The Vespus Blade

by Scott Baron

  Regardless of their landing within the inner walls, this would nevertheless be a far from simple rescue. Something, Hozark again reminded himself, Wampeh Ghalian simply did not do.

  But this was different, and it was not for hire. This was saving a part of his––he hated to say it––team. Those to whom he owed a debt of gratitude. There was simply nothing else for it.

  A knock at his door rang out right on schedule.

  “Come,” he called out, releasing the door’s locking wards.

  A pair of guards entered the room, a somewhat disheveled prisoner shoved in front of them.

  “This is the newest addition?”

  “Yes, Captain. As you requested.”

  Hozark eyed their new prize with interest. “Very well. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Will you be wanting this, Captain?” the man asked, holding out a gleaming golden band.

  “Of course. Leave it on the table. I will not require it for now,” he said, adjusting the konus on his wrist with a menacing grin.

  The guards nodded, then left both the control collar and prisoner in their captain’s more than capable hands.

  “Well, that sure sucked,” Bud said, taking a seat once the door had sealed and the silencing wards were once again put in place.

  The captain stared at him silently a moment.

  “Uh, that is you, isn’t it?”

  Hozark cracked a grin. “Indeed, it is, Bud. Good to see you, my friend.”

  “They stuck me in a cell with the most disgusting creature I’ve ever seen. Stumpy little legs that only came up to my knees. And rolls of dark-gray skin that it actually hid bits of food in.”

  “Ah, that sounds like a Faroon. Quite unusual to find one outside of their own system. Did it happen to have external gill apparatus?”

  “You mean the weird frilly stuff sticking out of its neck?”

  “To aid in gas exchange as it breathes. Yes, a Faroon, most certainly. Not a true amphibian race, mind you, but they can draw breath from many environments not suited to most other species.”

  “Well, gee, thanks, Hozark. I feel so much better about being stuck in a box with a stinky, frilly-necked, food-hoarding, non-amphibian. Totally makes it all right.”

  Hozark chuckled. “You knew this would be a difficult mission, Bud. And I remind you, it is your copilot we are rescuing.”

  “I know, I know,” Bud groused. “So, I see you had no trouble assuming Dortzal’s place.”

  “The transfer went smoothly, yes. I also learned a bit more about our cargo, now that I have full access to all of the manifests. It seems we are carrying not only the regular retinue of run-of-the-mill slave laborers, but there is apparently a contingent of Ootaki aboard.”

  “Not terribly unusual, though.”

  “No. But these Ootaki were free-folk.”

  Bud blanched. “You mean, they found one of the uncharted enclaves?”

  “It would appear that way. Mind you, it was a small group, and the larger, neighboring communities appear to have caught wind of the attack before the Tslavars reached their homes. But nevertheless, there are roughly a dozen Ootaki aboard. And all of them unshorn.”

  Bud realized what that meant. Power. A lot of power. And their ticket into Sunar’s innermost sanctum. But there was a problem.

  “You know how I feel about slavery, Hozark.”

  “And you know I am in agreement with you,” the assassin replied. “However, this group is already in slave trader hands. And at least on Ahkrahn, they will be well treated. It seems Dortzal’s original intent was to bring these directly to a member of the Council of Twenty, bypassing the normal channels.”

  “That’s weird,” Bud said.

  “Indeed. And more unusual is that there is no mention of the person’s name. It seems the captain was being far more cautious than normal in keeping this a secret.”

  “It’s like what happened with Visla Horvath and Emmik Rostall,” Bud noted. “They were pulling some sneaky shit too.”

  “There seems to be a silent power struggle going on within the Council of Twenty. And someone is amassing Ootaki, likely gathering up all the power they can before making their move. By depositing these Ootaki with Visla Sunar, we are disrupting their plans, though not by design.”

  “Call it an extra bonus, then,” Bud said with a grin. “So, what’s next?”

  Hozark’s eyes fell upon the golden control collar resting on the table, and the smile fell from Bud’s face.

  “Captain Dortzal! Visla Sunar has asked me to wish you a warm welcome to his humble estate.”

  The estate was anything but humble. Opulent in its splendor was more like it. But Hozark merely nodded offhandedly to the visla’s servant.

  “Where’s the visla? I don’t deal with lackeys,” Hozark said, playing the role of cocky slaver captain to the hilt.

  “Ah, yes. Well, you see, we were not expecting you, Captain,” the man continued.

  “No, you were not. But when I came across this cargo, I knew the visla would be most interested in them, so I plotted a course straight here to give him first pick.”

  Seventeen collared slaves were ushered out of the craft as they spoke. The inner walls were too small to accommodate the slave captain’s ship, but given the nature of his cargo, he was offered a landing spot inside the main walls and right up against the entry to the central enclave.

  “The visla wished me to invite you to dinner later. He should have time after––Oh, my!” the servant said as the flow of slave offerings shifted from laborers and gladiator fodder to a small group of Ootaki, their golden hair long and unshorn. “The visla will be most pleased indeed!” he exclaimed. “Please, follow me. The visla is, of course, most thrilled to have you with us. Allow me to show you to a room we have readied for you.”

  The man then nodded to the guards. The slaves would be taken to the holding pens, where they would be fed and allowed to rest before being inspected by the visla himself.

  “You, there,” Hozark called out to one of the slaves.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Come here.”

  The recently captured man stepped out from the line and made his way to the Tslavar captain.

  “Those bags there. Pick them up and follow me,” Hozark commanded, then turned back to the visla’s welcoming party. “This one seems strong enough of back and weak enough of mind. I think I will utilize him as a manservant until the trade is complete.”

  “Of course, Captain. Now, please, if you’ll follow me.”

  They started walking, but Uzabud was staring at the opulence of the visla’s home, and as a result was a little slow in picking up the captain’s bags.

  “Nari pa!” the visla’s servant said.

  Bud fell to his knees as the stun spell surged through his control collar.

  “You would do well to remember your place, slave. Now, pick up your master’s bags and follow.”

  Bud bit his tongue and grabbed the bags. To mouth off would only result in more shocks, and though Hozark had modified the control collar as best he could to reduce its potency, there was simply no way he could be brought into the grounds without one.

  A false collar, though useful in lesser worlds, was out of the question. Something like that would be noticed almost immediately. So it was that Bud was forced to wear an actual control collar in order to gain access to the visla’s grounds. For the moment, Bud really was a slave.

  “At least give me the release spell,” he had begged Hozark.

  “I will tell it to you, but you are an unpowered being, Bud. Without a konus to power the spell, you will be unable to cast it.”

  “Still, I’d feel better having it.”

  “Very well. The spell is Captain Dortzal’s own modification. ‘Ngthiri oolama tzaldor.’”

  “Got it.”

  “Remember, Bud, it will not work for you without a konus.”

  “I know.”

  “And prepare yourself for what is to come. As a
slave, you may experience some... discomfort while within the visla’s walls.”

  “How bad can it be?”

  Hours later, Bud had indeed experienced a little taste of what his friend had warned him about. Fun, it was not. Shifting into his role as slave, he shouldered the bags and followed Hozark and Visla Sunar’s servant into the depths of the innermost chambers.

  Hozark turned to his crew as they departed. “You men, tell the others once the ship is clean and secured, they’re released for shore leave in the city. Recreate and enjoy yourselves, but remember, you represent Captain Dortzal while on this world, and I expect you to not sully my reputation. You know what’ll happen to any who do.”

  The Tslavars indeed knew full well what it meant to incur the wrath of their captain and merely nodded respectfully, then set about their tasks, looking forward to the many pleasures to be had in the nearby town.

  Bud trotted behind Hozark and their guide, his bags hanging from both shoulders and across his back. For so short a stay, the captain certainly did seem to have a fair amount of luggage. But for one such as Captain Dortzal, allowances for eccentricity were made.

  Still, a perfunctory magical examination of the bags was made as soon as they’d been placed within the compound walls. Clothing, a few bottles of spirits, but nothing more. No hidden weapons or magical devices of any sort. He was obeying the rules of the house, as was expected of one such as he.

  What Visla Sunar’s staff did not know was that the ‘slave’ he had then called over to carry his bags was actually armed to the teeth, with all manner of magical and conventional devices fastened to his body beneath his loose-fitting slave’s garb.

  He wore a control collar. He was a slave. He was less than a person in their eyes, and no one would ever think he would be carrying forbidden weapons. And Hozark was taking full advantage of that fact.

  Chapter Twelve

  “That was not cool,” Bud grumbled as he ran his fingers across the skin of his neck beneath the smooth metal collar. “That shit hurt!”

  “It was a stun spell, Bud. It was supposed to hurt,” Hozark replied. “Maybe if you’d been paying more attention to the part you were playing rather than sightseeing, you would have avoided the discomfort. Though, to be fair, it did reinforce the illusion quite nicely.”

  “Illusion? The bastard actually shocked me.”

  “Yes. And with that, he felt completely at ease with you, henceforth viewing you as nothing more than a mere slave and not worthy of any more of his attention. Sometimes being invisible has nothing at all to do with the use of a shimmer cloak or camouflage, Bud. Sometimes, being of a certain class is enough. And with that, you often find you will have access to places otherwise unreachable.”

  Bud thought on it a long moment. Of course, Hozark was right. The man had infiltrated countless high-security establishments, killing their inhabitants and escaping intact every time. He was one of the five Ghalian masters. When it came to this sort of thing, only a fool would question his expertise.

  “So, we’re inside now. But how do we find Laskar? I didn’t see any sign of him when we were escorted in.”

  “Once again, this is where your less-than-a-person status comes in handy. I obviously cannot inquire of the man, but you are a servant. And servants see all. Here, put this on,” Hozark said, tossing a clean tunic to the collared man.

  “What’s this?”

  “Proper servant’s attire. The more you look like my personal assistant and not a run-of-the-mill slave, the more likely the other staff will speak freely with you.”

  Hozark’s plan was suddenly beginning to become a bit clearer. He would play the part that had allowed them access into the innermost reaches of the visla’s private estate, but it was Bud who would likely have the most success finding out the actual location of their endangered friend.

  Hozark summoned one of the residence’s staff via the convenient house skree located in his chamber. A few minutes later, a pale blue woman with enormous eyes and an opalescent sheen to her skin appeared at his door.

  “Yes, Captain? You summoned?”

  “I am hungry, and it looks like I won’t be dining with Visla Sunar until much later. I need some food.”

  “Of course, Captain. What can I bring for you?”

  “My servant knows my tastes. I am going to take a hot bath and wash away the aches from far too much time out in space.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Captain,” Bud said, leaning into the role.

  Hozark merely grunted, then strode off into the bathing chamber, sealing the door behind him. Uzabud and the blue woman were completely alone.

  “Sorry for his abruptness. He was a little put out that the visla was making him wait,” Bud said.

  “Oh, that’s all right,” the woman said. “We know how stressed powerful men can be.”

  “That we do. But why would Visla Sunar be stressed? It seems he’s got the world in his hand.”

  “Perhaps, but he’s a very busy man. Now, what would your master like to eat?”

  “Vinarus fruit are a favorite of his. And some shaved bundabist meat, if you have any.”

  “Of course we do.”

  “Great. And what do you mean, busy? I can’t see how Visla Sunar could be that much busier than most?”

  “He has had a great many visitors of late. And with the slaying of several of the Council’s key members and associates, things have been in a bit of a mess.”

  “I heard about that. We were near a system where a man named Rostall fell. I believe he was loosely affiliated.”

  “Oh, more than that,” the woman said. “He was a regular guest here, in fact.”

  “A mere emmik?”

  “An emmik who swam in deep waters, and with much larger fish.”

  “I heard he knew a Visla Horvath, but that was just a superficial business dealing.”

  She smiled. She knew something this newcomer obviously didn’t. “Rostall and Horvath traveled together. They were far closer than others realized, I think. Regular guests of Visla Sunar, in fact. It was quite a tragedy to learn they had both fallen.”

  “Yeah, terrible,” Bud agreed, the gears in his mind churning.

  Hozark would find this tidbit most interesting. Visla Sunar was known for not taking sides. He was in it for coin. But this did not sound like neutrality. Not at all, in fact. It sounded like far more was at play than they’d realized.

  But that was secondary. First and foremost, Laskar needed to be saved. After that, then they could dig deeper into this new wrinkle in the mysterious goings-on within the Council of Twenty.

  “You know, I’ve heard that there have been a lot of spies captured in a whole bunch of systems. Might be what happened to Visla Horvath. I guess they’re infiltrating all kinds of powerful people’s estates.”

  “Not here, that’s for sure,” she replied. “No one would be so foolish.”

  “So, no high-value prisoners, then?”

  “Not in the visla’s prisons, no.”

  A look of surprise flashed across Bud’s face. “Really? I thought Visla Sunar was known for his, uh, proclivities.”

  The woman looked around with a conspiratorial look and lowered her voice. “You didn’t hear it from me, but there is one, I suppose. None of us see him, though. The visla keeps him locked up in a private chamber near his own quarters. Rumor is, he can interrogate him at his leisure that way.”

  “Well, I suppose even a visla needs a bit of recreation at times,” Bud said, a sinking feeling settling into his gut.

  “And what could be more relaxing than a little bit of torture, right?” she replied with a grim laugh.

  Bud chuckled, an utterly false bit of levity, beneath which the cold, hard determination set in, tinged with a healthy bit of anger. Hozark had been right. Staff knew far more than one would expect. And the news had been anything but good.

  His friend and copilot was being held nearby, and he was being tortured. And he and Hozark were going to put a st
op to it, whatever it took.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Uzabud had relayed the revelation about Laskar’s whereabouts and dire circumstances to his assassin friend as soon as they were alone in their chamber once more. Hozark had been less than thrilled at the news.

  “You realize, this will make recovering Laskar difficult.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Very difficult.”

  “I said I know, Hozark.”

  The Wampeh paced the room for a few minutes, mulling over the new information and how they might best utilize this knowledge to their advantage. Unfortunately, as he was expected to be present in the guise of Captain Dortzal, Hozark simply did not have the freedom of movement to make an attempt to free Laskar. And Bud, while granted the social invisibility of the slave class, was sadly lacking in access to areas of the compound where his ‘owner’ was not.

  That left but one option.

  “Come along, Uzabud. We are taking a little stroll,” Hozark said as he opened the door to their chambers and stepped into the corridor.

  “Are we––”

  “Follow silently, slave,” the disguised assassin said sharply, reminding his friend of his role while putting on the expected show for the pair of servants walking down the hallway.

  “Apologies, Master,” Bud said, his eyes lowered as he fell in behind Hozark.

  “You two. The inner courtyard is up ahead to the left, is it not? I desire fresh air before I meet with Visla Sunar for dinner,” Hozark said to the approaching servants.

  “Yes, sir. It is.”

  “Excellent,” he replied, then strode off down the hallway. “An impressive building, Visla Sunar has,” he said to Bud, but not. “The chambers adjacent to his quarters seem like they would be quite an interesting place to visit, were they not occupied by his other guest.”

  Hozark did not look at the empty spot adjacent to the small pedestal on which a bust of the visla rested. He did not even pause as he walked past. But Demelza, hidden and invisible in her shimmer cloak, knew he sensed her. That conversation was not for Bud’s benefit, but for hers.