Burning Bright

“Then let’s go,” Avellar said. He looked down at Blue, who was slowly opening his eyes, extended a hand to help him to his feet. Faro did the same, and together they pulled the telekinetic upright. Belfortune stepped forward without a word, took Avellar’s place. He winced when his share of Blue’s weight hit him, but made no sound.

“Let’s go,” Avellar said again, and started across the open corridor toward the hatch. The others followed, Africa still with his laser at the ready, but nothing moved to stop them.

They crowded into the narrow space, and Avellar laid his hand against the sensor panel that regulated access to the freighter’s cargo lock. There was a soft click, and then a high-pitched tone.

“Royal Avellar,” he said distinctly, and waited. A heartbeat later, the cargo lock creaked open. Familiar people, familiar faces, were waiting inside the lock, and Avellar allowed himself to relax for the first time since they had left the prison complex.

“Thank God you made it,” a well-remembered voice said, and Avellar grimaced, relief and chagrin equally mingled in his face.

“Danile. I didn’t get him.”

“I know.” The man—greying, thin, a long, heavily embroidered coat thrown over expensively plain shirt and trousers—looked back at him gravely. “But you’re safe, and alive, and well out of this place. And the rest of you, too.” His eyes swept over the others, stopped when he saw Faro. “So.” The word was little more than a hiss. “You found something you wanted more than your lands, Faro?”

Faro glared back at him, then deliberately reached out to touch Belfortune’s wounded shoulder. “Yes. And I’ve paid, Danile. I can’t go back to the Baron now.”

There was a little silence, broken by one of the crew saying urgently, “Sirs…”

Danile nodded. “All right, Faro. All of you, we have to hurry. We’re cleared for departure, let’s go while we can.”

There was a ragged murmur of agreement, and the group began to move further into the ship, following Danile and Avellar. The cargo door slid shut behind them, closing off their last view of Ixion’s Wheel.

Evening, Day 30

High Spring: Shadows, Face

Road, Dock Road District

Below the Old Dike

There was a little silence after the session ended, the images fading slowly from the VDIRT table, and then a murmur of satisfaction, of pleasure, before the applause began. Ransome joined with the rest, but long before they’d finished, he was pushing his way through the crowd to Medard-Yasine’s side. “I want to meet her, Davvi.”

Medard-Yasine looked blank for a moment, then visibly pulled himself out of the Game universe. “So long as you’re not planning to kill her, I-Jay. I want her working here.”

Ransome gave his crooked smile. “No, I wasn’t planning on it. She did a pretty good job with that scenario.” Better than pretty good; it was her players who held her back. God, wouldn’t I love to play a session, show them all how it should be done… It had been a long time since he had felt that way about any of the Game versions, and his smile widened for an instant.

“Can I quote you?” Medard-Yasine said.

“Maybe. Once I’ve met her.”

Medard-Yasine laughed. “Come on, then.”