Pastwatch- The Redemption Of Christopher Columbus - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,149

bullet striking nearby -- at that range, muskets weren't very accurate. As soon as Chipa could squeeze through, she did, and a moment later Pedro was behind her. But there were men in pursuit of them, and Pedro was too frightened to dare to stop and look to see how close they were.

Chipa ran light as a deer across the clearing and dodged into the undergrowth at the forest's edge without so much as disturbing the leaves. By comparison, Pedro felt like an ox, clumping along, his boots pounding, sweat flowing under his heavy clothing. His sword smacked against his thigh and calf as he ran. He thought he could hear footsteps behind him, closer and closer. Finally, with a killing burst of speed he broke into the underbrush, vines tangling around his face, gripping his neck, trying to force him back out into the open.

"Quiet," said Chipa. "Hold still and they won't be able to see you."

Her voice calmed him. He stopped thrashing at the leaves, and then discovered that by moving slowly it was easy to duck through the vines and thin branches that had been holding him. Then he followed Chipa to a tree with a low-forking branch. She lifted herself easily up onto the branch. "They're going back into the stockade," she said.

"Nobody's following us?" Pedro was a little disappointed. "They must not think we matter."

"We have to get Sees-in-the-Dark," said Chipa.

"No need," said a woman's voice.

Pedro looked around frantically, but still couldn't see where the voice was coming from. It was Chipa who spotted her. "Sees-in-the-Dark!" she cried. "You're here already!"

Now Pedro could see her, dark in the shadows. "Come with me," she said. "This is a very dangerous time for Colyn."

"Can you stop them?" asked Pedro.

"Be quiet and follow me," she answered.

But he could only follow Chipa, for he lost sight of Sees-in-the-Dark from the moment she moved away. Soon he found himself at the base of a tall tree. Looking up, he could see Chipa and Sees-in-the-Dark perched on high branches. Sees-in-the-Dark had some kind of complicated musket. But how could a weapon be of any use from this far away?
* * *

Diko watched through the scope of the tranquilizer gun. While she was busy intercepting Pedro and Chipa, the mutineers had stripped Cristoforo to the waist and tied him to the cornerpost of one of their cabins. Now Moger was preparing to lay on the lash.

Which were the ones whose anger was driving the mob? Rodrigo de Triana, of course, and Moger and Clavijo. Anyone else?

Behind her, clinging to another branch, Chipa spoke quietly. "If you were here, Sees-in-the-Dark, why didn't you help Parrot Feather?"

"I was watching the stockade," said Diko. "I didn't know anything was wrong until I saw Dead Fish run in and get you. You were wrong, you know. Parrot Feather isn't dead."

"I couldn't hear her heart."

"It was very faint. But after all the white men left, I gave her something that will help. And I sent Dead Fish to get the women of the village to help her."

"If I hadn't said that Parrot Feather was dead, then all the rest of this--"

"It was going to happen, one way or another," said Diko. "That's why I was here, waiting."

Even without the scope, Chipa could see that Colyn was being flogged. "They're whipping him," she said.

"Quiet," said Diko.

She took careful aim at Rodrigo and pulled the trigger. There was a popping sound. Rodrigo shrugged. Diko aimed again, this time at Clavijo. Another pop. Clavijo scratched his head. Aiming at Moger was harder, because he was moving so much as he laid on with the lash. But when she got the shot off, it also struck true. Moger paused and scratched his neck.

It was the weapon of last resort for her, firing these tiny laser-guided missiles that struck and dropped off immediately, leaving behind a dart as tiny as a bee sting. It took only seconds for the drug to reach their brains, quickly damping down their aggression, making them passive and lackadaisical. It wouldn't kill anybody, but with the leaders suddenly losing interest, the rest of the mob would cool off.
* * *

Cristoforo had never been beaten like this before, not even as a boy. It hurt far worse than any physical pain he had ever suffered before. And yet the pain was also far less than he had feared, because he found that he could bear it. He grunted involuntarily with each blow, but the pain wasn't enough to