The Phoenix Thief

TWENTY FOUR

"GET BACK, get under the cover of the trees!" Pierstov stood up in his stirrups and yelled at the Trailblazers. "Now! Move, get on, move!"

Tritraks reared and spun, and by the time Pierstov and Kilter reached the spot where the Trailblazers had been moments before, there were only confused tracks in the snow and swaying branches. Pierstov wheeled his tritrak in among the trees, and a moment later burst into the muddled group of riders.

"You wet-nosed, half-weaned, yearling idiots! What were you thinking, showing yourselves like that?" Pierstov roared, leaping off his tritrak and flinging up his arms, coat-fringe and tassels swinging. "Alishek's men have orders to shoot any settler on sight. You know that. You know they would have shot you! Don't you remember the massacre? We're not loosing anybody like that again. We're not loosing anybody, you hear me?"

The Trailblazers halted their tritraks in a circle around Pierstov, but none of them said anything. Pierstov turned around, still waving his hands as if cuing them to give an excuse for themselves, and glared at each of their faces in turn. Then he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Where's Koffkal?"

The surrounding riders parted on one side to let a burly tritrak through. Sitting astride it was Koffkal, his bulk easily recognizable even in the faint light trickling between the tree branches. Two dart-rifles and a bundle of darts were strapped to his back, and on them perched the several gyrfalcons and eclipse-owls he always had with him. They flapped their wings as Koffkal dismounted and pushed through the snow over to Pierstov.

"We got here maybe half an hour ago. The gates opened shortly after we arrived, and then those machines came out. We waited for you, but you didn't come, and it looked like they've got the Tanks in place. There's no saying when they might be fired, so we'd just decided to try and approach the Watchmen – peaceably, mind you – when you arrived."

"All seventy of you were going to approach them?"

"We had a truce flag. But if that didn't work, we figured we might rush the Tanks."

"No!" Pierstov was shouting, again. "No, there's been too much blood soaked into this land! We're not here to spill more. We're here to put an end to this. We got Shev. Shev, Alishek's son! Alishek see him, he might stop this insanity. He thinks we killed Shev, thinks I did. Maybe if we give him his son back, he'll realize the truth, and call off this madness."

A murmur of voices rose from the Trailblazers as they nodded, faces grim. Koffkal gripped his brother's shoulder.

"What we do, then? What's your orders?"

Then the branches behind Kilter groaned and crackled, and he turned around on his tritrak's back to see Vittela, Catrío, and Shev appear and join the ring of Trailblazers. The sight of Catrío sent gasps and flurrying whispers through the crowd, and Kilter caught snatches of voices saying things like "She's alive!", "After all this time...", and "She has Pier's eyes." When the Trailblazers saw Shev, though, their whispers swelled into incredulous cries.

"So he is a real suit of armor?" a dark-haired trailblazer asked, her own coat plated here and there with metal. "Fascinating!"

"Yes, he's armor," Catrío snapped back at once, glaring. "And he's right here, so be more polite and call him Shev, and address him if you want to know something about him. That's how you're supposed to talk to people you've just met. I think."

Nervous laughter broke out among the Trailblazers. Flushing, the dark-haired woman gave Shev a little bow.

"Pardon. No offence taken, I hope."