"I contacted you because, in the words of some of your mother's race—I still love her, even though she is gone from me—you are fucking this up." Kaldill's cursing was legendary among his race, but he seldom used Alliance Common during profanity-laced outbursts.
It was early and Lendill had a difficult time following Kaldill's convoluted speech for a moment. "You're saying I'm fucking this up? Father, I'm not sure I've ever heard you use that humanoid term before."
"It exists; therefore I will use it if it applies. It does not alter the fact that you may be ruining any chance you might have with the woman who is your breath, your heart and your soul."
Lendill's eyes widened. Breah-mul, Cheah-mul and Deah-mul were popular phrases on Wyyld. Few knew that those words were Elvish in origin. Many Elf words permeated the native language of Wyyld. "You can't know she is those things," Lendill scoffed, although he felt worried. His father was seldom wrong about these things. Actually, his father had never been wrong about these things.
"You are fucking this up," Kaldill repeated, shaking a flour-coated finger at Lendill. "Make it right or make your peace with being alone for the rest of your life."
"Father, what are you doing?" Lendill directed the conversation away from himself.
"Making bread. It is my new hobby. I like it. Go back to bed." Kaldill punched the button on the comp-vid, terminating the call.
Lendill cursed. One never won an argument with Kaldill Schaff. Kaldill was right all the time and he knew it.
Chapter 11
Grish had a battalion of cooks, kitchen helpers and medical assistants, all busier than ants when something attacks their nest. It made sense—Grish being in as poor health as he was. We'd been awakened by servants—Ry and Tory had spent the night in my suite but in an adjoining bedroom. Grish's plantation palace was quite large, but my suite was one of the smaller ones. The reptanoids were quartered nearby—Farzi, Nenzi and two others slept in Farzi's suite, the rest of them inside a second suite. My suite was squeezed between both. I would have welcomed Tory in my bed the night before, I think—I felt cold, although the air was warm on that portion of Zephili. Sleep hadn't come easily, either.
Ry says there aren't any cameras; I'll be there tonight, baby. Tory was sending mindspeech as we sat down at a huge table, waiting for breakfast. Breakfast was almost intolerable—the food was bland and unseasoned, likely prepared so Grish could digest it. He hadn't made any accommodations for his guests—we all received the same meal he was having. At least the juice was good—freshly squeezed. The citrus must have been grown on Grish's plantations. We appeared to be near the equator again, just as we'd been on Urdolus. Grish didn't feed himself, either, he depended upon the monkey-like creature to lift the spoon and drop mushy food in his mouth. Much of it dribbled down his chin. An assistant stood by to wipe Grish's face regularly with a napkin. I'd seen Grish move his hands and arms to gesture while he spoke, so I failed to understand why he refused to feed himself.
I didn't want to watch Grish eat lunch later, so I asked for a sandwich and went outside on Grish's patio. He had a beautiful pool, but I had my doubts that he ever used it. Plenty of comfortable chairs were set beneath umbrellas, with small tables sitting nearby. Farzi, Nenzi and the others came out to join Ry, Tory and me.
"I am Darzi," one of the reptanoids sat at the foot of my lounge chair. Chazi, Perzi, Yanzi, Bekzi and Hirzi introduced themselves as they sat nearby. Ry was smiling. The last six had never given me their names before. Now we were all sitting around Grish's pool, having lunch together.
"Master Arvil wishes to see fields this afternoon," Farzi frowned as he stared into the distance. "We all go."
"Then we'll all go." I gave Farzi a small smile.
"Yes, we all go," Farzi nodded to me. I didn't know if Arvil wanted me along, but Farzi did. A hoverbus took us after lunch—one of Grish's staff drove but I could see Nenzi clenching his hands—he wanted to drive. I rubbed his back in consolation as we got off the bus. The fields around us had been harvested, but the plowing hadn't been done for the next crop. Arvil hadn't failed to notice that. Grish didn't come with us—a lesser assistant held a comp-vid with Grish in constant contact on the other end.
"How long will it take to plow this field?" Wilffox asked Grish's image.
"Two days for this one, two to three days for similar fields," the assistant relayed the message.
"And how many do you have that are this size?" I looked around at the field—I could see trees marking the boundaries far off in the distance.
"More than a hundred," the assistant smiled.
"How many fields can we plow at once?"
"We have the equipment to plow fifteen fields simultaneously," Grish's voice came over the comp-vid. "This allows for planting and harvesting the same fields at the same time. It is a rotating schedule—as soon as the crops planted first are harvested, the next fifteen fields are ready. We get optimum use out of the employees and the machinery. I have a repair staff to take care of any breakdowns. The only thing that might slow us down is the weather."
"We could have these fields plowed and planted in a moon-turn or less," Arvil was smiling at Wilffox and Wilffin.
"We'll give you fifteen percent of the take," Wilffox offered.
"Twenty-five," Grish counter-offered. I listened, wanting to sigh at the haggling going on via comp-vid. They were discussing lives and the future of the Alliance, while we stood on a field that should be planted with legitimate crops to feed hungry people. The most deadly drug known to the Alliance would be raised there instead. I schooled my face into non-expression and kicked at the clods of dirt beneath my feet.
"Farzi—how often does it rain here—do you know?" I asked him. He turned his brown, slitted eyes to me.
"It rain often here. Perhaps once or twice each eight-day. Seldom do sprinklers need use."
"The nearest village or city?"
"Two clicks that way," Farzi pointed to the north. "By hovercar. Large city—find what you need there."
"Reah is missing something?" Nenzi looked hopeful.
"Not yet, but if I do, I want you to drive me," I grinned at him.
We flew the hoverbus over many other fields—I saw them stretching out as far as I could see. More fields extended beyond that, even, with citrus groves and nut trees interspersed. It made me wonder how much of the fruit and vegetables Grish supplied to non-Alliance worlds and if there would be a shortage as a result of the fields being used to grow drakus seed instead. I posed my question mentally to Ry and Tory on the way back to Grish's plantation.
No idea, Tory replied. Ry didn't know either.
Ask somebody to get Chash to work it out for me, I suggested. Tory sent mindspeech to his mother.
Mom says it's a good problem for him to focus on, Tory lowered his head to hide the smile. Gav misses you.
We had dinner with Grish, and once again the food was bland and certainly not what we were used to. Grish wasn't concerned for his guests; we were served what he would eat and nothing more. That's why I answered the knock on my bedroom door later in my pajamas with Ry and Tory right behind me. Thankfully, they were still dressed. Wilffox, Astralan and Stellan stood outside my suite.
"Reah, we would very much like for you to prepare dinner for our party tomorrow evening," Wilffox said.
"I'll be happy to, but I don't want to offend our host."
"As long as he gets what he wants, I don't believe Grish can be offended." I covered my mouth—I didn't want the snicker to escape at Wilffox's words. "His kitchen staff, however, may be a different story."
"Yes, if they're anything like his personal assistant, then there could be a problem," I agreed. "I get the idea that they are running things—Grish is kept around as a figurehead only—he has the contacts. He no longer runs his business, I think."
"Interesting concept—I'll have my people work on that," Wilffox nodded to me. Astralan winked at me before he turned to follow Wilffox. I closed the door and put my back
to it, staring at Tory and Ry.
What was that about? I sent.
I think they like your food, Ry returned.
Baby, can we get in bed now? Tory was a little impatient, I think.
"Let's go." I took Tory's hand and pulled him toward my bedroom. Ry was muffling laughter when we closed the door.
"Avilepha, I don't know how patient I can be," Tory was busy unbuttoning my blouse. "The first time after the claiming is the linking. My mind links with yours. You feel my desire and vice-versa." Tory was kissing whatever he uncovered, paying special attention to my neck. He kissed the back of it, where his claiming marks were and I began to feel flushed. It wasn't hot in the house—Grish had the best air-conditioning anyone could hope for. Either he or his staff liked the temperature to be much cooler than most people preferred.
"It's starting," Tory whispered against my mouth. It was; whatever it was. I was on fire, suddenly, and Tory couldn't get my clothes off fast enough. I couldn't get his clothes off fast enough. I wanted him—was ready for him—right then. Tory was frantically kissing me and pushing me back on the bed at the same time. He used his hands. He used his mouth, his teeth, his body—I wanted everything. I was almost begging him there at the end, until we were joined. If I'd thought the fire had come earlier, I was very wrong. I was clawing him and that only served to make him more frenzied. I wanted him to thrust himself into me. Hard. I learned later that Ry had to throw a sound-dampening shield around our bedroom; otherwise, everyone might have known what we were doing. It was very, very late—or early, depending upon your perspective, when we finally wore ourselves out and fell asleep.
* * *
I'd just gotten out of the shower and dressed the following morning, when I suddenly felt ill. I knew someone was in trouble and I knew who it was. Danger and terror were clouding my brain, almost preventing my ability to think rationally. I threw good sense to the winds. Snatching up my knife and pistol, I skipped away before Tory could stop me. I was so angry by what I found I wanted to kill.
Nenzi was shrieking—three of Grish's assistants were tying him to a table while Farzi and the other reptanoids were shouting at them to stop. Grish was in his chair nearby, watching the entire episode with no emotion while another man I hadn't met was putting on gloves and a surgical mask. A huge, surgical robot stood in the corner, ready to go to work. I had no idea where I'd landed, I'd just followed the trouble. That trouble was about to get complicated.
"What is going on here?" I shouted.
"It is time for Master Grish's transference." I stared at the surgeon—he was prepared to take Nenzi? I was furious in the time it took to blink.
"Don't be so surprised, young woman," Grish's voice was whispered malevolence. "I've been alive for more than a thousand years by employing this technique. I'm surprised Master San Gerxon failed to mention it to you." Grish laughed at my shock—he'd done the same thing—committed murder many, many times, in order to stay alive.
"This one seems simple, so we chose his body," Grish continued, nodding in Nenzi's direction.
"Is everything prepared?" That was gloves and mask speaking, as he jerked his head toward a shrieking Nenzi. Well, he'd just told me everything I needed to know. He was about to transplant Grish's brain into Nenzi's body. That wasn't going to happen. There was a reason this procedure had been outlawed across the Alliance—it was murder.
The surgeon's three assistants got cut when I freed Nenzi, pushing him toward Farzi. When the physician decided he wanted in on the conflict, I had my knife to his throat in very little time. I imagine that none of them expected me to move as swiftly as I did. Faster than a blink, actually. The physician was gurgling as I held him, the knife pressing into his flesh.
"Now," I said to Grish, who was staring at me in surprise. "If you touch one of my people again, I will flay the wrinkled skin from your bones and scatter it across your fields for the crows to eat. Do you understand?"
"But it's time for my transference," Grish whined.
"I don't think so," I said. "How many people have you murdered for a new body? How many times did you do it for him?" I jerked the physician around and slammed him into a wall.
His eyes were huge as he mumbled "Three." Now I was learning that Grish did this regularly, with the help of a homicidal physician and his assistants. Who knew how old Grish really was, or what else he'd done through the centuries to stay alive?
"You disgust me." I slammed the physician's head against the wall so hard it knocked him unconscious. "And you," I pointed my knife at the three assistants, who began to back away from me. "If you want to die, lay a hand on any of mine. Do you hear me?" All of them were bleeding from some sort of wound. One I'd gotten across the chest—he'd been tying Nenzi to the table. The other two had been holding Nenzi down. Both had slashes on their arms and hands.
"You cannot kill us," one of them was brave enough to say.
"She can and she will." Tory and Ry walked into the room—I had no idea where we were inside Grish's plantation home, since I'd skipped to where the trouble was. Tory and Ry were followed by Arvil, Wilffox, Wilffin and all four warlocks.
"I'll save her the trouble." Astralan had all three assistants turned to ash in a blink. It wasn't what I wanted, but this time I wasn't going to argue. I wanted Grish to be fried too, but that wasn't on the agenda. At least not yet.
"Grish, I hope you can live with that body for a while; I don't think my heir appreciates the idea of your stealing anyone else's." Arvil was smiling nastily at Grish. "And I like the idea of her flaying you. Hold onto that thought, Grish and don't cross me or mine again." Arvil stalked out of the room.
"Nenzi, are you all right?" I slid my knife into the sheath at my waist and went to hug him. Nenzi was gabbling in some language I didn't understand and holding onto me as if his life depended on it. Ry and Tory herded me and the reptanoids from the room. Astralan wasn't finished, though.
"Offend our cook again and I'll make sure there isn't enough of you left to scatter for the crows," he pointed a finger at Grish. As threats went, I'd take it seriously. The warlocks must have folded the Hardlows out of the room—I heard Grish whining pitifully for servants to come and attend him.
"Farzi, what happened?" I asked, as soon as we got the reptanoids outside. I learned that we'd been in Grish's private quarters—they took up a good third of the entire plantation house.
"Three came," Farzi said, meaning the three assistants. "Say Grish wishes to see Nenzi. I not invited, but go along behind." Farzi's speech was worried and less intelligible, just as Nenzi's or the others' was when they were upset. I nodded—Farzi had sneaked along behind the others. I might have gone, too—there wasn't any reason for Grish to want Nenzi alone. There was no logical purpose I could think of—none at all. "They attack Nenzi near room. He fight back. I shout at him. We not knowing what Grish want. Then physician tell what he want. I yell. They not listen. Then Reah comes." Farzi was nodding respectfully to me.
"I can't tell you how happy I am that I did come," I muttered. If they'd killed Nenzi, I would have killed them all. Lendill Schaff or no, I'd have turned and razed the plantation to the ground. Grish was counting on Arvil not wishing to kill Nenzi, even after the transference, I think. Grish was more dangerous than I'd believed possible.
I'll put a shield around their rooms, Ry offered mentally.
Good, I replied. "Nenzi, can we get you tea or something?" He was still shivering over his ordeal.
"Tea." He nodded. I think he just wanted the comfort and safety of others around him. I wasn't about to say no. We walked into Grish's kitchen and I put tea together for all of us, then proceeded to make breakfast. Grish's kitchen help had backed away from us the moment we appeared—word traveled fast, I suppose. They weren't going to argue with any one of us. The others started trickling in and got breakfast too. I left the kitchen cleaning with Grish's bunch. Grish and his animal driver wheeled in just as I was leaving with my four. Farzi hissed at him as Grish drove past.
Grish pretended not to hear. Well, I hoped he remembered Astralan's words. I'd still flay him if he so much as stared at Nenzi again—if the warlocks didn't get him first.
* * *
"And there I thought you'd named her one of your heirs because you liked her cooking." Wilffox grinned at Arvil as they sat inside Wilffox's expansive suite, drinking.
"You've never seen her handle a ranos rifle," Arvil lifted his glass to drink. "We've dealt with demons on several worlds. Most people can't see the fuckers coming in the dark. The wizards can. Reah can, too. And she doesn't miss when she shoots, like some of my wizards." Arvil was tipsy or he'd never have revealed that information. He generally didn't want anyone to know that his wizards had weaknesses. "She saved my life the first time we took her out—the demons stepped up their attack and headed right for me. Her gun was empty so she kicked one, hit another in the head with the butt of her gun and punched a third. She moved so fast I couldn't even follow it."
"I wouldn't have believed it if we hadn't seen her throw the good physician against the wall," Wilffin snorted at the mental image.
"I think I chose well, and she and Teeg will work beside me for years to come," Arvil drained his glass. "You've seen how fiercely she protects me and mine."
* * *
"Full moon tonight. Please to come with us," Farzi said later, after dinner had been served. I'd cooked, adding enough for ten extra plates—in case Grish's appetite hadn't disappeared. He was glowering as he was driven to the table, but the moment he tasted the fowl I'd prepared, I think he forgot everything else in favor of the food.
"Now you see what a master cook can do," Wilffox had raised his glass to me. I wasn't a master cook—hadn't taken the exams to qualify. Wilffox didn't seem to mind.
"Where are we going?" I asked Farzi. Ry and Tory lifted eyebrows at my words. They hadn't been invited.
"Out—near fields," Farzi flung out an arm.
Demon Revealed (High Demon Series #2) Page 17
