A Cat at Bay Read online

  She could sense him reaching a decision. «Do it. I don’t have a cell or radio with me. I’m taking Hannes and getting help. God be with you both.» He closed the link.

  “Amen,” Rachel whispered before locking the shield on the child. The shield would draw power from her, but she could turn her attention away and it wouldn’t collapse.

  Freed from the distraction of extra noises in her mind, Rachel focused her attention on her patient. Blood had begun streaming down the side of his head, from under his hair. Since his spine was uninjured, she rolled him onto his back, cushioning his skull as she did so. Then she very, very carefully reached with her Gift into Helmut’s cranium, feeling for damage. “Oh steaming fewmet! Coprolitic offspring of unmarried amoebas, gn’dang’s tusking mutant!” She swore under her breath for another moment and then settled back down. Depressed skull fracture with intracerebral bleeding. Lord God, what a nightmare. As lightly as possible, she laid her hand over the dented-in part of his head, using her Gift to both pull the broken bones out of his brain and to monitor his vital signs. When nothing changed, she soothed the bruising and stanched the internal bleeding, patiently knitting torn blood vessels back together. Then she started the bones knitting.

  It was painstaking, delicate work, and something she’d only done twice on humans. If everything had gone well, and if she hadn’t missed anything, all Helmut Eszterházy would have to show for the injury would be a nasty headache and some scars. Rachel had no idea how long it had taken or if anything else happened while she worked. The light stick had burned out by the time she emerged and her legs were cramping, so it had been a few hours. Well, Lord, he’s in your hands now. Archangel Michael, patron of soldiers, if you could put in a good word for both of us I’d be grateful.

  Rachel needed to find a private spot, and after somehow getting to her feet, made her way down the tunnel until she found a semi-sheltered side excavation, where she took care of business. Now that the healing was done, could she push some rocks off the top of the pile? Her second wind gave out as she reached the foot of the cave-in, so she didn’t even bother with trying. Rachel paced back and forth to get her blood flowing again before resuming her vigil beside Helmut.

  How long she sat, listening, she wasn’t sure. Another hour or so, probably, elapsed before she caught a change in his breathing. Helmut groaned, and she half held her breath, hoping that everything had been patched correctly. “Shit, my head hurts.”

  She closed her eye. Thank you, thank you, thank you. “That’s because a rock bashed it. Don’t touch your head, please. I only just got the bleeding stopped” she fibbed, as she heard him starting to move.

  “What’s our situation?”

  “Joschka and Hannes are fine, and have gone to get help. We’re trapped on the interior side of the rock fall, and it’s blacker than the Debt Collector’s heart in here.”

  After a pause he observed, “You sound to be in one piece.”

  Helmut rustled a bit more and Rachel turned on her pocket torch to give him some light and look at his eyes. Both were the same size, so the concussion seemed to be gone. “I’m bruised and cut but nothing serious. You had a depressed skull fracture but I took care of that. I’m also holding a shield on Hannes, who was utterly terrified and projecting stronger than I’ve felt in quite a while. And a few hours have passed, but not much longer as best I can tell.”

  “Now I understand why my father only goes into our caves. Strangers’ tunnels are dangerous! And you probably don’t want to know this, but it feels like the stones are still tense and unstable.”

  She closed her eyes and shuddered. “So don’t relax, in other words. Lovely.” He struggled to sit up and she helped him lever himself upright. “Not to be completely irreverent, but will you be praying to Saint Barbara or Saint Jude?”

  Helmut thought for a while, hands caressing the stone beneath them. “Saint Barbara. The cause is not completely lost yet.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Will anything bad happen if I walk around a little?”

  “No, although you might want to keep one hand on the wall for stability. Unless you want me to come along?”

  “Ah, no, thank you. I just need to move.” He got up and slowly, carefully, walked back down the passageway.

  This is a scene out of a bad romance novel—handsome young man, single young woman, he saves her from cave-in, they are trapped in the darkness with hours until a rescue party can reach them, et cetera, et cetera. She grinned a little. Too bad I’m celibate and he’s engaged, though. Ruins the plot line.

  She was trying to ignore the sound of flowing liquid that came faintly up the corridor when a closer noise got her undivided attention. Rachel had a second to register the snap directly overhead. Then rocks pinned on her side, one arm over her head as she curled into herself for some desperate protection. She dropped her monitor link to Helmut, but that was all she could think to do. Breathe. Just breathe. Blessed Jesus, I can’t move! I’m buried, I’m alive, I can’t move. She started to fight, wanting to dig her way clear of the rocks around and on top of her. Buried alive was not how she intended to die, and she began trying to free the arm pinned beneath her. As she did, the rock shifted, packing tighter around her body, and she froze. Control now. Be calm, be centered, be detached. Be calm, be centered, be detached. Slowly, she calmed down, regaining the proper detachment all Wanderers were enjoined to maintain.

  Time to take inventory. She was alive, that much was certain. She had at least some air, also good to know. The aches and pains registering suggested that she had no spinal damage and that her limbs were still attached. However, she had little energy and could feel the cold stone of the tunnel floor leeching heat from her body.

  «Commander, can you hear me,» a faint tenor voice asked in her mind.

  «Yes. I’m still in one piece, but I’m buried and can’t move.»

  Relief flooded into her from Helmut. «Thank God! I can’t dig you out, but help is on the way and that was the last fall.» His voice grew fainter in her mind, probably because both of them were hungry and tired, she decided.

  «Glad to hear it. Helmut, I’m closing the link to save energy.»

  A quick «Roger» came back, and then she was alone again.

  Why was she getting so tired? She had been resting most of the morning, had eaten well at dinner, and should not be feeling this drained. It wasn’t as if she had been fighting or . . . drained! Oh bugger. Hannes. Damn, I know better. I keyed the shield so it would fade but he’s latched on since he doesn’t know any better. When she focused on the connection, she could feel the faint pull of energy as the child’s mind, without realizing it, drew on her energy. He’d probably latched onto the comfort of not feeling bad and was shielding himself in a crude way, using her strength.

  Joschka has got to find someone to train that boy. It was harder and harder for her to think and she tried severing the connection, but it was like trying to grab a greased metal chain with wet hands. Almost as if something was protecting the link. But that’s not possible? Should have faded with distance, too. What’s going on? She couldn’t even think anymore and just tried to relax and keep still. She started drifting off to sleep. No! Have to stay awake, can’t sleep, its not sleep, come on fight it! She managed a few more minutes of consciousness before losing the battle.

  Helmut had mentally marked where Rachel had been sitting before the second collapse. As soon as the rescue party managed to dig their way in, he directed them to the spot almost before they had gotten through the original fall. “Rachel’s there, under that large flat stone and rubble.”

  Adele had come with the men and she inspected Helmut. “Did she say what hit you?”

  He took a drink of water, started to shake his head and instantly regretted the attempt. “A large rock. I think she said a depressed skull fracture, if that makes sense.”

  “Then you probably owe her your life, judging by the size of the cut area. How do you feel otherwise?”

 
; He shrugged. “Fine, my lady. Rachel said that Hannes and the Graf-General are unhurt?”

  Adele nodded, but looked away. “Just after they reached the Schloss, Leopold’s company chaplain called. Leopold’s APC ran over an IED.”

  “Blessed Lord! My lady, do you know how he’s doing?”

  “Not yet. Joschka is hovering over the phone, so I came.”

  The rescue foreman called, “Found her! And she’s alive!” The miners and mountain rescue workers carefully excavated the rocks from around the crumpled form and Adele clambered over the pile, medical bag banging her hip. The men cleared her a space and the former emergency-room nurse examined Rachel, first physically, then with her Talent. «Commander, can you hear me?» No reply, but Adele sensed a hint of awareness somewhere, and tried again. «Commander, report!»

  That worked, and a very faint voice whispered, «Alive for the moment. Sever the link to Hannes.»

  “My lady, do I need to call for an ambulance?” a rescue tech asked.

  “Hmmm. No. We have facilities at the Schloss enough to take care of her, and it will be easier to airlift her out from there if need be.” As she spoke, Adele laid a hand on Rachel’s forehead and reached for the link. Helmut joined her efforts, helping the older woman see the tie, which she severed.

  Rachel started waking up shortly before the rescue party reached the Schloss. She heard Adele’s voice say, “Take Lady Rachel to the castle’s infirmary. Helmut, get cleaned up and then report there as well.” Rachel dozed off again, then roused as someone wiped dirt off her face.

  “Where?”

  “The Schloss infirmary. What did you do to Hannes and Helmut?” Adele’s warm fingers brushed Rachel’s facial scar and she flinched.

  “Ow. He had a depressed skull fracture, three centimeters deep, so wide,” she spread her fingers. “I Healed him. Imposed a shield on Hannes, keyed to when he calmed down or Joschka added one of his own.”

  Adele’s pen skritched on paper. “I’ll triple check Helmut, then. Go back to sleep. You’re drained, but no concussion. That’s an order.”

  Rachel let herself wake up just before sunset. She was alone in the infirmary and she ran through an internal and external check, pleased to find everything close to normal, aside from dehydration, hunger, and a nasty muscle bruise on one leg. Someone had left her a set of clothes and she dressed quickly but carefully. Someone had also gotten her cleaned up and she hoped they had not been too upset by what they found. Rachel’s utility belt and pouches lay on a table near the bed, and she slung them on before beginning an inventory of the contents. What’s this? Huh, interesting. She pulled a topaz-looking crystal out of the largest pouch and studied it. Cut and polished stones do not fall out of ceilings. I wonder whom it’s for.

  She also found a note, in Adele’s handwriting. “Rachel: food is waiting in the kitchen. Joschka’s in the chapel, but don’t disturb him. Leopold’s APC hit an IED. Are waiting for news. Hannes and Helmut are fine. A.”

  After eating, Rachel limped onto the terrace where she and the count and countess had chatted the first night of her visit. I am not going anywhere near Joschka or anyone else, not as tired as I am. Sticking my hand in a bonfire would burn less. Too frustrated to sit, she paced until she felt tired. She perched on the stone retaining wall, one leg dangling and kicking the rocks. As a distraction, she put on her thin leather gloves and pulled the crystal out of her pouch, turning it back and forth in the waning evening light. “Who are you for, you pretty thing, I wonder? Not for me, that much I can tell. And what do you do, hmmmm?” If the piece had been smaller, she would have thought about setting it as a pendant, had it been hers to play with. “You’d go well with some of my formal court dresses. Or perhaps mounted into a new cane, as a focus?”

  As she turned and watched the pale ice-blue gem, a small ginger-blond boy snuck out the doors to the terrace and walked to where Rachel perched. She continued playing with the stone, pretending not to see him. Hannes studied her solemnly and asked, “What’s that?”

  She acted surprised and smiled. “I’m not sure, Master Hannes. Maybe you can tell me. Why don’t you come up here and take a look at it.”

  “Mama says I’m not supposed to climb on the wall.”

  Rachel looked around for an adult and found none. “Well, sitting is different from climbing, and you can tell her an adult asked you to. That way she’ll get mad at me instead of you.”

  His green eyes brightened and he clambered onto the waist-high barrier. She held the stone up for him to see, turning it this way and that. He watched it, asking, “Why are you wearing gloves?”

  “Because I do not think this crystal is supposed to belong to me and I don’t want to give it anything by accident.”

  Hannes cocked his head to the side. “Where did you find it?”

  “I didn’t find it, Hannes—it found me. Someone put it into my bag while Col. Eszterházy and I were waiting for people to move the rocks. But it’s not mine. I’m supposed to give it to someone and I don’t know who.”

  He grinned. “Maybe its for Opapa! This is his house and land.”

  She thought about it. No, I don’t think so. “Maybe. Why don’t you take it and see if you can tell anything. You know more about rocks than I do.”

  “Is it safe?”

  Rachel held it out to him. “Very safe. This is a ‘help rock’, not a ‘hurt rock’.”

  A small hand reached forward and picked the beautiful crystal off her palm. The stone flashed then faded. “It likes me!”

  She slumped a little with relief. “It certainly does, young man! And I think we’d better get off the wall before your Mama finds us.”

  The unlikely pair hopped down and Hannes pocketed the gem. After a moment he looked up at her. “Is it true that you know things Mama and Opapa don’t?”

  The Wanderer flinched inside. Who or what told you that, Hannes? “Sometimes I do, Hannes, just like Colonel Eszterházy and your Opapa know things that I don’t. Why?”

  “Mama said that bad people tried to hurt Papa, and Opapa is scared and praying for him. But you’re not worried, are you?”

  She knelt and put her hands on the boy’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “Yes, I am. But when I was not much older than you are, I went to school to learn how to keep other people from feeling what I’m feeling.” Among other things.

  “Can the bad people come here?”

  “No. Your Papa and Col. Eszterházy, your Opapa and Tante Adele, and I are going to keep them away. And I think we’d better go inside before your Mama gets mad at us for staying out too late, hmm?”

  As she stood up and started ushering the boy towards the door, he looked back at her. “Oh, are you like Papa?”

  “Yes. I’m like your Papa, and Opapa, and Col. Eszterházy.”

  “There you are, Hannes,” Lise said, swooping down on her son. “Time for bed, young man. Again.”

  Feeling very much at loose ends, Rachel got a large bottle of water from the kitchen and settled down in a corner of the library. The case holding the remote communications link to her ship chirped and she pulled out the cell-phone-looking device and thumbed the screen open. “Contact the Palace. Ah drat.” But not tonight, she thought, sticking her tongue out at the grey-and-black box.

  She read a few pages in a not-too-bad family history and cogitated about the last twenty-four hours’ events. She was more than a touch angry with whatever had put the crystal into her pouch. There had been no need to flatten her with rocks in order to get the stone to her.

  Rachel closed the book. I need to soak in hot water, preferably up to my chin, without anyone bothering me. She tried to get up and managed that much, but after the second step her knee started to buckle. Oh, blast, and I don’t have my cane, and since this is not England, there aren’t any spares tucked in decorative umbrella stands littering the halls. She kept one hand on the wall, stopping to lean every few meters. She navigated through the great hall and stopped at the foot of the main stairca
se, peering up into the shadowy heights. It got taller this afternoon. And steeper. Maybe I should shift form and go up on three legs instead of just one. She rejected the idea. No, no point in spooking anyone. Plus it’s only one and a half flights.

  She couldn’t even reach the second step. As soon as she put her full weight onto her bad leg, an all-too-familiar pain shot up into her hip and she had to grab the railing to keep from falling. Bloody farking illegitimate son of a dockside professional and a politician, that hurts! Gads, I hate these sodding antique architectural follies. She managed a controlled descent onto the carpeted landing and rubbed the offending joint. Blessed Lord, no offense, but when I come home for good, I really want to ask You why the med tank can’t just heal me like it does a normal Wanderer. Except that I just answered my own question. Grrrrrr. She snarled low in the back of her throat before sighing.

  Problem: inability to bear weight and railing not able to take enough mass to allow ascent. Solution: call for help, or nap on the step and wait for someone to trip over her? Just once I’d like to not get shot at, beat up, threatened, or inundated with rocks. Or paperwork. Is that really too much to ask?

  She left off massaging blood into and out of her knee and leaned against the ornate banister on the landing. As she sat, she could hear the night noises of the old castle. Not too far away, she sensed Lise praying, Joschka pacing, and Adele watching him while trying to be busy. And someone approaching from the top of the stairs. She twisted around to see Hannes clutching a toy animal of some kind and making his way down in the darkness. She called very quietly, “Master Hannes, shouldn’t you be asleep?”

  The six-year-old spooked, then recognized her and stopped beside her. “I can’t.”

  She patted the landing tread, and he sat. “Do you want to tell me why not? Or do you want me to call your Opapa or Tante Adele?”

  Hannes looked up at her with an all-too-mature expression and she winced inside, wondering what he had been picking up from all the grown-ups. “Promise not to tell Mama?”