Pawn’s Gambit by Timothy Zahn Page A

realized what her plan had been. Hopping down with her prize, she started back toward me.
    But we were still a long way from freedom. We now had something to cut the ropes with, but with my hands half-numbed from loss of circulation I knew I could never cut Heather’s bonds without severing a vein in the process. Her hands were probably in the same condition, and even with her enhanced sense of touch she wouldn’t do much better on my ropes. Still, it was our only hope.
    Heather, however, seemed to have an entirely different idea. “Open your legs an inch,” she whispered as she reached me. I started to object, but she seemed to know what she was doing, so I shut up and did as I was told. Turning so that her back was to me, she stooped down and placed the piece of glass directly between my knees. “Close ’em,” she said.
    â€œWait a second, Heather, this is too dangerous,” I objected, suddenly realizing what she had in mind. “Why don’t you go around and cut my ropes instead?”
    She ignored the suggestion. “Close your knees and hold it tight,” she hissed furiously.
    I did so. I was terrified for her hands, and my stomach was knotted at the thought of what was probably going to happen, but we were running out of time. If we did nothing before Duke returned, we were dead. Heather crouched a bit more, placed one of her bonds gingerly against the glass, and began to rub.
    After all my fears it was like watching a minor miracle happen. Quickly, accurately, and with no wasted motion, Heather attacked the ropes around her wrists. Even with her hands undoubtedly numb she always seemed to know exactly where the ropes and glass were relative to her skin, almost as if she had eyes in the back of her head. Only once did she so much as scratch herself, and that was due to a momentary loss of balance that made her sway a little.
    Seconds later her hands were free. Sitting down on the floor, she took the glass from between my knees and set to work on her ankle ropes. They were off almost immediately. For another few seconds she remained where she was, grimacing as the blood flowed back into her hands and feet. Then she stood up and walked around behind me, and I felt her fingers tugging and probing at the ropes on my wrists. “Come on, hurry up,” I muttered impatiently.
    â€œJust a minute,” she whispered back, her voice strangely tense. Her examination finally over, she began to cut my ropes, moving much more slowly than she had earlier. Despite her caution, though, she nicked me twice and once even managed to cut her own finger. However she had worked her earlier miracle, things unfortunately seemed to be back to normal now.
    But finally I was free, and as I rubbed life back into my tingling hands Heather cut the ropes on my feet and those tying me to the chair. Standing up carefully, I tiptoed over to the cupboard and utensil drawers to arm myself. A large pan lid and carving fork went into my left hand, the fork extending a couple of inches past the lid’s rim; a one-piece wooden rolling pin, the housewife’s traditional weapon, went into my right. I handed Heather a small metal frying pan and positioned her by the swinging door. “I’ll announce myself before I come back in,” I told her. “If anyone else comes through, clobber him.”
    â€œAll right.” She paused. “They’re both still sitting on the couch playing cards. The bayonet is on the floor in front of Jackson.”
    I nodded. I still didn’t understand Heather’s strangely capricious radar, but for the moment the how and why were irrelevant. She seemed to know how it worked and when it could be trusted, and that was what mattered right now. “Good. This should only take a minute.”
    â€œBe careful, Neil,” she said, moving next to me for a quick hug.
    I kissed her. “You bet, honey.” Facing the door, I settled my nerves for combat.