Night-Fever ducked in through the door-flap of Steve’s hut and knelt before him. The flickering light from the fire-stone raying upwards onto her face made it look like one of the snarling carved and coloured demons that decorated the religious shrines of the Iron Masters.
During his last stay with the M’Calls, the fearsome-looking She-Wolf had developed a soft spot for Steve and, in Clearwater’s absence, had appointed herself as his cook, go-fer and bed-warmer. She had, apparently, failed to find a permanent partner during the months he had spent in Ne-Issan, and following his return with Cadillac and her journey with him to the trading post, she had prepared a hut for him with loving care.
Brought up in a society where – apart from the role of guard-mother – men and women enjoyed absolute equality (the Federation, for example, took no account of gender differences in its provision of communal toilets and wash-rooms) Steve was not used to having a female adopt a subservient domestic role.
At first, it had caused him some embarrassment, but the primitive life-style of the Mutes brought with it a host of chores that, given his Tracker upbringing, he would have preferred to do without. In the Federation, where everything was highly organized, heating came through ducts, hot food was constantly available, water was on tap, and the only life-forms moving under the bedclothes had two legs.
Out here, on the overground, the basic necessities had to be thought about every day. And that included choosing a spot to make your bowel movements. Apart from the last item, Night-Fever took care of everything. Steve couldn’t figure out why, but he admired her dedication and showed his appreciation in every way except in the one area that might have left Night-Fever feeling totally fulfilled.
‘Cadillac asks if you will speak with him.’
‘Is he alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell him I’ll be right out.’
Having heard about their last angry exchange at which knives were almost drawn, Night-Fever planted herself outside the door-flap. Anyone exiting from the low huts had to bend double, or drop to their hands and knees – making it difficult for that brief moment to defend themselves from an angry caller. Such attacks were rare but they were not unknown.
On this occasion, Steve did not require the protection offered by her muscular knife-arm. Cadillac, who was no stranger to Mute body-language – had taken several diplomatic paces backwards and, as Steve emerged, he raised his hands, placing both palms together then opening them towards his rival – the open-handed greeting that was a sign of peace.
Steve stepped towards him and exchanged the ritual grips and hand-slaps used by warriors.
‘I may have misjudged you,’said Cadillac, with what appeared to be genuine regret.
Steve responded with an understanding smile. ‘I have a feeling both of us said things we didn’t mean.’
‘Can we talk?’
‘Sure. Come on in …’
Night-Fever held the door-flap open for them. ‘Shall I prepare food?’
Steve questioned Cadillac with his eyes then said: ‘No. Go to your sisters by the fire-circle and wait for my call.’
Night-Fever nodded obediently, her face glowing in response to the brief smile he gave her as their eyes met. Amazing, thought Steve – how some people react to even the slightest hint of kindness or affection. If she had a tail, she’d be wagging it – just like Baz. The memory of the wolf cub’s sudden end in Malone’s hands flashed through Steve’s mind, leaving a trail of bitterness in its wake.
Seated on talking mats inside the hut, Steve watched Cadillac stare at the flame in the firestone – and waited. With his eyes still averted, Cadillac said: ‘You’re right. I am scared they won’t follow me.’
‘You shouldn’t be. You heard what Awesome-Wells told the clan gathering. The Old One named you as his successor and called upon them to heed your words. He’s a tough act to follow, but we should do as he said and go for it.’
Cadillac faced up to Steve. ‘I know! But it’s not as simple as that!’
‘Who said it was going to be simple!’
‘Brickman, just for once, keep quiet and listen to me. And remember I know everything you’ve ever learnt about wagon-trains. Neither you nor I know what Malone and that bunch of killers on board Red River are cooking up. And from what you’ve said so far, your kin-sister doesn’t have much of a clue either.
‘Maybe she can use this new power she has to help us but it’s virtually untried. These hallucinations for instance – can she apply them selectively? It’s not going to be much use if the good guys and bad guys end up sharing the same nightmare.’
Steve shrugged. ‘I don’t think even she knows exactly what she’s capable of.’
‘Which places another question mark over the operation when what we need are answers.’ He raised his hands to cut off Steve’s reply. ‘Okay, okay, maybe she will be able to help. What you haven’t faced up to is the sheer size of the problem. The actual physical dimensions of the wagon-train itself, the number of people on board and its weapon-systems – especially its defences.’
‘You mean the steam jets …’
‘And the rest. Malone thought he was talking to an idiot but here’s the plan he sold me. A hundred of us – fifty renegades and fifty Mutes, including you, Mr Snow and myself – dressed up in the Trail-Blazer uniforms we captured, are going to pose as this signals outfit being pursued by a large posse of Mutes –’
‘Is Malone going to be handling the radio traffic?’
‘Yehh … Here’s the picture. As the light starts to fade, he puts out a May-Day and we move in towards Red River –’
‘Who drops a ramp …’
Cadillac’s lips tightened. ‘Brickman – am I telling you this story, or are you telling me?’
‘Sorry, go on …’
‘The wagon-train lays down covering fire. The pursuing Mutes fall back and fade into the bush. We go up the ramp – and all of us are wearing a coloured armband so we’ll know who’s who – then, when we get to the top, we split into three groups. One will hold the ramp and the immediate area around it on the lower floor, the other two will go up onto the middle and top floors and start blasting their way through to the front and rear of the train.
‘Malone is going to override the ramp controls so that it stays down and deactivate the operating system that feeds steam to the jets under the wagons –’
‘And Mr Snow?’
‘We’d left that open. I told Malone he would do whatever was appropriate in the circumstances. He obviously wasn’t going to produce a storm inside the train –’
‘Wouldn’t be a bad idea …’
‘Perhaps not. But since he’s dead he can’t help us. Are you going to allow me to continue or not?’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘The immediate objective is to seize two complete wagons – so we can drop a second ramp – and get through the doors into those beyond.
‘As soon as this is achieved, a group will go out through the top hatches onto the roof and release green flares – the signal which will bring the rest of the clan out of hiding and onto the train. With the steam jets deactivated, they’ll come screaming up the ramps and …’
‘Goodbye Red River …’
‘That’s what Malone would like us to think,’ said Cadillac. ‘Spot the deliberate mistake.’
‘Mmmm, well, apart from the basic problem of how a force of one hundred men – fifty of whom are operating in a totally alien environment – can overcome a whole battalion –’
‘No, that’s obvious. That’s why we needed the Old One.’
‘Now you’re interrupting me!’ cried Steve.
Cadillac motioned him to continue.
‘There are two major flaws in the plan. Malone can override the ramp controls and hold it down. That’s a standard EOP. So is the steam-jet cut-off. But that’s automatic. The jets under the closed wagons can still be used to pipe steam if needed but whenever a ramp goes down the jets under that wagon are deactivated. Otherwise things could get kinda messy.
‘There’s a cut-off button on a panel at the top of the ramp on each side. Its main function is to reassure the dog-soldiers waiting to go into action. When the ramp-master gets the green, he hits the “STEAM OFF” button and it lights up to confirm that the jets under that wagon are off line.
‘That’s all fine as far as it goes. But you’ve got problems on the roof. You can get onto it – provided you can operate the emergency hatches – but your people won’t be up there long. The front and rear command cars have dorsal turrets with six-barrelled 20 milimetre Vulcan cannon covering the roof from both ends. You won’t be able to knock them out unless you get into both command cars – and we aint gonna do that with a hundred men split three ways. We’re already outnumbered ten to one. We don’t have enough men to hold all three floors and every stairwell. They’ll just fall back and come round behind us.’
‘Precisely. And the other deliberate mistake?’
Steve laughed. ‘What is this – some kind of a test?’
‘Just answer the question, Brickman.’
‘Even if we got onto the train, took the two wagons and lowered a second ramp and had Mr Snow helping us we still couldn’t capture Red River.’
‘Why?’
‘Because both ends of the wagon-train can operate independently! All the wagon-master has to do is to activate the door seals on either side of the wagons we’re in, uncouple the front and rear sections of the train and roll ’em away. We’d be left trapped like fish in a barrel!’
‘So for us to have even an outside chance, both command cars have to be immobilized first …’
‘Yeah. But you won’t flatten one of those tyres with a cross-bow bolt or a rifle bullet.’
‘I know that.’
‘There’s another problem. Even if you immobilised the train, knocked out the dorsal turrets and held the two wagons long enough to get onto the roof and give the green light, how are the rest of the clan going to get aboard? All the side turrets will still be working – and presumably the steam-jets. The M’Calls’ll be chopped to pieces on the way in!’
‘But it’s getting dark.’
‘The gunners have infra-red sights! And your people’ll be funnelling in towards those two ramps.’
‘The guns … are they all air-powered weapons?’
‘No. The 20 and 40 millimetre Vulcan cannons use what we call caseless ammunition. An explosive charge in a closed breech drives the shell up the barrel. Like a rocket only different.’
‘But they’re power-operated turrets …’
‘Yeah, they use electric motors to traverse –’
‘And the six-barrels that spin round …’
‘They’re driven by an electric motor.’
‘So if there was no electricity they couldn’t fire …’
‘That’s right.’
‘I see … So if we were to immobilize the command cars to prevent the train from splitting up and cut the steam lines and the power as we go up the first ramp, we’ve got a fighting chance.’
‘A slim one,’ conceded Steve. He laughed. ‘I thought you were trying to find reasons for not attacking the train.’
Cadillac gestured wearily. ‘I knew it couldn’t be as simple as Malone made out. I wanted to hear you say it.’
‘So it was a test! Goddammit, Caddy! What more do I have to do to prove I’m on your side?!’
‘I don’t know. Despite everything you’ve done there’s … something about you that doesn’t hang together.’
‘What is it, for crissakes?!’
‘Well, I know I’m a wordsmith but it’s hard to describe. At times it’s almost as if you were two people. One of you seems to be trying to help us and the other one’s working for the Federation.’
‘Pretending to work for the Federation.’
‘That’s what I call the good side. I think the other side wants to. On the other hand I could be letting personal feelings cloud my judgement.’ Cadillac shrugged. ‘Time will tell.’
‘If we’re gonna get our act together it’d better be sooner than later,’ snapped Steve. ‘Cos I’m getting mightily pissed off with all this character analysis shit! If you don’t want to attack Red River tell me now and we can cut out all this frigging around! Malone can tell Mother we couldn’t swing it. I’ll do what I suggested earlier – go back into the Federation with Clearwater and Roz and try and get them out some other way.’
‘I’m not saying I don’t want to attack Red River –’
‘Then what the fuck are you saying?!’
Cadillac became equally irritated. ‘Don’t get snotty with me, Brickman! You’re on my turf! One word from me and you’ll be pitched out – not on your ear, but minus both of them and with your balls stuffed in that big mouth of yours! Getting Clearwater off that wagon-train would be a high-risk operation even if the Old One was here to help us. Without him it’s more like a suicide mission!
‘Before I ask my people to make that kind of sacrifice – and there’s no guarantee they’ll follow me – I have to know what we’re up against. You’ve confirmed the flaws I spotted in Malone’s plan but that whole scheme was only to keep us happy – a bunch of stupid lump-heads. That’s not good enough. We have to find out what the real plan is. Because you and I both know that none of the people letting off green flares on the roof of that wagon-train are gonna be from the Clan M’Call!’
‘Sure. Even I’d figured that out.’
‘The six weeks you asked for expired two weeks ago. So the reception committee on board Red River have had time to rehearse their drills.’
‘Yeah, but…’ Steve clawed air to express his frustration. ‘That was all put together after I left to rejoin you and Malone. I know the object of the exercise was to capture you and Mr Snow but apart from that I’m as much in the dark as you are.’
‘Not quite …’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Your kin-sister is a member of the task force assigned to look after Clearwater. She must know something. Don’t you think you ought to get in touch?’
‘I could try. But I don’t think it’ll do much good.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Karlstrom, the man who runs the outfit I work for wasn’t born yesterday. Until I deliver you and Mr Snow there’ll be a big question mark hanging over me. Although she’s better at it than I am, they know Roz and I can communicate with each other. Which means whatever they tell her could be passed on to me. If they have any lingering doubts about my loyalty, they’re going to feed her false information – stuff they want you to know about.’
Cadillac looked dismayed. ‘But if you’re to play a part in our capture shouldn’t you be told what’s going to happen?!’
‘Yeah. They said Malone would clue me in just before the off.’
‘So Malone must know.’
‘He may do. When I tried to pump him he said his orders were to deliver you and Mr Snow and the rest of the boarding party to the top of the ramp. From then on the Red River team would take whatever measures were necessary to contain the attack.’
‘But he didn’t drop any hints as to what form they might …?’
‘Nope …’
‘And if we forced him to speak?’
‘Torture him?’ Steve shrugged. ‘You could try but I don’t think you’ll get much out of him. Agents on a high-risk station, like Malone, are briefed on a need-to-know basis. That way, if their cover is blown, they can’t jeopardize the whole operation.’
It was Cadillac’s turn to be frustrated. ‘Sweet Sky Mother! There must be some way we can discover what their plans are!’
‘I’ll see if I can get through to Roz. She may have found a way to get inside other heads besides my own. But maybe we ought to start looking at this from another angle.’
‘And what’s that?’ asked Cadillac suspiciously.
‘Well, instead of wondering what the other side is going to do we should make the running. Seize the initiative. Throw them off balance.’
‘Oh, yes. And how do we do that?’
‘We’ve already started. They were braced to resist the most powerful summoner of the Plainfolk – and now Malone will have told them he isn’t coming.’ Steve spread his hands. ‘With just you left to lead the clan they’re bound to think it’ll be a pushover.’
‘Thank you. And …?’
‘Well, this is only a suggestion but we could start by eliminating Malone and his renegades. When we go up that ramp we might as well take a hundred men we can trust. What’s the point of going in with fifty guys we dare not turn our backs on?’
Cadillac frowned. ‘But you said that Malone’s participation was vital if this rescue plan was to succeed!’
‘It still is – but only until everything is set up. If we can come up with a rescue package that puts us in with a chance, then we should take him out just before we start the run-in towards Red River. That’s the best time to make the switch. We’ll be on board before they know what’s hit ’em.’ Steve caught Cadillac’s questioning look. ‘It’s okay. I don’t owe Malone any favours.’
‘But the other renegades …’
‘That’s the point. They’re not real renegades.’
‘Are you saying they’re all undercover agents?’
‘No, just some. But what difference does it make? Christopher! We’re talking about seventy or eighty defaulters with close to zero life-expectancy. Piddleshit compared with the number of your people who died in order to save the She-Kargo! If you don’t kill ’em some other clan or a bunch of Trail-Blazers’ll hunt them down. With the trading post closed for good, they have no value!’
‘Yes, but… they’re your own people.’
‘If a general thought like that he’d never send his troops into battle. You want Clearwater back, don’t you?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then when the time comes, I’ll do whatever has to be done,’ said Steve. ‘But before any of that can happen, you have to win over the clan – get them solidly behind you.’
‘Don’t remind me.’ Cadillac sighed gloomily. ‘If only the Old One hadn’t died on the way back from the trading post.’
‘Yehh,’ said Steve, ‘It was rather thoughtless of him.’
‘That’s not what I meant! If he’d died here, he might have been able to tell the clan to accept my leadership and have the same faith in me as they had in him!’
Steve mulled this over then said: ‘He still can.’
Cadillac looked puzzled.
‘Besides being a seer, you have another gift that some people might also regard as magical. A gift that saved our lives on the wheel-boat.’ Steve paused, but the penny failed to drop. ‘The gift of mimicry. Let the spirit of Mr Snow speak through you. If you do it right you’ll have them eating out of your hand.’
Cadillac throught it through and brightened visibly. ‘That’s brilliant …’
‘Yes. It is.’ Go to the top of the class, Brickman …
Cadillac had already been formally installed by the clan elders as wordsmith to the Clan M’Call but the ceremony had been overshadowed by the shock of Mr Snow’s death just as he, as the Old One’s apprentice, had been overshadowed since childhood by his master’s commanding presence. Cadillac sensed the clan felt they had been landed with the monkey instead of the organ-grinder. He had to change that perception of him – and this was probably the only chance he would get.
He looked around at the half circle of expectant faces, lit by the leaping flames of the huge bonfire. A sweet smell of pine resin hung on the night air. Behind him, flurries of orange sparks, like miniature constellations, were swept skywards on the rising air.
Steve, seated near the middle of the third row, listened with bated breath as the young Mute launched into his address. If Caddy didn’t pull it off, Steve knew he might as well pack up and go home.
Cadillac was surprised to find that his earlier nervousness had vanished. He paced slowly along the front row, his gaze roving back and forth with the vaguely disapproving air of a visiting general asked to review a battalion that is not quite up to snuff. His only regret was that Clearwater was not here to witness his debut as a star performer.
He returned to the centre and began: ‘As I look about me and find that your eyes, like mine, are filled with the same bitter tears, I know that your hearts are gripped by the same sorrow, that our minds are engraved with the image of one man whose name is on all our lips –’
‘Oyy-yehhh …’ moaned the clan.
‘Mr Snow! The Storm-Bringer! Summoner and word-smith of the M’Calls, paramount clan of the She-Kargo! Whose mighty powers strengthened the knife-arms of our warriors, whose wise counsel guided our elders during the dark days when the greatness which is our destiny seemed to be slipping from our grasp!’
‘Oyy-yehhh …’
‘His death, his passing from this world, leaves a great emptiness in the landscape of our minds. For he towered above us like a giant tree on the the barren plains of existence. A deep-rooted tree which gave us shelter and from which we drew sustenance. From his lips flowed the fire-songs celebrating the prowess of our warriors old and new, the history of the Plainfolk stretching back to the War of a Thousand Suns, and stories of the Old Time.’
‘Oyy-yehhh …’
‘This was his gift to me! His wondrous tales, his wisdom, his knowledge of this world and the worlds beyond now reside in me! His will now stiffens my resolve! His spirit, freed from the confines of his body, surrounds me! Enters me with each breath! Possesses me!’
So saying, Cadillac turned his face upwards, closed his eyes, flung his arms out sideways and fell to his knees. His head sagged forward onto his chest, his arms dropped to his sides, then after a brief moment in which his audience watched spellbound, he opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet. And although they were quite dissimilar in life, he somehow managed to assume all the physical characteristics of Mr Snow – chin thrust out aggressively, hands reversed onto hips, legs slightly bowed by age as he paced up and down, the quick, questioning eye movements.
And the voice. The pitch, the intonation … both were perfect.
‘What a miserable bunch! Sweet Sky Mother! Is this what I’ve bequeathed my successor?! Does your backbone disappear the moment I step beyond this world? A fine reward for all my labours! Has every word I uttered been a waste of breath? If so dry your tears! It is I who should weep for you, who sit there trembling like lost children in a dark forest waiting for the wolves to devour them!’
Steve clapped his hands together in admiration. Cadillac might be a prize bonzo but when he tried he could really put it together.
‘Are there to be no more fire-songs because I am not there to put your brave deeds into words? Is the courage for which the M’Calls are renowned to wither on the vine because my power has passed over with me? Were you only shadows to whom I gave substance when danger threatened? Are you only as brave as the droppings stuck to the tail of a charging buffalo? Do you sink into a cowardly stupor when the need for heroes has never been greater?!’
‘NO!!’ chorussed the clan.
‘No?’ Cadillac tugged at an imaginary beard as he strode back and forth. ‘How boldly and easily you reply! Yes – you are brave enough when you are hidden in the shadows, your voices laid one upon the other so that no one know who speaks the truth! Cadillac now wears my mantle! My knowledge of all things has passed to him. You have appointed him to my place yet you refuse to follow him against the iron-snake!’
‘He is too young!’ cried a voice from the darkness. ‘He has no standing!’
Mr Snow’s voice boomed from Cadillac’s throat. ‘No standing?! He inherits my standing! For all I was, he now is! Speak, those of you who remember! Did you not heed me when I was young?!’
‘Yes, but he does not have the power!’ protested another unidentified voice.
‘Clearwater has that power! That is why he seeks to free her from the belly of the snake! Does he not have the gift of seership? Is he not versed in the ways of the sand-burrowers and the dead-faces? Why, he even speaks their fearful tongue! He is as brave as I ever was, and knows more than I ever will!
‘Cadillac, Clearwater and the cloud-warrior are among The Chosen! They grace the M’Calls with their presence because we – among all the She-Kargo – have found favour in the eyes of Talisman! Let each man, woman and child pledge themselves anew here and now! Let them come forward one by one and say whether they will stand with Cadillac against the sand-burrowers and be the first to strike a mighty blow on behalf of the Plainfolk!
‘Do this not in memory of me but in praise of him! He whom I loved and nurtured as if he had been my own blood-child! Clan-brothers! Clan-sisters! Place your lives in his hands as you placed them in mine and I swear that each one of you shall find me at your side in the hour of need! The power given to me by Talisman shall reach out to you from beyond the veil!’
Cadillac flung both arms into the air in the style of Mr Snow, spun round on his heel and became himself again. ‘How say you? Are you ready to stand with me?!’ The entire clan leapt to their feet in a tumultuous explosion of joy.
‘Heyy-yahh! Heyy-YAHH! HEYY-YAHHH!!’
Some time later, after Cadillac had managed to extricate himself from the clutches of his admiring followers, he came over to Steve’s hut and found his arch-rival sitting outside, staring into a small fire.
Through the half-raised door-flap, he glimpsed the top third of Night-Fever. The rest of her naked body was tucked between the sleeping furs. Given the general mood of celebration, she was no doubt hoping that tonight was going to be her lucky night.
Steve raised his eyes. Cadillac’s face was still glowing with pleasure.
The Mute sat down opposite him, adopting the same cross-legged pose. ‘How did I do?’
‘Pretty good …’
‘Is that all you can say?!’
‘For crissakes, Caddy! What can I tell you that you haven’t been told a million times already?’
‘Yes, I know all that. It’s just that I respect your opinion. I mean, you’re not easily impressed.’
Steve sighed and threw up his hands. ‘What can I say? It was fantastic, amazing. The way you transformed yourself …’
‘Yes, even I thought I did that rather well –’
‘And the voice – every nuance, every intonation …’ Steve kissed the tip of his fingers. ‘Muy perfecto!’
‘And totally unrehearsed –’
‘Ahh, yes, but based on years of careful observation. And when one adds in what you had to say … spellbinding!’
‘Ohh, do you really think so?’
I’ve got to stop, thought Steve, otherwise I will throw up. ‘Do I think so?! I know so! I was watching the people around me. They were hanging on every word!’
Cadillac attempted a modest smile but only succeeded in oozing several more pints of self-satisfaction. ‘Yes, to judge from what everyone’s been saying I think I did manage to get the message across. Thank you.’ He saw Steve’s surprise. ‘It was your idea.’
Steve shrugged. ‘Ideas aren’t hard to come by. Translating them into action – that’s the difficult bit. And you know what?’
‘I’m listening …’
‘Watching you tonight gave me another idea. You could be Malone.’
Cadillac smiled. ‘That’s right. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to work that one out.’
Steve inclined his head in mock respect. ‘Nice to know you’re ahead of me.’
For once …
‘Yes,’ said Cadillac. ‘And I’ve got another suggestion. Now that you’ve seen my impersonation of the Old One …’
Steve groaned inwardly. Christo, how much soft soap does this guy need?!
‘… why don’t you take me to see the real thing?’
The question, coming out of left field, caught Steve totally unprepared. ‘Uhh, the what?’
‘The real thing,’ said Cadillac patiently. ‘The Old One. Don’t try and fuck me around, Brickman. He’s alive and well, isn’t he?’
‘How d’you work that out?’
‘By thinking things through. The shock stopped me from doing so at first. There he was, dead, right in front of my own eyes, but part of my mind couldn’t accept it. I had seen his dying place in the stones!’
‘Yeah. According to you, he was supposed to die last year!’
‘Have you ever tried reading a stone?’ cried Cadillac scornfully. ‘If you had the gift you would know that the time at which an event will take place is the hardest thing to decipher.’ He paused, then said: ‘How did he fake it?’
‘You’d better ask him.’
‘And the bodies were switched after we placed him on the High Ground. Who was left for the death-birds to feed on?’
‘Some old, white-haired guy who died at the trading post. He was wrapped up in the bundle of cloth that was slung over my horse.’
‘Yes, I thought it was something like that. Very clever. Do you think Malone fell for it?’
‘Sure. He’s never seen Mr Snow.’
‘No.’ Cadillac studied Steve’s face then smiled. ‘You can’t bear me being right, can you? You just hate it when I’m out in front.’
‘Not at all,’ said Steve. ‘It’s a lot better that working with a sponge-head who keeps falling nose first into his boiled rice.’
Cadillac ignored the reference to his sake-sodden nights in Ne-Issan. ‘I haven’t just seen the Old One’s dying place, I’ve been there – twice! The pictures I drew from the stone were so clear! It was only when I ran over everything again in my mind that the truth gradually dawned on me. Yes. It was a cruel trick you played –’
‘It wasn’t my –’
Cadillac cut back in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not accusing you. I understand why it was necessary to deceive me. I had to prove myself. Stand on my own feet. Isn’t that what the Old One wanted?’
‘Yes,’ nodded Steve.
‘Then take me to him.’
‘I can’t. You’ll have to ask Awesome-Wells and Boston-Bruin. They’re the only ones who know where he is.’
Cadillac scrambled to his feet. ‘Good! Let’s find them. We have important things to discuss.’
‘Whoa! Slow down! They tell him what’s been happening. If he wants to see you, he’ll let you know.’
‘But –’
Steve rose. ‘Listen, Caddy. If and when we do see him, don’t expect too much. They say he hasn’t got long to live.’
‘Long enough to take part in one last great battle.’
‘The one you saw in the stones?’
Cadillac answered with a reluctant nod.
‘Do you know who wins?’
The Mute shook his head, his eyes filled with tears.
How ironic, thought Steve. The one man who could save the day is lying at death’s door and his successor has persuaded the clan to follow him in a suicidal attack on the wagon-train to free someone who might die if she was rescued.
When Cadillac had found him staring into the fire, Steve had been trying to piece his life back together. A little while before, Roz had come through on their private line to say that Clearwater was not well enough to be taken off the train.
The shattered femur in her right thigh had been carefully reassembled and pinned together but would take six months to mend, held in a hi-tech metal splint. If she did not continue to get the level of medical care available in the Federation, she could be permanently crippled or – if complications set in – might lose the leg and perhaps her life.
All his past efforts, everything he’d been working towards, had gone straight down the fucking tube …