She leaned toward him, bracing herself against the work surface with her arm. “There’s a military precision to this whole incident that suggests you or your young commandos are involved, Kezule. The only loose end was caused by Dzaou disturbing them! The only motive that makes sense is to try and change the marker on him. You’re the one person who has most to gain from that!”
“You’re talking nonsense, Zayshul,” he said, getting up and moving away from her. “I only came to tell you that I no longer care if you have your Sholan, so long as you turn the marker off.”
“Why now?” she demanded. “Because your little plan failed? How could you even think of doing that to him, Kezule? You were outraged when you found you’d been harvested on the Kz’adul, how did you think he’d feel about being raped? Didn’t it occur to you what would happen if he found out?”
“I had nothing ...”
“Don’t lie to me!” she hissed, jumping down and going over to him. “I know you were involved! At the very least, you asked for this to be done!”
He grasped her by the shoulders. “Did it occur to you that I did it for your benefit, and his?” he demanded, his voice low and angry. “I’ve watched both of you these last weeks and seen what effect this marker has on you! I asked Giyarishis long ago to find a cure for it, but he’s come up with nothing! I thought that maybe another marker could replace yours!”
“Then what?” she asked, trying to pull away from him. “He’d be tied to her the way he is to me!”
“No, he wouldn’t! The plan was for her to replace your marker with hers, then turn hers off, leaving him free of it completely! What kind of person do you think I am?”
“One that would send a female to drug and rape someone who is supposed to be your ally,” she said, wrenching herself free and backing away from him. “What you did was despicable and dishonorable!”
“What choice had I? I was afraid you could be injured by him taking his rage out on you when he found out about the marker, or that you’d end up obsessed with him!”
“He didn’t,” she said. She’d had enough of his plots and lies, it was time he knew the truth, no matter the cost. “Despite how you’ve tried to manipulate him over Shaidan, you managed to get his cooperation, and he didn’t hate you. What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out about this?”
“What did you say?” he demanded, taking a step nearer to her as his crest rose in anger.
“You should have asked me first about replacing the marker. I could have told you it’s impossible. I know, because I’ve tried.”
“You disobeyed my orders?” he said, his tone deathly quiet.
“Listen to yourself! Who do you think you are? A General still? Only in a vanished army and a way of life that’s been dead for over a thousand years! I’m not under your command, Kezule! I may be your wife, but I’m as free a person as you! You’ve no right to give me orders!”
He stood looking at her, then, in a quieter voice asked, “What else did you tell him?”
“He knows about the marker, and he knows I’m not Shaidan’s mother,” she said. “He also knows that my DNA is bound into Shaidan’s.”
“And he still helped us.”
“Yes,” she said more calmly. “Can’t you see that all he wants is his son and to leave here?”
“And can he with the marker still on him?” he asked, his crest slowly lowering.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “When he was ill on your trip to Ch’almuth, that was the marker.”
“How?” he asked. “How did it make him ill?”
“The marker reacted badly with his alien physiology, Kezule,” she said, backing off to her bench and stool again now that she could see his anger was dissipating. “It bound to him in a very different way, one that has turned my scent into a drug that it seems he can’t do without.”
“Can an antidote be made?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t dared to try working on one.”
“Then I suggest you try now. The female did succeed in putting her marker on him before she was disturbed, but obviously it didn’t work. Has he realized he may have to remain here indefinitely?”
She nodded. “He’s aware of it, but hasn’t dealt with it yet.”
“He mustn’t find out I was involved in this, Zayshul,” he said. “You realize that, don’t you?”
“I think you should tell him. He’ll be angry, yes, that’s to be expected, but when he realizes why you did it ...”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” he said, crest beginning to rise again. “Even if we could get him to understand, there’s his crew! Had that damned Dzaou not interrupted them, he’d be none the wiser now. She’d have sedated him before leaving and when he woke, he’d have thought it was only a vivid dream.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she began.
“Don’t go behind my back on this, Zayshul,” he interrupted. “You could put all our lives at risk if you do. Banner is taking this as personally as if it had happened to him. They’ll be gone in a few weeks, even if Kusac has to remain. We can tell him then if you must, but not now.”
Reluctantly, she nodded.
He reached out and grasped hold of her arm. “I mean it, Zayshul. He mustn’t find out. Keep him occupied, do what it takes to keep your Sholan’s mind off this or all we’ve worked for could be lost. Do you hear me?”
“You’re hurting me,” she said.
“Do you hear me?” he repeated, shaking her slightly.
“I hear you,” she said. “And I’ll do it, but I hope you’re ready for the repercussions.”
When he’d gone, she sank down onto her stool, mentally exhausted by their confrontation.
When second meal was sounded, Kusac excused himself from the Ch’almuthians he’d been working with in their shop, and headed back to his room as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. Diving into the wardrobe, he pulled out the sheets and began to fold them. On an impulse, he brought the one he was holding up to his nose and sniffed it. His and Banner’s scents were strong, and underneath them, he could smell Zayshul’s. He tried another couple of places on it and after drawing a blank on it, he finished folding it and tried the other one.
This time, the fourth scent was there—very faint, to be sure, but enough for him to be able to identify it as not belonging to Zayshul or Banner, or himself.
Thoughtfully, he folded that one, too, and bundling them both up together, looked for something in which to conceal them. Nothing came to mind and finally, he grabbed a tunic from his drawer and making an incision in the stitching on a side seam with his knife, he wrapped them inside that. Now he could claim he was taking his tunic to Zayshul to get help with mending it.
The corridors were deserted as he hurried to the sick bay. Passing the main entrance, he made for the one leading to the treatment rooms and the lab. Zayshul looked up as he came in, shaking her head slightly in warning.
“Don’t be much longer,” he heard Ghidd’ah say moments before she came into his sight. “All the food will be gone.” She smiled as she saw him. “Hello, Captain.”
“I came to ask Zayshul for help fixing my tunic,” he said lamely, hovering in the doorway.
“I’ll take it,” she said, reaching out to take it from him.
“It’s all right, Ghidd’ ah,” said Zayshul quickly, getting to her feet. “I’ll see to it.”
Ghidd’ah laughed as he moved to one side to let her pass. “Like that is it? Well, I’ll make myself scarce then.”
Zayshul pointed to the far corner of the lab. “The incinerator’s over there,” she said quietly. “I take it your tunic is fine.”
“No, there’s a split in the seam,” he said, heading over to where she’d indicated.
Lifting the hatch, he hastily stuffed the sheets in and closed it. There was a click as the hatch automatically locked, then a faint roaring noise, then moments later the click as the hatch unlocked. He opened it again, checking it was empty and with
relief went back to her.
“Leave the tunic with me,” she said. “I’ll send it to the laundry for you to pick up tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” he said, handing it over. “We ought to go for second meal now,” he said awkwardly.
“You go. I’ll be along in a few minutes. I’ve something to finish up here first.”
He nodded thankfully and hurried off to the mess.
Shola, Dzahai Stronghold, same day
The Anchorage Brotherhood logo on Rhyaz’ comm screen cleared to show him Nassad, Leader of Anchorage.
“Did you receive the message safely, Master Rhyaz?” asked Nassad.
“Yes, thank you,” said Rhyaz. “It’s being worked on by cryptography. Where exactly did it originate?”
“It came from a location outside the City of Light on the Prime world, K’oish’ik, but it wasn’t sent through their regular channels.”
“Could you pinpoint its origin?”
“From the map you provided us with, we think it was from one of their decaying cities. And it was bound for M’zull, which is why we intercepted it.”
“You didn’t say whether you forwarded the message or not.”
“We haven’t so far. Since it was unauthorized, I thought it advisable to delay it until we knew what it said. Unfortunately, as I said in my message, that was beyond our resources.”
“I hope it isn’t beyond ours,” he said. “So far it’s defeated several of our programs.”
“Should I forward the message then?”
Rhyaz hesitated, tapping his claw tips on his desktop as he thought. “No, hold onto it for now,” he said. “If it didn’t go through their official channels, then there’s more to this than meets the eye. Keep a watch and see if they try to resend it. If they do, intercept it again and this time, try to get a location on the surface for it. Then we can send our operatives from the Embassy to investigate further.”
“Aye, Master Rhyaz.”
The call over, he sent a questing thought out to locate Lijou, finding him in the temple winding up his evening service. Deciding to join him, he got up and headed down the corridor for the main staircase.
The sound of chanting could be heard even through the heavy wooden doors. As he hesitated for a moment, someone called his name, asking him to wait. Turning his head he saw one of the Warriors in his dark gray winter robe hurrying down the stairs toward him.
“A message from the Ambassador on the Prime world,” said the youth, feet skidding on the slightly damp floor outside the temple entrance.
“Thank you,” said Rhyaz, accepting the sealed envelope from him. He could feel the hard lump of a data crystal inside, along with a letter. Inserting a claw tip under the seal, he slit it open, putting the crystal into one of his belt pouches for safety as he pulled out the message.
Leaning against the heavy door, he pushed it open with his shoulder, slipping in the gap he’d created, then caught it with his foot and gently shoved it closed again.
The chanting was clearer now, the voices of the Sisters pitched sweetly above the deeper ones of the Brothers as they brought the day to a close with one of the traditional prayers of thanks. Around him, the air was gently perfumed by incense that reminded him of pine trees and exotic spices. Scanning through the message from his operatives at the Sholan Embassy on K’oish’ik, he veered away from the wide central nave where the congregation was gathered, heading between the stone pillars to the side aisle.
Glancing up as the final notes were rendered, he came to a stop beside Vartra’s tomb and leaning against it, finished reading the message as he waited for his colleague to give the final blessing. As he did, he felt his Leska Alex send a wordless greeting to him. The message briefly forgotten, he responded instantly, a faint Human smile playing at the edges of his mouth.
“You have a faraway look about you,” said a quiet female voice at his elbow. “I don’t need to ask if you’re speaking to Alex.”
He blinked, refocusing his eyes and smiled at the titian beauty beside him. “Well met, Kha’Qwa,” he said. “The chanting was beautiful tonight, I’m sorry I missed the service. Unfortunately I had pressing business to attend to.”
She nodded understandingly, her dark green eyes clouding slightly as her eye ridges creased in a slight frown. “Brotherhood business must come first. Not bad news, I trust?” She indicated the message in his hand.
“Not reassuring, shall we say,” he said, glancing at the approaching Lijou. Already the Brothers and Sisters were heading up the nave to the exit.
From Ghyakulla’s shrine, the sound of raised voices drifted out. Kha’Qwa’s lips twitched in a smile she failed to hide. “They’re at each other’s throats again,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Rhyaz looked at her quizzically. “Who? I’ve been busy in my office all day.”
“Conner and Noni, of course,” she said quietly.
“Why?”
“They’re arguing over the caretaking of Ghyakulla’s garden,” said Lijou with a grin, joining them. “Seems they both have quite firm ideas on what plants should be included in the Green Goddess’ shrine.”
“I thought you gave that job to Conner,” he said, perplexed. “What has Noni to do with it?”
“I believe that was Kha’Qwa’s point,” said Lijou, his grin widening. “The poor fellow gets little peace from her. Everywhere he is, she turns up.”
“And the way she argues with him ...” Kha’Qwa left the sentence unfinished and rolled her eyes suggestively.
“You’re joking with me,” said Rhyaz disbelievingly. “Noni interested in Conner? She’s a confirmed celibate as far as I’m aware!”
“Not according to Chaddo,” said Kha’Qwa with a chuckle. “He remembers her name linked to one or two of the Brotherhood many years ago.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Rhyaz said, remembering the message in his hand. “Lijou ...”
The Head Priest turned to his life-mate. “If you’ll excuse us, Kha’Qwa?” he said apologetically.
“Of course,” she replied, reaching out to touch his cheek fleetingly. “I’ll have something to eat sent up to our lounge. You and Alex will join us, won’t you, Rhyaz?”
He nodded, passing the invitation on quickly to Alex who was busy in the cryptography department. “We’d love to. In half an hour?” He looked at Lijou for confirmation.
“I’ve nothing else to do downstairs,” the priest confirmed. “We may as well use the temple office since we’re here.”
As Kha’Qwa left, they turned and headed toward where the large statue of Vartra sat on its plinth before the crimson drapes.
“You’d better read this,” said Rhyaz, passing him the letter. “It’s from K’oish’ik.”
Lijou scanned it quickly, handing it back to Rhyaz as they reached the statue. Bowing their heads briefly in respect as they passed it, Lijou pulled aside the drapes to reveal a concealed door and the corridor beyond.
Switching on a heater, Lijou took one of the two easy chairs in front of it, indicating Rhyaz should take the other.
“So our agents were successful in gaining access to the room with the tanks in it,” said Lijou.
The Warrior Master nodded. “As you saw in the letter, they were full of developing fetuses. They’re breeding tanks, Lijou. There’s also a crystal with data they managed to record on it. I haven’t seen it yet.”
“I have a portable reader on my desk,” he said, getting up and going to fetch it. “If they’re using breeding tanks, it would explain the lack of pregnant females. I’d hazard a guess and say their population is in trouble if they can’t—or won’t—breed naturally.”
“That’s certainly borne out by the general decay our agents have reported outside the City of Light,” agreed Rhyaz, passing him the crystal and pulling his chair closer to the heat as the priest sat down again.
Though the screen was small, and the recorded images jerky in places, the scenes they depicted lost none of their impact on
the two Guild Leaders.
“Stop it there,” said Rhyaz abruptly. “Look,” he said, pointing at the screen. “Can you see that male? The one going into that building?”
“Where?” asked Lijou. “I can’t see anything.”
Rhyaz picked the viewer up and began to run the recording slowly backward then stopped it. “Watch carefully, between the group of four people there,” he said.
Lijou peered at the screen, exclaiming as the male in question suddenly appeared and Rhyaz froze the image.
“What in all the hells of L’ Shoh is that?” he asked as they surveyed the large, thickset Prime dressed in faded jeans and a jacket that looked as if it was made of animal hide decorated with metal studs. On the hairless scalp and forehead they could see drawn the likeness of a severed head, with what was presumably meant to be blood coming from ruined eye sockets and the mouth as well as the neck.
“I have no idea,” said Rhyaz. “Our agents mentioned seeing them, and that they pushed the residents of the villages and shantytowns around as if they were in charge. They have the look of some of the Ranz packs about them.”
“They’re so unlike the Primes we’ve met. Where did they come from? Are they perhaps throwbacks?”
“I doubt it. The Valtegan Warriors on Keiss looked like Kezule, nothing like that. They look and behave like thugs.”
“Finish playing the recording,” sighed Lijou, sitting back slightly. “No wonder they’re writing that there’s unrest building outside the City of Light if Packs of males like him are roaming around. K’oish’ik and the Primes are looking more and more like a species on the edge of disintegration and possible extinction. I’m not surprised they wanted our help!”
“That’s all there is.” He switched off the viewer and retrieved the data crystal. “I think we should alert our people at Haven to be ready to move immediately,” said Rhyaz. “We can’t tell the Primes we know about their situation, but we can be ready to help if a crisis develops.”
“Not if,” said Lijou, glancing at him. “When.”
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