Betrayer's Bane

by Michael G. Manning

  Then it was not a ruse, the Illeniels have truly betrayed us, responded one of the elders.

  They are giving their gifts to the humans, said another. How well placed are your spies in the human encampment?

  Not very, admitted Ceylendor. Tyrion has kept them isolated, virtually imprisoned.

  How did you get this information then? asked another elder.

  Someone had to feed them. His older children are well guarded, but some of their slaves were not as well protected, answered Ceylendor.

  Can one of them eliminate the problem?

  They might, responded the She’Har lore-warden, but they are clumsy and weak. It would be foolish to risk our plan on one of them.

  We need better information.

  Tyrion has vanished. It may be safe to try sending a reaver among them, suggested Ceylendor.

  Only to gather better information, ordered the most senior among the Centyr Elders. The Illeniel Grove will respond if we try to do more.

  Won’t they know anyway?

  They only know what they ‘will’ learn, responded the First Elder. And what ‘may’ happen; until we make a decision it will be too unclear for them.

  But they will respond then, commented the youngest elder.

  We will take that chance, said another.

  Isn’t that their greatest strength, asked Ceylendor, chance?

  Some types of chance, yes, responded the First. The chaotic doings of living beings follow patterns and make little difference usually. Conscious decisions about important matters become very obvious to them. Their weakness is when great choices depend upon entirely random processes.

  How can you make such a thing happen? asked the youngest elder.

  The humans have a saying that fits perfectly, explained the First, we ‘roll the dice’.

  I will send someone immediately then, said Ceylendor.

  Who will you choose? asked one of the elders that hadn’t spoken before.

  Someone subtle, Serrelia, I think, answered the lore-warden.

  ***

  “No,” said Abby adamantly. “Someone else can do it.”

  Emma arched one brow, “Why not you?”

  “I’m too busy. The kitchens have been a mess since Kate left,” she responded, but the excuse sounded weak even in her own ears.

  “You weren’t too busy to deliver babies,” observed Emma. “In fact, you proved yourself to be a very capable healer. I’d rather have you do this. I want to avoid leaving obvious scars on them.”

  “It shouldn’t matter,” countered Abby. “You’re just planning to pop them in a box afterward until they’re needed. Just like those poor women and their children…”

  She had delivered dozens of newborns over the past month, with more still on the way. Tyrion’s ‘subjects’ were bearing fruit now, nearly a year after he had started his project. There were more still to come but within a month or so more they should be done.

  “Our children,” reminded Emma. “Those poor women you mentioned were monsters, but Father found a way to use them to our advantage. They should be grateful. Those children are our nieces and nephews, and the beginning of a new age.”

  “We should have put them in the boxes before they delivered,” groused Abby.

  “And if we should die?” asked Emma. “We don’t know for certain who will be left when this is over. Childbirth is a risky thing, and the She’Har have no experience with it. Safer to deliver them now and store both.”

  “Do you hear yourself, Em?” asked Abby. “There’s no feeling in your words. ‘Store them’, does that sound like something we should be saying about human beings?”

  “The words don’t matter one damn,” said Emma, dismissing her remark. “And I have no room for feelings in this. If I did…” She stopped there, catching herself as her emotions began to rise.

  “That’s exactly why I won’t do this,” said Abby, coming full circle. “I just can’t. Thinking about what will happen to them. I saw what happened to Blake, it’s horrible.”

  “You couldn’t have seen that. You weren’t there, neither of us was.”

  “Violet showed me, mind to mind,” said Abby.

  Emma frowned, tapping her chin with one finger, “Why would she do that? Perhaps, I should have a word with her.”

  “Because she’s human, Em,” said Abby in exasperation. “Because she needed to talk to someone. What she saw nearly crippled her. How many people do you think see one of their own family members devoured, from the inside out? I don’t think she’ll ever get over it.”

  Emma’s visage grew stern, “If I can keep going, so can she, and so will you. You will do this Abby.”

  “No.”

  “I’m not asking. You’ll do it or I’ll apply pressure until you comply. Do you understand?” threatened her sister.

  Abby straightened, “No, I don’t think I do, First. Tell me exactly what you mean by that.”

  “If you’re so worried about children, and their welfare, you’ll do as I command. There are an awful lot of them around here now.”

  Abby was shocked, “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Emma lips formed a flat line.

  “You need them, for your precious plan.”

  “Not those children, dullard,” said Emma with an exaggerated sigh.

  The only other possibilities were Inara and Eldin. Abby’s grew round, “Your own brother and sister? You couldn’t possibly…”

  “Not Inara, of course,” said Emma coldly. “But Eldin can’t contribute to the future anyway. There’s no need for him. He’s a waste of food now that I think about it.”

  “Brigid would kill you. You’re bluffing.”

  The First raised one brow, “Is it worth being stubborn, worth forcing someone else to do the job you would be best at, to find out?”

  Emma had once been her favorite sister and despite all that had happened over the past year she had continued to be empathetic to her situation and the pressures that it involved, but for the first time she felt genuine hatred for her. “Fine, you win,” responded Abby angrily. “You’ll get exactly what you wanted.”

  Emma smiled, “You’ll do it then?”

  “I will, but that’s not what I was referring to,” said Abby. “You said before that you couldn’t afford to have friends. I ignored you then, but you’ve made a believer of me. From this point on you can count on it, you have no friends anymore, not one.”

  The First remained still, though one eyelid twitched slightly. She gave no sign that Abby’s words had affected her in any way. “You’ll start tomorrow morning, then. You may go.”

  Abby left without a word, and in a move that was entirely uncharacteristic of her, she slammed the door as she left. Emma stared after her for several minutes before lifting her hand to look at it. It was shaking like a leaf in a storm. With an effort of will she reengaged the privacy ward around the room. Only when that was done did she let go. Her shoulders began to shake and her eyes filled with tears. When she opened her mouth finally, the only sound that emerged was a strangled shriek of despair.

  The pain in her chest was so great she almost wondered if she was having a heart attack. It was almost a welcome thought. Looking down at her enchanted blades she wanted desperately to pick one up and thrust it into her own chest.

  She couldn’t, so instead she wept. The storm of her emotions was worse than any she could remember experiencing before. It seemed as though it might never stop. It was only when she realized that the building itself had begun to shake that she reined herself in. Somehow her feelings had been transmitted to the earth, and the entire city had started trembling.

  Deep breaths, she told herself, working consciously to soothe the earth and make it be still once more.

  Chapter 34

  “You understand what is required?” said Ceylendor.

  Serrelia nodded, “Yes, and also that it is dangerous.”

  “Only if you mistrust yourself,” said the lore-warden. “That is why we so rare
ly allow this. Only a few have the necessary inner balance to survive the experience.”

  “You did,” noted the Centyr woman. “Shouldn’t you do this? Your knowledge is far greater than mine.”

  “I am already well known among the She’Har,” said Ceylendor. “Too many know me, and even the krytek are often trained to recognize me. A new player is required. Your aythar will be much harder for them to identify.”

  “I am honored to be chosen,” replied Serrelia. “My only fear is disappointing the Elders.”

  Ceylendor smiled benignly, “You will not disappoint them. Choose your target carefully. All we need for now, is information. If more is required, you will be given new instructions. Remain vigilant.”

  She dipped her head obediently and turned to go, but she paused before taking the first step.

  “You have a question?” he asked tolerantly.

  “When it is over, when I rejoin myself, will it be easy? Do you have any advice?”

  He wanted to laugh, but he cloaked the humor beneath a veil of patience, “Nothing could be simpler. Trust yourself and all will go well.” And whichever of your selves is stronger will return, he added mentally. No matter which it is, the Centyr will be stronger.

  Ceylendor watched her leave. Within a matter of days she would pick her target, and a new reaver would be born.

  ***

  A noise alerted her to the arrival of a visitor. Looking up, Kate was surprised to see the black-skinned man standing at what passed for an entrance onto Lyralliantha’s not-so-private platform. His name was a strange one, but she had heard Daniel say it many times in the past, Thillmarius.

  “May I help you?” she asked, trying to hide her nervousness. Her brief encounters with him had mostly been neutral, but she knew that Daniel hated him with a passion beyond any of his other hatreds.

  He gave her an unnatural smile. While he was somewhat better at it than many of the She’Har, Thillmarius hadn’t completely mastered the skill. “Actually, I thought I might bring you a gift.”

  Kate wished that Lyralliantha was present, but she had left earlier, leaving Kate with both newborns to manage. She currently had one on either side of her, nursing. She couldn’t have felt more vulnerable.

  “Lyralliantha is out right now,” she informed him. “This isn’t the best time. I’m sort of occupied.”

  “I promise I won’t stay long,” he assured her. “Or if you wish, I can just leave it here, but I wouldn’t want it to get cold before you taste it.”

  “Cold?”

  “I brought some fresh bread, and butter as well,” explained the lore-warden. Gone was his artificial smile, replaced by an awkward and entirely genuine pride.

  For a moment, he reminded her of a small boy, hoping to win his mother’s praise with some accomplishment. She couldn’t help but remember her son Aaron, and the first time he had come home with a shiny rock in his pocket. The image was so at odds with the normal distant nature of the She’Har lore-warden that she almost laughed.

  She was also starving, and the thought of bread after the bland diet afforded by the Illeniels over the past month made her mouth water. “Forgive my hesitation,” she told him. “Please come in.”

  He did, and after assessing her state for a second he asked, “Since your hands are full, would you like me to cut a piece for you?”

  Kate nodded.

  The lore-warden carved a delicate slice from the round loaf and then produced a small container and opened it. Using his aythar he drew a large dollop of butter from it and spread it evenly across the warm bread before bringing it over to her.

  She managed to lean back, balancing Garlin and Layla with her upper arms and using her now free right hand to accept the gift. Murmuring a quick word of thanks, she ate it in three large bites that were anything but ladylike. The bread was delicious, possibly some of the best she had ever had.

  “Daniel told me you had taken up baking as a hobby, but I had trouble believing it,” she told him, “until now.”

  “Daniel?” answered the Prathion, looking puzzled for a second, until he realized she was referring to Tyrion. “Yes, he gave me some good advice on the matter. Did you know that my bread has become a sensation among the She’Har? I don’t know how it compares to yours, but my people had never experienced such a thing before.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded, “In fact, some of them may well be angry with me for bringing you this. There’s a waiting list to get a loaf.”

  Kate hid a frown, “Then why did you come?”

  “I had several motives,” said Thillmarius honestly. “I haven’t been able to find Tyrion, and his children won’t let me into Albamarl, but he had told me before that you were a good cook, so I wanted to see what your opinion was. I also wanted to repay some of my debt to him. But perhaps my biggest reason was curiosity.”

  Her fear and concern came back to the fore, but there was little she could do.

  Thillmarius saw the change in her aythar, “Please, don’t be worried. I mean you no harm. The Prathions and the Illeniels have been the closest of allies for many millennia. I simply wanted to see the truth of it.”

  “The truth?”

  “Lyralliantha’s baby,” he clarified. “I knew you were having a child, but no Illeniel female has ever given birth before. It has raised a storm of rumors among the Prathion lore-wardens.”

  “People are talking about it?”

  “Only our lore-wardens know,” said Thillmarius. “Koralltis was very circumspect, and we will not share the information with the other groves. Do not fear. But this is a very unusual event.”

  His words made her even more apprehensive, but it also piqued her interest, “Why is it so unusual?”

  “The Illeniel gift is more closely guarded than that of the other groves,” said Thillmarius. “Speaking objectively, it’s the main reason we still exist. Without it we wouldn’t have survived in the past, or been able to traverse the dimensions to find this, our last sanctuary. That is why the Prathions are so closely tied to the Illeniels. Practically speaking, our gift while useful, is the least powerful of any of the She’Har talents.”

  “Is that why you protect their secrets?”

  “Most assuredly,” answered Thillmarius. “Their assistance keeps us on a more even footing with the other groves. Outwardly, the She’Har may appear monolithic to you, despite the superficial differences in our skin coloring, but we operate purely according to our needs. The five groves would strive with one another for dominance if the Illeniel gift did not hold sway. They are the keystone to the balance of power that maintains our society.”

  “Daniel once told me that the Illeniel Grove is the smallest of the five,” said Kate. “If they are so important, why would that be?”

  “When you are powerful you have little need for numbers, or a show of strength,” replied the lore-warden.

  She was shocked, not by what he had said directly, but more by the fact that the She’Har seemed to suffer from the many of the same flaws that humans did. “I thought your people were naturally harmonious…”

  “Harmony is born of necessity.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

  Thillmarius was silent for a moment, as though deep in thought. “I think perhaps it is because I owe your mate a debt, and your people, but there are practical reasons as well. If humanity should gain the Illeniel gift, then it may become an important power in the future. Obviously the Illeniels have some reason for what they are doing, and it involves your race. Helping you might induce your people to view mine in a more favorable light.”

  It was a statement of fact that a human might have kept hidden, but Kate still appreciated his honesty. She felt compelled to return the favor, “You know Tyrion distrusts you.” She disliked calling Daniel by that name, but she decided that using it would simplify the conversation.

  “Which is why I am giving you this warning,” said Thillmarius. “Perhaps, if we find ourselves in need
of support someday, you can convince him to give it.”

  “Warning?” While the conversation had been interesting, she hadn’t thought it to be that ominous.

  The lore-warden nodded, “Yes. If the other groves discover the fact of Lyralliantha’s birth, they are unlikely to view it in the same light that my people do. They will see it as a betrayal. They would probably seek to undo it.”

  “Do you mean a war?” she asked.

  “You might call it that,” he agreed. “They would try to destroy the child.”

  “Wouldn’t that start a war?”

  He shook his head, “Not in the sense you mean. There would be struggle, to assassinate the boy. The Centyr and the Mordan make highly efficient killers. The Gaelyn would probably support them while the Illeniels and my people would try to protect him.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like a war.”

  He shrugged, “Only until the child was dead. Once the matter was decided it would be pointless to continue fighting. All parties would cease fighting. Unlike your people, we do not hold grudges. That is also why we must keep the child a secret. Despite their power, the Illeniels couldn’t win. Killing one person is an easy thing, and the Centyr and Mordan are uniquely gifted for such a task. They could attack knowing their victory would end the hostilities almost immediately, whereas the Illeniels would be forced to defend a weak point indefinitely. In fact, they might choose not to fight at all, unless they had a dire reason. Secrecy is your best, perhaps your only, defense.”

  Kate was horrified.

  ***

  “I don’t understand,” said the young man.

  His name was Allred, but Abby would have rather not known. It only made her job harder. Like most of her subjects, he was a Mordan mage, originally from Sabortrea. After taking a few of the slaves from the other camps Tyrion had directed them to focus their efforts on bringing most of their laborers from there. Now that she understood most of his plan, Abby knew why, and the thought made her shudder.

  “I’m going to put you to sleep, and make certain that you don’t feel any pain.” At least that part was true.