Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [57]
“Me, either,” adds Between, “and how about lunch?”
We are finishing our lunch—a night meal for we have returned to the time schedule set by the Law—when Abalone comes bounding up, her tappety-tap bouncing on one hip. She slides to a seat on the floor beside us.
“News,” she says, “big time. Where’s Professor Isabella? I’d rather go through this just once.”
I shrug, but Chocolate, who has just come in, says, “She’s up by the stove—reading class!”
He grabs a notebook from under his pallet and pelts toward a small circle clustered around one of the camp stoves.
“I guess we’ll tell her later. Up for a walk?”
I nod, scooping up Betwixt and Between and placing Athena, as Abalone has named my owl, on my shoulder. Abalone leads us to a grass island with a small grove of trees nestled within one of the loops of the highway’s cloverleaf. At this hour, traffic is minimal and we dart across the dark pavement easily.
We seat ourselves where we are least visible from the road and Abalone pulls a couple of beers from a cooler cached beneath a rock. After sipping for a moment in silence, she puts the bottle down and wraps her arms around her knees.
“I think that the Institute is relocating, Sarah.”
I sit up from where I have been lounging on the grass, surprised to find that I feel both dismayed and relieved. My hands flutter as I seek words to express my emotion; Abalone misinterprets my gesture as curiosity.
“How’d I find out? I’d been tracking what commercial traffic went in and out, thinking we might get in that way with the least fuss. Started noticing that there were a fair number of midsize moving vans, nothing flashy or likely to catch the eye of the neighbors—if they were looking—but enough to cue me.”
In the flash of a passing headlight, I see her blue lips twist almost cruelly. She sips a bit more from her beer and goes on.
“The vans weren’t marked, but I checked license and registration and traced them to a moving rental company. The Institute may not link out, but this jobber did and I was able to hack in and learn that the big move is scheduled for two nights from this one.”
Although fear has set my heart to pounding so that I can barely speak, I manage some familiar lines. “If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly.”
“Yes.” Abalone leaps to her feet. “That’s why I want to talk with Professor Isabella; we’ll need to move tomorrow night. We may even be too late already if the people went out in the early vans. I’m hoping not, but if this is a dead end, we’ll track them down all over again.”
We take our time walking back, stopping to bring some beer to a couple of late-working Tail Wolves. When we get back, it is nearly dawn and Professor Isabella is drowsing over a book. She wakes quickly, though, when Abalone tells her the news.
“Are we ready?” she asks. “Maybe we should let them go, then find where they’ve gone and go in when we’re better prepared.”
“There’s no time like the present,” Abalone urges. “Their security must be lower to allow for the traffic. We’ve got to jump while we can.”
Professor Isabella sighs, but nods agreement. “I presume you can get transportation for us? Or am I silly to even ask?”
“Transport and driver,” Abalone promises, “and a bit of extra muscle. Midline is coming along. Won’t hear ‘no.’”
“Then don’t tell him,” Professor Isabella smiles. “He’s talented and knows what we’re up against; I’ll feel better for having him.”
“I’ll have Peep and the vehicle ready at dusk tomorrow.”
Even with the soothing hum of the highway overhead, I have trouble falling asleep. There’s just too much to worry about. The owl chortles disapprovingly at my diurnal restlessness and Betwixt and Between sing lullabies in duet.
Near midmorning, Abalone hands me a beer. I suspect that she must have put something into it, because the last thing I remember after setting the bottle down is Betwixt and Between harmonizing on nearly infinite verses of “Rock-a-Bye-Baby.