Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [58]
Abalone wakes me just before dusk, giving me only enough time to wash and dress. She hands me a black pullover and slacks. I notice that she is wearing something similar, a scarf tied over her bright hair; her lips are still painted blue.
By the time I have dressed, Peep has driven a blue panel van into a cul-de-sac near the Cold Lairs. Abalone takes the seat next to him. Midline stretches out to sleep between the seats and almost before we are on the road, he is snoring softly.
“I envy him,” Professor Isabella says, tugging at a pullover which rides up until she tucks it into her waistband. “I’m too old for this.”
“You can stay with Peep,” Abalone calls back. “He’ll be waiting with the van and I’m going to signal him when we’re ready to leave. Apparently, most of the jamming stuff has been moved out.”
“No,” Professor Isabella replies. “You may need me.”
Abalone periodically drills Peep on some contingency plan, but otherwise we talk little for the rest of the ride. Some hours into full darkness, Abalone directs Peep to pull the van into a field and shut off the power.
When we open the back hatch and step into the dark, I am amazed at the velvety fullness of the darkness. Here there is no ambient glow from buildings and vehicles, only the half-moon and fainter stars give any light.
My owl seems to approve, but I am still intimidated. My only comfort is that Peep and Midline appear to share my discomfort. Professor Isabella is studying the sky with apparent pleasure and Abalone sees nothing but her computer screen.
“You can’t see the Institute’s buildings from here,” she says, “because there is a ten-foot-high stone wall around the compound. Most of the wall is impossible to cross—topped with electric wire. I found a place where a fallen tree grows near the wall on the outside. None of the branches cross—their grounds keepers were careful—but there is a tree of about the same height on the other side. I figured we could anchor a line, like in the Jungle, and get over that way.”
“If the pictures you showed me are any good, I can set our line,” Midline says. “Even found a pulley Professor Isabella can slide with since she don’t climb like we do.”
Professor Isabella bobs a self-mocking curtsy. “Midline, can the rope be removed? What if the Institute patrols see it?”
“Peep’ll reel it back from higher up—there’s some chance of it brushing the line, but it shouldn’t alert them. There must be a margin for natural things like leaves or birds.” Midline shrugs. “An’ I’ll pull out my arrow. The rest is up to chance and who knows what.”
“Once we’re over the wall,” Abalone says, sketching a small map on her screen, “we should be able to see a cluster of buildings across a park from us. We want to make for the small, low one to the right. From what little I’ve got, it’s used for residences. We stand to find Dylan and Eleanora there.”
I look at the detailed map, fighting disorientation as severe as if I was looking at print. Uneasily, I look away and my stomach calms. As I regain my composure, Midline leads the way toward a darker shape that must be the tree. I follow, realizing that I have missed the rest of Abalone’s instructions. I don’t get a chance to ask, because Abalone asks me to send Athena up and make sure that the way is clear.
The wall crossing goes without a hitch and I drop lightly to the ground at the base of a gnarled oak. Shutting out the others, I study the illuminated cluster of buildings across the manicured park. Memory strikes me solidly and I know that I have been here before.
As planned, Abalone starts toward the small cottage. I hustle forward and stop her, grabbing her arm. When she turns to face me, the moon reveals her perplexed expression.
At a loss for words, I can only point to the cottage, shaking my head vehemently. Then I point toward the largest building, a flattopped three-story thing, intermittently lit.
“Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast,” I whisper.
“Huh? Sarah, what’s wrong?”
I gesture toward the larger building. “The play’s the thing, wherein I’ll catch the conscience