“I serve no one,” he said, stepping forward into plain view and startling everyone. Banner hurriedly joined him.
“I work with Kezule and am here voluntarily, as are others of my people.”
Nishon came closer, studying them both openly. “Your kind were rare here. There was one, at the Overlord’s Palace, but she died in the civil war. Sholans, that’s your species name.”
He nodded, widening his mouth in a smile that showed his teeth slightly, and held out his hand, palm uppermost. “Yes, Sholans. I’m Captain Aldatan.”
Nishon cautiously held his out, touching Kusac’s fingers just before they were withdrawn.
“Captain?”
“I have my own ship. My crew is with me.” He gestured toward Banner. “My Second, Lieutenant Banner.”
Banner nodded and held his hand out in greeting.
“We’ll accept your offer of hospitality,” Kusac said.
“We’ll all stay,” said Kezule hurriedly, not to be outdone. Nishon gestured to the buildings behind them. “You’re welcome. You’ll find our facilities are a little austere, though.”
“No more than ours, I’m sure,” said Kezule as they began to walk away from the N’zishok.
“We notice your ship is a military one.”
“Not all the Valtegan people are friendly,” Kusac said before Kezule could reply.
“You’ve had trouble from some of us?” asked Nishon.
“Not us,” said Kezule. “The Sholans have.”
“We met the Primes because of them and now our people share treaties,” said Kusac.
“Primes,” said Nishon thoughtfully. “First ones, from the home world. It makes sense,” he nodded.
Kusac turned to look over his shoulder, using the opportunity to subvocalize to Kezule. “Don’t ask them what they’re doing here yet. Keep the conversation light.” He fell back a little, letting Kezule talk to their host.
As the building grew closer, they could see it wasn’t as neglected as it had first looked. Though the paint was dry and peeling, door hinges and locks were well oiled and free of rust.
“More here than meets the eye,” Banner’s voice whispered in his ear.
He flicked his ears in assent and using the Brotherhood hand signals, advised him to be cautious.
Nishon and his companions led the way inside. They found themselves in a vast, almost empty warehouse, that had obviously once served the spaceport. The temperature inside wasn’t much cooler, despite several large fans high up in the ceiling, but it was a relief to be out of the direct glare of the sun. At the far end, people were bringing in bales and boxes of goods.
“Our villages work together,” said Nishon, leading them deeper into the building. “Each one specializes in different crops and we share our produce between us. We store it here because it’s central and easily distributed.” He turned round to indicate an interior structure ahead. “Our offices are over here.”
“I count eighteen workers,” murmured Banner in their ears. “Plus this six makes twenty-four.”
“Why do you need a currency if you share your goods?” asked Kezule.
“Luxury items we do sell,” said Shaalgo. “The basics everyone must have.”
“Very egalitarian,” remarked Kezule, clasping his hands behind his back as he followed them into the office.
Three tables, two covered in papers, the third, larger one had three people sitting at it. Kusac almost stumbled at the doorway as soon as he smelled their scents. One of them was female, the first they’d encountered here, and she was pregnant.
Shaalgo shot him an angry look. “No doubt you disapprove.”
“On the contrary, our females are as free as we are,” said the General. “My daughter Shezhul is with me.”
“Keeshu, fetch our guests some cold drinks,” said Nishon to one of those at the table. “He’ll look after you while I send someone to the Elders.”
As Nishon left the room through another door, the remaining two at the table stood up.
“Please, sit down and join us. I’m Shikoh, Nishon’s wife.”
In his best courtly manner, Kezule advanced on her and took her hand, bowing over it. “Charmed to meet you,” he said. “Unfortunately my wife and youngest daughter had to remain at home.”
“You’re married?” she said, sending a sidelong look at Shaalgo which Kusac caught as Kezule sat down beside her.
“It was my duty as a member of the Royal household,” he said, glancing at Kusac as he took a chair. “I was lucky enough to find a suitable mate.”
“Then the stories of a home world other than here must be true. Tell us about it.”
He listened with only half an ear as Kezule and his daughter Shezhul regaled the Ch’almuthians with information about the City of Light and the Royal Court. His attention was on gathering as much information as he could about these people. To this end, he was cautiously extending his mind beyond the confines of that room, listening in passively to the conversations of those working outside as well as trying to listen to the surface thoughts of those around the table.
It came as a shock when another mind suddenly touched his, then seized and held it, trying to examine his thoughts. He had just enough warning to slam up his mental shields before even his torc reacted to the presence.
Trying to appear unconcerned, he picked up his cold kheffa and sipped it. All he knew for sure was that the person was female, and not in that room. Moments later, he was released, leaving him with the certain knowledge that on Ch’almuth they had at least one active female telepath.
A few minutes later, a communications device buzzed and Nishon answered it. After a brief, monosyllabic conversation, he replaced the receiving device in its cradle and turned to them.
“I’ve been asked to take you to meet the Elders.”
CHAPTER 12
TRANSPORT was an open-sided vehicle that seated sixteen easily, which was as well since their welcoming party accompanied them. It was obviously used for bringing the work force from the villages to the spaceport. Once they were seated, it rose off the ground and began to move out into the surrounding desert.
“Not as primitive as they’d have us believe,” whispered Banner.
“Agreed,” came back Kezule’s equally quiet reply.
Once free of the buildings, the vehicle sped up and their journey took only some fifteen minutes.
The countryside was unremarkable scrubland, but they knew from their scans that the village was sited around an oasis. As they got closer, they could see the fields and irrigation ditches that fed them as well as the several greenhouses that they’d noticed when they’d flown over them before landing.
This settlement, the nearest to the spaceport, spanned several acres and was served by a village of thirty or so dwellings made of local materials—not dissimilar to the way the settled desert houses back home looked as if they’d grown organically out of the actual soil of Shola, Kusac noticed. The roofs, however, glittered in the sunlight and were probably made of some form of augmented solar panels, the accumulated energy used to power the whole community.
The buildings had been positioned on either side of a single main street which opened out in the center to form a square. This was where he was sure they were heading.
Outside the largest one, two people in long colored robes waited, obviously for them. They stopped just short of the building and disembarked.
While making sure he was at the back of their group, he surreptitiously looked at the two. Both were elderly, he realized, noting the lines and wrinkles on their faces. He’d never seen a really elderly Valtegan or Prime before. When the one in the blue patterned robes looked at him, she had eyes that seemed to bore straight into his despite his efforts to remain unnoticed.
“This is M’zayash, and Szayakk, our Senior Elders.” said Nishon, introducing the two Elders as they moved toward them.
The cool interior of the single story building was welcome after the heat outside. Howeve
r, within moments of entering, their comm links suddenly went silent. Banner, slightly ahead of him, signaled “Null zone—blocking devices. Sophisticated for an Ag culture.”
Passing what was obviously the Council Chamber, they followed Nishon and the others into a side room. Walls of off-white sloped gently toward a ceiling some ten feet above them where fans rotated lazily. Unusually large windows, tinted to keep out glare, punctuated the walls, opening onto a view of formal gardens. Furniture was in the form of sectional seating, made of some local canelike plant. Soft seat cushions, and small fixed back pads kept the furnishings comfortable but cool. It reminded him strongly of the lounges off the various meeting rooms at the Governor’s Palace at Shanagi. This room, however, had an—unfinished—feel to it, as if items normally displayed there had been hurriedly removed.
The sections had been arranged so they made small enclaves where groups could gather for private discussions. Unconsciously, as people began to take seats at one of the larger such enclaves, his eyes were drawn back to the elderly female again. He sensed what might have been the lightest and most fleeting of mental probes brush against his shielding, then it was gone, without triggering any of his alarms.
His brow furrowed thoughtfully as the Elder gestured for them to also take seats. He chose one to the side, out of her direct line of sight, leaving Kezule’s group as her main focus.
The seat beside him gave slightly, the cane creaking as Banner joined him.
“Read them,” he signaled, fingers tapping as if unconsciously on his thigh. Knowing Valtegan females could be telepaths and that there might be one present with them, he couldn’t take the risk of lowering his own shields, but Banner’s empathic Gift worked differently.
He filtered out the sounds of the conversation going on around them, programming his mind to only pick up the positive or negative verbal and physical signals. Instead he concentrated on increasing the sensitivity of his most external shield. If anyone probed him again, he’d have some information this time.
“Mood cautious,” Banner signaled. “Very disciplined. Control what I’d expect if we had a known Telepath with us. They know our species.”
Curiouser and curiouser. “Stay with it,” he responded just as the ghostly tendril touched him again.
Head turning instantly, he checked the two Elders, but their attention was focused on Kezule. M’zayash was in fact deep in conversation. That, however, meant nothing. He’d once been more than capable of taking part in intricate trade negotiations, and using his Talent fully.
“We’d be prepared to let those who wish to go with you leave Ch’almuth,” she was saying. “There are always those slightly dissatisfied with the life they have, eager to explore and try new pastures.”
Kezule nodded. “Those are the kind we could use. I’ve no wish to put this settlement at risk, however. Are you sure you can spare some of your people?”
“Our population is larger than it appears at first, Kezule shan Q’emgo’h,” said Szayakk.
“Sense of satisfaction from him,” signaled Banner. “He is—disconcerting—a rival—no, stronger—a—it’s gone. Lost him.”
It would be interesting to see who volunteered if Szayakk thought it would give him—or the Ch’almuthians—an advantage. An advantage over whom, though?
“All volunteers will need to be psychologically screened by us,” he said, breaking into the conversation. “Not everyone is suited to living in the artificial environment of space.”
Now he had M’zayash’s undivided attention and was the focus of her intense gaze.
“Only those we deem suitable will be allowed to volunteer,” she said.
“Captain Aldatan is right,” said Kezule. “We will still need to screen them, for their safety as well as our own.”
“As you wish,” said M’zayash, looking back to Kezule and inclining her head in acceptance. “Who will conduct these tests of yours?”
He sat back, letting himself once more become part of the background to their conversation.
“The Captain. He’s trained in these matters. My son M’kou will help him. Perhaps now we could turn to discussing matters of trade.”
M’zayash rose to her feet. “I’ll leave Szayakk to discuss trade matters with you while I have a word with your Sholan Captain.”
Her words jolted his attention back to her as she walked toward him.
Kezule glanced at him, then her. “I hardly think . . .”
“Captain,” she said. “A moment of your time, if you please.”
It was a command, impossible to refuse, considering the circumstances.
As he got to his feet, so did Banner.
“Only your Captain, Lieutenant,” M’zayash said with a slight smile.
“I’m yours to command,” Kusac said with a slight bow. He had no doubt that she was the telepath he’d sensed.
She fastened a clawlike hand round his forearm and began leading him from the room. “We’ll sit by the fountain and talk.”
He accompanied her to the center of the square where a fountain, in the form of a natural rocky spring, babbled merrily. Round it was a low wall with a wide seating area, the whole shaded by a cloth awning. Now that the sun was on its way down, a slight breeze had sprung up.
“Sit,” she ordered, letting him go.
He sat, looking out across at the meeting house.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Kezule told you why,” he said, trying to focus on the welcome coolness coming from the water beside him.
“I want to hear it from you.”
“Why?” he asked, risking a glance at her and noticing for the first time the slight ridge down the center of her head. He felt his brow begin to furrow and immediately smoothed it out. “What can I say that will add anything to the matter?” Was she more Valtegan, like Kezule, he wondered?
“Yes,” she nodded. “I’m descended from the same family as he is. My memories go back to the Fall and beyond. I remember your kind well. Your world had been enslaved for nearly two years when the civil war broke out all across our Empire.”
He remained silent, waiting to hear what she’d say next.
“Pets and slaves, that’s what they thought you. But they were wrong, weren’t they? Who’d have thought a mere handful of you could have brought down an Empire of millions, spanning nine worlds, counting your own?”
“There were around a hundred of us,” he said, wondering where she was going with this.
“So few? Well, it only goes to prove you can’t coerce telepaths, doesn’t it, youngster?”
He glanced up again, confused by her response, this time to find his gaze caught and held by hers. “Don’t you hate us for bringing about your downfall?” he found himself asking.
“Our downfall? Your kind freed us from the yoke of our military, Kusac Aldatan. Why are you hiding your abilities?”
“You’re mistaken,” he said, trying to look away and failing.
“Am I? Your elaborate shielding tells me otherwise,” she smiled, but there wasn’t much warmth in it.
“You’re mistaken,” he said again, feeling the sweat beginning to start between his shoulder blades and on his palms. “I was once, but a renegade Prime did experiments on me which resulted in the loss of my Talent.”
“You’ve been scent-marked,” she said, changing the topic abruptly. “You have a Prime lover, don’t you?”
His ears flattened instantly. “No,” he said, this time succeeding in wrenching his gaze away from hers. Zayshul was not his lover!
Suddenly her feminine scent surrounded him and he found himself unwillingly responding to it and leaning closer to her. Just as suddenly it was gone, leaving him floundering emotionally and feeling as if he’d been left out to dry for a week in the scorching sun.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said sharply.
“Yes,” he said, clenching his hands against the wall. “What of it? We’re both willing.” Even as he said it, he knew it was becom
ing the truth for him.
“Nothing,” she said mildly, breaking eye contact. “If enemies can become lovers, that’s to the good. Why are you working with the Primes?”
“We have treaties with them. Their Emperor’s son is a visitor on our world.”
“The Enlightened One is your guest?”
“Yes. Young male with a flaming egg-shaped tattoo on his chest.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “That’s the Royal Heir. But why are you, a telepath who was mistreated by them, now working and living with them?”
“I told you I’m no longer a telepath,” he said with the hint of a growl in his voice.
Internal alarms went off as one by one, she began to force her way through his shields. Raising his head, he looked her full in the eyes. Indignation flooded through him as with a thought, he began altering his shields.
“I’m not here to play mental games,” he said quietly, his voice hardening.
She nodded, the smile remaining on her face even as he felt her retreating. “Why are you working with the Primes?”
“I’m not. I’m working with Kezule,” he said. His hands were slick with sweat now, and it was running down between his shoulder blades. He knew she could smell it. He risked splitting his concentration to try and lower his overall temperature.
“Why?”
“Ask him.”
“I’d rather ask you.” The pressure on his shields returned, this time it was the ghostly touch waiting, watching, then slowly trying to insinuate its way past his defenses.
If she carried on like this, he’d be forced to either fight back or let her into his mind, neither of which he was prepared to do. “He told you the truth. He’s broken away from the Primes, setting up his own small colony. I’m there to help him, as a member of Sholan Alien Relations.”
“Why leave his world and his people?”
He’d had enough of her probing, and his own fear of discovery. Mental shutters came down behind his eyes, isolating him on several levels as he changed his shielding to form impenetrable reflective surfaces. Now her efforts would only bounce back on her.
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