"And some aren't."
"Yes. But you knew that. The truth is your ally in this case. Present it calmly, and I have high hopes they will listen to you."
Present it calmly. That was the trick, wasn't it?
Selendis stepped lithely down from her position and strode to the center of the chamber. Her thoughts rang out as loudly and clearly as if she had shouted them.
"Templar, judicators, khalai, dark templar—thank you for assembling here today to acknowledge the petitioner. She has traveled far and endured much, and stands before you to respectfully ask you to pay heed to her requests. She is terran, and female, but beside her stands a protoss who has willingly chosen to stay with her, based entirely upon what he has endured. What they know, you will soon know. I believe their request to be a true and honorable one."
Rosemary felt a tickle in her mind and turned toward the one who was sending it.
"Come forward, human. And you, Vartanil." The mental voice was almost kind, and Rosemary obliged, striding forward and looking up at the speaker. Vartanil followed.
The protoss's seat was at once more beautiful and more humble than the others in this vast hall. Simply crafted, it did not drip with gems or crystals, nor were there elaborate swirls in its design. And yet it was exquisite, clean, its plain lines eloquent and harmonious. On each side stood a protoss standard-bearer, and swathes of purple covered the walls of the alcove. For such a formal place, this protoss was simply, almost staidly clad in a few pieces of armor and something that looked like an apron. Like the throne, if one could use such a word to describe something so plain, it was very well crafted and well worn. The glowing eyes squinted and the protoss hunched his shoulders, using his body language to smile reassuringly at her.
"I am Tabrenus of the Furinax lineage. I see one of my own stands with you. That speaks well of you."
Rosemary felt Vartanil's pride and humility at the words. Not sure what to do, she bowed respectfully. That seemed appropriate, for Tabrenus nodded and settled back.
"Cross the hall to Urun of the Auriga," came Selendis's thoughts in her mind. "Their ancestral tribal color is orange. Continue to alternate until you reach Artanis at the end. Remember.. .from this moment, all your thoughts are clear to us."
The advice was welcome, and Rosemary shot back a quick thanks. She backed away a bit from Tabrenus, then turned and approached the leader of the Auriga.
His armor reminded her of Selendis's, but it was more elaborate. Rosemary wondered at that—she'd thought Selendis the highest ranking military officer. Perhaps it was simple personal choice. An elaborate headpiece and large shoulders should have looked oversized and ridiculous, but this protoss had the physical frame and the presence to support it.
"You came from Aiur," Urun stated bluntly. Rosemary nodded, unsure if she should speak.
"Only if asked a direct question," Selendis whispered in her mind. Again, Rosemary was grateful.
"Our people fought well." He nodded, satisfied. "I am not surprised. But you do not come here proposing to return and take back our world from the zerg...or Ulrezaj."
The amount of loathing with which Urun infused the dark archon's name was almost painful. Slowly, Rosemary shook her head. "No. That's not my idea to suggest. I'm here to ask you to help Jake and Zamara."
Urun's discontent washed over her. This was an impatient one, eager to fight back and reclaim the honor of the protoss people. Only if she could persuade him that that cause would eventually be served by recovering Zamara would she sway him.
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and the gesture annoyed Rosemary. Urun's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Watch your thoughts," Selendis reminded her.
"It's damn hard to do when you're not a telepath," Rosemary shot back, but instead focused on what she'd come here to do. Following Selendis's instructions, she crossed the hall again, to stand in front of Nahaan of the Ara. If Urun was ceremonial, almost ostentatious, this protoss tribal leader—it was the best word she could think of; she knew that the protoss had long ago adopted caste intead of tribal distinctions, but clearly the bloodlines and heritages were remembered and valued—was almost monkish. Although the color that adorned his alcove was red, his clothing was dark, almost somber, and a hood hid his eyes until he moved it back with a deliberate gesture to regard Rosemary thoughtfully.
"You and the problem you present have brought me back to Shakuras," Nahaan informed her. She got a distinct impression of a dislike of Shakuras and all that it represented. "Rest assured, I will pay close attention to your plight."
The words were not comforting. She'd known she was going to be under tight scrutiny, but Nahaan seemed particularly interested in how things would turn out. Rosemary bowed. Sweat was starting to gather at her hairline and armpits. She wished she could just get this over with.
Three down, three to go.
Zekrath certainly seemed like the kindest of the leaders, a slender protoss whose blue-gray skin seemed paler than most. His garb, bright yellow and orange, seemed even brighter against the white backdrop of his alcove and draped his body simply. He lookedtranquil, calm, and Rosemary found her gaze drawn and held by several small crystals that whirled about Zekrath's head, creating the illusion of a crown. Or a halo.
Even more than the others, Zekrath of the Shelak spoke less in words than in sensations. There was a feeling of pity for all Rosemary had undergone, and sympathy for her cause. Rosemary found herself smiling at Zekrath, thinking that maybe she'd found an ally. She bowed, just a little more deeply than she had to the others, and turned to face the next to last tribal leader.
His name and allegiance came into her head as she regarded him. He was Mohandar of the—no, she had been thinking "dark templar" but now was corrected; not the dark templar, they had taken a new name, Nerazim, for a new tribe that had arisen from the original group that had been exiled from Aiur.
If Zekrath had been bright colors and gleaming white, this being was shadows and darkness. His eyes glowed green in this light, visible even through a veil that obscured much of his face, and his features were more irregular and sharp. There were jutting protrusions on his brow and cheekbones that made him look almost lizardlike compared to the protoss she was familiar with. While both Zekrath and Mohandar were clearly old, they showed it quite differently. Zekrath had that timeless look that Rosemary had sometimes seen in elderly humans—an inner energy, a radiance, that belied any external signs of aging. She had no idea how old Mohandar was, but he bore every year in his face and his bearing. Even his clothing struck her as old; it was strangely tattered and ragged, and twined about his wizened form in a way that reminded her of mummies from ancient Earth.
Yet Mohandar was most definitely not enfeebled with age. The tribal color the Nerazim had adopted was a verdant green, which at first struck her as strange, but then as completely right. She felt her mind being probed and assessed, and then Mohandar withdrew without a single comment.
It rattled her.
"Rosemary Dahl." The mental voice was young and perhaps had once been enthusiastic, but now seemed tempered. She turned toward Artanis, leader of the Akilae and now hierarch of all the protoss. He was clad in armor almost virtually identical to that which Selendis wore, and struck her as the quintessential protoss. Gold and blue draped his alcove, and his dais was slightly higher than the others. His eyes were a calm sky-blue in the light. "It has been some time since the protoss encountered your people. You are only the third terran to visit Shakuras."
Thrown into a comfy prison and forced to wait—some welcome. Rosemary winced; she couldn't stop the thought, and she felt their displeasure rumbling around her. Artanis held up a hand.
"I understand Executor Selendis has informed you of the last time we encountered a terran female," he said mildly.
"Yeah," Rosemary said. Her voice echoed with startling clarity in the hall; for a people who didn't speak, they constructed their buildings with fantastic acoustics. "I know about Kerrigan. May
I respectfully remind the hierarch, however, that the first time humans encountered the protoss, you guys incinerated one of our worlds without so much as a by-your-leave, and yet my friend may die trying to help you."
More rumblings, but some admiration was laced in with it. To her surprise, Rosemary felt humor coming from Mohandar. "The female has a point."
"Selendis has informed us all of what she has obtained with speaking to you and those who accompanied you." Artanis was striving to keep the meeting on track. "Yet we would know this directly from you."
Rosemary swallowed hard. So many thoughts crowded her mind at once. Where to begin? Images came—the cave where she and Jake had found Zamara, her betrayal of the archaeologist, his horror at having been used to turn a madman loose on his friends, the stories of Temlaa and Vetraas and Khas and Adun, the Sundrop— oh, God, the Sundrop—the whirling radiant darkness—what anoxymoron that was—that was Ulrezaj, the sudden and unexpected pain in her chest when Jake said he was dying, the living carpet of zerg that just came on and on and on, Ethan's betrayal and resurrection as a tool of this Kerrigan who—
She opened her mouth to speak, to try to begin the linear, calm telling of the tale, when Selendis touched her mind: "Well done, Rosemary."
Well done? She hadn't even started—
"Thoughts are richer and swifter than words. And your thoughts are vibrant," Selendis replied. "You were more eloquent than I—or many others—expected."
"Well, I guess that's good," Rosemary replied.
Artanis leaned forward a little, his bright eyes on Rosemary. "A preserver is precious to us," he said. "All of us. Even the dark templar can appreciate the knowledge she houses. We are a people still reeling from what transpired four years past. A preserver in our midst now could only be a boon."
"Wait—don't you have preservers here?" Rosemary blurted.
"They were ever rare," said Urun. Rosemary turned to look at the martial leader of the Auriga. "When the zerg overran our world, much was lost. Millions of protoss died. Doubtless, among them were preservers. Some may have been killed when the Conclave was destroyed. Others are likely scattered. Do you think that every protoss in the universe is gathered here on Shakuras now, Rosemary Dahl?"
She realized she had been thinking precisely that. "So you don't know where the other preservers are?"
Artanis shook his head sadly. "Always, there was at least one with the Conclave. To have one by my side now would be invaluable."
"Zamara died fleeing Ulrezaj's assassins," Rosemary said heatedly. "That her essence is even around at all is sheer good luck and entirely due to Jake. She said she was one of the last. What if Ulrezaj got to all the others?"
She paused, and looked around the vast chamber.
"Good God, people— What if she's the last one!"
CHAPTER 14
THE HORROR THAT RIPPLED THROUGH THE crowd was most satisfactory to Rosemary. Maybe at last she'd gotten their attention.
"Do not grow insolent, human," Selendis warned.
"Listen," Rosemary said, forging forward, "I know you all don't want zerg here, or Ulrezaj, or anyone else who might cause harm to the protoss. I fought the zerg myself. I know what they are. I saw what they did to your world. But you have to find Zamara. She knows too much that can help you right now for you not to. And—I would ask you—to help Jake. It's because of him that Zamara's survived this long. He's earned your help."
Some of them were leaning toward her side, though for their own reasons. Urun—he was burning to take the fight to Aiur, just as Rosemary knew Selendis was. Artanis struck her as someone who could appreciate the power of ancient knowledge, as well as such an important link with the past. Too, he had met this Jim Raynor, and she sensed from him a liking toward her people. Tabrenus seemed almost disinterested; he represented a group of artisans and craftsmen, not politicians. Zekrath of the Shelak was utterly inscrutable to her, and there was something about the Ara and their leader that chilled her on some level she couldn't quite articulate.
As for Mohandar, he was as unreadable as Zekrath. She didn't expect aid from that quarter—it had been made clear to her that dark templar couldn't have preservers, because they chose to separate themselves from the Khala. Likely as not, this guy might even be against them as a symbol of the "bad old Aiur" they sought to disconnect themselves from. And yet he was eyeing her steadily. She faced forward to Artanis, trying not to feel her skin crawl under that unblinking gaze.
"Vartanil," Artanis said, "Your thoughts are welcome here. You stand by this human, and support her request to seek Zamara and the being who houses her. Speak now of this.. .and of the nightmare that is our old enemy Ulrezaj."
Both Vartanil and Rosemary started at that. "Whoa, wait a minute.. .you all already know about Ulrezaj?" yelped Rosemary.
"We do indeed," Artanis answered, his thoughts grimmer than any she had yet sensed from him. "Shortly after we scoured the zerg from Shakuras, we encountered him for the first time. He was not nearly as strong then. From what you have told us, he now has the unheard-of power of seven dark templar assassins."
"So Zamara told us," Vartanil replied.
"He attempted to attack Shakuras by positioning an orbital space station that emitted powerful energy waves. They disrupted our communication and drained Shakuras's energy shields. Zeratul, a friend to the Aiur protoss and the one who offered us sanctuary on Shakuras, tried to convince Ulrezaj that old hatreds were best laid aside. But by then, Ulrezaj had already merged with three other protoss and had become the most powerful dark archon the dark templar had ever known."
Rosemary snorted. "Four...you guys had it easy."
"So it seems," Artanis acknowledged. "And that is grievous knowledge. Unfortunately, at the end, he eluded us. And now we know where he has been hiding, and at least some of what he has been doing."
Rosemary became aware that her mouth was hanging open and closed it with a snap.
"This monster...our Benefactor," Vartanil said, his heart sick. "Attacking his own people, in a time of war... how could we have been so misled?"
"Do not berate yourself one moment longer," said Artanis kindly. "Ulrezaj was clever and strong enough to escape us when he was but four dark templar. That he was clever enough to create the Sundrop and dupe those who remained on Aiur when he had the brilliance and power of seven beings in him, is no surprise. Once the zerg overran our beloved Aiur, we again permitted dark archons to be created. They are devastating weapons, certainly. Their wildness and uncontrollability was the price paid for the damage they caused our foes. But ordinary dark archons do not exist for long. They do not become what this Ulrezaj has. To learn that he has grown yet more powerful is horrifying—what dark knowledge has he obtained, and from whence, that he is able to continue and not be ripped apart by the very power that made him?"
Rosemary couldn't help it; she turned to look at Mohandar, and as she did so, she knew others were as well. The ancient being who represented the dark templar in this assembly seemed completely unruffled by the scrutiny. There was still fear of the dark templar, the shadow hunters, old and stubborn, lurking in the back of many minds here.
Artanis shook his head. "No, Vartanil. Be at peace. All that truly matters is that once you understood what he was, you had the strength of will to forsake him."
Vartanil nodded slowly. "Rosemary was the first of anyone to break free of the Sundrop. She has proven herself to me, and Jacob Ramsey should be remembered in protoss history as one of the greatest allies we have ever had."
Rosemary's eyes widened a little at that.
Artanis's indecision was palpable. On the one hand, a preserver was a rare treasure. On the other hand, in the end she was one person, and her fate was tangled up with the dreadfully dangerous dark archon. Going after her could cost innocent protoss lives. Was it worth it?
"Zamara thought so. She was willing to let an awful lot of people die for this secret she harbors. Some of those people were friends of mine."
&nbs
p; And some were friends of Jake's... and he loved his friends. Mine were business associates.
"And," she continued, "unless your preservers have a history of being selfish and egotistical to an insane degree, which I don't think is the case, then yeah—I do think the risk would be worth it."
"How dare you tell us what to think?" Urun's mental voice cracked like a whip, and Rosemary winced from the pain of it in her head. "You are in no position to demand anything!"
"Peace, Urun," Artanis said, holding up a hand. "The terran female merely states her opinion."
"Which should carry no weight whatsoever in this council," said Nahaan. "There are too many opinions already. We are like beasts trying to pull a vehicle in several different directions. We will get nowhere!"
Someone else had a snappy retort, and Nahaan rose to it, and Rosemary slumped slightly. In a way, Nahaan was right. They would get nowhere, arguing like this.
"Rosemary Dahl, I am so very sorry," Vartanil said in her mind. "We are a people who strive so hard for unity and yet it seems it is forever eluding us."
They'lljust send me back to my comfortable cell until they've argued over it some more, Rosemary thought. She tried to direct her thoughts privately to Vartanil, and had no clue if she'd succeeded. "Jake and Zamara could be dead by then."
"Hierarch! May I address the council?"
Rosemary's dark head whipped up in surprise. That clear, strong mental voice belonged to Selendis. The slender but still powerful protoss stepped forward, moving with a graceful stride toward the human woman. Rosemary wasn't alone in her shock; apparently no one else had expected Selendis to speak.
"Of course, Selendis," said Artanis. Rosemary got a brief hit, quickly smothered, of other protoss not being quite so willing to have the executor share her thoughts.
"I was the first in a position of authority to be informed of the human's arrival, along with the other evacuees of our homeworld," Selendis began. "I have never attempted to hide my feelings; on the contrary I am proud of them. None here assembled can question my devotion to my people, nor my desire to fight and protect them."
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