Double Solitaire

by George R. R. Martin

  "You're insane. Do you realize the risk you are running? Mark explained to me that if anyone else tries to take these powders, they will die. How do you know the loss of Starshine hasn't left him in the same situation?"

  "I don't, Lani."

  "Blaise's armies are falling back everywhere. A little patience and Vayawand will fall. Why do you have to endanger Mark?"

  "Because with each day that passes, and each defeat inflicted, four other lives are placed at greater and greater risk."

  "And putting aside Tisianne's selfish desire to see her friends, body, and baby rescued -- each one of these victories is costing us dearly," Zabb said. "I'll sacrifice anyone if we can end this sooner rather than later."

  Roxalana just looked at them for a long, long time.

  Then she stood and said, "Sometimes I hate us because nothing and no one is very precious to us."

  The House, vindi," Zabb said softly. "There is always the House."

  "Demons take the House! It's made up of individuals, but we always forget that. Well, kill him if you must," and she walked to the far wall.

  Tisianne removed a vial of orange powder. A flicker of alarm showed in Mark's sunken eyes.

  "Mark, I wouldn't do this if I didn't believe it would work," Tis said softly.

  The ace stretched out a trembling hand and lightly touched the three remaining vials of yellow powder. Roxalana came flying back across the room like a fury, snatching up the vials. She flung them against the wall. They shattered in an eruption of sparking glass shards and powder.

  "My, that was dramatic," Zabb drawled. "Any particular reason for that display?"

  "Not those. Not the yellows. I just... feel it will kill him."

  Tis was shivering. She hugged herself and looked desperately at Lani. "Do you sense anything about Flash?" Her sister shook her head.

  They were both hesitating. Zabb took command of the moment. Mind-controlling Mark, he forced the ace to down the orange powder.

  Mark burst into flames.

  In less than a second the bed was a blazing inferno. Zabb cursed and stepped backward, shielding his face from the heat. Roxalana shrieked, grabbed up a blanket, rushed forward to smother the fire. Tis caught her by the arm, stopped her. "Wait," she said.

  Inside the flames Mark's body blackened, shriveled... and then, somehow, began to drink in the fire. The flames flickered, faded, and were absorbed.

  When the last of them went out, J. J. Flash, Esquire, was stretched out casually in the ashes of the bedclothes, hands locked behind his head.

  "I hate hospitals," Flash announced. He rose. "So you want me to kick Meadows's butt, huh? Okay, give us some time alone. Granted I can't prose and drone like the deader, but I'm pretty persuasive." He looked over at Roxalana. "Don't suppose you could stay, could you? The drip's fallen big-time for you. A little reminder of life and love?"

  Tis exchanged an incredulous glance with her cousin as Roxalana held out her hand to Flash and said, "I'd be delighted."

  An hour later, when Mark returned to himself, he had a very bad feeling that Flash had been terribly wicked. When it penetrated that he was lying naked in the hospital bed with Roxalana curled up next to him, he was sure of it.

  He sat up abruptly. The sheet slid down. He yanked it back up. "What did he do?" he blurted, and then froze.

  Roxalana serenely pushed back her hair and, propping herself on an elbow, stared down into his face. "He was very persuasive." Mark gaped at her.

  His bathrobe and pajamas were a knotted mess on the floor. He snatched them up and tried to dress beneath the sheets. It didn't work too well. It really didn't work when she slid her hands under his ass and yanked the pajama bottoms back down to his ankles.

  "Need some help?" He stuttered out a few noises. "Don't lose your voice again." She fished out the robe and tossed it back on the floor. "Flash is mentally... fatiguing. I like the whole of Mark Meadows much better than the individual parts. Now, take off those pajamas and tell me how remarkable I am."

  Despite her exhortation, Mark told her with hands and lips rather than words. The cosmic cheering section had all bellied up to observe -- and comment -- and there was still this aching void where Starshine used to live, but it was bearable pain now.

  Much, much later, as Mark gathered his clothes and began to dress, Roxalana sat up and shook back her hair.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "Thank you."

  She shrugged off his gratitude. "Mark, now that you have a tongue again, do please get control of my wayward brother. I'm afraid she's going to get himself killed."

  Insomnia had become a constant companion, and even copious amounts of alcohol no longer cured it. Mon'aella had suggested pills. Kelly had sweetly inquired if she was going to repay him for saving her life by enticing him into a drug overdose. His wife's lips had curved in a small, secretive smile that sent Kelly back to the company of Jay Ackroyd.

  "If Blaise doesn't kill me, she will."

  "Why should she?" the ace asked logically.

  "You're right, there's not enough in it for her... yet."

  "And Blaise still likes pulling the wings off you."

  "Problem is, I'm developing a stinger. I'm getting too powerful."

  And that was the truth. It had terrified him, but on that hideous day, as children screamed and women died, Kelly had placed himself between Blaise and Mon'aella.

  Blaise in a rage lost all connection to humanity. His face became a twisted mask, the eyes unfocused and staring. They had struck like rutting stags, though neither one of them moved a foot toward the other. Instead their powers had clashed, steel on steel. But Kelly was no longer the terrified teenager of a year ago. Since the night of the Crossing Festival, and Tachyon's short course in mentatics, Kelly had been studying.

  It took only one setback to discourage Blaise. He wanted blood, and the gore that caked his hands and forearms wasn't enough. Denied Mon'aella, he went in search of easier prey. As he left, he threw back a garbled curse at his "grandfather." And Kelly realized some of the virtu that had cloaked Tachyon and held Blaise in check had been bestowed on the frightened interloper in Granddaddy's body.

  "My hero." That was what Mon'aella called him as she laid her hands on his shoulders.

  Sickened by her hypocrisy, Kelly had replied that he should have let Blaise kill her. That would have wrecked her perfect plan. Mon'aella had only laughed, and Kelly realized that a little matter like death didn't deter Takisians. She had succeeded in her goal -- Blaise's wives, and the children they were carrying, were dead. Blaise had unleashed a murderous vengeance and alienated many of his Vayawand supporters. And Mon'aella was just that much closer to controlling House Vayawand.

  "You don't like me, but you need me," had been his bride's parting shot.

  The night was a nice one. Tiana, the smaller moon, was scraping its belly across the tops of the mountains. Soon it would set, and Kelly would be alone with his voices, his memories, his fears, and his friend. Reminded, Kelly took another pull off the bottle.

  The situation was becoming really desperate. Jay was having nightmares virtually every night. Half the time he fell out of bed. That wasn't so bad. The other half of the time he wet the bed. That was pretty bad. His hands were looking really gross. There were red streaks in the palms, and Blaise wouldn't allow a doctor to examine him. Kelly had seen enough on the farm to recognize infection. He and Hastet made the ace soak his mutilated hands in hot, hot water, but the red kept creeping inexorably toward the wrist. Jay had been traumatized enough losing his fingers. How would he react to losing his hands? And who was going to do this amputation?

  Kelly shivered and took another drink. No, he had to think of something. Had to find some means of escape for all of them. Otherwise they were going to die. It's very difficult to censor news when there is a planet-wide uplink. Blaise had tried, but it was still leaking through -- rumors of massive defeats and enormous casualties. And with each setback the mad light burned brighter and
brighter in those dark eyes.

  Baby was the only ace Kelly even remotely possessed. The ship had survived the Ilkazam assault on Vayawand Ship Home because her new master had been off trying yet again to rebreak her, bend her to his will. Occasionally Kelly could read flashes of Baby's thoughts, even over the thousands of miles to orbit, but the ship was so far too terrified to act.

  "Doctor," Kelly said aloud to the darkness. "You better come quick because I don't know how much longer I can keep us together and alive."

  Tisianne had barely gotten the words out before Mark was shaking his head and saying, "Don't look to me, man."

  "And who else am I supposed to look to, pray?" It sounded angry. Probably because she was. Not the way to achieve what she wanted. "Without you, we fail." No response. "What about Jay?" she coaxed. "Illyana?"

  "I won't be part of any more killing."

  "This will be a raid, not a battle."

  "People are still going to die."

  "Some... yes, but if we stop Blaise now, ultimately a lot fewer people will die."

  "This isn't the way to handle it, man. The violence just feeds on itself. We had to stop the Network, and all that accomplished was to kill Starshine."

  "It also stopped the Network, and I seem to recall you volunteering," Tis said softly. "So don't keep blaming me."

  "A part of me died!"

  "How very fortunate you are. Only a part? I've lost everything!"

  Mark stood and walked away from Tis, her anger, and her arguments. "Violence never solves a damn thing."

  "What a brainless, spineless, stupid thing to say! It sure as hell broke Sprout out of the juvie home. And stopped the Swarm. And freed me from the Rox. And, as you mentioned, stopped the Network. You could at least have the guts to say what's really on your mind."

  Mark whirled on her. "All right, I'm scared! I've already lost one friend. You think I'm going to risk another one?"

  "All I need is Traveler, and he's such a coward he won't let anything happen to him."

  "You can't conceive of what's happened to me."

  "You're right, I can't. Any more than you can conceive of what's happened to me."

  Mark paced, stopped by the dresser, and fiddled with the brushes, pins, combs, pots, and boxes. Stooped and stared at his hangdog features in the mirror, ran his hands down his cheeks as if trying to strip the sadness away.

  "I can't understand poetry anymore. It's just a collection of words. I'll certainly never write it again."

  Her mouth had a mind of its own. Before she was aware, the words were out. "That's not such a tragedy. Did you ever read any of Starshine's poetry?" Their eyes met in the mirror. His wide with shock, hers contrite. "Oh, Ideal, I'm sorry, that was --"

  Mark was laughing. Dry, rusty sounds exploding out of his throat, his whole body jerking with the force. Tisianne stared at him in consternation.

  "You're right, Jesus, you're right. It was really pretty bad."

  "Oh, Mark." She moved to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her head against his chest. "I do love you so."

  "When this is over, when you're back where you belong --"

  "You'll go back where you belong, Mark, I swear it."

  A basement room. At each end a door. Between them a rough block wall, and in each concrete cinder block a screaming mouth. Sound dripped onto the floor, leaving her naked body cold and wet. Blaise was coming, heels drumming on the floor, turning her bones to water. A door opened. Zabb peered in, his hand resting on the knob.

  "This way out," he said cheerfully.

  Tisianne glanced to the other door. The footfalls were closer.

  "That way pain," said a bleeding mouth with Cody's voice.

  "Death," said another with Blythe's voice.

  "Last chance," said Zabb.

  "I can't. I need more time!" Tis cried.

  Soft breathing in the darkness. She was instantly awake, laid her hand on the laser pistol resting by the bed. Recognized him by the scent. Relaxed back among pillows.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Answering the call." Zabb found the edge of the bed with the back of his knees and sat down.

  "I'm sorry, bad dream."

  "Ancestors, Tis, can't you learn a little control? You were bellowing like an orphaned ral."

  "I didn't realize... you could hear." She twisted the sheet between her fingers. "I didn't realize... I wanted you."

  "Well, now I'm here. Do you still want me?"

  Tisianne held out her arms to him.

  "You're very efficient at that," she remarked as he swiftly shed clothes and joined her beneath the covers.

  "Long practice."

  They kissed. Several minutes later Tis fell back with a sigh. "It's hard to be sure, but taking into account the shorter Takisian day, I think tomorrow is my one-year anniversary in this body."

  "Sorry, but I don't think I can arrange to have you returned by day's end tomorrow."

  "I don't expect it. I was just making conversation."

  "Don't, let's make love instead."

  Some time later as she lay back replete, savoring the warm heaviness throughout her body, she heard snow begin to peck at the windows. Far to the south it was summer in Vayawand. She wondered about Jay, and Hastet, and Illyana. And Kelly. Sometimes she imagined she could sense him.

  Zabb lifted his mouth from an in-depth exploration of her left nipple and said, "I'm going to miss you."

  She didn't pretend to misunderstand. "You could still have me."

  "No, we both like girls too much."

  "True."

  He slid onto her. Pushed a knee insistently between her thighs, parted them. Grinned down into her face. "But I don't think you're going to forget me any too soon."

  "No. And I'm going to miss you too."

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Air-raid sirens over House Vayawand. For an instant Kelly dithered -- run to Jay and Hastet and baby, or outside to investigate? Something drew him out.

  The wall batteries had opened up and were laying down a withering fire across the night sky. There were seven ships playing quick tag with the ground-to-air fire and shooting at a lone Vayawand ship that was diving and weaving.

  Kelly grabbed a running guard. "What is it?"

  "Ilkazam."

  That was very interesting. As Kelly watched, an Ilkazam ship blew a spine off the Vayawand ship, and the ground batteries blew it in turn to its ancestors. He tried a brief telepathic probe, but there was mentatic static filling the overmind. He knew it was a battlefield technique designed to disrupt telepathic communications, but it seemed awfully convenient in this situation.

  Kelly turned and bolted back into the House.

  "Ideal, Rowan," Tach said, talking to the captain of the pursuing Ilkazam ship. "You're not really supposed to shoot us down!" Tis gasped as the Vayawand ship bucked and shook under another hit.

  Zabb didn't respond to her. His face was a mask of concentration as he tried to hold the captured ship on course. Cosmic Traveler/Durg sat before the holoscreen.

  "Password," the defense officer was requesting.

  The soul eater who had devoured the mind of the Vayawand captain supplied it. "Stalin." The deep male voice emerging from the woman's throat was horrifying.

  Tis stared into the soul eater's empty eyes, shuddered, and looked away. It was a rare gift -- if such a term could be applied to a power so grotesque -- and trust Zabb to make certain his elite team contained one. Soul eaters didn't last very long. The toll on mind and body destroyed their mentatic ability in a very few years. Tisianne would refuse to train the gift if it surfaced. Which was probably a good indication of why Zabb was Raiyis of House Ilkazam, and she wasn't.

  There was a silence that stretched for an eternity. Then the defense officer said, "Preparing to drop the field. Come in fast, Durg bo Blaise."

  Traveler's powers, in addition to insubstantiality, included a remarkable impersonation ability, but it didn't include things like memories o
r voices. Tisianne stiffened with concern, but Traveler merely grunted; fortunately, it seemed a sufficiently Morakhian response. The ship dropped sickeningly, then abruptly leveled off, and they were down. Spies in the field had reported that the real Durg was traveling with only thirty soldiers, so the invaders had to scale back from their initial fifty.

  Every one of the elite troop was a mentat. Zabb pulled them all into a TacNet, and they burned out the cortex of their captured ship. It was necessary to keep the ship from giving the alarm, but that didn't make it easier. The troops were quickly mustering, Tis slung her assault rifle and tried to ignore the itch caused by the jewels pasted on her face. It wouldn't bear close scrutiny, but hopefully they weren't going to stand still long enough or linger long enough for anyone to notice. And they did have a real Vayawand noble with them. Bat'tam had insisted on accompanying them.

  "Can this possibly work?" Tis said softly as the outer door of the ship was slowly cycling open. "A force of twenty-nine men and women and one groundling to assault an entire House."

  "Probably not." Zabb grinned down at her. "But what a tale it will make."

  "Would you mind terribly much if we lived to hear it? I've always thought the concept of a dead hero was something of an oxymoron."

  Zabb closed a hand around her throat and pushed back her head. "Second thoughts?"

  She veiled her eyes with her lashes. "A few."

  "It's not too late to back out." He ran the tip of his thumb across her lips.

  "Yes, it is."

  "One last time for luck," he said softly as he bent for a kiss.

  Tis laid the tips of her fingers across his mouth. Held him at bay. "Better, I think, that we start weaning ourselves from this sort of behavior."

  It hurt him. He hid the hurt with a shrug, and a cocky, "Don't trust your resolve. I understand I have that effect on women."

  The door was open. "On cousins too," Tis said softly to his back as he descended the ramp.