The Remnant

by Paul B Spence

  Tebrey gripped the young man's arm. "I appreciate that, I do, but I'm going to be moving fast and hitting hard. I don't plan on spending time to engage anyone in a duel."

  "I didn't mean that, exactly."

  "I know," Tebrey said. "I have my combat knife if I have to get up-close and personal. Things are going to get bloody."

  Jeroen nodded. He'd seen his friend angry, but this fierce control scared him much more than any violent display. He smiled. "I almost feel sorry for our enemies. How are you going to find the sergeant? Do you know where he is?"

  "I don't know where he is," Tebrey said, "but I think I know someone who might."

  Ana sat quietly and listened to Mason. She was trying to understand what had happened. All she knew was that one of their people was missing and they were very worried about his welfare.

  "Is it strange that he is gone?" Ana asked. "Do you all not come and go as you wish?" Ana was thinking that there was a lot they hadn't told her. It seemed that they had less freedom than some slaves.

  "It's not as simple as that, dear. The city is a dangerous place, and we don't know it that well. Tebrey goes out because he is a strong and skilled warrior. He can take care of himself. Most of the rest of us would have trouble keeping ourselves safe."

  "But I thought the man McGee was also a warrior. Doesn't he help protect Hrothgar when he goes out?" Ana was confused. "If he can do that, then can't he protect himself?"

  "Safety in numbers," Bauval said from the door to the kitchen. He looked tired and worried. There were lines in his face that hadn't been there earlier.

  "Tebrey used to go out on his own," Mason said. "Then, it was because the marquess had asked us to stay out of sight for a while. He was attacked a few days ago and hurt badly. Since then, he has only gone out with bodyguards."

  Ana gasped. "I didn't realize he'd been hurt badly. I saw a cut on his head, but he acted so normal." Normal for him, anyway, she thought.

  "The commander doesn't like to look weak," Bauval said.

  "I would have said that he is just very tough," Mason said quickly. "The wound didn't seem to bother him much."

  "But he will be all right?" Ana asked.

  "From that, yes," Bauval said tiredly. He made a cup of tea and sat with them at the small table.

  "Is he in danger?"

  Mason glared at Bauval. She had been trying to keep from scaring Ana.

  "You're not doing her any favors by hiding the truth, Mason. He has gone to find McGee," Bauval replied. "I'm worried that he is going to get himself hurt, going alone."

  "He didn't take Hunter?" Ana asked.

  Bauval thought for a moment. "I'm not sure, actually. I didn't see the cat. Maybe he did take the beast with him."

  Mason glanced at Bauval, but he seemed oblivious to the glare that Ana had given him when called Hunter a beast. Mason knew that Bauval had been having difficulty getting used to the idea that the neo-panther had human-level intelligence. She wondered a little why Ana didn't have trouble with the concept.

  "What are we to do?" Ana asked.

  "There is nothing we can do except wait," Mason replied, "and hope for the best."

  Marquess François Nanak had had a long and exhausting day. The senate had been in session for much of the day, and it was tiring work trying to sound out those who might be potential allies while being careful not to do or say anything that was overtly treasonous. It was a dangerous time for him. There were too many tensions, too many tempers flaring in the heat of the long summer days. It would be very easy for things to get out of hand.

  He sighed and sipped his last glass of wine before turning in for the evening. The night air was cool and moist, carrying hints of the storms that would soon descend upon the city. The weeks around Summersol were miserable with torrential rains.

  "Soon," he said. "Soon another kind of storm will fall upon this city, and it will wash away all of the accumulated filth of centuries."

  "They say talking to oneself isn't healthy," came a voice.

  François cried out and swung around, thinking he was about to receive an assassin's blade. A dark form lurked in the corner of his bedroom; it resolved itself into the tall, black-clad form of the man with the giant cat.

  "Hrothgar?" he whispered.

  "I'm sorry to have invaded your private chambers," Tebrey said quietly, "but I need your help."

  The marquess took a deep breath and held it, willing himself to calm down. He could still feel his heart thumping in his chest. "This is highly inappropriate," he said indignantly. "I know that you are from a different culture, but there are–"

  "Shut up and listen," Tebrey interrupted.

  François was so stunned that he complied. He knew the voice of command.

  "One of my men has been taken," Tebrey explained, "most likely by forces that are aligned against you."

  "Then your man is most likely dead," François said, "or will be soon. I'm sure they are interrogating him. Once they learn what they want to know, they will kill him."

  "I guess it's lucky for him that he doesn't speak the local language," Tebrey said grimly.

  François nodded. "That may keep him alive for a while, but what can you do? They aren't interested in money. They aren't going to negotiate for his return. Even if we knew where he is, they would kill him before handing him over to the guard, and the potential political ramifications of sending the guard against a house under the protection of one of the ruling families..." He shook his head. "I am sorry for the loss of your man, but there is nothing that can be done."

  "Wrong," Tebrey said, stepping closer. "I'm not asking you to send in the guard, or make any kind of political gesture. All I need from you is for you to use your networks to find him. I'll take care of the rest."

  "You can't seriously be thinking of going after him alone. There would be scores of men guarding him. You'd be killed – and him, too – to no purpose."

  "If there are scores of men guarding him, then that will be scores fewer men that your enemies will have in the morning," Tebrey said.

  Hunter leapt through the window to land jarringly next to the disconcerted marquess.

  "I never said I was going alone."

  Chapter Fifty

  It was well after midnight, and the moons were partially obscured by the fast moving clouds coming in from the north. Tebrey could sense that there would be storms before morning, but it was relegated to the back of his mind. It was just another bit of data to consider when planning his next move, not important in and of itself.

  Unless I need to use the positron pistol.

  Better if you didn't, Hunter thought back.

  He and Hunter were perched on the roof of an old, abandoned manor house, observing the activity in the house next door. The cool tiles of the roof were slightly slick with condensation. Below them, the small, walled courtyard of the house was mostly empty, but there were a few guards patrolling on foot in pairs. He could see lights in several windows. There were curtains drawn across them all, though, so he couldn't make an accurate assessment of the occupants.

  He had no idea how many people he would face once he made his move.

  Hunter stiffened beside him. There is pain in there, Hunter thought. A lot of pain, too much pain for it to be just one person. I don't know who else is there, but we should save them, too.

  Tebrey nodded. We'll do whatever we can, but McGee is our priority. With the city asleep around them, they had opened themselves up a little in hopes of better being able to find McGee. It was difficult to be exact with such things.

  The marquess had called a late-night session with his spymaster, and the men had worked hard to track down clues about where the sergeant may have been taken. The spymaster had been disconcerted to be introduced to Tebrey. He hadn't quite known how to take the tall, formidable stranger. Working together, they finally narrowed it down to two houses in the river district. Both of those houses were known to the spymaster to be places where Lady Varakana's men often too
k people to interrogate them, or make examples of them.

  The lady was gaining power as much through terror tactics as actual politics.

  The first house had been empty, and they had wasted valuable time exploring each room to be sure. This one they were at now seemed to be her current favorite den of horrors. Tebrey knew that such charnel houses existed in any society, but it still sickened him to be so close to one. He hated to think of his friend in there being tortured.

  Then don't think about it, Hunter told him.

  Always the practical one, Tebrey thought.

  Someone has to keep you in line.

  Tebrey shook his head, but Hunter's tactic had worked. He felt better. He didn't need to dwell on what might be happening to McGee. He needed to figure out how he was going to stop it from continuing.

  We need to get in as fast as possible, Tebrey thought. If they have time to realize what's happening, they will kill him.

  I know. We'll have to get into the cellar fast. I think that's where the funny little man is being held.

  Any ideas on how to do that?

  Still thinking.

  Okay, how about we go in from the back, near the kitchen. Then down to the cellar from there.

  Too much time, Hunter replied. Besides, how do we find the kitchen?

  Follow the chimneys. Has to be a hearth in the kitchen, and they usually build them in the back of the house.

  Smart. But how are we going to get into the cellar fast enough? They could kill him before we make it down the stairs.

  Tebrey looked down at the tiled roof under them. I have an idea, but you won't like it.

  What's new about that?

  Mason tucked the sheet around Ana's sleeping form and smiled down at her. She had fallen asleep in the kitchen, and Christopher had carried her up to Tebrey's room. It had been unspoken among them that no one else was going to leave the house that night.

  She looks so young, Mason thought. I hope she doesn't get hurt. She quietly turned and left the room. The lieutenant was standing just outside the door. She nodded to Mason and followed her down the stairs.

  Bauval would be making another pot of tea.

  They would stay up together to wait for news.

  Ana lay awake in the dark and listened to the sounds of the house around her. It had been frightening at first to wake up in a strange bed, but the faint scent of Hrothgar on the sheets and pillow had reassured her. His scent was also a distraction; her arousal was keeping her from going back to sleep.

  She pulled the other pillow tight against her and wrapped her arms around it. She smiled at the long, black cat hairs she could see on the edge of the bed. She could imagine Hunter placing his head there to look at his friend.

  Maybe it was strange that she had accepted the giant cat so quickly, but from the first she had felt no fear, just a sense of awe at seeing such a beautiful creature. The fact that he could speak to her in her head was hardly any stranger than his existence at all.

  She snuggled down into the bed and sighed. She wanted Hrothgar and Hunter to come back soon. She hoped fervently that they would be all right. She didn't want them to get hurt. She watched the clouds outside and waited. No, she was sure that they would be okay, and it amused her to think of him coming home and finding her in his bed. She'd make sure he was rewarded for his bravery.

  There was nothing else she could do but wait.

  Tebrey dropped from the roof to a second-story balcony. Glancing around to reassure himself that he was still unobserved, he quietly forced the door and entered the abandoned house. He heard Hunter climb down behind him, and focused his attention on the room. It was empty of furnishings. A thick layer of dust coated all the surfaces.

  This way, Tebrey thought to Hunter. He crossed the room and carefully entered the hallway. It was dark in the house, but some light came in the windows from reflected sky glow off the low clouds. A distant rumble suggested that the storm was coming sooner that he had thought.

  The meager lights in the city still lit the night enough to see by, and Tebrey had always had excellent night vision. They crept down the stairs and turned to the rear of the house. He had a hand lamp, but wanted to wait until they were in the cellar to use it.

  The cellar door stood open. Cold air blew faintly up out of the dark opening, and Tebrey had a moment of foreboding. No one knew how deep the tunnels under the city went. He shivered.

  Is something the matter? Hunter asked.

  No, Tebrey replied. No, it's just... He struggled to organize his thoughts. He wasn't sure why the doorway had affected him the way it did. He shrugged. I'm fine. Come on.

  He waited for Hunter to creep past him on the stairs and then followed, closing the door behind him.

  His hand lamp illuminated a dank chamber that had a musky smell. He could hear water dripping somewhere. There were rotting heaps of what might have once been draperies from the house above. They carefully explored the cellar, finding a wine room with empty bottles scattered on the floor, and a cheese room still redolent from its former use.

  A large, rusting iron grate led down into the catacombs under the city. Tebrey had remembered Jeroen talking about the tunnels under the city the day they first arrived in Bellejor. He hadn't thought much about them then except to be happy they existed; it was the deep catacombs that kept the homes so cool in the intense heat of summer. He tried to lift the grate, but it was bolted firmly to the rock.

  Allow me, Hunter thought.

  Tebrey stepped back and held the lamp as Hunter walked forward and inspected the grate. Hunter's long, silvery claws slid out of their sheaths and cautiously slipped through the bars. With barely any sign of effort, he ripped the iron bolts loose with a loud screech and set the grate to one side.

  "Thanks," Tebrey said. He crept forward and shined the light down the hole. There were old, corroded rungs set in the stone, but he didn't trust them. The floor didn't look to be more than a few meters below.

  He nodded to himself. Here, hold this. He held out the lamp to Hunter, who carefully closed his massive jaws on it. He held the lamp steady as Tebrey climbed into the hole and lowered himself over the edge.

  He swung out over the waiting darkness.

  Steadying his nerves, he took a deep breath, sighed, and let go. He hit the bottom, and his feet slid out from under him. He had just stumbled to his feet again when Hunter came down right behind him and fell as well.

  You could have warned me.

  Sorry, Tebrey thought. He could hear Hunter's claws slip a little on the glassy, fused surface of the tunnel. He shined the light directly onto the wall. The light penetrated to an apparent depth of several centimeters and revealed glittering occlusions, gold motes suspended in the vitreous material.

  What is this stuff? Hunter asked. His mental tone showed his frustration. He had already fallen several times. Not even his metal claws could find purchase.

  I don't know; I don't think it's glass. Not normal glass, anyway. Come on, I think we need to go this way. He gestured to a side tunnel just ahead of them.

  Tebrey walked ahead, his worn, rubbery boot soles gripping just enough to let him get around slowly. There was a trickle of brackish water through the middle of the ancient tunnel. Hunter splayed his paws open as wide as he could and followed, slipping now and then, growling softly every time he ended up in the water.

  I'm thinking we don't want to be in here when it rains.

  "Yeah." His light caught something that attracted his attention. "Damn," he whispered.

  What? Hunter thought.

  Look. Tebrey illuminated a section of tunnel just below head height. There, imbedded in the wall, was a line of characters. He'd seen symbols like those before.

  He'd seen them in the ruined city.

  He traced the letters lightly with his fingers. They were seamlessly integrated with the glassy material. They did have a unexpected warmth, though. I wonder how deep these tunnels go, he thought to Hunter.

  Who can say? Cert
ainly deep.

  This is interesting, but isn't going to do McGee any good. Finding him is of top importance. But don't let me forget about these. I have a feeling the others would be interested in seeing them.

  Good for them.

  Tebrey chuckled at the tone of his friend's thoughts. Hunter was having a hard time in the tunnel. He didn't blame him for not being enthusiastic about coming back. This could be important.

  Hunter sniffed and then sneezed. He cocked his head, and then looked quizzically at Tebrey.

  What?

  Where is the echo?

  It was only then that Tebrey realized that part of his unease came from the unnatural silence pervading the darkness. There were only the slight whisper of the air moving and the trickle of water, and even those were muted. He reached out with the lamp and tapped it against the wall. The sound was distinct, but dampened. It didn't carry any distance at all.

  The walls must absorb sound, he thought.

  Look, Hunter thought.

  Tebrey glanced around. There was a faint light ahead in the side tunnel. He quickly turned off his lamp, and they crept forward through the darkness.

  That must be the grate to the other house, Tebrey thought.

  He was wrong.

  The light came from an oval patch on the ceiling that glowed faintly greenish. He could barely discern other patches of light now beginning to glow, as well.

  What the hell is that? Hunter asked.

  I don't know. I guess that these tunnels must've had illumination at one time. What could they have been used for? Originally, I mean.

  What made it come on now?

  I don't know. Our presence? Tebrey replied.

  Or maybe when you touched those symbols.

  Of course. Let's go back. I'll touch it again, and maybe they'll go back out. We don't want to warn them we are coming.

  Wait, Hunter thought suddenly. I think I smell the sergeant.