The General had kept them apart for this reason, but now he was away and the decision rested with M’Kou. If Banner remained, it would prevent the Doctor from being alone with Kusac again. Letting her treat him alone in the first place had been a risk, but the Captain had been so obviously ill, he’d assessed the risks as nil. And there was the fact the Sholan had won the bet and was entitlted to spend two hours with Dr Zayshul. However, when he’d fainted and they’d finally got access to the treatment room, the place had reeked of sexual tension, both Prime and Sholan. He was surprised that Banner hadn’t reacted to it. Perhaps insisting he stayed with the Captain was his reaction.
By the time they had Kusac settled in a bed in the sick bay, he’d decided.
“Stay with him, Lieutenant Banner,” he said. “With you here, your crew can’t complain about his treatment.”
“It really isn’t necessary,” said Zayshul, switching on the various monitors.
“If you’re keeping him overnight, then I’m staying,” said Banner firmly, settling himself on the low padded chair that sat against the cubicle wall.
Vartra’s Realm, same day
Freed from the surface of Shola, Vartra had chosen to make his home, if such it could be called, at the Shrine on the renamed Haven Stronghold outpost. The sight of his catafalque in the temple at Dzahai Stronghold still unsettled him, reminding him of the mortality he’d been denied by the intervention of the Camarilla.
Not that he was restricted to Shola, or even Haven now, he could travel to wherever there was one of his visionary priests. Or one of his own descendants, like Kusac and his son, Shaidan. The Camarilla were monitoring them carefully and his interference would not be allowed—if it was discovered. They weren’t omnipotent, despite all their abilities and technology. He’d done as much as he could for Shaidan for the time being.
Now he sat in the Shrine on one of the prayer mats near the back in the deep shadows, wrapped in the black robes of his Order, the hood pulled low over his face in case someone caught sight of him. He’d just been to visit the younglings who’d been sent to live with Tanjo. One there, Dhyshac by name, had surprised him once before by being able to see him. When he’d had the chance to talk to the lad and discovered whose blood he carried, it was no longer surprising.
“You’re back,” said Dhyshac, following him into the deserted cryo resus room. “Who are you? You’re not one of the Brothers who lives here, and no new Sleepers have been awakened.”
Vartra sat down on one of the seats facing the lecture screen. “Who do you think I am?” he asked, surveying the cub dressed in the purple-bordered black tunic of the Brotherhood.
“I don’t know,” said Dhyshac, coming closer. “I can’t feel your mind and that’s unusual.”
“Have you told anyone about me?”
“No,” he said, perching on the edge of a chair three seats away. “Only Brothers on active duty wear gray, and I don’t think you’re on active duty. You look a little like the small statue that Brother Tanjo keeps in his office.”
Vartra laughed. “Very observant. You’re like your father, you know. Sharp as a knife, and as brave. Not everyone would question a Brother he thought was on active duty.”
Dhyshac cocked his head to one side, looking curiously at him. “You know my father? They won’t tell us anything about our families. Not even Tanjo.”
“You get on well with Tanjo?”
“Yes. He’s patient even with Gaylla, which few people are,” Dhyshac said candidly. “Shaidan always used to look out for her, but they kept him so I do it now.”
Vartra nodded. “Shaidan’s a remarkable cub,” he said. “In many ways.”
“You’ve met Shaidan? But how could you?”
Vartra stood up. “I get around, Dhyshac. I have to go now, but we’ll meet again, I promise you that.”
“Don’t go! Tell me who my father is!” exclaimed the youngling, leaping to his feet, tail twitching anxiously from side to side.
“Tell Tanjo I said to take you to the Shrine. It’s time you followed in your father’s footsteps,” he said, turning away.
“But who are you? How can I tell him that if I don’t know your name?”
Vartra stopped and, reaching into one of the pouches on his utility belt, took out a coin which he flipped over to Dhyshac. “Give him that, tell him it’s yours. He’ll know what it is, and what to do.”
Tanjo turned the coin over in his hand once more before handing it back to the cub by the chain he’d threaded through it. “Put it on and come with me,” he said, getting to his feet. “We must see Sister Jiosha at the Shrine.”
“I don’t understand, Brother Tanjo,” said Dhyshac, looping the chain round his neck as he followed the Brother out of the office and along the short corridor to the shuttle bay. “Who was he? Why do I need to go to the Shrine?”
Tanjo stopped and waited for the youngling, putting his arm round his shoulders before drawing him on. “Your father is Kaid Tallinu, one the Brotherhood. He’s one of Vartra’s favored,” he said quietly. “He’s a visionary. The God speaks to him.” He took a deep breath, tightening his hand round the cub’s shoulder. “Just as He’s spoken to you. You met Vartra, Dhyshac, and He has a purpose for you, that’s why He’s given you His coin. That’s why we must see the priestess at the Shrine.”
Tanjo had brought him here and had Sister Jiosha and Commander L’Seuli hear him swear the Creed, making him one of the youngest Brotherhood members in the Order’s history. Then they’d left, taking the new young Brother for a celebration. Tomorrow, he’d start an intensive program of education and training under Tanjo, something that the retired tutor was looking forward to. It would give him a purpose in life that he needed, and a way to more usefully make the reparation he felt he owed Kaid. What better way than by educating his son?
Hearing a footfall, Vartra looked up, surprised, wondering who was disturbing the quiet of the Shrine during third meal. It was Commander L’Seuli himself. He watched the young male approach the statue on its stone plinth, stopping at the brazier to cross his forearms over his chest and bow before taking a piece of incense to crumble in the flames.
Curious, he lifted his head slightly and watched.
L’Seuli brushed his hands together over the flames to rid them of the last crumbs of the incense then stepped closer to the statue. His mind was troubled because he had disobeyed Master Rhyaz’s orders regarding the En’Shalla cubs. The Warrior Master wanted them put in cryo as their existence was a political nightmare. Were they discovered, it could shatter the treaty with the Prime world.
When the orders had come, the thought of the five cubs lying in the chill embrace of cryo had given him and his mate Jiosha nightmares. On her insistence, he’d reinterpreted them to mean that there was no urgency to placing them there. Now one of them, Kaid’s son by Kate Harvey, had been singled out by Vartra. Although for him it did confirm his decision had been right, it created more problems—namely confessing to Master Rhyaz and Father Lijou. He’d let his compassion risk the future of the Alliance. They would not be pleased.
Sighing, he reached out to touch the half life-size statue of the God, leaning against its coolness. Not for the first time, he wished he were a telepath so he could make them appreciate the many reasons why he and Jiosha felt that the cubs shouldn’t be put in cryo and instead should be given to their parents.
Not just compassion, the knowledge that when Kaid and Carrie find out about them—and they will—they will have become two implacable enemies to Stronghold.
Startled, L’Seuli looked round the dimly lit Shrine. “Who’s there?” he demanded. “Show yourself!”
Vartra laughed gently, getting to his feet and walking toward him. I think not. Last time we met, you were far from comfortable in my presence. Tell them what I said, L’Seuli. Say Kuushoi spoke to Carrie while she was in cryo on the Profit. Ask if they really want the cubs in Her realm during winter?
Slowly L’Seuli began to back away from the
statue. “I’ll tell them,” he whispered, ears flattening to his skull. A flicker of movement caught his eye then he thought he saw the faint outline of a robed and hooded figure coming toward him. He tried to dismiss it as a trick of light caused by the flickering brazier, but when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, he let out a low whimper of fear.
Smiling to himself, Vartra touched him briefly on the shoulder as they passed. Don’t doubt yourself, L’Seuli. Rhyaz chose you for the very qualities you used when you decided to keep the cubs awake. I’ve given you what you wished for, by the way.
Unable to move, L’Seuli remained frozen to the spot for fully five minutes before he realized that Vartra had left. Going over everything the God had said, he made his way shakily out into the corridor. Jiosha, her mind full of the questions she was trying to ask, was waiting for him with the two Brothers who were acting as priests.
“What happened? They tried to open the door but it was shut fast.”
“Not here,” he said, taking hold of her arm. “I need to talk to you in our quarters.”
By the time they had reached their rooms, he’d regained most of his composure.
“What happened, L’Seuli?” she asked, turning to him as soon as he’d shut the door behind them. “Something upset you badly.” She reached out to touch his face only to instantly pull back as their minds met and began to merge.
“Dear God,” she whispered, staring at him in shock as one phrase echoed in both their minds.
Leska Link, she sent. We’re Leska Linking!
I know, he replied, reaching out to pull her into his arms.
Kij’ik Outpost, later that day
Kusac solved the problem by waking from a troubled sleep some two hours later and insisting on returning to his own quarters. Zayshul was equally determined to examine him first.
He submitted to the short exam, answering her questions briefly and tersely.
“Kusac, we need to talk properly,” she said finally, putting the small handheld scanner away. “Before Kezule returns tomorrow.”
“I agree,” he said. “When and where?”
“Tonight, up in the hydroponics level. There’s a pool there that only I use at night.”
He roused a little, looking at her for the first time. “A pool? I’ve never heard of one up there.”
“You wouldn’t. Kezule’s not let it be widely known there is one. It’s not just a pool, it represents the place we believe life started on our world. It has an almost religious significance for us. You’d call it an oasis. It’s opposite the field area you use.”
“Why meet there?”
“The pool’s in the midst of a small indoor forest. If we’re disturbed, you can hide in the bushes. I’ll be there at 23:00. The guards are used to me going there alone late at night. There’s a back staircase you can use. When you’re in the pool room, head down the path toward the bridge to the central island. I’ll wait there for you.”
He nodded. “I know about the staircase. I’ll be there,” he said, getting up.
“Kusac, I swear I knew nothing about the DNA,” she said, reaching out to touch him.
“Later,” he said, avoiding her as he made for the door. He wanted to leave here, escape from her presence now before the anger that was surging through his body and mind like a living thing exploded.
He’d been cynically used by her and her husband from the start. First with Zayshul’s lies about visiting him on the Kz’adul, then when Kezule had used Zayshul’s and Shaidan’s scents on the message to lure him here. Finally, not content with blackmailing him to return for Shaidan, both of them had lied about Shaidan’s parentage.
Banner was waiting for him in the corridor. “That was quick,” he observed. “With Kezule and half his people away, I canceled the classes for tomorrow. I suggest you take it easy in your room, sleep if you can.”
“I’m not tired,” he snapped, heading out of the sick bay at a brisk pace. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll sleep when I’m ready.” Round his neck, his torc had begun to throb again.
“Hyper alert,” said Banner, keeping pace with him, his ears flicking in understanding. “Then a walk’s probably a good idea to tire yourself out. I’ll come with you.”
“I don’t need or want you with me,” he said harshly, pushing open the exit door with such force it swung back and hit the wall. “Go talk to the Prime females in the rec room if you want something to do, just leave me alone!”
A hand caught hold of his good arm, pulling him to a stop. Angrily he rounded on his Second.
“I only wanted to give you these,” Banner said, holding out a small bottle of pills. “Analgesics from the Doctor. The instructions are on the label. I’m not going to force my company on you, Kusac. You do what you want. You know where I am if you need me.”
Feeling deflated, he watched Banner walk off toward the rec room, then turned and headed in the opposite direction with no clear idea of where he was going. Round his neck, the torc’s throbbing began to recede.
His footsteps took him past the temple. He hesitated at the door, then making a decision, pushed it open and went in. A start had been made on decorating the far end of the hall, round the altar, with the greenery they’d brought back with them from their hunting trip. A large pile still lay on the floor. Just in front and to either side of it, the braziers burned with a steady, low flame.
The altar itself was bare apart from a blue glass container they’d been loaned in which a votive candle burned. The Venture had only been at Haven for a few days before they’d left so there had been no image of the God on board as was traditional on Brotherhood craft.
He stopped beside the altar, breathing in the smell of the resin from the evergreen wood. The trees might be alien, but they smelled enough like those at home on Shola so that he could feel some of the tension begin to ebb away. On impulse, he bent down to search through the greenery for a couple of long, thin twigs. Finding them, he began to weave them together into a bow shape, the familiar task giving him some sense of reality in the insane world he found himself inhabiting. Finished, he placed it behind the blue candle holder.
A noise from behind caught his attention and he swung around, eyes searching the dimly lit room, but the temple was empty. Remaining motionless, he waited. The noise came again and this time, he could pinpoint it to the door of the small office a few yards away.
Slowly and quietly, he made his way over, reaching out cautiously with his mind to see if anyone was there. He recognized the mental signature instantly—Dzaou. What the hell was he doing in the office?
Pushing the door open, he walked in.
Dzaou stood with his back to him, leaning over the large wooden desk that faced the door. He froze, then visibly forced himself to relax as he looked around.
“Captain,” Dzaou said. “I didn’t realize you were up and about. I’m checking on the incense and candles for our midwinter festival.” Turning round to face him, he leaned against the desk and held up a pale yellow candle. “Scented, with something smelling of fruit blossom. Not exactly the nung flower, but quite pleasant. Do you think it’ll do?”
The body language and his emotions all screamed that the older male was trying to conceal something on the desk.
“Not like you to spend time on temple duty,” Kusac said, walking closer. He stopped a few feet in front of Dzaou. “Jayza tells me that apart from working on the drums, you rarely visit.”
Dzaou flicked his ears briefly to the side in the equivalent of a shrug. “Religious observances when not at Stronghold were always a matter of personal preference in my time. I don’t remember seeing you here.”
“I’m here first thing each day to conduct the basic rituals observed when on a religious posting,” he said, moving slowly round to Dzaou’s left. “The other three usually join me.”
“Their choice. Did you want something, Captain?” asked Dzaou, turning to lean back across the desk and pick up the candles lying there.
“I heard a no
ise and came to see who was here.”
“Well, now you know it’s me,” said Dzaou, palming something.
Kusac’s hand flashed out, pinning Dzaou’s to the desk before he could conceal what he held.
“What’s that, Dzaou?” he asked in a deceptively mild tone. “You aren’t taking candles from here, are you?”
Dzaou snarled up at him, trying to pull his hand away and failing. “Yes, I’m taking a candle. I prefer to meditate in my own quarters.”
“Why don’t I believe you? What are you planning this time?” His tone sharpened as he forced Dzaou’s hand up to reveal the candle.
“Keep it then, if one candle is so important to you!” Dzaou exclaimed as it was taken from him. “And I resent the inference that I’m planning something!” He jerked himself free and, rearranging his jacket, turned to leave.
Why would Dzaou want a candle, he wondered as he placed it back on the desk. Why was he so anxious to leave? Then he sensed what it was: Dzaou was concealing something else on his person, something more important that mustn’t be found. His body language, and the uniform jacket with its multitude of pockets, shouted it out loud and clear.
“What else have you stolen, Dzaou?” he demanded, reaching out to prevent him from leaving. “Give it to me right now.”
With a snort of derision, Dzaou turned back. “That poisoned bite’s made you paranoid, Captain,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His anger flared again, and as it did, the torc began to pulse uncomfortably. “Don’t mess with me, Dzaou! I want it, and I want it now!”
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