Send Simon Savage #1 by Stephen Measday Page A

reading.’
    Danice activated her wrist pilot. ‘You’re right. Now it’s by the bridge on the far side of the castle. Command has shifted it!’
    Simon glanced over his shoulder. The farm boy and the growing mob were now shouting, ‘ Witches! Witches! ’
    ‘Quick! Down here!’ Simon said.
    They ducked into another laneway that led out of the village to the farmlands beyond. Simon took off his cloak.
    ‘If we get these rags off, we can use our suits as camouflage,’ he said, glancing towards the ivy-covered wall that ran alongside the laneway. ‘Toss your stuff along the path. Now!’
    Danice scattered her clothes along the lane as she ran. ‘But we’re supposed to take these costumes back with us,’ she said.
    ‘Too bad,’ Simon said, as the voices of the mob got closer. ‘Stand still. And stay still!’
    They pressed their bodies against the wall. Within a few moments their suits took on a leaf pattern that exactly matched the ivy-covered wall. A second later, a score of angry villagers poured into the lane.
    Simon and Danice froze.
    ‘Ho, there! Look!’ The farm boy pointed at the clothing. ‘The witches have fled this way!’
    ‘Advance!’ the soldier ordered.
    He lumbered along the lane and the crowd followed him, yelling and waving their hoes, axes and pitchforks.
    Danice stepped away from the wall. ‘Hey, these suits really work!’
    ‘Yeah, but let’s not stand around admiring them.’ Simon grabbed her arm. ‘Let’s move!’
    Danice tugged away from him. ‘We can’t run through the village in these outfits!’
    She was right. Simon selected a map of the area on his wrist pilot. ‘The bridge is on the other side of the castle. But we don’t have to go through the square to get there.’
    He glanced at the wall behind them. ‘It’s only a couple of metres high,’ he said. ‘We can climb over here. The map shows an orchard on the other side that extends around the back of the castle. After that there’s a stream we can follow down to the bridge. Okay?’
    ‘Okay!’ Danice replied.
    Simon took a step back, jumped and grabbed the top of the wall. ‘Give us a leg-up!’
    Danice crouched, cupped her hands under Simon’s left foot and lifted. He straddled the wall and stretched an arm down to her. ‘Grab hold—quick!’
    Danice took his hand, scrambled her feet up the wall and made it to the top.
    ‘Go!’ Simon said.
    Danice dropped down the other side. Simon looked around for a moment to check no one was following.
    Then he, too, was gone.

13

    T he feast that Damien spread on the family table was the best they had seen for a month or more. There were the usual beige, tasteless chunks of Syn-food, a processed protein from the Prison Farms. But there was also a roast chicken, two loaves of fresh bread, a bunch of celery, some potatoes, carrots, apples and a big, spiky pineapple, all from the Chieftain’s own private farm and kitchen.
    ‘The Chieftain was pleased with our haul,’ Damien said. ‘This is our reward.’
    Alli polished an apple and passed it to her mother, Hanna.
    Hanna irritably waved it away. ‘So, how much gold did you steal?’
    ‘Five or six hundred kilos,’ Damien replied. ‘We would’ve got more … well, if Lee hadn’t messed things up.’
    ‘It was his first trip,’ Alli said in Lee’s defence.
    ‘He was clumsy.’
    ‘He’ll get better.’
    ‘He’s your friend, so of course you’ll defend him. But he’ll have to shape up quick,’ Damien said. ‘These trips aren’t games. They’re hard work, they’re dangerous——’
    ‘Danice should be here to enjoy this, too,’ Hanna cut in.
    ‘I know Mama,’ Damien replied. ‘I said I was sorry about what happened.’ The feast couldn’t make up for his sister’s disappearance, and there was no way he could start a search for Danice himself. Nor could Damien find out where the men who had snatched his sister had come from.
    He tried not to think about it, and turned his attention back to the