“Then they might have been here?” asked Kris, putting it back on the table. “Did you ever hear the name Jalna mentioned?”
Rezac shook his head. “Never. And there were no Humanoid slaves either. If they were here, then they left before our time.”
“But why use the stones as a talisman against demons? They must have some effect on the violent ones, but what?” asked Jo.
“Calming them,” said Zashou, leaning back in her chair. “The Valtegan females wore them all the time, otherwise the males would never have gotten near enough either to mate with them or to take the eggs out before they hatched.”
Rezac leaned forward to touch Jo’s cheek. “We have to go,” he said, with an embarrassed glance at Zashou. “Our time isn’t over.”
“Go,” said Zashou. “You’re affecting me with your needs. I can do without adding sexual frustration to my list of ailments. And,” she added more prosaically, “if I can sense it, so can Kris and Davies. Go.”
Jo flushed, hesitating, then she caught sight of Davies getting to his feet. Hurriedly she rose and went with Rezac.
Chapter 11
Kezule had been given extra food that morning: a fowl of some kind. It had made a welcome change to his diet, though he knew that wasn’t why it had been included. It had been his captors’ way of not feeding the female. Then, an hour later, fresh linen had been put in the feeding cage. He’d sent the female for it, telling her to put it in a neat pile on the bed before she ate.
She sat in her corner, chewing on the bones of the chiddoe, her newly acquired blanket clutched tightly round her. She was watching him intently, no fear on her face now. She’d learned he didn’t lash out without reason. If she obeyed him, there were no beatings.
Clean linen meant they’d open the shower unit. It was long overdue. Despite the air-conditioning, her smell was becoming overpowering. He rose from the table and went over to the bed, sitting down to examine the pile of clothing and bedding. Apart from clean coveralls for himself, there were two fresh tunics for her, plus an extra towel. Picking them up, he threw them onto the nearest chair.
“When they open the shower, you go first. Scrub that hide of yours till it’s clean. Your stench is offensive to me. Take only the towel, come back for the tunic when you’ve washed.”
As he spoke, a section of wall by the basin slid back to reveal his cell’s shower cubicle. Immediately she was on her feet, the plate returned to the table as she snatched up the towel.
To be clean again! She’d lost track of how long she’d been trapped in the cell with the Valteganâ days, weeksâ she had no way of knowing.
She pressed open the front seal of her tunic, pulling it off and throwing it distastefully onto the floor. Her smell might disgust him, but it appalled her. She hadn’t even had the means to groom herself and remove the loose fur and dried blood from her pelt. Leaning forward into the cubicle, she reached for the controls, selecting the temperature before turning on the water. Flattening her ears, she stepped in, letting the warm stream cascade over her head and down her shoulders. She felt a pleasure akin to rapture as the pressurized needles of water pounded her limbs, massaging the aches and pains, washing away the accumulated grime. Reaching for the soap, she began with her hair. She kept her eyes shut; she didn’t even want to think about what color the water would be.
*
In the observation room, Zhyaf began to murmur into the recording device.
“He’s getting her thoughts now,” said Mito quietly to her bond-mate. “You know, he’s handling her very sensitively. She isn’t even aware that she’s being monitored, let alone being fed suggestions. His isn’t an easy job.”
Anders grunted, keeping his eyes on Kezule. “Just as well. I swear Kezule would sense it. This general of ours is one wily old bird. Apart from his outburst yesterday, he’s been so controlled, so self-assured. Do you realize, we don’t even know what age he is? We assume he’s past his prime, but we’ve no idea of the length of their natural life span.”
“Talking of physiology, any news on the drug tests?”
“Not hopeful. The comp sims predict disastrous results if we use any of the drugs common to most Alliance citizens. They’re testing Touiban specific pharmaceuticals at the moment. Looks like all we can do is use up those found on Keiss, and they’re for medical purposes, not Ãxwinterrogation.”
“I’d have thought that they could have extrapolated something useful from them by now.”
“They’re working on it as well. It all takes time, Mito.”
“So what’s next?” she asked, fiddling with the controls on the telemetry monitor.
“Leave things as they are for a few days, see what he does now he’s realized we’ve rewarded him for interacting with Keeza. If he starts talking to her, conversations I mean, not just commands, then we can leave it to run its course. If not, Rhyaz wants to start the heavy interrogations again.”
“I hate them. It’s so barbaric.”
Anders looked briefly in her direction, reaching out to caress her cheek. “None of us like it, Mito. Just remember that in there sits a predator more powerful than any species you’ve yet encountered. His people have a weapon capable of destroying all life on a planet. They destroyed two of your worlds alreadyâ millions of people died. And they’re still out there somewhere. We need to know where.”
“Then what? If you’re right, we’ve very little chance of beating them. Apart from those on Keiss, we’ve not found a trace of them. I think we’d do better leaving them well alone.”
“And live in fear that they’ll return?” He shook his head, turning back to the viewing panel. “No, we have to find out where they come from. It’s our only chance of survival. The Sholans beat them once. Together, the Alliance can do it again, I know we can.”
A deep sigh from behind them made them turn round. Zhyaf was switching off his recorder. As he sat back in his chair, he rubbed his hands across his face.
“How’d it go?” asked Mito.
“We don’t know till we see how he responds to her implementation of my suggestions,” he said tiredly. “I have to probe her mind carefully, make suggestions and see how she reacts. I can’t force her to do something she’s afraid of doing, not without her realizing she’s being used.”
“How’s she coping?” asked Anders.
Zhyaf’s face registered his surprise at the question. “You do care! Better. Regular food, even if it isn’t nearly enough, and that blanket last night, have helped stabilize her. She now has a measure of security within the constant fear.”
“Of course I care. I’d have to be damned insensitive not to! What about Kezule’s outburst last night?”
“It had a logical reason. She knew it was an isolated incident. You have to see it from her point of view,” he said, getting up and going over to the drink dispenser. “He hasn’t abused her in any way, he’s…”
“I’d call it abuse,” interrupted Mito.
“It’s not,” Zhyaf insisted, picking up his mug of c’shar and returning to his seat. “Not in her mind. He’s been training her, showing her what he considers appropriate behavior. Now she understands, she can do what he wants, keep out of his way. She can survive.” He took a sip of his drink. “By Vartra, she deserves her freedom after this!”
*
Kezule had stretched out on his bed. He was thinking. It struck him as interesting that the reward the day before had come not after he’d decided to give them some information for the first time, but after he’d made it obvious he was taking responsibility for the female. They were studying how he treated her, using it to further their understanding of his people. Well, there was little he could do about that, and little they could discover about his people beyond the reality of their natural supremacy.
The sound of water stopped, and he heard her moving around. He realized he could hear a new sound, a strange one: a low, almost inaudible rumbling. Getting up, he went to the doorway.
Startl
ed, she jumped back, clutching the towel. Her ears had vanished in the mass of fuzzy hair that topped her head. Beneath it, her enormous gray eyes peered out, constantly scanning him. He could smell her terror, and he realized the noise had stopped.
“Pleasure. You make sounds of pleasure.” He was stunned. Never had his pet made such noises. “But why?”
“Why, my General?” she stammered.
“Why pleasure noises?”
He watched understanding dawn. “The shower… to be clean again.” She retreated till her back was touching the wall. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, my General.”
“Dry yourself outside,” he ordered, gesturing to the door. “I want to shower.”
Hugging the wall, she sidled past him, fleeing into the main room. He watched her retreating figure, understanding for the first time what the attraction to a female from a different species could be. Lonely, isolated, with no hope of returning to his own world, he realized that the presence of another living being was more important to him than he cared to admit.
The smell of her damp fur still lingered in the air. Snorting, he began to strip. He’d seen them, those in higher offices, with their special pets! They made a mockery of their class. So much for dignity and self-control! He hissed in anger, threw his coverall to the floor and stepped into the shower cubicle. He expected the common soldiers to behave that way when they were given female slaves as a rewardâ after all, they weren’t allowed to breed and their access to the drones was restricted. Of course they’d go into rut! It was part of what they all were, part of their competitive nature! But he was neither a common soldier, nor a depraved elite. He would not sink to their depths by taking an alien female!
The hot water was soothing and relaxing. He found his mood began to improve as he stood there letting it run down his body in rivulets. He turned his face up to the jet, closing his eyes and momentarily raising his crest. At least her scent was so alien there was no chance of him being attracted to her. She didn’t even smell like a real female!
*
“Kaid said what?” demanded Carrie, hardly crediting what T’Chebbi was saying. “He said you weren’t needed?”
T’Chebbi nodded. “Also, wants us ready to leave Shola in one month.”
“But he actually sat there and told you that you weren’t needed?”
T’Chebbi sighed. “Stood, actually.”
“The bastard! What’s happening to him, T’Chebbi? I thought he was getting better, then this.”
“Is better,” she said, pulling a stim twig pack from her pocket. Taking one out, she put the pack on the table in front of her.
Carrie reached out and picked it up, examining the wrapper before putting it back. “When did you start using them?” She’d been so sure there was something between T’Chebbi and Kaid.
“Nights can be long up in Dzahai.”
Carrie made an exasperated noise. Privacy be damned, she needed to know what was going on. “Look, I thought you and he had some sort of understanding. What happened to that?”
T’Chebbi nibbled delicately at the end of the twig, visibly considering her answer before she replied. “Friends, Clan Leader, who sometimes share bed like Kusac does, sometimes more.”
“Don’t Clan Leader me, T’Chebbi!” she said, exasperated. “Just what’s going on with Kaid?”
She looked up, meeting Carrie’s eyes for the first time that evening. “Don’t know. Told you, he said Vartra had called him, not Green Goddess, and there was much to do in short time. You should go to him, call him. Maybe he tells you.”
“I have,” she said shortly. “Twice. Kusac persuaded me to do it. Father Lijou answered, gave me some plausible excuse from Kaid to save embarrassing me, but he refuses to speak to me. Besides, it’s been weeks since Kaid was at the Retreat.” She picked up her mug, looked into it unhappily, and swirled the contents around. “Kusac says very little about his time with Kaid at Stronghold. He keeps it more or less private even during our Link time. He’s as secretive about it as you are.” She looked up at the other female. “What’s this swordbrother ritual all about? All I’ve managed to find out is that most of them are single sex pairs, and many of them are lovers.” She didn’t dare ask the question.
“I think nothing happens, Carrie,” said T’Chebbi, obviously unbending. “He didn’t look for swordbrother, Kusac did the asking.”
“What about Garras?”
“Garras asked Kaid. Swordbrothers have complex relationship. Much of it is for in field, when fighting. Those you see at Warrior Guild take that oath because already lovers.”
Carrie breathed a sigh of relief. Common sense said it was unlikely, but she still knew so little about this complex society that was now hers. “Does Kaid ever ask about me?”
She made a negative gesture. “I tell him when I arrive.”
“Then he doesn’t.” She drained her mug and sat back in her seat. “Why? What happened? Did I do or say something to upset him?”
“Don’t know, Carrie. Must be resolved before we leave for Jalna. Go and see him.”
“I can’t. I have my pride, too, T’Chebbi. He even refused to come to our birthday celebrations, and he knew it was Kusac’s coming of age.”
T’Chebbi flattened her ears briefly in sympathy as she began to chew the twig properly. She leaned forward and, picking up the pack, held it out to Carrie. “Try one.”
Carrie looked at her in surprise, then grinned. “Does it help? Is that why Kaid uses them?”
T’Chebbi purred with amusement. “Who knows with him? Is late. Share a shower with me. Will relax us both. Leave foolish males to sort themselves out.”
*
Garras lay awake, his body cupped around Vanna’s, his left hand resting on her belly, feeling its gentle rise and fall as she breathed. They’d know today, Jack had said. He was scared, part of him wanting to know, part not. He wanted these few minutes before she woke to stretch endlessly.
The rhythm of her breathing changed, became deeper as she began to surface to wakefulness. He sighed, his hand automatically caressing her, stroking the breasts that were already beginning to form.
She mumbled in her sleep, turning toward him, her face instinctively seeking his, her hands touching his neck.
“Good morning,” he said, gently licking her cheek.
She mumbled something indistinct in reply and he had to laugh. “You’re not awake yet, are you?”
A negative grunt was his only answer.
From beyond the door, he heard voices but before he could do more than begin to disentangle himself, a series of sharp raps on the door preceded its opening. Jack, followed by Jiszoe, strode in.
“Rise and shine!” said Jack, heading for the drapes and pulling them back to let the winter sunshine stream into the room.
Garras tried to shield his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Come on, you two slugabeds!” he boomed, striding over to them. “Wake up that pretty little wife of yours, Garras. We’ve brought breakfastâ and something else!”
Vanna groaned, finally pushing herself up from the covers.
“Good morning, Vanna,” said Jiszoe brightly, coming to sit on her side of the bed. “May the sun shine on you this morning.”
“It already is,” she grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and blinking in the bright spring sunlight.
Behind them hovered three of the estate younglings who were doing some work experience among the Leska households. Two carried trays groaning with food and hot drinks, the third carried a folding table.
“Don’t stand there gawping,” said Jack, “get the table set up, the food on it, and leave!”
“Yes, Physician!” they chorused, and within two minutes flat, they were gone, leaving first meal set out on the table which had been placed at Vanna’s side.
“Good morning, Jiszoe,” said Vanna, taking the robe the other female was holding out to her.
“What’s going on, Jack?” demanded Gar
ras, unsure whether to be offended or amused by their intrusion.
Jack hauled the nearest chair over and sat down beside him. “Well, it’s like this,” he said. “I remember what it was like when I was in a similar situation to yours, so, to save you worrying, we’ve brought the news to you.”
“The news?” Vanna’s ears swiveled round to catch every word.
Jack nodded to Jiszoe. “My Companion has a gift for you,” he said. Even as he spoke, Vanna turned back to Jiszoe. Jack handed Garras a piece of paper. “And this is for you,” he added.
Garras took it from him, somewhat stunned. He couldn’t look at it.
“This is for you,” he heard Jiszoe say. “I searched the archives with the help of Brother Ghyan. It’s how the ancient Triads recorded their family history. They needed to keep a record of which male fathered which child.”
“Thank you,” said Vanna, her voice faint as she took the decorated hide-bound book from Jiszoe.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Jack prompted Garras.
Vanna placed the book on the bed between them. “Read it,” she said.
“I can’t,” he said. His heart had leaped into his mouth and was pounding fit to burst.
“Would they be here if the news was bad?” she demanded. “Read it before I do!”
He snatched the paper away just in case and forced himself to read it.
“Well?” she asked. “In Vartra’s name, tell me!”
“This cub’s mineâ ours,” he said, hardly able to believe what he had read. “A daughter.”
“Let me see!”
The hand that passed it to her was shaking. “Is it definite?” he asked Jack.
“Not a shred of doubt, Garras,” said Jack, patting his arm. “You have the child you both wanted.”
Vanna let out a whoop of pleasure and flung her arms around him. “They were right,” she said, covering his face in tiny licks. “And we were wrong, thank Vartra! A cub of our own, Garras! Ours!”
“So we have.” He was still somewhat stunned as he returned the embrace. He’d had such hopes for so long, and it had hurt more than he could ever let her guess to sit back and watch them disappear one by one as she had formed her Leska Link with the Human and borne his cub. It would take a while for him to get used to this.
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