Fifth Quarter Read Free Page A

distracted—not only by the might of the Empire arrayed against them but by the growing fear that they just might have made a fatal mistake.
     
    Access to the town was limited but far from impossible.
     
    Did they honestly think that would stop us or do they just not think ? Vree wondered as she followed her brother into the wedge of darkness between two buildings. She sifted the night, searched the sights and sounds and smells for threat, and signed, "All clear." The town could be empty of life for all the notice it took of them. When Bannon nodded, she led the way down a garbage-strewn alley toward the governor's stronghold.
     
    In this, the southernmost part of the Empire, walls were made of formed mud, broader at the bottom out of necessity and angled gently upward toward a red-clay tiled roof. By sunlight, the city was an attractive patchwork of orange-brown. By starlight, the vibrant colors had muted to shades of gray. The smell of chilies fried in oil lingered in the shadows and through the shutters that closed off one deeply recessed window, Vree could hear a low voice singing to a fretful baby.
     
    "… I will feed you bits of rainbow,red for laughter, blue for sorrow…"
     
    … yellow kisses, green tomorrows . Their garrison-mother had been fond of the song, and Vree wondered if she'd been from Ghoti or if the lullaby had traveled across the Empire. She glanced at Bannon to see if he'd heard and found him waiting for her to confirm that no danger lay concealed in the open market they had to cross. Calling herself several kinds of fool, she slapped her mind back to the job at hand. The danger in an easy target came from falling off the edge.
     
    The governor's stronghold—an octagon-shaped wall enclosing a tall central tower and a number of squat outbuildings—was both the oldest structure in Ghoti and the only one made of stone. The wall showed signs of recent reinforcing and the massive gates were shut, barred, and guarded.
     
    Vree gestured to her left and Bannon nodded, slipping past her to take point. She could feel herself responding to the new level of danger, could see the same response in the way her brother moved.
     
    Over the last few months of rebellion, Governor Aralt had swept clear the area around the stronghold, destroying anything that might provide shelter for the enemy should they force him back to a final stand. The darkness, combined with one of the eight angles, provided all the shelter that Vree and Bannon needed. Fingers and toes found purchase in cracks a lizard would have ignored. Head to head, pressed flat against the wall's rough capstones, they scanned the enclosure, hidden by the uneven ridge of an unfinished and unusable sentry box. They'd come this far once before, but from now on, every move would be the first move.
     
    "Arab's no fool for all his posturing. He'll be expecting the attempt."
     
    Vree touched her brother lightly on the shoulder. He winced as he saw the three heavily armed and wary rebels march across the court and disappear behind one of the outbuildings. Up in the tower a trio of shadows bristling with weapons carried a flickering lamp past a narrow window.
     
    Patrols , he mouthed.
     
    She nodded. It looked like Aralt was, indeed, expecting them.
     
    The stone grew warm beneath them as they watched.
     
    No pattern , Bannon signed at last.
     
    They both knew that a pattern would eventually emerge; that people were incapable of sustaining truly random action. A pattern would make their job easier, safer, but could take several nights to determine. A delay would please no one except, perhaps, the governor.
     
    As yet another three-rebel patrol paused directly below them, Bannon nudged her and flicked his thumb up. No surprise , Vree mused. In five years, he'd voted they turn from the target exactly twice. The first time, they'd returned the next night equipped to deal with the unexpected, four-legged guards. The second, they'd gone in farther than they