“How are you feeling? You still look exhausted.”
“I am. I took a walk down to the Shrine and they had to send Dzaka to help me home.”
“It’s going to take a while to build your strength up again. You took one hell of a beating, so did your system.”
“I never was a good patient,” he said.
“It’s time for second meal. Have you eaten?”
“Not since this morning.”
“Carrie’s bound to send something up. In the meantime, do you want a drink?”
“No, thanks. What brings you here? Apart from coming to wake me up and make sure I don’t get that rest you’ve prescribed!”
“I saw the Chemerian trader this morning.”
Kaid’s curiosity was roused and he pushed himself further up against the pillows. “I take it you’ve got news.”
“Some. I wish you’d been with me, you’d have enjoyed it. I started by throwing his two customers out and locking the door. That got him nice and paranoid. Then I told him about the drug problem his people are trying to solve. Naturally he had no idea of what I was talking about.”
“Naturally,” agreed Kaid, reaching for the half-chewed stim twig on his night stand.
“So I told him about the trade route to Jalna, and the other three species they traded with there. He became rather distressed at this point.”
“Understandably so.”
“As you say. This was where I suggested his Ambassador might not be pleased to hear about him importing off-world illegal drugs to Shola. He became even more agitated and happened to let slip that the drug was species-specific to Chemerians only. It was rare to start with and was no good to any of the other Alliance races as it gave them terrible waking dreams that lasted for a whole day at least. I showed him the phial. That’s when I had to pick him off the ceiling.”
Kaid raised an eye ridge. “Literally?”
“Well, figuratively,” admitted Garras with a grin. “Once I’d helped him over his hysterics, he began …”
“How did you manage that?” asked Kaid. “Once they get to that stage they’re usually incoherent for hours.”
“I discovered that cold water works just as well on Chemerians with hysterics as it does on Sholans,” he said. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“I’ll have to remember that. How did you administer the cold water?”
“Stuck his head under the faucet in the back of the shop. After I’d done that, he was remarkably helpful.”
“I’ll bet. So what did you find out?”
“You’ll love this,” said Garras with a large grin. “He was partially right. It is species-specific, if you want an expensive and extremely rare Chemerian aphrodisiac!”
“What? You can’t be serious! You are, aren’t you?”
Garras nodded, a wide grin on his face as Kaid began to laugh.
“That’s exactly what I did, much to the embarrassment of the Chemerian. I was able to settle a deal very quickly after that. You’ll have two phials of the stuff, called la’quo, next week. He can’t get it any sooner, I’m afraid.”
“What did you trade?”
Garras shrugged. “Nothing much. Just a promise that I wouldn’t make his people the laughing stock of every spaceport in the Alliance.”
“It’s almost worth passing the word to some less scrupulous persons,” said Kaid. “The thought of those self-important, moralizing tree-climbers importing aphrodisiacs is one a lot of people would find amusing! If it’s an off-system drug, why did I see Fyak eating the plant it comes from?”
“We know the stones come from the plant’s sap, and we know there were a great many of those collars around on Shola at the time of the Cataclysm. Therefore there must have been some plants left behind in or around Chezy,” Garras said.
“I know Fyak’s had to augment his stock by buying the drug from the Chemerians through Ghezu,” said Kaid. “Where do they get it from? If it’s a Valtegan plant extract, then the Valtegans must be trading at Jalna.”
“We’ve no proof of that. That’s part of the reason they want Carrie and Kusac to go to Jalna as soon as possible,” said Garras.
“You could be right,” said Kaid thoughtfully. “You could well be right. Thank you, you’ve done me a great favor. I owe you yet again.”
“Forget it. Our friendship was never based on favors.”
The buzzer sounded on the outer door, then Carrie came in with a tray of food.
Garras got up and moved the chair away. “I’d better be leaving,” he said. “Have you spoken to Carrie yet?”
“Spoken to me about what?” she asked as she came further into the bedroom.
“Nothing,” said Kaid, looking warningly at Garras.
His friend took the tray from Carrie and laid it down on Kaid’s lap before turning back to her.
“He wants to ask you something, but knowing him, he’ll never get around to it,” said Garras.
Carrie looked from one to the other. “You’re being very mysterious.”
Garras flicked his finger gently under her chin. “Get Kaid to talk to you,” he said. “He promised me he would. If he doesn’t, let me know. I’ll see you later,” he said to Kaid.
“Garras …” But he was gone. Kaid sat there fuming until Carrie spoke.
“You’re projecting a lot of anger,” she said. “Not a good thing to do. Apart from letting everyone know how you feel, it’s not pleasant for the rest of us.”
Instantly it stopped. “Sorry,” muttered Kaid. “I’m not used to this telepathy yet.”
“It was beginning to break through the odd time over the last couple of months,” she said, sitting down beside him. “Just the occasional flash, a sense of your emotions at the time, then it was gone.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You didn’t mention it.”
“I was never completely sure it was there. Now, do you want to talk to me while you eat, or after you’ve eaten?”
“Neither. Garras has made a mistake, Carrie. He’s just teasing you at my expense.”
“Strange. It doesn’t sound like him.”
Kaid picked up his fork and began spearing chunks of meat from the bowl of stew she’d brought him.
“Do you mind if I get myself a drink?” she asked. “Do you want one?”
“Water, please.”
He ate slowly, giving monosyllabic answers to her small talk. It was obvious she had no intention of leaving until he’d finished his meal, and had spoken to her.
As he set down his fork, she lifted the tray away, putting it on the floor beside her.
“Now talk,” was all she said.
She sat within his arm’s reach, and from the moment she’d entered the room, all he could think about was the velvet smoothness of her skin, and her heady scent. He sighed.
“Thank you for the compliments,” she said quietly, making him start in surprise, “but I still don’t know what you want to talk about.”
He lay back against his pillows, closing his eyes, feeling boxed in by his promise to Garras, and Carrie’s determination that he would keep that promise. He felt her hand touch his, and as he turned it over, her fingers crept onto his palm.
“I don’t mean to pressure you, Kaid,” she said quietly. “Leave it if you’d rather. I’ll just sit with you for a while if you like.”
He closed his hand round hers, glad to be touching her again. For several minutes he stayed like that, drawing strength from her presence.
“I told Kusac I wouldn’t go to you again,” he said, “but both he and Garras said I haven’t the right to make your decisions for you. That you have the right to choose what you want to do. Do you realize that the way you submitted to me when we paired is the way a Sholan female shows that she’s accepting you as her lover?”
“Yes, Tallinu, I knew that. I knew that is was what we both wanted, and to offer less was to debase ourselves and our Triad. Yes, I accepted you as my lover that night.”
Opening his eyes, he t
ugged gently on her hand, letting her know he wanted her to come closer. She moved forward until he released her hand and put his arm round her, clasping her against his chest. He could feel her warmth and her scent surrounding him. The darkness that had lived in his mind since his imprisonment by Ghezu began to recede once more, giving ground before her presence. This was all he needed for now.
Tentatively he touched the edges of her mind with his.
You’re tired, he sent.
I know. Carrying the cub drains me at times. I usually rest in the afternoon.
“Rest beside me,” he said, moving his legs aside to make room for her.
She stretched out beside him, lying on top of the covers. He turned on his side, his sound arm going protectively round her so she couldn’t roll off the bed.
Kaid wasn’t used to female company, nor did he envisage a time when he’d want a Companion in the traditional sense, but having her close for the moment was what he needed. Someone to hold, someone he had permission to touch and who would touch him in return: the most basic of all companionships—of any species.
Since he’d returned from Stronghold, the only night he’d slept well was the one night Carrie had stayed with him. The sedatives might make him sleep, prevent him dreaming, but he never felt rested when he woke. Now, lulled by her presence, he quickly fell into a deep, natural sleep.
*
“I’m a Warrior, Fyak! Not some damned weakling of a priest! I don’t care who you worship, but don’t expect me to join you!” snarled Ghezu. “None of the Gods are real anyway!”
“You think I’m a weakling?” Fyak’s voice was deceptively smooth. “It takes more strength than you possess to control the sap through which Kezule calls me! But then, you must know this, having used the narcotic on that captive you wanted so much.”
It dawned on Ghezu that perhaps his last comment had been unwise. “I’m not speaking of you, Prophet. Only of the Priests of Vartra back at Stronghold.”
Fyak turned to look at the female sitting on the floor at the side of his throne. “Well?”
“He lies,” said Rhaid, her voice toneless as she answered her master, the green stone flashing at her throat. “He thinks you’re weak, and ruled by insanity. He believe in no Gods, only himself. He hopes to persuade you to let him lead your people against the Brotherhood.”
Fyak turned back to Ghezu.
There was no alternative but to bluff. “You’re going to take her word for it? Don’t make me laugh, Fyak! It’s one thing having a tame telepath, it’s another relying on what she tells you. Look at her!”
He strode past the throne to Rhaid. Reaching out, he took hold of her by the collar round her neck, yanking her to her feet. She gave a mew of pain, putting her hands up to protect her throat in a vain attempt to stop the collar cutting into the sores it had already rubbed there.
“Look at her, Fyak! She hates you—you can see it in her eyes! Oh yes, she’ll tell the truth enough times to convince you to trust her, then she’ll slip in a lie!” He threw her aside, not bothering to even look where she fell.
Fyak was regarding him thoughtfully. Vraiyou came forward and spoke to him in an undertone. The Prophet nodded once, then the head acolyte left.
“Vraiyou has made an excellent suggestion,” purred Fyak, “one that will solve this matter of loyalty once and for all. We’ll wait for him to return.”
Ghezu cursed under his breath, making sure to shield himself from Rhaid. Why the hell had he forgotten about her? If he got the opportunity to speak to her alone, he’d make damned sure she knew what would happen if she pulled that stunt again!
“Fyak,” he said at length, “how much longer do I have to wait here? I’ve important matters to see to, namely training your warriors!”
The Prophet leaned forward, placing his elbow on the ornate arm rest and propping his chin on his hand. “If I were you, I’d wait patiently for the return of Vraiyou,” he said. “Remember that you’re here on my sufferance, Ghezu. Out there beyond the desert boundaries, an army of people waits for you, baying for your hide. Anger me much more and I may just give it to them.”
Ghezu felt the sweat start on the palms of his hands. Fyak was mad enough to do just that. He remembered the condition Kaid had been in when he’d collected him and a cold shiver ran down his spine.
Vraiyou, flanked by two guards and followed by his youngling servant, returned carrying a small wooden chest. He went right up to Fyak’s throne, bowed, and presented the box.
The prophet leaned forward and took it from him.
“It’s time for me to commune with Kezule, Ghezu. I think it only fitting that since you deny His existence, you should take this opportunity to accompany me, don’t you?” He looked to the guards.
“Bring him over, Rrurto.”
“Now just a minute,” said Ghezu, backing away from them and reaching for his side arm. Before he could, he felt a sudden burst of heat from the torc round his neck. A lassitude spread throughout him, and with it a disinclination to move. When the guards took his gun, then took hold of him and drew him toward Fyak, he didn’t resist—though a small portion of his mind sat there observing his actions in sheer terror.
Fyak opened the box and handed a small red-topped phial to Vraiyou. “See he takes it,” he said.
“As you wish, Prophet,” said Vraiyou.
Everything was happening slowly for Ghezu. He saw Vraiyou remove the seal from the phial of green liquid, saw it coming closer to him, and with horror realized his mouth had opened almost before he heard the command.
“Hold his mouth open, and tilt his head back,” Vraiyou said.
While his jaws were held apart, Vraiyou poured the thick liquid onto the back of his tongue, making sure it trickled down his throat before ordering him to be released.
Fyak watched him slump to the ground before he turned his attention to the box. Handing it back to Vraiyou, he lifted out the second phial. Removing the stopper, he tipped the contents quickly down his own throat, touched his gold bracelet, then relaxed back in his seat.
Ghezu suddenly found he was back in control of himself again. The aftertaste in his mouth was bitter, and falling down to all fours, he began to retch. As he did, he thanked the Gods that it was only the sap that Fyak used, not the narcotic he’d given Kaid.
“The bitterness is the price you pay to walk with the Gods,” drawled Fyak. “It passes.”
“Prophet, we should leave now,” said Vraiyou, handing the chest to the youngling.
Fyak nodded, pushing himself to his feet. The drug was already beginning to affect him.
“Bring him,” said Vraiyou, indicating Ghezu.
*
Something was wrong, Kaid could feel it. Darkness surrounded him, but as his eyes gradually accustomed themselves to it he saw it wasn’t total. Ahead of him was a faint line of yellow light.
Limping carefully on three legs, Kaid moved slowly and quietly toward it, sniffing the scents, using the air currents that moved past his body to tell him what was ahead. For once, his drug-enhanced senses were an advantage.
Reaching the end, he stopped, checking again for scents, listening for sounds. Beyond the door he could sense one person, a Sholan, but there were traces of something else, something he wasn’t so sure of. Standing up, he ran his fingers along the wall in front of him, then down the sides, feeling the draft. This was a door of some kind, but without an opening mechanism that he could detect.
His fingers found a depression at one edge. Cautiously he tugged. The door moved a fraction. Again he pulled, opening a gap of about three centimeters. Putting his eye to it, he looked through.
He saw a partial wall in front of him. Above that there was a glow of light—not bright, subdued. He frowned. The little he could see gave no indication of what lay beyond this first door. Listening carefully, he heard voices but they were too far away for him to make out what was being said.
Reaching up for the gap with both hands, he realized with a shock tha
t his right one was still bandaged. He sat down hard as his senses began to spin and his heart beat faster. A drug dream! Gods, he thought he’d done with them! Why? What had called him this time? It couldn’t be Carrie. He’d been holding her when they fell asleep. What had caused this one?
Is it a dream? his mind asked, or is this the reality? Was the time I spent with her at Noni’s and on the estate the dream? The dark pit of uncertainly loomed in front of him, waiting for him to fall into it. Mentally, he forced himself back from the edge, refusing to be drawn toward it, turning his mind to what he knew had to be true. This was a drug dream, nothing more. Reality was back there, with Carrie, and his way back led through this doorway. Something had called him here, and until he’d worked out what it was, he wouldn’t be able to return.
He stood up and cautiously inserted his fingers through the gap, curling them round the edge of the door. He pulled gently. Soundlessly the door slid back, letting the glow from beyond fill the passage he was in.
He waited, listening for any movement no matter how small. The only sound was the murmur of voices beyond the half-wall, otherwise it was silent. He risked a quick glance to either side. Nothing. Keeping low, he stepped through the gap, finding himself on the balcony of a large chamber. Above him on a ceiling the color of the night sky, stars were painted. Wooden beams crossed from wall to wall, supporting the vaulted roof.
From beyond the balcony, the scent of incense drifted up, confirming his guess that he was in a temple of some kind. Crouching down, he crossed the three meters to the balcony wall. The lattice of diamond shaped gaps that formed the upper portion of the wall provided an ideal way of looking down into the temple without being seen.
He saw that the main chamber had been divided into two sections, the larger one containing the statue of the God he knew would be called Vartra. The smaller one, beyond the crimson curtain that formed the divider, he couldn’t see into because of his angle of vision.
The voices came again, one of them tantalizingly familiar. He glanced ahead, realizing if he made for the side section of the balcony, the chances were good that he could see not only who was in the main chamber, but also who was behind the curtain.
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