Chapter 3
Kylle Satherlin looked up from the news-paper he was reading when the door opened. Tad Badin, Kylle Canylle, and Clatyn Zeynz entered the common room with long, easy strides that Satherlin secretly envied. His stunted body would never be able to do that. But that was an old sadness and easily ignored.
"Good to see you," he greeted the newcomers, setting the paper aside. "We're just waiting on Mosin and Niel, then."
"Saw Niel in the hall, said he was just getting a snack first," Tad said, plopping into a over-stuffed chair and hand-combing his dark hair away from his face. "Mosin was doing something with Brodeck in the side gardens; not sure what. Shouldn't be too long."
Lyshunda Lehbraag snorted gently as she paced to Satherlin's side. "Does Niel ever stop eating? You'd think the man would grow out of it at some point!"
"Keeps you from being tempted, dear, so be glad of it!" Kyysha M'greph teased, eying Lyshunda's thickening middle. Lyshunda stuck her tongue out at Kyysha and eyed the other woman's own generous curves. Clatyn wisely held his tongue, but a grin split his tanned face as he levered his muscled body into a chair.
Niel Huether ducked into the room and shut the door behind himself, freeing one hand of its burden by stuffing the sandwich in his mouth, dusting his short beard with crumbs. Lyshunda sighed and looked at the ceiling as the round-faced man sheepishly greeted the others. Konyetta Colgazier cheerfully waved him over to sit by her at the long table and tried to steal part of his sandwich. Hae Cavey, the oldest in the group, smiled at their friendly squabbling as she found a place on a settee. Quiana Macebyo sat next to her and remained silent, watching the interactions.
Satherlin decided to forestall any more teasing. "We'll bring Mosin up to speed when he gets here; there won't be much, since he was there. Lyshunda and I will fill you in on what we found this morning. Have you all read the report?"
Nods came from the other eight people in the comfortable room. Satherlin glanced around at them as he spoke.
"This girl appears to be hosting a creature that originally served the Ancients. It lets her move a bit faster than average, though that could be training as much as enhancement. I wasn't expecting her, of course, so I didn't get a good look at first. The Drone woman was readying a blast when the girl--"
"Sylenn," Konyetta supplied helpfully. The youngest person in the room, she was usually the first to know any news on Temple Island. "And we think she's from Ivrithan, since that's the language she speaks."
"Sylenn," Satherlin nodded in appreciation. "When Sylenn grabbed her. Got her into the alley faster than a human ought to be able to move, so that's why I think the Hunter (which is what I'm calling It) is giving her some kind of boost. I waited about a minute before following them, and they'd gone a fair ways down the alley-way in that time. And up onto a roof patio, though I couldn't tell you how she managed that with a body. At any rate, the Hunter is able to do what It needs to, which is to consume the energy of the Sukkers. It forces the girl to kill the human Drones and eat their bones. That's where the Sukker is."
Several of the group blanched. Konyetta hid her face in her hands and shuddered; Niel put down his last half of a sandwich.
"But we don't yet know how It keeps the Sukker in the body long enough to actually consume it," Lyshunda added thoughtfully. "That must be another ability It has that the girl manifests. And we don't have any indication in the Records of this kind of servant to the Ancients. Whatever record there was, was lost in the Last Fight, when the Ancients vanished. Still, this creature may be what It says It is, and It may be able to help us recover lost information."
"And we can't just leave that poor girl to have to eat people!" Konyetta cried. Quiana and Kylle quickly seconded the sentiment.
"No argument there," Satherlin replied, "but we do have to be careful. She's been through a lot, and it's hurt her badly. She's more animal than human now. The look in her eyes is that of a cornered dog; she's as apt to bite as accept help. It will take her some time, perhaps much time, to get used to all of us."
"Which means that we'll have to keep Demney off her case," Clatyn added darkly. "He'll want to take her apart the minute he can; from what you're saying, that won't do any good."
"I might not have said it that way, Clat, but you are right about Dr. Demney's zeal. She might not act like it, but Sylenn is still a human. This Hunter appears eager to serve, but we shouldn't press It too hard. It could turn on us as easily."
The teleo-phone on the small table by the door clanged softly. Niel, swallowing a half-chewed bite hastily, jumped up and answered it.
"Momma's bringing Sylenn down," he told the others, replacing the receiver.
"Is it wise to bring her in here?" Tad asked. "I know that you want all of us to have a look at her, at the Hunter, but maybe we shouldn't do that here, in the Temple itself."
"I did think about it, Tad," Satherlin admitted, levering his short body out of the leather-bound chair. "We're not going to be able to hide anything from the Hunter, which means we won't be able to hide anything from Its host. She's still got all her wits ... well, most of them. She's not a Drone, is what I meant to say. She can think for herself, and she'll figure it out. Best to be up-front about it from the start. Can you think of a more neutral, more informal location that our common room?"
Tad reluctantly shook his head. Satherlin eased himself onto the floor, concealing a wince as his short legs took his weight. He'd been born a midget, a dwarf, and time had not eased the difficulty he had moving around. His head barely reached the waists of the rest of the people in the world, yet he rarely realized that he had to crane his neck to look someone in the eye. He limped over to the big table, where Quiana had pulled out a chair for him. No-one offered to help him as he hauled himself up onto it and stood leaning against the table, pretending he wasn't panting.
He'd just got his breath back when there was a knock at the door.
"Come!" Satherlin called out. The door opened, revealing Merlene Dolay. She walked into the room and stepped to one side, waving the small figure behind her to follow.
Sylenn slowly entered the room, her sharp gaze darting over every detail. She was hardly recognizable as the tattered hobo from the streets of Casserion. Her clean face was a deep caramel color featuring a broad nose and full lips. Her shaggy hair had been washed, combed, and restrained in a loose braid that began atop her head and ran down to her shoulders. Her hair was a rich brown and very curly, defying the braid's order. The old coat and cap were gone, replaced with a long-sleeved blouse of a creamy yellow color and a straight skirt in a dark gray. She now wore simple shoes and stockings and a pair of plain ear-studs.
Self-consciously, Sylenn grasped her right arm with her left hand, clenching both fists. Her action served to draw every eye to the boniness of her arms that the sleeves could not hide and the scabs and bruises that covered her hands.
"Good afternoon, Sylenn," Satherlin greeted her pleasantly. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Mrs. Dolay, thank you for taking care of her. We'll call you when we're done. Would you please leave the door open when you leave?"
Merlene raised an eyebrow at the request but nodded without hesitation. She left, making sure the hallway was empty of servants.
A few others gave Satherlin questioning looks, as well. He let them work it out on their own; the girl was in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar people.
Konyetta figured it out quickly and hopped up from the armchair she'd only recently claimed. "Here you go, Sylenn! This is one of the most comfortable chairs; have a seat!" She patted the back of the chair and moved over to the couch, giving Sylenn extra space. The girl nodded slightly, still darting glances around her.
The chair Sylenn perched on was the closest to the open door. It didn't match any of the other upholstery, but in fact, none of the furniture in the spacious room matched; every piece was in a different style, of a different period, and in a different condition. The table that Satherlin leaned against was possibly
the oldest piece in the room and well worn. The unpadded chairs around it represented at least four different countries. The two couches were low and broken in, and the prim settees against the far wall showed their age, which was slightly less than the big table. Smaller tables protruded from the spaces between the seating, and a occasional footstool (or other object repurposed as a footstool) dotted the carpeted floor, the original color and design of which was impossible to determine.
Sylenn looked around at the group, her face slowly changing from wary to puzzled. Hers was not the only confused expression; several of the other glanced at each other with silent questions.
Satherlin began without preamble. "So, Sylenn. Do you have any questions for us just yet? I know there's probably a lot on your mind right now, and we will be explaining many things to you. But if there's anything you want to ask to start with, feel free to."
Sylenn darted several more glances around, then stared uncomfortably at her lap, where her hands gripped each other. After a few moments, she asked quietly, "You-- you're all Descendants, aren't you?"
Tad, Quiana, Niel, and Clatyn started at her question, and most of the others looked surprised. Satherlin did not. "Yes, Sylenn, we are. Did the Hunter tell you that?"
Sylenn shifted uncomfortably, head down, before answering in the same muted tone. "Sort of. It doesn't actually talk to me. It can't talk ... human. It tries to, and It gets mad when I don't understand It. It gets really mad."
"If It doesn't talk human, then how does It communicate with you?" Lyshunda probed.
"It ... thinks at me. I don't always understand Its thoughts, though. They're really bizarre. Don't make sense. So then It just makes me do whatever It wants." She blinked a few times.
"I see," Satherlin forestalled Lyshunda's next question. "To answer you more fully, yes, we are all Descendants. We don't like for others to know that we can change back to our human forms because we feel this would create more problems than are necessary. It also gives us a chance for some normalcy in our lives, a chance to remember that we are human still, despite being Descendants. Will you honor our secret?"
Sylenn's shoulders tensed suddenly. "Of course, Master Tesselëan! Of course!" she cried in a pained voice.
Konyetta half-rose from her seat before Satherlin waved her back.
"Was that the Hunter's reply?" he asked gently.
"Yes," Sylenn whispered harshly. "It ... wants to please you. It ... hates not pleasing you ... I-- It -- remembers-- It remembers-- AH!" Her head whipped back as she convulsed. "Pain! Oh, God! Pain! It hurts when It doesn't obey!"
Konyetta rushed to Sylenn's side, beating Kylle and Niel by half a second.
"Ah! Ah! It HATES YOU! Hates them!" Tears poured from her clamped eyes as she shook, struggling to hold herself still, trying to stifle the creature that had forced Its way into her body. "They took-- they stole-- Oh, God! The pain! They hurt It so much, so much!"
Niel stood behind Sylenn's chair, face creased in worry as Konyetta and Kylle spoke soothingly to her. He glanced over at Satherlin questioningly. Satherlin nodded quickly.
In an instant, a huge form stood in the plump man's place. The ocher-gold Descendant hovered his large hand over Sylenn's quivering head and sighed gently. Instantly, she stilled, her sobs trickling off into soft hiccups. After a moment, the Descendant pulled back his hand and Niel stood behind the chair again.
When Sylenn was calm again, Satherlin spoke. "It seems we have much to learn. I take it that the Hunter doesn't understand what you try to tell It, either?"
Sylenn shook her head, which was hidden in the handkerchief Konyetta had produced.
"Well, we'll do what we can, then. Do understand this, Sylenn: we do not want to hurt you or the Hunter any more. We want to help both of you."
"You can help me by killing me," Sylenn hissed, glancing up sharply from the handkerchief. Her eyes burned in her tear-streaked face. "I am dead already; a walking corpse. Kill me and end this damnation!"
"We won't do that, Sylenn," Satherlin replied compassionately. "I understand that you're going through something horrible, but I don't think that killing you will solve the problem. I won't pretend to know what your life has been like, but I won't authorize your execution, either."
Sylenn slumped in the chair. "So you'll just cage me up and make the beast do tricks, then?"
"No," Satherlin told her firmly, shifting his stance on the chair to ease his legs. "We're not going to cage you, and we're not going to force you or the Hunter to do anything. This whole War is about our freedom, about not being forced to be the pawns of aliens long dead and gone! We hope that you will cooperate with us, will allow us to study the Hunter so that we can understand what's going on, but we're not going to force you."
Sylenn stared into the handkerchief for several seconds before nodding reluctantly.
"Heyla, all! Sorry I'm late!" Mosin Jenfsen burst into the room with his customary abandon. Sylenn dove out of her chair and behind the nearest couch. Satherlin sighed as Lyshunda faced the late-comer.
"Mosin, can't you ever walk into a room like a normal person? You scared Sylenn out of her wits!" She jabbed a finger at the girl's hiding spot.
"I-- Who?" Mosin halted, bronze face going pale.
"Sylenn, our guest. The one we scheduled this meeting to talk with?" Satherlin raised his eyebrows reprovingly.
Konyetta and Kylle glanced quickly at each other; so did Quiana and Hae. Eyes flew toward Mosin's face and then toward the couch.
Mosin struggled for words. "S-- ah, Sylenn is ... an unusual name. I-- ah, could I meet her?"
A strangled cry came from behind the couch, then movement as the crouched girl scrambled further away.
"Sylenn?" Konyetta said, peering around the couch. "Sweetie? Mosin would like to say hello. Would you--"
"No!" Sylenn cried, hiding her face in her chest. "No!"
"Sylenn?" Mosin whispered, walking slowly forward.
"No!" she cried, huddling on the floor. "I'm not here! I'm not her!"
Mosin leapt around the edge of the couch and crouched down beside her. As he reached out to touch her arm, she jumped to the side and scuttled away.
"NO! Leave me alone! She's dead, do you hear me? Dead!" Tears flowed down her cheeks.
"Oh, God; Sylenn! We thought you were dead! We thought-- is it really you, Silly?" Mosin stood and crept toward her.
Sylenn half-stood and backed up into the wall. Pressing herself against it, she shook her head furiously.
"No, no," she whimpered. "Don't look at me, Momo! I'm a monster! I've got this thing inside me that makes me kill and EAT people! I'm not your little Silly anymore! She died back then! Do you hear me! She's dead!"
Mosin continued to walk carefully forward, arms extended.
"Sylenn, we don't care about any of that! We just want you back. We love you, Silly! I love you!"
Sylenn covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Mosin swiftly crossed the space between them and folded her into his arms.
The world turned white.
No Turning Back Page 5
