Patternmaster

The thought bothered Teray enough so that amid a nerve-shattering but otherwise ineffective volley of shots, he rode close to Amber and spoke to her.

“Keep your eyes open. I have a feeling we’re going to have to take shelter sooner or later. And we’re not going to have time to look around for it when we need it.”

She nodded. “You think they’re going to try to pin us down, then?”

“I’m sure they are. They know by now that we’re not a linked group. We can’t just reach out and send all of them to the hell they believe in. They want Coransee and me.” He had told her about his talk with the Clayark. “And they know they’re numerous enough now to take us—along with any other Patternists they can reach, of course.”

“If you’re right, they must have an ambush planned somewhere ahead.”

“Either that or they’re just trying to work up enough nerve to come and get us. It won’t be easy for them even though we aren’t linked. An awful lot of them will die whether they get us or not.”

She said nothing for a long moment. Then

finally, “There are some ruined buildings ahead. Just around the bend. No Clayarks inside—no sign of their having been inside recently.”

Teray probed ahead and found the ruins. “Good. That’s the kind of thing we’ll need. I’ll look too. It might be better to use your eyes, though. You’ll need all the rest of your awareness for the Clayarks.”

“I can manage both.”

He glanced at her. She probably could with her healer’s propensity for poking around inside and outside of things. Fine.

A moment later, as they rounded a bend, they came within sight of the ruins Amber had spotted. These were just the shells of a cluster of buildings. They were ahead of the Patternists and farther inland, away from the trail. Roofless and half demolished as they were, they could provide shelter.

The shooting had died down a little now. Most of it seemed to come from behind them, where there were hills and trees for cover. Most of the land before them now was flat and empty, covered only by tall, slowly dying grass and an occasional tree. The territory around Forsyth was semiarid. Redhill was lush and green all year, but now, in late spring, this land was turning brown.

A few yards away from the Patternists on one side was a sheer drop of about five meters. Beyond that was a slender ribbon of sand, and the ocean. The Clayarks could not shoot from that

direction. In front of the Patternists and to their other side there was little cover beyond the dying grass—and the buildings, of course. But they were definitely empty. It looked as though the Clayarks would have to wait until the Patternists turned inland toward Forsyth. Not until then would there be more hills—the low hills that surrounded the sector itself. Teray could feel a general relaxation in the group.

The shot caught everyone off guard. Coransee’s horse stumbled and went down. Amber’s horse reared, out of control for a second, and the next shot went through Amber’s left hand. Teray, fearful that she would be shot again, ignored the fallen Coransee and whipped out in search of the sniper. He could not find the creature, but he did discover the place from which the Clayark probably had fired. It was a dark round hole in the ground. Teray traced it down with his perception and discovered beneath the ground a network of tunnels. Doubtless they were ancient mute structures, dangerous now, even partially collapsed. But obviously the Clayarks had found them usable.

Coransee’s horse was dead, a bullet lodged in its brain. The Housemaster took Amber’s horse and ordered Amber to ride with Teray. They rode only the short distance to the ruins, though. It was time for a rest stop, and Amber needed a protected place to repair her shattered hand. Teray needed a protected place too—to do what it was certainly time for him to do.

He sat down beside Amber on the grassy floor of

the building shell. She had chosen a spot as far as she could get from the others and began to repair her hand. Her injury bothered him because healing it would leave her weakened. She had to be strong if she was to have any chance of finishing Coransee—if he left Coransee in need of finishing. On the other hand, he could not tell her to get ready, that he was about to attack. Not while there was still the possibility, however slim, of surprising Coransee. If she had been still linked with him, she would already know, and her emotional reaction would alert Coransee— and the fighting might already be over.

“I came over here to avoid spoiling anybody’s lunch,” she told him. “You won’t like this either, but stay anyway.”

“Won’t like what?”

She opened her mouth as though to answer, but instead made a kind of wordless exclamation. “There,” she said.

Teray’s eyes were drawn automatically to her wounded hand where it lay in her lap, covered by her other hand. He looked at it, then back up at her quickly, in surprise.