was unaware of her extraordinary power, that they had parted before Penelope had demonstrated it for the first time.

  “She won't be spotted,” said the Mouse. “If you won't trust her, then trust me.”

  Merlin placed a hand on Penelope's shoulder and waited until she turned to face him.

  “You be very careful now,” he said. “And if you see anyone staring at you, you come right back here and let me know.”

  “Nobody will stare at me,” replied Penelope.

  “I'm sure they won't,” said the Mouse, before Merlin could protest. “Go on out and play.”