Between Darkness and Light

by Lisanne Norman

  “And Khyan? How is he?” he asked, feeling a pang of loss as he thought of the love and life he’d left behind.

  “He’s fine. The Regent tried to prevent him from contacting anyone outside the college, but a compromise was reached.”

  Conner began to smile. “A compromise? I wish I’d been there to hear that exchange,” he murmured. “Euan doesn’t like to be bested. I told him he’d not be able to have things all his own way during the Regency.”

  “You can talk to Master Aldatan and ask him about it as soon as you’re up and about,” said Alex, matching his smile. “I take it you and Euan didn’t see eye to eye.”

  “You could say that,” Conner agreed, looking out the window again. “Shola. I’m on an alien world,” he said quietly as if he hardly believed it.

  You said you’re a telepath, child. How many on this world are? he sent to her.

  Not many, but it is an accepted and highly respected profession here, unlike on Earth, she replied.

  How do they teach the skills?

  Through the Telepath Guild, or here. “The Leaders of Stronghold would like to welcome you. Do you feel ready to meet them?” she asked.

  He reached out to put the control unit for the bed on the night table. “I’d be happy to meet them, child,” he said. “But first, tell me what kind of place this is. Is it a college of some kind?”

  “You’re in Dzahai Stronghold,” she said. “It’s both a college and a temple where elite warrior priests with mental skills are trained. They’re the protectors of the people of Shola, particularly the Telepaths.”

  Moments later, the door opened to admit two robed Sholans.

  “Welcome to Stronghold, Master Conner,” said the first, a dark-pelted male dressed in a flowing black robe, as he approached the bedside. The visitor held out his hand, palm uppermost. “I’m Father Lijou, the spiritual Leader here.”

  Instinctively, Conner reached his own hand out, his fingertips just brushing the other’s as he took in the long dark hair worn swept back from a face framed by two white streaks.

  “And this is Guild Master Rhyaz, Leader of the Warrior side of our establishment,” continued the priest.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Conner,” said Rhyaz, holding his hand out in greeting.

  The look that Alex and Rhyaz exchanged didn’t go unnoticed by Conner. “Pleased to meet you,” he murmured as the two males brought chairs from the side of the room over to his bed and sat down.

  “Your partner has been explaining my situation to me,” he said, looking at Rhyaz, who raised an eye ridge in surprise at him before smiling.

  “Khyan told us that you had a mind as sharp as a knife,” he said, a purr of amusement underlying his voice.

  “You’ve spoken to him?” asked Conner. “I’m afraid I had no chance to meet him before it was time for me to . . . leave. It’s against tradition for the outgoing leader to meet the new one.”

  “Not us, Konis Aldatan,” said Lijou. “Head of Alien Relations. Khyan is coping well.”

  “When can I get up and see this world of yours for myself?”

  “Today, if you feel strong enough,” Lijou replied. “Our physician has asked us to tell you that he’s started treating you for the stiffness in your joints that you’ve been experiencing, but that it will take some time to have its full effect. Until then, though you may feel better, you must take it easy.”

  Conner’s eyes were drawn to the window again. “It’s winter here,” he said. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Not long,” said Lijou. “Less than two of your months. You’ve arrived at a good time, though. We hold our midwinter festival in two days. I’m told that you’ll find our religion not too dissimilar from your own.”

  Conner nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted.

  Lijou stood up. “We’ll leave you to rest. There’s a buzzer on the control unit that Alex gave you. Press it if you need anything.”

  “He needs food and rest,” said a sharp voice from the doorway. “You males have got no idea of how to look after someone who’s been through what he has!”

  “We’re just leaving, Noni,” said Lijou, putting his chair back as Rhyaz and Alex got up too.

  “Three of you! No wonder he’s exhausted!”

  Curiosity overcame his tiredness and he turned his head to look at the newcomer. The elderly Sholan was as striking to look at as her voice had suggested. What she lacked in size, she made up for in presence as she stood there, dressed in a long, dark blue robe, leaning on her walking stick. Snow-white hair, bound in a single long plait, framed her iron-gray face, a face that right down to the angle of her ears was glaring thunderously at his visitors.

  “Master Lijou, you’ve got a call waiting for you in your office. And, Rhyaz, take that young Leska of yours to the refectory and feed her! She’s looking peaky again and she’s still got a lot of growing to do.”

  “Yes, Noni,” said Rhyaz with a grin. “Conner, may I introduce you to Noni, our Healer? She rules this infirmary with a rod of iron.”

  “I can introduce myself, thank you, Rhyaz,” she said gruffly as they filed out past her. “As for you,” she said, pointing at him, “I got a nice bowl of . . .”

  “Not chicken broth, I hope,” he murmured. “You’ve no idea how I hate being treated like an invalid.”

  “Stew,” she said, moving aside for a nurse carrying a tray. “Broth has its place, but you need building up.” She stood and watched the nurse put the tray on the table at the end of his bed then pulled it up till it was across his lap. “You eat that then get some sleep,” she said, her voice gentler now. “I’ll come see you later and we’ll talk then about you getting up.”

  Left alone, he ate his stew slowly then lay back on his pillows, looking out at the blue sky and the snow-covered mountain. It wasn’t the company that had tired him, it was the realization that after composing himself for an eternity of sleep, he was now faced with having to continue living—with the loss of the woman he’d loved as fresh as if it had just happened. And for him, it had just happened. No sooner had Khyan arrived than he’d had to enter the cryo chamber, leaving Nimue to be the youth’s teacher and lover. He sighed, knowing there was a right-ness in the ritual of Choosing and of the sleep afterward. Khyan was her age, not an old man like him.

  Sending him to Shola was Euan’s revenge on him for Choosing a new high priest that he couldn’t control. His only comfort was the promise his Gods had given him, that never again would the high priest live alone until the last few years of his term of office. Khyan and Nimue would remain together for the rest of their lives, as would those Chosen after them. His sacrifice meant their happiness. Now he must learn to forget her, as she had begun to forget him the moment she’d taken the ritual drink during the Choosing.

  Resolutely he turned his thoughts away from the young couple at the college in Old Sarum. He must embrace this new life, look for the purpose behind it. Euan might think it had been his decision to send him to Shola, but Conner knew he’d been sent here for a greater reason. He let his mind drift, wondering what kind of world this was, wondering what kind of Gods and Entities inhabited it. Presently, sleep claimed him.

  CHAPTER 7

  K’oish’ik, Prime home world, same day

  K’HEDDUK glanced at the two red-robed Enforcers working their way slowly down the length of the kitchen staff toward him. Once a week, without warning, they came to scan the food in the storerooms, preparation and cooking areas for any traces of poisons. Today, the Head Inquisitor himself had come. He grunted in satisfaction that his message had got through.

  The chef came out of the cold store and thrust a small dish of imported chocolate flakes at him. “Here, and see it’s all used on her Highness’ dessert or I’ll have your hide for a floor scrubber! It’s too expensive to waste on the likes of you. It’s not my job to keep up with all her food fads. The sooner she drops that egg of hers, the better!”

  Mumbling assurances, he headed out of the stifli
ng heat back to the coolness of the side room where he was preparing the latest bizarre concoction of fruit, meats and cream—to be topped with the latest delicacy from the Human worlds of the Sholan Alliance—for the pregnant Empress Zsh’eungee.

  He took his time, knowing that his dishes were the Empress’ favorites, not just because of their taste, but their presentation as well. He had no intention of rushing just because High Inquisitor M’zzik was here.

  “You’re a person of many talents, K’hedduk,” said a quiet voice from the doorway. “I’m sure the Empress will enjoy your latest culinary creation.”

  He looked up at the Inquisitor, not missing the priest’s slight emphasis on the word Empress.

  “Of course,” he said. He stood back from the table as M’zzik’s assistant priest ran the scanner over the nearly completed dish and the remaining ingredients.

  “Clear, Inquisitor,” he murmured.

  M’zzik waved him aside. “Keep watch in the doorway, Lufsuh,” he ordered. “We must not be disturbed.”

  The priest bowed and moved back into the corridor.

  Moving closer, M’zzik lowered his voice. “Your claim has been checked against the central records, K’hedduk.”

  “And?”

  The priest dipped his fingers in the bowl of chocolate flakes. Lifting them toward his mouth, he examined the dark confection before his bifurcated tongue flicked out to lick off the delicate flakes. “Unimpeachable,” he murmured.

  “I know that,” K’hedduk almost snapped, irritated by the priest’s procrastination. “What’s your decision?” All depended on whether or not the Inquisitor would support him.

  M’zzik frowned slightly, obviously displeased at the other’s tone. “Questions must be answered first,” he said, his voice hardening.

  “Then ask them.”

  “You look and behave nothing like the M’zullians we’ve seen. Why, K’hedduk? And how did you manage to reach here undetected?”

  K’hedduk grinned toothily, a grin not echoed in his eyes. “The Fall caused us to all breed where we could, Inquisitor. On M’zull, the Emperor’s nephew had a few drones from the Intellectual caste. We cloned them, ensuring they were fertile. Not having breeding tanks like you, it took us longer to replenish our ruling class, and the Emperor’s line, in order to control the Warriors that abounded on our world. As for how I got here,” he shrugged disparagingly. “That’s irrelevant. I’m here and I’m asking for your support to retake the Throne of Light.”

  “For your brother,” said M’zzik.

  “For my brother,” he agreed, mouth stretching in a smile. “Do I have your support? Your self-styled royal family isn’t even directly descended from the great Emperor Q’emgo’h, may his memory be revered for all time, whereas my family is.”

  “General Kezule has a better claim. His blood is undiluted by drones or workers. Why should we support you? You’ve attempted a coup to put him on the throne already. It failed.”

  “Because he betrayed me and my followers! There are no longer any pure lines left, M’zzik, you know that.”

  “High Inquisitor M’zzik,” interrupted the priest quietly, but K’hedduk didn’t miss the firming of the jaw nor the tightening of the skin over the bone around the eyes.

  “High Inquisitor M’zzik,” K’hedduk agreed, inclining his head in acknowledgment of the other’s status while suppressing his annoyance. Though his claim to royal lineage had been accepted, he wasn’t yet in a position of power. That would change soon. “The General’s left K’oish’ik. As a member of the Emperor’s Privy Council, you know he wanted nothing to do with the Court, and less to do with ruling.”

  M’zzik nodded. “That was a disappointment,” he murmured. “To have served an Emperor such as him would have indeed been a privilege.”

  “Had he wanted to reunite our worlds, retake our Empire. He didn’t. We do,” said K’hedduk, curbing his impatience. “Will you support me?”

  “There’s his offspring to be considered,” temporized the Inquisitor, folding his arms inside the wide sleeves of his robe. “It could be argued even they have a better claim than your family.”

  “Artificially tank-grown and created from common stock,” said K’hedduk dismissively. “We have no tanks, all our births are natural, and our females are unaltered and still kept in harems. We haven’t allowed alien influences to dictate our evolution.”

  M’zzik’s eyes flashed angrily. “Be careful, K’hedduk. Those decisions were made by the Regent and the Council that ruled after the Fall and the death of Emperor Q’emgo’h. You need our Intellectuals, K’hedduk,” said the Inquisitor. “I believe your planet doesn’t have enough officers to control those Warriors of yours. In the past, M’zull was always a training world and staging post for the Empire’s military machine. Why should we believe this coup will do any better?”

  “We have an Intellectual caste,” hissed K’hedduk, letting his anger show. “Yes, we had—and still have—a large population of Warriors, but we do have the officers to control them! Reestablishing the Empire is to be desired. We exist to rule the lesser species, not have them walking all over us, dictating alliances and trade routes! Especially the damned Sholans who caused the collapse of our Empire!”

  “That, we are agreed on,” said M’zzik. “But my Order is not prepared to back you unless we have assurances that you’ll win this time. You face a greater challenge than before. We now have Kezule’s offspring guarding the Palace and the City.”

  “Oh, I’ll win,” said K’hedduk, his smile genuine this time. “Kezule’s kid commandos will not be the problem you anticipate. Why do you think I soil my hands by working in the kitchens?”

  “Ah,” said M’zzik softly as understanding dawned. “That’s why you need our cooperation. But what of the TeLaxaudin? They could have many devices that would foil your plan to take over the City.”

  “They can be killed as easily as anyone. We’ll take the technology from them afterward,” said K’hedduk offhandedly. “An alliance with us would strengthen your position, Inquisitor M’zzik. The Emperor would ensure you remained Head of the Enforcers. You’d have our faithful to guide as well as rooting out heresy from among the Primes unwilling to worship their rightful Emperor.”

  “Emperor M’iok’kul intends to make his capital here?”

  “Where else but on the egg from which we all hatched? The City of Light is our physical and spiritual home, Inquisitor. Yes, we M’zullians need to expand. Our population is large, but it will revitalize K’oish’ik. I’ve been outside this City. Believe me, I know what it’s like beyond these walls. Your world is dying. You need breeding females—and males—for the Warrior caste. We have them, and we have Workers too.”

  M’zzik raised an eye ridge. “I thought you had no Worker caste.”

  “The caste isn’t pure, it has been combined with the Warriors,” admitted K’hedduk.

  “Prone to be unstable and argumentative,” said the priest thoughtfully. “Would they be better than what we have?”

  “Your work force spends more time discussing the job than doing it!” said K’hedduk scathingly. “When our two worlds are combined, then we can move on Ch’almuth. From them we’ll get our strong work force, and breeding stock, one without Warrior traits, one that’s malleable to our needs.”

  “Our intelligence shows Ch’almuth to be unchanged—a peaceful agricultural world as it always was. The higher castes they had have mingled, diffused among the general population.”

  “I know more about Ch’almuth than you think. There are always throwbacks. We intend to find them and start a breeding program to re-create the Worker caste. We need each other if this is to succeed, M’zzik,” he said, dropping the other’s title deliberately. “I have the Warriors, you the Intellectuals and Ch’almuth the Workers. I command the modified males who will take the City for us. Once I’m ready to move, I’ll contact M’zull. When my people arrive from my home world, my Warriors will protect us while we prepare to mo
ve against the Sholans and their allies. Now, do I have your support or not?”

  “We’ll give you our support, K’hedduk. Conditionally.”

  He knew M’zzik would make conditions, but those would be easily overcome when the time was right. Enforcers bred among themselves for one thing only, and it wasn’t fighting. Their background of Warrior and Intellectual ancestry was secondary to those quirks in their natures that ensured their fanaticism and dedication to finding sedition against the Emperor. They would be as powerless as the Intellectuals when faced with defending themselves.

  “When do you plan to make your move?” the Inquisitor continued.

  “Soon. Once she drops her egg,” he said. “I’ll let you know what help I need in a few days’ time when I’ve finalized my plans. You’d better go, we’ve talked long enough. I don’t want the people here getting suspicious about me.”

  M’zzik frowned again, then turned away abruptly. “Be careful, K’hedduk. Our Order is used to respect, even from the royal family. Remember you are only a pastry chef right now, even if you are the Emperor’s younger brother.” He left in a swirl of crimson robes.

  At his sides, K’hedduk’s hands clenched in rage. M’zzik would pay for that insult. There would be a reckoning between him and the Head Inquisitor, and it couldn’t come soon enough.

  City of Light, Sholan Ambassador’s lodgings, same day

  “The City is a mass of ancient tunnels, Ambassador,” said Vaygan as he and his companion brushed the remaining dust from their pelts and took the seats that Ambassador Fingoh had indicated. “We’ve been crawling around them now for weeks. Most have been badly damaged by earthquakes—full of rubble, some even walled off. Finally we found one that had been split open, forming a fissure in the rock that led all the way to the outside.”