Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3)

by Fletcher DeLancey

  Vellmar felt her face grow warm.

  “Salomen.” Lancer Tal kissed her forehead. “You can stay here, but I have to go.”

  With a sudden intake of breath, Opah raised her head. “Colonel Micah?”

  “No. One of the prisoners is waking up.”

  “Oh. Damn.” She rolled over onto her back, rubbing her eyes as Lancer Tal sat up and swung her legs over the edge. “I’ll come with you.”

  “There’s no need, tyrina. Just sleep.”

  “Not without you.” She opened her eyes and saw Vellmar for the first time. Her lips curved in a knowing smile. “You look a little red, Lead Guard. We weren’t doing anything compromising, were we?”

  Vellmar flushed even more. “I’ll be in the main cabin,” she said, and fled.

  CHAPTER 40:

  Scope of betrayal

  “Stay here,” Tal said, gently resting a hand on Salomen’s chest as she tried to rise.

  “Why?” Salomen settled back on her elbows.

  “Because I’m about to question two prisoners who have no motivation to tell me anything.”

  “I don’t—”

  “So I’ll have to give them motivation.”

  Salomen’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “You said you’d learned more about the world than you wanted to. I don’t want you to learn this. Please stay here, and don’t open the door until I come back.”

  Salomen watched her in silence, then nodded. “All right.”

  “Thank you.” Tal pushed off the bed but was halted by a hand around her wrist.

  “Andira…I know you will do what you have to and no more.”

  She heard the unspoken request. “I promise.”

  By the time she entered the main cabin, Vellmar had recovered sufficiently to have a normal skin tone again. Tal nodded as she passed her, then dropped into the seat directly opposite the conscious prisoner. He sat straight, his eyes wide and his fear soaking her senses, though he was trying to front it. Beside him, the woman was groaning and rolling her head from side to side. Tal eyed the bandage across her nose before returning her attention to the man in front of her.

  “Welcome to my transport,” she said. “I would have offered a ride to your friends as well, but unfortunately, we killed the rest.”

  He swallowed hard. “Are you…?”

  She watched him until he finally answered his own question.

  “You’re Lancer Tal.”

  “Yes, I am. And you’re a man whose life depends on what he says in the next few ticks.”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “That was the wrong answer. I can feel exactly how much you know. And you’re going to share it with me. You can either do it now, voluntarily, or you can do it later, under a warrant of empathic force. Now would be better for you.”

  The woman opened her eyes, looked up blearily, and snapped awake at the sight of Tal. “Shekking—” She tried to lunge from the chair, then stared at the ties binding her to the armrests. Disbelief and dread leaked through her weak front.

  “I was just telling your friend that you’re the only survivors of your little club,” Tal said. “And suggesting to him that it would be better to tell me everything now, rather than having it forcibly pulled out of him later. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  The woman glanced at her partner, who shook his head slightly. She settled a practiced scowl on her face and stared straight ahead.

  Tal smiled to herself. She knew how to play this game and who the target would be.

  “Who was the guard in the room with Herot Opah?” She waited several pipticks, then added, “He’s already dead. I hardly think you can betray him by telling me his name. I just thought it would be easier to refer to him by a name when I tell you how he died.”

  They might have been a matched set of statues, but they could not mask their fear. Tal breathed it in and let it settle in her stomach, a salve to her own worry about Micah. In this, at least, she had control.

  “I killed him with an immobilizer,” she said conversationally. “A nasty way to go. The two guards at the door got a much quicker death, but we couldn’t take any chances with your friend in the room. I watched him die. He was in agony.”

  She leaned forward and spoke in a lower tone. “My intent is to turn you over to the Alsean Investigative Force in Blacksun, but I have an entire unit of Guards traveling with me. None of them are very happy about my decision to keep you alive. I’ll be spending the trip to Blacksun in my private cabin, which means I won’t be here to watch you. It’s soundproofed, so I won’t be able to hear you, either. If any of my Guards develops an itchy finger on an immobilizer, I’m afraid you’ll find out just how agonizing a death that is.”

  The man broke first, unable to remain quiet in the face of her not very subtle threat. “You won’t do that. You have to obey the law.”

  “Who told you that?”

  He looked away.

  “You’re correct, actually. I do have to obey the law. Which is why I’ll be somewhere else when you tragically die in transit. My Guards won’t see a thing, and my report to the AIF will be very short. Clean and legal. Would you like a preview?”

  Their eyes rounded, and she smiled at the spurt of terror. “No, not like that. That would be illegal. I’m just offering you the chance to honor your fallen comrade, by feeling what he felt.”

  When they still refused to speak, she gestured for Corlander to stand behind the man. “Hold his head back.”

  “Wait! What are you going to do?” The man craned his head around, trying to watch Corlander, but the Guard wrapped two strong hands around his head and forced it back against the seat. “You can’t do this!”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to do. How can you object?”

  He tried to struggle, an effort rendered useless by the bindings on his forearms and shins. “No…”

  “Are you going to answer my questions?”

  “No!”

  She lunged from her seat, slapped her hands on his energy points, and pressed her forehead to his. Her skin was crawling, but she needed answers. She called up her memories of the guard she had killed: his abject terror, his despair at dying alone, his agony at being caught without a breath in his lungs—knowing that because he exhaled just before being immobilized, he had lost that many more pipticks of life. All of the horror she had absorbed from him, she threw toward the man under her hands. He struggled, screaming, his own terror blending with the memories she was sending until she wasn’t sure which was which. Revolted, she pushed herself away and sat back, watching him sob.

  “Fahla, no, I don’t want to die!”

  “Get me a wet cloth,” she ordered.

  The woman had lost all pretense of stoicism and was straining at her bonds, instinct driving a flight response despite knowing she could not get free. “What did you do to him?” she demanded, her voice cracking.

  “Exactly what I said I would. Remember that. I do not lie, and I do not bluff. Corlander, you can release him. For now.”

  The man had stopped sobbing, but his breathing was harsh and panicked.

  His friend gave up her ineffective struggles and leaned over as far as she could. “Are you all right? Oren? Oren! Talk to me!”

  He shook his head, still gasping.

  “Oren,” said Tal. “Finally, an answer. You know I couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t experienced those feelings myself. What you just felt is precisely what your friend felt. The difference is that you’re still alive, but he felt that way until he died. As I said, it’s a nasty way to go.”

  Vellmar held a wet cloth in front of her. She took it without looking up and gratefully wiped her forehead and hands. It helped, but she wouldn’t feel clean again until she had showered.

 
“Would you like to answer a few simple questions, Oren?” she asked.

  “You said you had to obey the law.” His voice shook with fear and hatred. “That was not legal!”

  “Of course it was. I offered you the opportunity to honor your friend. You agreed.”

  “I did not! I said no!”

  “You said no, you would not answer my questions. Not no, you did not wish to honor your friend’s death. Now, let me ask you again. Will you answer my questions?” She felt the answer, but before he could say it, she turned to the woman. “Or would you like to honor your friend?”

  “You can’t do that to her!” Oren shouted.

  Tal held her gaze. “Is keeping someone else’s secret worth it?”

  She licked her lips, glancing nervously at Oren and back to her. “No,” she said.

  “Dalset!”

  “Seal his mouth.” Tal did not look away from the frightened woman staring at her. “Your name is Dalset?”

  She hesitated, then nodded, and Tal knew she had her.

  “Don’t you tell her—” Oren’s shout was cut off midsentence as his mouth was taped shut.

  “What was the name of the guard in Herot Opah’s room?”

  Dalset glanced at Oren, then back at Tal. “Swifan,” she said.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your willingness to cooperate. You know I wasn’t lying when I said Swifan died a terrible death. What I didn’t tell you was how much I regretted that death. We killed the guards on the ridge tops and the ones outside Herot’s room quickly and with a minimum of pain, but we knew that Swifan was assigned to kill Herot if anything went wrong.” She noted Dalset’s surprise. “Yes, we were watching you. That’s how we were able to plan such a clean mission, except for Swifan’s death. I wish it hadn’t been necessary. But you made it necessary.”

  “It wasn’t me! I didn’t have anything to do with how this was set up.”

  “Who did?”

  “Periso. She was in charge of everything. I just did what I was told.”

  “First name?”

  “Hedron.”

  “And Hedron Periso was with you in the house?”

  “Yes. She was the one who hired me. She said it was just a guarding job. I didn’t know it would involve anything illegal until I got there.”

  “Of course you knew it was illegal. You don’t have a very strong front; don’t even attempt to lie to me. The more truth you share, the better it will be for you in Blacksun.”

  Dalset looked down.

  “Periso must have paid well. That was a dokshin job in the middle of nowhere. You must have been bored out of your mind.”

  “I was,” she said. “We all were. Some of us were talking about leaving.”

  “A pity you didn’t. Did Periso pay Oren and everyone else, too?”

  “Yes. I told you, she was in charge.”

  “So she’s the one who kidnapped Herot from the Napoline transport station?”

  “Her and…” She paused, trying too hard not to look at Oren.

  “And Oren,” Tal finished for her, sensing the truth of it. “Was Oren the second-in-command?”

  “In a way. Periso didn’t trust any of us, really. She was a paranoid shekker.”

  “Which room was hers?”

  Dalset looked at her oddly. “The one by the office, why? Is that important?”

  Tal had known it before she said it, but it was nice to have the confirmation. “In a way. Did you know there was a basement under that house?” No, she clearly didn’t. “The access was in Periso’s room. There was only one other exit, a blast door leading to an escape tunnel. Here’s something else that might surprise you: the entire basement ceiling was wired with explosives. You were living on top of a bomb. Periso was killed right by the escape tunnel as she was trying to set them off, with you—and Oren, and everyone else—still in the house.”

  “What?” Dalset gaped at her, then narrowed her eyes and tried to present an unconcerned front. “You’re lying.”

  Tal reached across and touched her hand. “Ask me if the house was wired to blow.”

  Dalset stared at their hands, startled by the physical touch. Shakily, she asked, “Was the house wired to blow? With all of us in it?”

  “Yes.”

  Her jaw slackened as she sensed Tal’s sincerity through their physical connection. Even Oren was shocked into belief.

  “That spawn of a fantenshekken!” Dalset spat. “She was using us!”

  Tal drew her hand back. “Yes, she was. You were just tools in a high-stakes political game.”

  “I’m glad she’s dead!” Dalset was burning with the fury of betrayal. “And I hope you kill Shantu as well. Damn them to Fahla’s worst nightmares!”

  Tal went still. “Shantu? Do you mean…Prime Warrior Shantu?”

  “He’s the one who wanted Opah kept alive. Periso was sworn to him. The rest of us were just hired tools. That’s why we were expendable, I guess. Shekking dokkers!”

  Tal looked at the stunned faces of her Guards, then back at Dalset.

  “Thank you,” she said in a voice that didn’t seem to be hers. “I have no other questions for now.” She rose and walked back through the main cabin, her shock gradually melting into anger. By the time she reached her cabin, she was incandescent.

  Salomen looked up when she entered. “What hap—”

  “Damn them!” Tal shouted, startling her into silence. “Fahla damn them all, those shekking excuses for Alseans! How far does this go? Is there anyone left on the High Council who isn’t betraying me?” She wanted to break something, but everything in the room was bolted down.

  “Andira—”

  “Not now, Salomen!” She threw herself into the desk chair and began to punch in Razine’s code, but Salomen’s bewildered pain stopped her. “Sorry,” she said curtly. She was too furious to mean it and knew that Salomen was even more hurt by her insincerity. Shaking her head, she entered the rest of the code and hit the call key so hard that it was a wonder her finger didn’t break the transparent cover.

  Razine came on almost immediately. “Lancer Tal! Do you have new—?”

  “I’m not calling about Micah. I just finished questioning the prisoners. They’re not Parser’s.”

  “What?”

  “They were hired by Shantu.”

  Razine’s intake of breath was audible. “Great Goddess above.”

  “My sentiments exactly. Though I’m a little more homicidal than you.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, I’m certain!” Tal snapped. “The Prime Warrior is colluding with the Prime Merchant, and there’s only one possible reason. Those two hate each other. They must have a common goal.”

  “A caste coup.”

  “Good guess, Colonel. I want him brought into custody one hantick ago.”

  “Lancer Tal.” Razine’s tone was overly calm. “I cannot bring the Prime Warrior into custody without cause. Your word, however trustworthy, is not sufficient.”

  Tal closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Now she wanted to kill Razine, but the part of her that was still logical knew the colonel was right.

  Think, she told herself. What do you have for cause?

  Her eyes popped open. “Check the caste records for a warrior named Hedron Periso. She’s sworn to Shantu. She was the one in charge of the operation with Herot; the others were just hired mercenaries. She’s also the one who shot Micah and got away. Periso and a mercenary named Oren—one of my prisoners—are the ones who kidnapped Herot out of the Napoline transport station. I can get Herot to confirm that. And I have two mercenaries here who will finger Shantu under questioning. One of them will probably need empathic force, but the other will talk without a warrant.”

 
“That will work once we get them here and can conduct a properly witnessed empathic scan. In the meantime, I’ll work on the caste records. But until we have corroboration of Periso’s connection with Herot, the fact of her being sworn to Shantu will not be enough.”

  “You have the connection already.” Salomen’s voice came from right behind her. “The news vid. If Periso and Oren are the ones who kidnapped Herot, then you have them on a vid. One the whole world has already seen.”

  Razine looked from Salomen to Tal. “She’s right.”

  “Of course she is. Is that sufficient cause?”

  “Yes. If the vid shows their faces, that is. I imagine it was recorded from an angle to avoid that, but all we need is one frame with an identifiable profile. Send me images of your prisoners, in case I can’t find them in the caste records. They may not be using their real names. We won’t be able to hold Shantu for long without the corroboration of witnessed testimony, but we’ll have enough to bring him in.”

  “Then do it. Put those two zalrens in the same holding cell. Maybe Fahla will smile on us and they’ll kill each other.”

  “I’ll let you know the moment we have him.”

  “Thank you.” Tal ended the call and turned in her seat. “And thank you, too. I—” She stopped at the thunderous expression on Salomen’s face.

  “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

  Tal’s anger had been so overwhelming that it had actually blocked Salomen’s, but she certainly felt it now. Worse, she knew it was justified. “I’m sorry,” she said, shrinking under the icy glare. This time she meant it.

  “You should be. I’m on your side. I know you’ve had a dokshin day and it just got worse, but even that does not give you the right to treat me like some annoying underling clamoring for your attention. I deserve better.”

  A cloud of remorse settled on Tal’s shoulders, where it clashed with the anger that still held her in its grip. She couldn’t meet Salomen’s eyes, and she couldn’t speak, either. At this point, she had no idea what would come out of her mouth. Instead she closed her eyes and nodded.