Wild Card

by Mark Henwick

  “They aren’t made of glass, either of them.” She turned us around and danced us away from the crowded middle of the floor. “Stop twisting your head. They aren’t going anywhere. Besides, you can see them in the mirrors. Cool, huh?”

  “Your design?”

  “Yeah.” We’d reached the edge of the room and she maneuvered us around until she had her back to the mirrored wall.

  “Is it an Altau specialty?” I asked. “The mirrored room?”

  “No,” she said. “I got the idea from a Kung Fu film. What you think you see is not what you see. All those thousand images, which is me?”

  “Hmm.” She’d missed a step and I’d nearly stepped on her toe. “This kind of dancing’s not your preferred style, is it?”

  “You should see the parties I give,” she said, distracted.

  She stopped dancing, craning her neck to look around me at the other dancers.

  “What the hell are you up to, Bian?”

  “Trust me. Again.”

  And she stepped backward, pulling me with her. The whole room seemed to spin and I stumbled.

  Chapter 25

  The room we arrived in, so elegantly, was nothing like the mirrored ballroom.

  It was cool and dark enough that the people inside were just outlines. The scent came through quicker than my eyes could adjust and I knew there were Basilikos in the room.

  I’d underestimated my Athanate senses in the ballroom. The whole time I’d been getting a trickle of scents from marques that I knew were Panethus, reassuring me that, however unfriendly they were to me personally, they were not enemies. There was a marque in this room that was like a slap across my face.

  Bian had a grip on my wrist, and she wasn’t agitated. I tried to calm myself. Yeah, trust her, she said.

  “We’re all here now; I think we can turn the lights up.”

  I recognized the voice. That was Skylur.

  “You are being ridiculously melodramatic.”

  Correia! The new leader of Basilikos, the woman who’d ousted Matlal, right here in Haven.

  “Is your new affiliate about to go rogue?” Correia asked.

  “Now who’s being melodramatic?” Skylur said as the lights brightened, showing a small, plain room with a decorative fireplace, chairs arranged around a coffee table, and bare walls. “You’re perfectly well aware that the tests presented at the Assembly were grossly distorted. Thanks to factions within Basilikos.”

  “I’m also aware of what my senses tell me. You have an affiliate there walking a knife edge. She’s one jolt away from collapse.” Correia was sitting opposite Skylur, for all the world like two old friends chatting by the fireside, instead of the leaders of two creeds of Athanate, each bent on the destruction of the other.

  Skylur just smiled.

  I swallowed all the questions that I wanted to ask and concentrated on standing quietly.

  Behind Correia was a wedge of silent, dark-uniformed security, all House Correia by their marque. All six of them had the unblinking, coiled stillness of Athanate flooded with the elethesine hormone. If anyone here was on a knife edge, it was them.

  Basilikos had been turned upside down at the Assembly. They’d found their former leader had been plotting attacks on the meeting without regard for the safety of his own allies, and from a point of almost winning the balance of power, they’d been confronted with a defection and the sudden arrival of new Houses affiliated to Altau. But these Athanate did not look beaten. They looked as if they were straining to snatch back the ground they’d lost.

  This was much more interesting than kissing necks in the ballroom.

  Behind Skylur, and somehow balancing the presence of all Correia’s security, stood a single man, short and black-haired, his skin the olive of the Mediterranean, his eyes hooded beneath upswept brows. As if to emphasize the contrast with Correia, he wore pale chinos and a white open-necked shirt with a rounded collar. He was casually cracking and eating walnuts with his blunt hands. A bowl of them sat on the table beside a pile of discarded shells.

  Bian pulled me in behind him.

  Adept Emerson, the truth sensor from the Assembly, stood by the empty fireplace, one hand idly stroking the imposing eagle statue that stood there.

  “Must we continue in English?” Correia asked.

  “It is the language we all have in common,” said Skylur mildly.

  “So.” Correia snorted and sat forward. “Your choice of attendees is informative. I believe we are discussing your headlong pursuit of Emergence.”

  “I recall your message; you requested the meeting to discuss an exchange.”

  I had no idea how old and experienced Correia was, but if she were trying to land a verbal blow on Skylur, I bet he would slide past her every time like that.

  “Why do you have her here?” She indicated me.

  “House Farrell?” suggested Skylur. “She has a fresh eye for everything we’ve hashed over countless times. I like old assumptions being challenged. And you must admit, her House does that.”

  Correia muttered something in Athanate.

  “It’s not a House, it’s a zoo,” Bian immediately translated.

  I smiled. I had a sudden wolfy vision of tearing Correia’s neck open, but I guessed I wasn’t supposed to do that at this meeting. The smile was a far better way of getting to her.

  “To move us forward, I could suggest that we concentrate on the request for exchange of prisoners and speak about specific Houses.” Skylur crossed his legs and gestured to the man behind him. “Naryn?”

  “We hold Houses Teugis and Madrone here—” Naryn began.

  “On what grounds?” Correia interrupted.

  “They were investigated for failing to attend the Assembly after a direct command, and that investigation uncovered practices which are not in accordance with our creed.”

  “Creed would appear to be no longer what defines us,” Correia said. “You must have greater reason.”

  Naryn bowed slightly. “Philosophy if you prefer. In any event, they have declared themselves unable to commit to Emergence. This is not an attitude we can now support. Panethus is now the party of Emergence. Their domains remain Panethus and so we hold them as outsiders caught within our territory, all under the rules of the Assembly.”

  “And you will come apart at the seams if you persist in enforcing your ‘philosophy’. Teugis and Madrone are just the first.” She stopped herself, and visibly relaxed back into her seat. “So, they want to join Basilikos. We allowed House Singh to lead his whole faction over to Panethus in the Assembly. Why can’t you do the same?”

  “You had no choice in the Assembly. That is our neutral venue,” Skylur said, steel beneath the silk in his voice. “We are not in the Assembly now.”

  The tension behind Correia ratcheted up a notch. Naryn went back to his walnuts as if oblivious, his eye movements slow and unconcerned. Who was this man?

  “Well, I will match your two Houses, with Ubbriaco and Kalinides,” Correia said. “as you have realigned your geographic boundaries here in America, so have we elsewhere. These two did not see the sense in joining us, and so we’re holding them as outsiders in our domains. Like you, honoring the rules of the Assembly. So; a simple exchange, two for two.”

  Skylur and Naryn did not respond.

  “What about Romero?” I asked in the silence. According to Larry before he was killed, Romero had gone to Basilikos.

  She didn’t care to talk to me, but Skylur waited until she responded.

  “Nothing to do with me. That was Matlal’s private project. Or Vega Martine.” She shuddered. “Basilikos want nothing to do with that. What was it you said about traps at the Assembly? They can bite back. Well, we will see at the end who has been bitten worse.”

  My eyes flicked to Adept Emerson. I assumed she was here to ensure that only the truth was told. Her expression hadn’t changed. Either I was wrong about the truth sensing, or Correia was being truthful and had nothing to do with whatever had
gone on in New Mexico.

  “And the Matlal remaining here in Denver?” Bian asked.

  “I have broadcast a call for them to leave. If they don’t, they’re yours to deal with as you will.”

  “They always were, here in my mantle,” Skylur said.

  “Why are they not leaving then?” Naryn chewed meditatively on a nut. “Because they have nowhere to go? Possibly because you’ve declared them outcast?”

  Correia didn’t answer.

  “Then again, if they did manage to achieve something here, that might rehabilitate them in your eyes.” Naryn tossed empty shells in the fireplace.

  Correia put out a hand and one of her security team placed a roll of paper in it. “Here’s a list of names which may help you in tracking them. That’s as much as I can do. You’re right; they are outcast, but that’s because they’ve made themselves outcast. I have no responsibility for them.”

  “What about their…toru?” I stumbled over the Athanate word—the name Basilikos gave to the captive humans that they fed from. It meant cattle that are owned. Basilikos had been holding some here in Denver so that they could feed. As I understood Athanate laws, Altau needed to find them and free them, if any were still alive.

  “How on earth would I know anything about that?” Correia snapped.

  I refused to back down. “Wouldn’t Matlal know?”

  “He’s not able to tell us anything.” Correia’s eyes lingered over me. I had a good idea she was suddenly remembering I was the one who was responsible for Matlal’s current mental state. Personally, I didn’t think it was that impressive. I suspected that in any tests of telergic strength, Matlal had been secretly supported by Vega Martine and when he lost that support, he’d proved weak.

  Without any help from the rest of Basilikos on finding the toru, that left us with only what I knew: When I’d met Larry in Cheesman Park, he’d walked from wherever they were being held and he’d approached the park from the northwest. It couldn’t be that difficult to find them and free them, but Altau hadn’t yet.

  “Why isn’t Matlal dead?” Bian asked quietly.

  “We need to recover things in Mexico. We’ll see then.”

  I noticed Correia’s eyes stilled, as if she wanted to look over at the Adept and was willing herself not to. But Emerson didn’t say anything. Maybe what Correia said was not the whole truth, then. Interesting.

  Almost as interesting as watching Naryn work with Skylur.

  “What are you doing in Istanbul?” Naryn asked. It might be something of interest, but I sensed it was a topic intended to keep Correia off balance for the next question.

  “Nothing.” Correia looked puzzled. “We keep out—it’s the Carpathian’s territory, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve not given us the names of all the Houses imprisoned by you,” Skylur said.

  “You named two, I named two.” Correia’s eyes narrowed. She’d been successfully distracted enough that she allowed her marque to blossom with satisfaction. She had something she believed Skylur really wanted.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Very well,” she replied, insincere reluctance in her voice. “We hold House Tarez. Such an old House, so very old. Their affiliations must go back centuries, deep and hidden as a great tree’s roots. If Panethus were to lose that, maybe all sorts of linked affiliations will weaken. I can understand your concern.”

  Skylur said nothing, but I felt his anger through his marque. He was deliberately revealing his emotion. Naryn and Bian tensed. My weight unconsciously came forward onto the balls of my feet and elethesine started to flood my system as my hard-wired Athanate instincts took over. The strongbox in my mind seemed to creak and sweat sprang out on my forehead. I was not going to lose it now.

  Correia backed down in a hurry, holding hands up as her own security flattened their formation to face the threat. “Enough! A deal, Altau, a deal.”

  I blinked, trying to still everything in my head. Calm. Calm.

  “What have I got that you might want?” Skylur asked.

  Correia turned and looked directly at me. “Isn’t that what you’re offering?”

  Chapter 26

  Skylur laughed.

  Correia laughed with him.

  I didn’t share the joke. I’d had just enough warning to clamp down on my reaction so I wasn’t going to sink to my knees or lose whatever was in my stomach, but I was useless, rooted to the spot and shaking like an aspen leaf. The strongbox was open and every screaming horror wanted to rampage through me. My entire effort went to prevent me being overwhelmed by things inside my own head.

  I could feel Bian’s shock. She slipped across in front of me, so I was partly shielded by her and Naryn.

  “Oh, your pet doesn’t like the idea of sharing her Blood.” That bitch Correia was enjoying this. “I’m not even sure she would obey. Would you force her to submit?”

  “She would obey,” Skylur said.

  He might as well have spat on me. His simple words stung like a whip. Anger flooded up, threatening to complete the destruction that the leakage of formless fears had started. But it didn’t. Anger I was used to dealing with. Anger was a flame I could control, and I scoured my mind with it.

  “Such a temptation!” Correia was saying. “A way to even the odds and prevent Panethus from racing away and swamping poor Basilikos by gaining thousands of new recruits.”

  She stood and glared at Skylur.

  “You think that I’m such a fool, that I’m so uncertain in my leadership that I’d fall for a sleight of hand like that? Look at her! Taste her marque! The stench of Were is making me gag. She’s so close to rogue, she can barely stand there. So much for reducing crusis. You’d turn me into a freak show.”

  Skylur stood, pushing his hands into his pockets. “The reduction in crusis is real. You’d really turn it down?”

  “If it’s real, why haven’t you used it?” Correia came back at him, absolute certainty in her attitude.

  Skylur shrugged. “Well then, what instead?”

  Correia was enjoying her moment too much. Certainly too much to see relief and belated awareness dawning in me. Skylur had never intended to offer my Blood. He’d let Correia believe he was, and in seeking the catch she’d out-thought herself. He’d tricked her and gained me some measure of security from Basilikos.

  For the moment. I repeated that to myself. The longer I kept myself sane and functioning, the more attention I’d draw back from Basilikos.

  Just wonderful.

  “With Emergence,” Correia was preaching at him, “Panethus have hitched their chariot to a pack of street cats. But just as you did with your creed of kin, your definition of yourself forces a definition on us. Basilikos are the opponents of Emergence. So be it. What you have abandoned, we will clasp to us and hold high. Basilikos are now the party of the Hidden Path.”

  I was glad of the distraction as I got myself back under control. I had done enough homework to know about the Hidden Path. It had been the underlying creed of all Athanate—to be so secret in their ways that they were never discovered. A path so secret, as they had it, that even the eagle could not see it. The symbol was the blindfold eagle, and a statue of that by the legendary Athanate artist Ptolomeus dominated the main entrance hall here at Haven.

  The image ran through a lot of Athanate art. The shape of the eagle was used as a motif running across the edges of the fireplace. Even the artwork that Adept Emerson stood beside was an echo of that piece in the hall. In the same way Correia had described the linkage of associations as a tree’s root systems, the thinking behind the Hidden Path crept deeply into everything about the Athanate, hidden until you thought about it.

  I suddenly realized the sheer scope of Skylur’s task—not just to remove that fundamental belief from the Athanate, but to reverse it. No wonder his position in the Assembly had caused such a disturbance on both sides. No wonder the reception seemed so fragmented.

  And I felt Skylur wasn’t happy with Correi
a’s direction now. In taking the Hidden Path as her emblem, she was going to tap into the unconscious roots of the Athanate psyche.

  He picked up the bowl of walnuts and offered one to her.

  She refused to even see the bowl. She was staring directly into his eyes.

  “You know that I’ve always been a follower of art,” she said.

  Naryn and Bian tensed again, responding to Skylur. I caught up shakily. I didn’t think it was coming to fighting, but I couldn’t tamp it down.

  “Hmm?” Skylur selected a walnut and replaced the bowl on the side table.

  “In exchange for House Tarez, I will take Ptolomeus’ statue from your entrance hall.”

  I could feel the shock reverberate through Naryn and Bian.

  The walnut cracked in Skylur’s hand. A neat, precise sound.

  “Done,” he said.

  Chapter 27

  The deal was concluded with startling speed.

  A neutral venue for the exchange was agreed and House Correia ushered out by some secret passageway to prevent anyone else knowing they’d even been here.

  If Altau genuinely wanted me to review their security, I was going to have to know about passages like that. It was a measure of how much control I’d managed to establish that I was able to think that mundane thought.

  Skylur took one long look at me before turning on his heel, apparently satisfied I wasn’t going to go rogue in the next couple of minutes. “Naryn, Bian, a moment in the planning room.” He marched out the door with them behind him.

  “Well, that was amusing.” Adept Emerson took Skylur’s seat, and motioned me to Correia’s.

  “How does it work?” I said, proud that my voice was steady. “You say something like that that clearly isn’t true, but isn’t supposed to be believed. What would another Truth Sensor feel?”

  She laughed. “The truth. Always the truth, as perceived by the teller.”

  I sat in Correia’s seat. It wasn’t infected, even if it did have a lingering scent of her marque, overlaid with a hint of triumph. She thought she’d gotten the better end of this deal. Maybe she had.