“Bishop Wyren did say there were hidden faithful in the DuCideon ranks.”
Gardet nodded. “Well, we have given Ketrick enough time to consider his position. Prepare to fire on the wall to the right of the door.”
The NDB loyalists raised their collective weapons and aimed, awaiting their leader’s command. Gardet was just about to give the order when he heard an explosion beneath him. The entire building trembled as lesser fiery explosions were lost in the cacophony of utter destruction. The entire floor suddenly dropping away from him, Lancet Gardet screamed as he fell, with the ceiling coming down close behind to entomb him in ash and rubble.
- - -
“Hey cow-lover,” one of the men called, fitting his horse with a feeding bag. “I got a hot sow that wants to meet ya. Said she’s heard you’re real sweet and gentle with first timers.”
“I heard he only liked young ones,” another remarked.
“Yeah, he wants ‘em tender and innocent.”
Derrick continued brushing down his horse in silence.
“I heard you’re not even that particular, Nave,” Jair said, gathering rope as he walked by.
“Maybe not,” Nave spat. “I did your sister after all.”
With a speed and strength Meres felt sure was psychically enhanced, Derrick grabbed Nave Fiskin from his horse and threw him to the dirt. “You should apologize for that remark,” said Derrick, in cold, soft tones.
Nave Fiskin shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What? I ain’t apolo—”
Seizing the man again, Derrick lifted him up and threw him against the fencing. Crashing through the wooden flats and posts, Nave landed in a heap. The click of a lasrifle halted Derrick’s next step.
“I think you’ve beat on my brother long enough, cow-lover,” Petraik said, aiming the rifle at Derrick’s heart.
Meres put himself between them. “Yeah, here, Angren,” Meres handed Derrick some rope. “Finish this up while I look for some wood to fix that fence.”
“You do that, Jair,” Petraik said, lowering the rifle. “Hern, check on Nave.”
“Yes, Pate,” Hern said to his brother.
“Now I need one of you boys to take this rifle to Roen. He has a cow that fell down a ravine and twisted its insides all up. It’s making some godawful noise and has to be put down.”
“Send Cow-lover to do it,” Nave said, standing with the help of his brother.
“Good idea,” Petraik said, smiling. “Here, Cow-lover.” He threw Derrick the rifle. “Roen’s on the eastern line along the pine grove. Take a suspensor-field generator so you can bring the cow back after you shoot it. We’ll dice her up before we go.”
Derrick took the rifle, glared at Petraik, but got on his horse without a word.
“And mind, Cow-lover,” Petraik said, “I want you to shoot her, not Roen.”
“Why does it matter who shoots her?” Derrick asked, his breath passing through his teeth.
“‘Cause I don’t need ya if you can’t do what I tell ya.”
Derrick looked at him a moment, nodded and rode off.
“And hurry it up, Cow-lover,” Petraik called after him, laughing with his brothers. “That cow’s suffer in’ real bad.”
-
“Hey, Jair,” Eniel Neider said, walking up behind him. The man’s hair was completely gray, and his face weathered like a tanned hide, but he still had a nimble step that Meres envied.
“Hey, Eniel,” Meres replied, stretching out his back as he stood up from the pile of wood. What he would not give to be back sitting in his office right now.
“Tell me, Jair, how well do you know your... ah, cousin?”
Meres looked at the old man carefully. “What do you mean?”
“Trouble’s coming from that boy, Jair. Are you ready for it?”
“Trouble? With Nave?”
“Nave can’t piss his way through a cream curd. I mean with Petraik.”
“It’s Nave who likes to pick on Angren the most.”
“Nave’s not trained in the Disciplines.”
Meres turned his head sharply.
“I’ve been around a long time, Jair,” Eniel said. “Hell, I’ve seen all you kids grow up. And while I never had no Training, I know a good show when I see one. And I don’t need no psychic powers to see murder in a man’s eye. So I’m asking ya, can you handle him?”
“Petraik?”
“No, you damn fool! Your cousin, if that’s who he really is.”
“Why would I need to handle my cousin, and not Petraik?”
“Look, Jair. I’m not saying the Fiskin Brothers don’t have a lot coming to ‘em. Their father was a rotten sonofabitch, and they all pretty much take after him. But the fact is, financially speaking, we need them more than they need us. And trouble is bad for business.”
“So you want me to let them say and do whatever they want to my cousin? Can he at least defend himself?”
“It’d be different,” the old man said, “if you were staying. But you’re not. Neither is he. You don’t belong here anymore. He never did.”
“This is my home,” Jair said.
“No, you live in a different world now. When you left here, breaking free from this backwater life, you were glad to get out, and be immersed in the trappings of High Civilization. Nothing’s wrong with that. But it’s not your place to come here, put our lives through a wringer, and then go back to your cushioned couches and fancy food. Why are you here anyway?”
“I wanted to visit my family.”
“And do a little honest work for a change, huh? How long will you stay?”
“I planned on a few weeks. I may extend it.”
“And your cousin, will he stay on here after you go back?”
“Probably not.”
The old man nodded. “Tell your cousin not to make any more trouble.” He began to walk away. “It’ll only draw attention to him.”
-
Reaching the ravine, Derrick made his way down to the fallen beast with a rifle in hand, a suspensor field generator on his back, and the lightheadedness of a man unsure of what to do.
“Petraik told me you’d be coming,” Roen said as Derrick neared. “He wants me to let you shoot her.” Derrick nodded.
“She is awfully quiet,” he said. “Are you sure her stomach is turned?”
“Can’t be sure, but it happens in a big tumble. They’re not built for rolling.”
Derrick crouched beside the animal and stroked its head. A small cry came from up on the top of the ridge where the horses were. Both men looked up and saw a young calf peering down at them.
“Great,” Roen said, “now the baby wants to join the mother.” The man started up the ravine. “Take care of her. I’ll get the calf.”
Derrick stared at the calf. He did not know if it was the one he saw playing with a bag, but it did not matter. He did not want to shoot its mother. Without knowing why, Derrick replaced his hand on the beast’s head, and closed his eyes.
Pain hit him like a wave washing over his body. Fighting it, he tried to see where it hurt the most. Roen was right. The fall had twisted her stomach. Focusing on the contorted organ, Derrick saw it as if it were apart from everything else. He knew what to do.
The image in his mind flickered as his breaths staggered. Straining to concentrate, he forced the image back, felt the weight of the organ and pushed. The image changed as he untwisted the stomach back to where it was. Somewhere he heard the beast screaming in agony. He was almost there. The calf. It was crying out in sympathy for its mother. Almost there.
“What in the hell are you doing?” yelled Roen.
In his mind, Derrick saw the cow’s stomach fall back into place. Intending to calm the animal, another eruption of pain overcame him before he could pull away. And all went dark.
Amazed, Roen watched as the cow stopped crying out and slowly righted itself. Derrick lay motionless, his body soaked with sweat. “Petraik,” he said into his com-link. “It’s Roen.”
“Petraik here. Did Cow-Lover shoot his girlfriend yet?”
“The cow’s okay now. It’s Angren that doesn’t look too good.”
“The cow’s okay? What happened to it?”
“Not sure. I left to keep a calf from fallin’ down on us and heard the cow’s godawful scream again. The calf joins in, and next thing I know, Angren’s out cold and the cow gets up.”
“We’ll be right there,” Petraik muttered.
-
Jair Meres stood by the door as his sister Kaela placed a cold pack over Derrick’s forehead.
“Let him sleep,” Agnes Meres said.
“I need to talk to him, Mom,” Meres said through clenched teeth.
“Not now you don’t.” She pulled him to the kitchen.
“Jair, did Angren really beat up Nave Fiskin?”
Meres looked at his younger brother, Gawin. “Who told you that?”
“We all heard it. Angren defended Kaela’s honor. And she’s in there with him now.”
“Well she’s gonna have to—”
Agnes Meres pulled her oldest son back again. “Let her be. She’s doin’ no harm.”
“She can’t, Ma,” Jair glanced at his brother. “He’s her cousin.”
“She can’t nurse her cousin?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that she’s... she’s...”
“CATHENA?” Kaela cried as she flew out of the back room in a rage. “Jair,” Kaela demanded as she stopped in front of her brother. “Who’s this Cathena he’s callin’ for?”
“Cathena?” Jair gave his mother a pained look. “He called her?”
“Sure did.”
“She’s just a sister,” Meres replied, not giving her the chance to ask for clarification. “Is he awake?”
“Yes—”
Meres pushed past her into Derrick’s room, closing the door behind him.
“Hey Jair,” Derrick said weakly.
“Don’t ‘Hey’ me. What did you do to that cow? Roen wouldn’t stop talking about it.” When Derrick looked at him in confusion, Meres stepped forward and put his hand on Derrick’s stomach. Derrick yelped, confirming his suspicion. “You healed it, didn’t you?” Meres accused, not bothering to mention Derrick’s mistake in inadvertently taking in some of the animal’s pain.
“No. I just… fixed it.”
“A distinction without a difference. Eniel Neider already knew you had training in the Disciplines. Who knows how many others know it now too?”
“I am sorry, Jair. I do not know how I did it or why. I just...”
“Sorry, huh? `Guess the same goes for roughing up Nave Fiskin.”
Derrick swallowed. “But if I can use the Disciplines, it means more of my memory has returned, right?”
“Dammit! Don’t you get it?” Jair roared with his thoughts. “If they—” Meres stopped as Derrick backed up against the headboard of his bed. In his anger, Meres had unconsciously used telepathy and raised his mental shields. And Derrick had sensed it. Meres lowered his psychic defenses, willed his anger away, and saw Derrick visibly relax.
“Do you still hear me?” Jair asked calmly, again using telepathy. Derrick nodded. “Do you still feel afraid?” Derrick hesitated, but then shook his head.
Anger and hostility, Meres thought. Whether from himself or others. It must trigger an inordinate fear response through his psychic implant. Very clever.
“If they find you,” Meres whispered, “they will kill you. Then they will kill me, and my family for harboring you.” Meres sighed. “We risk a lot by keeping you here, Derrick.”
Derrick looked up at hearing his name, having followed his own thought progressions. “Then I should leave.” He started to rise.
“No!” Meres pushed him down before calming himself once again. “That’s not what I mean. You just can’t keep drawing attention to yourself. Not until you get your memory back.”
“What will happen then?”
Meres laughed. He had not really thought about that. “I guess I’ll just take you home.”
“You mean to Landover?”
“No. Some place a little grander”
“Like Linse Castle?”
Meres turned. “Have you been there?”
“I remember it’s by the sea. The Great Hall has banners hanging from the ceiling. My grandfather—” Derrick’s voice cut off.
“Yes?” Jair asked hopefully. He knew that anything could trigger the return of Derrick’s full memory, and that when it fully came, it would come in a rush.
“He must have taken me there,” Derrick said after a moment.
Meres looked back to the floor.
“Jair, you know who I am, right?”
“I’ve always known.”
“When will you tell me?”
“When it’s safe.”
“You mean when I remember? When you will no longer need to tell me?”
Meres smiled. “Get some rest,” he said finally. “You Bovine Rescuer.”
“Huh?” Derrick looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“Never mind,” Meres said, gripping his shoulder. “Good night, Cousin.”
“Good night, Jair.”
“Oh,” Meres said, stopping at the door. “One more thing.” He glanced about to see if they were alone. “My sister. Touch her, and I’ll feed you to the pigs.”
“But you do not have any pigs,” Derrick replied innocently.
“I’ll rent some,” Meres grumbled before leaving.
- - -
The last time Steuben was in Derrick’s hidden room at the Palace, he had stopped a rebel leader from assassinating him. Months now seemed like years.
Fresh from his escape from the DuCideon stronghold, Steuben wondered if the NDB now wanted him dead too. He had saved Ketrick, and knew of the NDB’s ruthless plan to dethrone him. With Ketrick claiming to still have “brothers” he could trust, he was still a threat. But would the NDB bother with a HOPIS colonel, or risk government ire by killing one? Thinking that he still had a little time, Steuben had returned to the Palace, while he was yet able.
Opening the door to Derrick’s private hideaway, Steuben entered.
“Good evening, Colonel,” said Ashincor Linse, seated in a chair in the middle of the room. Steuben instinctively raised his mental shields.
“Good evening, my Lord,” Steuben replied, still a bit startled.
“I am no longer Lord Linse, Colonel Steuben,” Ashincor said, having no reaction to his heightened psychic activity. “Patér Linse will do.”
“As you wish, Patér. Please forgive my intrusion. I only thought to see if I might discover anything which might help in the search for Lord Legan.”
“And what will you do when you find him, Colonel?”
Steuben froze, realizing he had been careless. If Ashincor Linse were a truthseer... “I will see that he is brought to safety,” Steuben said truthfully.
Ashincor gave a short laugh. “Not to discourage you, Colonel, but adepts with greater skills than ours have psychically searched here for clues on where to find him. They found nothing. It is as if he has been cut off from his past.”
“Why are you here then?” Steuben asked.
Ashincor leaned forward, thrusting his pallid face out from the shadow. “To search through Time,” he breathed, “to find a path of safety for my grandson.”
“Patér Linse,” Steuben began, feeling uneasy by the other man’s reddened eyes and unhealthy hue, “you should really get some rest.”
“I remained though,” Ashincor continued, “to wait for you.”
“For me?” Steuben was surprised, and was now even more uncomfortable.
“In this very room, you fought for my grandson before.” He raised a wrinkled hand to ward off Steuben’s words. “You need not explain, to me or anyone else. The psychic residue from that rebel’s death is gone. The room has been cleaned.”
“How did you know?” Steuben knew that Depré had little psychic training.
“With my vision, I perceived you through him.”
“What else did you wish to tell me?” Despite not wanting to provoke the former Linse Lord, speaking of the past made Steuben uncomfortable.
“I want you to find my grandson, Colonel,” Ashincor said sharply.
“That’s the idea—”
“You are the only one who can save him,” Ashincor said, leaning back into the shadows. “I have seen it, Colonel. So have others. All hope lies with you.”
“I don’t mean to alarm you, Sir, but I don’t know even where to look.”
“Where were you when you were last with him?”
It was at the HOPIS field office in Landsig. Steuben had gone there to kill an agent named Meres who, because of his insufficient psychic training, could have been used against Derrick’s father during his trial. Derrick had stopped him.
“Is that where you changed your mind about Derrick?” Ashincor asked.
Steuben shivered. The old man was reading him. How long had he been waiting for him? “Yes,” Steuben answered. “We were in Landsig. He was—”
Ashincor waved the Colonel to silence. “Go to Landsig, Colonel Steuben. That is where your strongest link is to my grandson. Try your vision there.”
“Very well,” Steuben said. “I will.” The Colonel’s face softened. “But Patér Linse, what about you? Should you not retire to your own rooms?”
“This place is as good as any other to continue my work, perhaps even better.”
“You are not well, Patér.”
“Finding my grandson may open my vision to new possibilities. I will do anything to increase your chances of success, Colonel. Now, please leave me.”
Steuben bowed once before leaving the wraith-like patér to his meditations.
- - -
Jordan Possór watched little Melvinor from the corner of his eye. The child was absorbed with his building blocks. Several times he sensed the boy looking at him, but Jordan refused to acknowledge him. He had other things on his mind.
His uncle Seonas’ two sons were coming out of public obscurity. Or at least one was. The flamboyant Guishaun Possór, spotlight whore and media darling.
First Advisor Sukain had met privately with him for a government briefing that should have been Jordan’s alone. Rooms had even been prepared at Pablen for the Possór brothers, though only Guishaun was moving in. Varian would never come to the Palace. Not that it mattered. Public attention was focusing on the quiet and humble Varian as well, a man with a better claim to Legan’s throne than Jordan, despite the latter’s mental incompetency. Dealing with one brother effectively meant having to deal with both.
Blood of Jackals Page 15
