Fire Margins

by Lisanne Norman

  “He’ll likely try to have it anyway,” said Kaid tiredly. “He does know about this aspect of the En’Shalla ritual, doesn’t he? He agreed, knowing this?”

  “If he doesn’t, he will when he’s read the data.”

  “You’d think Vartra would have had the sense to choose a Sholan pair, wouldn’t you?” said Kaid, attempting to sound more like his usual self as he opened the door. “Humans with their confused morality and odd religions aren’t the likeliest candidates for any of our rituals.”

  “We’re all in the hands of the Gods, Kaid. Frankly, I don’t know why Vartra picked you either.” Ghyan’s reply was sharp. “I haven’t forgotten our last talk, before the Challenge. Perhaps He’s chosen you to teach you compassion—He knows you need some!”

  “You presume too much, Priest,” growled Kaid, opening the door. “What I do or don’t feel for them is not your concern!”

  He walked along the narrow dark corridor, cursing under his breath. With any other female, he’d just approach her and after some talk, ask her to spend time with him, then let nature take its course. At least that’s what he’d done before … Khemu. He was sure customs hadn’t changed that much in the last three decades. But he couldn’t do that with her. Afraid as she still was of Terran reactions to her marriage with Kusac, she’d never understand he meant no insult to her. And Kusac? He was so protective of her, so strongly tied to her every thought and action! If they intended to take the En’Shalla path to the Fire Margins, then someone would have to be the third, that was an inescapable fact. Why him, though? If they did achieve a Triad between them, what effect would he have on it—and them?

  His senses suddenly began to swim, and, dizzily, he stopped, leaning against the wall for support as the corridor before him seemed to lurch and then vanish.

  He stood on the darkened edge of a brightly lit field. Around him the immense shadows of cargo ships loomed out of the night, their access ramps glowing golden in contrast to the intense white of the surrounding illuminations. Kusac stood beside him and he could feel the rage his Liege was directing against the small group of people ahead of them. He shifted his stance, accommodating the weight in his arms, looking down to see if she was all right.

  Once more, his surroundings seemed to lurch, then he was back in the corridor, his cheek pressed against the cold stone walls. With him came the memory of the pain he’d read on Carrie’s face and in her mind, and the way she’d been clinging to him.

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath while he searched his memory for an appropriate litany—but there wasn’t one for what he’d just experienced.

  *

  Jo’s and Davies’ first port of call had been the Khalossa. Their stay couldn’t have been briefer. In line with current policy, they stopped only long enough for a crash course in the orientation program on Sholan culture and language given to all visiting Humans. They still needed to practice the skills and experience the culture for themselves, but it saved months of time and many potential misunderstandings.

  Then they embarked on the adapted shuttlecraft. Seven days later they docked at Chagda Station, the mercantile and military space station in orbit around Shola. The regular shuttle service delivered them to Valsgarth, home of Shola’s main Telepath Clan, the Aldatans, and the largest Telepath Guild town.

  They were met by Telepath and Warrior Guild personnel who were there to escort them in a private vehicle to the Guildhouse.

  It was early afternoon and as they looked down on the crowded streets below, Jo turned to the Telepath beside her.

  “No ground vehicles?” she asked.

  “Only the Chemerians’ powered chairs,” she replied. “All deliveries of goods are made in the early morning before the stores open for business. Vehicles arriving at Valsgarth at any other time wait in the goods area at the spaceport till the next day.”

  “Where are we going now?” asked Davies as the craft rose, then banked slightly to clear a high wall.

  “Here. This is the Telepath Guild where you’ll be welcomed by Clan Lord Aldatan. From there you’ll go to the Warrior Guild where you will stay during your time with us.”

  “Kusac’s father,” Jo said quietly to Davies.

  As the craft set down in the large courtyard it sent clouds of dust billowing up around it. The students caught in it scurried away, coughing and choking.

  As the dust settled, Davies leaned forward over the seat to talk to Jo.

  “The place is built like a fortress,” he said, nodding toward the huge wooden doors that stood open at the entrance to the Guildhall.

  “Our past included a time of superstition and fear, just as yours did,” said the female beside Jo.

  The extent of the building, which reached in places to the height of three or four stories, was palatial. The ancient central hall had been added to over the centuries, expanding that modest building into a rambling complex. Despite this there was a harmonious look and feel to the whole.

  “It’s at least a thousand years old,” agreed the female as she moved to get up.

  They were ushered into the ground floor room that served as the Clan Lord’s office.

  “Well come,” said Konis, getting up to greet them. “So at last I meet some of the Terrans who worked with my son and bond-daughter. Please, be seated.” He indicated the comfortably padded chairs. “Hot drinks are on the table in front of you. Would you prefer some of your coffee or our c’shar?” he asked, indicating the two sealed jugs.

  “Coffee, please,” said Jo, glancing at Davies for confirmation as she sank into one of the chairs. A look of surprise and pleasure crossed her face.

  “I’m sure the chairs are a most welcome change after the scant comfort on our military shuttles,” said Konis, sitting down again.

  “I regret having to break your journey like this. I’m sure you want to reach your final destination as soon as possible, but I wished to see you first. Not least of all you, my dear,” he said, watching Jo carefully as his mind gently touched the edges of hers.

  Surprise made her tense.

  “Why did you choose to keep your Talent to yourself and remain on Keiss?” Konis asked.

  Jo looked at Davies in panic, then back to Konis.

  “You’re mistaken,” she said. “I’m not a telepath. What on earth gave you that idea?”

  “As Clan Lord, I know the mental feel of every telepath on this continent, my dear. When a new Talent is born, I know. Before your shuttle landed outside the town, I sensed you and knew you had an untutored Talent. You keep it walled away, using only a fraction of its true potential. Why?”

  Jo frantically tried to think of a reason that the Clan Lord would accept, but he forestalled her.

  “So you worked in the Valtegan cities, too,” he said. “Then it’s no wonder that you desensitized yourself. But why continue to hide it now?”

  “I like my job,” she said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. “I don’t want to give it up to be a Telepath.”

  “It’s your Talent that helps you be the linguist that you are. It gives you the insight into understanding cultures foreign to your own. However, be that as it may,” he said, reaching for the coffee jug to pour them a drink, “you are under no obligation to come here and train, my dear. The choice is yours. Even as a trained Telepath, you could continue in the career you’ve chosen. I’m not trying to coerce you, I was merely curious.”

  Jo looked relieved. “Elise and Carrie were always considered freaks because of their abilities. I don’t want to be seen the same way,” she said, casting another sidelong glance at Davies, who for once had the good sense to be looking in the opposite direction.

  “As you wish. The third member of your group, Kris Daniels, is already at the Warrior Guild waiting for you. He’s a Terran Telepath and will be the one keeping in contact with the Chemerian vessel that regularly trades on Jalna. He’s well trained and capable of helping you if you have any difficulties with your Talent during your mission.”r />
  “Is there any reason why I should have difficulties?” Jo asked anxiously.

  “None at all,” said Konis calmly. “After all, you’ve been coping like this for many years, as have all the Terran Telepaths. We are merely able to help train your Talents and utilize them more fully.”

  He held out a mug to her. “Help yourself to whitener and sweetener while I tell you what I know of the planet Jalna and give you a brief outline of the information we have so far. You’ll get a more detailed briefing from your contact on the Chemerian cargo vessel. You rendezvous with it at Chagda Station in three weeks’ time.”

  “Three weeks!” exclaimed Davies. “How are we expected to pick up the weapons skills in three weeks?”

  “The Guild Master assures me that this can be done,” said Konis. “Don’t worry. It’s their responsibility to have you ready on time.”

  When Jo and Davies had departed for the Warrior Guild, they left a very thoughtful Konis behind them. He returned to his desk, sitting down and activating the display screen. As it rose from its recess, he tapped out the access codes for the data on the Terran Telepaths currently on, or in transit to Shola. Of the sixty persons on his list, thirty-three were in the Guild, two were on his wife’s estate and the other twenty-five were in transit from Earth.

  Of the four mixed Leska pairs, including the pair who had died at the Guild, all except Vanna were Sholan males with Human female partners. Of the rest, there were only three single Terran females here, with another four on their way.

  He keyed in another sequence giving him the personal information on the single females’ backgrounds. All but one were in their early to mid-forties, the other was thirty-nine. Frowning, he stared at the screen. If the Terran, Jo, was right, then there was something here that he was missing, but what?

  Coming to a decision, he took the unusual step of contacting Vanna mentally. He wouldn’t afford Esken’s spies the opportunity of finding out what was on his mind, so to speak. They might tap his internal communications between departments, but they wouldn’t dare attempt to mentally eavesdrop on either him or Vanna. As the acknowledged Sholan specialist in Terran physiology, she would surely be able to close her teeth on what he was looking for.

  Vanna, Konis here. Meet me in my office as soon as possible, please, he sent.

  Coming.

  Five minutes later she knocked and entered. “What can I do for you, Clan Lord?” she asked, approaching his desk.

  Konis reached out for the nearest chair, hauling it behind his desk till it was beside his own.

  “Thank you for being so prompt, Vanna. Come, sit down and look at this data.”

  Vanna sat beside him and regarded the screen. “What are we looking for?”

  “These are the details of the female Terran Telepaths. Out of sixty Terrans, we only have seven females. Apart from the fact there are so few of them, there is something here so obvious I’m missing it. With your knowledge of Terran culture, perhaps you can tell me what it is.”

  “I hadn’t realized there were so few,” she said, leaning forward toward the control panel set into the desk surface. “May I?”

  “Please,” said Konis, moving his chair back.

  She tapped a few keys, checked the files of the fifty-three males, then ordered the computer to find the common factors.

  “The females are older, their average age being forty-two, the males being only twenty-eight,” she said. “Apart from that, I can’t see any correlation beyond the fact they come from the major cultures on Earth.”

  She turned puzzled green eyes toward him. “What exactly are you hoping to find? What did Jo tell you?”

  “She thinks Earth is still restricting the number of telepathic females they’re sending to us. Why would they do that? You know more than any Sholan about the Human culture, even if it is on Keiss, not Earth. Can you think of a reason for them to do that?”

  “I wonder if age is a key factor,” she said, pressing more controls. “There is a large discrepancy in the averages.” Again she turned to look at him. “Being a shorter-lived species than us, they mature earlier. Clan units like ours don’t exist, and they form a bond with one partner for life. They tend to remain possessive of their females, treating them almost as if they own them.”

  “They’re shorter-lived? I hadn’t realized,” Konis murmured. “What is their life span?”

  “Sixty or seventy seems to be the average for the males, with the females living for perhaps another ten years.”

  Konis blinked in shock. “So short a time?” His thoughts hung loud and clear in the silence. Were his son, and Vanna, doomed to so short a life because of their Human Leskas?

  “We’ve changed, Clan Lord,” said Vanna. “The Humans, too. Who knows how long either of us will live now? Only time will tell.” She looked back at the screen.

  Konis refocused his mind on the current problem. “So what Carrie faced on Keiss is not uncommon among Terrans. The females are not perceived as equal citizens but as a form of property. Presumably they don’t want them in situations where they can mix freely with males, so they prevent them from coming to us.”

  “Perhaps they don’t want them mixing with Sholan males,” said Vanna. “We know they suffer from xenophobia to a greater extent than we do, so keeping them away from our males could be more important.”

  “In my dealings with the Earth delegation, I found them more xenophobic toward each other than us, but it is part of the same pattern. What of the age factor in the females? Why do you think they’re older?”

  They’re too old for childbearing, came Brynne’s thought. No chance then for any alien half-breeds. They’ll leave that to the Sholan females. Then his presence was gone.

  Vanna looked acutely embarrassed, ears flicking backward despite her attempt to keep them upright.

  “My apologies, Clan Lord,” she began, but Konis silenced her with a wave of his hand.

  “No need, Vanna. I know how difficult things are for you, and Brynne’s insight has been most useful.”

  She looked back to the screen. “Yes, Clan Lord,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  Konis frowned at her. “You’re forgetting my name,” he said gently. “No more Clan Lord, please.” He looked back at the screen. “It looks like Jo was right. The Terrans are restricting the Telepaths they send us.” He leaned past Vanna to key in more data.

  “At least the ones we get here are in the main people with genuinely useful Talents,” he said, reviewing the screen. “These are the ones that have been vetted on the Rhyaki before being sent here. I hear there’ve been a great many sent to the ship who’ve had only the delusion of having a Talent.”

  Vanna looked questioningly at him.

  “Because telepathy isn’t recognized on Earth,” said Konis, “the people have developed a subculture of their own based mainly on their abilities to foretell the future or to contact the deceased. The Tutors on the Rhyaki complain that for every three people with a genuine Talent, they’re sent twenty who have nothing of any use to us, far more than one would expect in a random sample. They feel sure the Terrans are aware of this.

  “It seems I’ve been too engrossed with our new Leskas,” said Konis, his ears beginning to lie flat with anger. “It’s time I involved myself more in Alien Relations. I think another visit to Earth is called for, one with full Ambassadorial status, to inquire into their selection procedure for suitable Telepaths. I’ll speak to Commander Chuz and Governor Nesul about it today,” he said, switching his comm off. “I want another batch of people sent out here as soon as possible, and it had better include more younger females! These Terrans are as devious as the Chemerians. Thank the Gods we are dealing with people we know on Keiss. That at least goes smoothly,” he said, turning to Vanna.

  “Changing the topic completely, what’s the state of the ni’uzu epidemic here? Have you managed to find a workable vaccine yet?”

  “Not yet. Since Carrie and Kusac first caught and mutated it, it
won’t respond to our vaccine. So far it only appears to be affecting the single telepaths. Existing Leska pairs seem to be immune, yet we can’t find what it is that gives them the immunity. It’s not just our Guildhouse either, the other fifteen Telepath Guildhouses have been similarly hit. In fact there have been several deaths directly linked to the new strain of ni’uzu.”

  “Why only telepaths? I don’t suppose it could be some Terran virus, could it?”

  Vanna shook her head. “Unlikely. The DNA mapping of the Humans is far enough advanced for us to rule that out. So far we can’t trace the cause, but even when they’ve recovered, it’s leaving many people weak and ill for several days.”

  “Have you got all the facilities and staff you need?”

  “Yes, Clan Lord.”

  Konis frowned.

  “Yes, Konis,” she amended, feeling self-conscious at the use of his personal name.

  “Right,” he said, getting up. “Keep me informed, Vanna. I want to know if there are any more deaths due to this virus and if it leaves those who’ve contracted it with any enhanced abilities or altered genetics. I need to go and see the Governor now.”

  *

  After more than two decades of life in the military, Kris, the telepathic member of their team, came as something of a shock to Jo and Davies. The shoulder-length fair hair held back by a plain suede headband, the T-shirt and jeans, and the bare feet in open leather sandals all firmly proclaimed him a civilian, despite the Sholan uniform jacket he carried. However, as their days at the Warrior Guild merged into weeks, they realized the differences between the soldiers that they were and the Warriors they needed to become.

  This Guild had never turned out obedient ranks of soldiers; traditionally they fulfilled a totally different role. They trained males and females to fight with any available weapons, including their natural ones; to search out the enemy’s weaknesses; to assess and plan tactical advantages; to survive and ultimately win in the most extreme circumstances. In short, unless they were Warrior-trained first and foremost, there was no way junior officers could gain access to the upper echelons of the Sholan military.