第3节

Master territory. Green rockets

- which Cadillac had seen fired into the sky on his last visit to the

trading post - would signal where he was to land.

So far so good. The Iron Masters appeared to have covered all the

angles. All except one - the possibility that Mr Snow might proceed to

embellish the agreed plan with a few details of his own. Cadillac was

to shed his body-paint and go disguised as a Tracker, wearing the

clothes of one of the fallen cloud warriors whose head was now staked

outside Clearwater's hut. With his clear skin, his newly acquired

knowledge and a short haircut, no one would suspect he was not a

Federation wingman. But there was more. The ribbon sewn above the

right-hand pocket of his tunic would identify him as '8902

BRICKMAN S.R."

The irony of the situation triggered a burst of shared laughter,

obliterating all thoughts of danger - and the equally daunting prospect

of losing his long black hair.

While Cadillac tried to strike a mental balance between the risks and

the benefits that might flow from accomplishing such a challenging

task, Mr Snow unveiled his final surprise. The craft Cadillac had

built would need an extra seat for his armed escort.

Clearwater.

Dressed as a She-Wolf, with her unblemished olive skin hidden under

swirling patterns of black and brown, Clearwater would pose as an

emissary from the clan M'CalI. Her real task was to provide moral

support and if the need arose - use her formidable powers as a summoner

to protect him and ensure their safe return.

Cadillac bit his lip, choosing not to speak of what he had seen in the

stones- that the bond between Clearwater and himself had been broken.

Despite the outward pretence, she was no longer his soul-mate. Her

thoughts and earth-longings were now centred on the cloud warrior; the

Death-Bringer who was fated to return and carry her away on a river of

blood.

The blood of the Plainfolk.

At the time when Cadillac had drawn this knowledge from the stones, he

had also seen the place where Mr Snow would give up his life so that

he, Cadillac, might be saved. In his grief he had shed bitter tears,

cursing the gift of seership, and he had silently vowed never to pick

up a seeing-stone again. The Wheel turned, the Path was drawn. If

nothing could be changed then it was better not to lift the Veil. Let

the future hold its secret sorrows; the pain of the present was burden

enough.

In the days that followed, as he lengthened the slim fuselage pod and

fitted a second seat behind his own, Cadillac tried to come to terms

with what had happened.

Standing on the bluff with Clearwater and Mr Snow, watching the cloud

warrior rise on the freshening wind and turn over the hills towards the

south, he had decided there would be no accusations, no

recriminations.

The true warrior did not allow himself to be deflected by such unworthy

emotions as envy or jealousy. But Cadillac had only just begun to take

the first few faltering steps along The Way and had not yet attained

the necessary degree of philosophical detachment.

Clearwater's infatuation with the cloud warrior had hurt him deeply.

Already persuaded by his own inner demons that he lacked standing, he

could not bear the idea of being second-best. Had he wished to avenge

his honour, he could have denounced her in front of the assembled clan

and demanded her death. By the laws of the Plainfolk, her trial would

have been a mere formality.

But that route was not open to him. Even now, Cadillac would have

gladly given up his own life to save hers. The bonds of friendship,

rooted in the shared pain and joy of their childhood and nurtured by

their special 'otherness', could never be broken until Mo-Town called

their spirits back into the luminous crystal waters that filled the

great Cup of Life. Moreover, he had no proof Clearwater had betrayed

him. She had not confessed her guilt. Indeed, her manner towards him

had hardly changed. But he knew! He knew! Her clouded blue eyes told