Chapter 35: Jak
Tekena was a swirl of dust in the mouth, a blast of light in the eyes as sunlight reflected off the gleaming black of alien ruins. And crowds. The dozens of people they’d seen earlier this morning had swelled to hundreds and then to thousands. There were too damn many people here. Jak felt as if they were all touching him, all of them haggling, eating, gawking, moving, and bumping into him, brushing against him, pressing against his back. His skin crawled as he tried to maintain some personal space.
Worse yet, even among the many people flocking to celebrate the Joining, he drew attention. He’d lost his vest when the barge burned, now clad only in torn gray pants, scruffy boots, and the cloth belt containing half of Tessa’s bracelets, he looked more brigand than festival goer.
A woman backed into his chest. Turning around, she looked up and gave a small scream. The scar on his face might be gone, but he still had demon green eyes and demon red hair.
"Yeah," Jak growled at her, "and I eat babies for breakfast."
With hastily averted eyes, she moved away and was lost in the mob. He ignored the irritated look Tessa gave him. He’d tied the hair back with a scrap torn from Tessa’s cloak, but that didn’t do much to make him presentable. He glanced down at Toko who, barefoot, dressed in nothing but knee length pants, didn’t look much better. Kamura was still using the boy’s tunic as a bag for what was left of their food and water.
"We need to get out of this mob," Jak said as yet another stranger bumped into his back and sent him staggering a step forward into Tessa.
Tessa and Kamura might still pass as a poor farmer’s wife and her servant boy, if no one looked too closely. But their clothes were ragged, too. Tessa’s once white shift was stained in a multitude of colors, green from the reeds, black with soot, yellow and gray from the sand of the Waste and mud of the river, and it was torn up the left side nearly to her hip. She’d tied the remains of her short blue cloak around her waist to hide the rip and as much of the skirt as she could, but she was still far from looking like the beautifully groomed courtesan he’d always known. As for Kamura, she gave a perfect impression of a scruffy boy with no care for personal hygiene.
"I have a suite reserved in my name," Kamura said. "We could go there."
Toko shook her arm. "Wake up girl! You told me what happened in Namdrik. Jak says he killed n’Tau, but there’ll be somebody to take the Gambler’s place. Count on it."
Beside him, Jak heard Tessa sigh. He looked down at her weary face. He wished more than anything that he could provide her with a clean room, a soft bed, and all the time she needed to recover from their trek through the desert. But wishes would have to wait.
"We can camp outside of town," Jak said. "Plenty of people are doing that. We just need to buy food and water."
"And clothing," Tessa said. "We need something less conspicuous to wear if we’re going to get inside the Black Palace." She patted the belt around her waist. "We can sell some of these bracelets for credits. Even with prices tripled, it ought to be enough."
What she didn’t say was that ragged beggars trading gold bracelets would attract unwelcome curiosity. But they all thought it, even Kamura.
"You still have credits," Kamura said, eyeing Toko, "from the money Jak gave you at the start of our trip. Now is the time to use them."
Toko was silent, scowling.
"Toko!" Kamura commanded, "Give us those credits."
"My credits."
Jak was out of patience. "And it’s my foot up your ass if you don’t hand them over," he said. "Do you want us to help you or not?"
Beside him, Tessa leaned against his arm. He could feel the fine tremor of fatigue running through her body.
Kamura held out her hand. "Toko."
Reluctantly, the boy reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the small leather bag that Jak had given him—was it really only a few days ago? It seemed like a lifetime. Several lifetimes.
Toko slapped the bag into Kamura’s outstretched palm. The brilliant smile she gave in return brought a flush to his face. Jak was surprised that the kid had caved so easily. He must be developing some serious feelings for Kamura.
"Kamura and I will buy clothes," Tessa said. She turned to Jak and Toko. "While you two find food and water and . . . the other things we discussed."
She meant the robes, the red robes and black masks and gloves of priests of Nish. Easy enough, much easier than shopping for clothes. Toko looked as relieved as Jak to be spared that task. Mugging priests was much more their kind of job.
But that didn’t make Jak feel any easier about parting from Tessa. He knew she was smart, and he trusted her to take care of herself in a city environment, but Kamura was another story. She was so inexperienced, so . . . unfinished. Jak was afraid the Terran girl would make a major mistake and bring Tessa down with her.
Still, he had his own work to do. They headed toward the main temple of Nish, yet another pile of worm crap not far from the Black Palace. Toko slipped through the crowd, and Jak shouldered his way after him through sheer size and determination. They came to a halt at the edge of the open plaza in front of the temple.
"Not another damn ceremony," Jak said, eyeing the phalanxes of priests, each group organized according to some principle that totally escaped him. Incense blew toward them in perfumed clouds that made Jak’s eyes water. He glimpsed mobbies in the crowd, clever fingers busy. Yeah, they were back in the city.
"Too many people here," Toko observed. "We need to get a couple of them alone."
That was for sure. Not only were the priests massed in squares of bright scarlet, each group carrying a statue of a different aspect of Nish the war god; the entire plaza was lined with crowds of worshipers throwing red-petaled flowers at the feet of the procession. Trampling on the petals, the priests appeared to be wading through a lake of blood. The crushed petals added their own scent to the mix of sweat, dust, and incense.
"Right. And we need to make sure none of those fanatics watching the parade sees us."
They began edging their way back toward one of the many small streets that opened into the plaza. He felt the crowd pressing against him, sweaty skin to sweaty skin, their thoughts buzzing, emotions lapping him like water. This was new. He’d been in crowds before, here on Shadriss, and he remembered trading trips with his father to cities far bigger than Tekena. But today, the borders between himself and others seemed too thin. If he focused his mind, he knew he’d be able to see their memories, see their lives like holos spread before him.
Was this some new aspect of the strangeness? The alien phage inside him seemed to grow stronger each time he came close to death. Toko had said the Prime had to drown first, before the phage in the n’Chall pool could manifest. Maybe that was it. Coming close to death must give the thing room to grow. Did that mean it would take over one day and leave him nothing but a passenger in what had been his body? Or maybe less than that.
Toko’s dry voice at his shoulder brought him back to the side street where they now stood looking for the flash of scarlet robes.
"You know, Big Jak, we have to kill them all," Toko said. His voice was low, the statement casual.
Startled, Jak looked away from the two red-robes he’d been eyeing. "Kill the priests?"
"No! Has the sun scrambled your brain? We have to kill all the hosts. If we don’t, it just keeps breeding, yes?"
Jak made himself consider the idea. As much as he hated killing, he was about to be forced to do more. But the Selok had three hosts. He knew that from the shared memories. Killing Bolon and the Regent, he could do. But could he kill the boy who was the puppet Prime?
"I can deal with the two adults," Jak said. Toko would know which two he meant, and there was no need to broadcast names to listening ears. "But the kid is just a kid."
Toko had no such caution. "You’re sentimental, Jak. That’s your trouble. Get it straight.
There is no kid. There is no Bolon and no Graff n’Chall; there’s only the Selok."
Only the Selok, one mind in three bodies. Jak knew that, but he had a hard time really believing it, even after contact with that mind, even after almost becoming the fourth body in that meld.
"One Selok, I get it." He didn’t really, but he’d deal with that later. He pointed with his chin at the two priests he’d spotted earlier. "Look at those two. Looks like they’re heading for that alley."
Sure enough, the two figures in red turned down a small side passage. As one, Jak and Toko peeled off the wall and started sliding through the crowd. Jak felt small fingers at his belt, and quickly slapped away the reaching hand. The mobbie was gone before he could do more.
"You know, what this place needs is a way to get the farmers to accept mobbies into their clans."
It seemed crazy to him that the farmers, who needed children, refused these kids, who needed families.
"Clan is everything, Big Jak. You think you can fix that?"
"I can’t, but maybe you could."
Toko seemed startled by the idea.
But there was no time to talk about changes. The two priests were just ahead of them, and no one else was around. It was as perfect a set up as they were ever likely to get. Jak glanced at Toko and nodded toward the priest on the right. He went for the one on the left. After the tension of the crowds, the actual work was over in moments with a carefully calculated punch behind the ear. Next to him, Toko took a little more effort to down his priest. Quickly, they stripped off masks, gloves, and robes. Doing so disclosed two middle-aged men, one with long, gray hair, and the other bald as a stone. Toko pulled out his knife and slid his hand under the chin of the bald priest, exposing the pale throat.
"Wait! What are you doing?"
"Cutting his throat," Toko replied. He looked surprised that Jak would even ask.
"Just tie them up. No need to kill them." Jak ripped the gray haired priests undertunic into strips and rolled the man over onto his back so he could tie his hands behind him.
"Dead priests mean no trouble."
But the boy waited.
"Toko, you’re not a mobbie anymore. Stop thinking like one."
"I’m not . . . ."
He sputtered to a halt. Jak didn’t know if he was protesting no longer being part of a pack or being called on his failure to think like a Big One. It didn’t matter.
"Look, you’re going to be ruler of this dirt ball, worm crap and all." Okay, that was only true if a lot of unlikely events went right. But think positive. Think of Tessa safe and out of here. "If you’re going to rule Shadriss, you need to think like an Overlord, not a bloodthirsty mobbie chief."
"They should fear the Overlord."
"No, Toko. Your enemies should fear you, maybe; but your people should respect you. Acting like your uncle isn’t going to earn you their respect."
"But these two will never know who took their robes."
"They’ll know if you win. You’ll need a legend. You’ll need a story. How you act now will be part of it."
"Okay. Okay. Give me some of that."
Jak watched as the boy took the remaining strips of cloth and tied up the other priest. He was going to make a hell of an Overlord. While Toko was busy with the priest, Jak gathered everything into a bundle and slung it over his shoulder.
Omniphage Invasion Page 35
