Kaid could do nothing but stare speechlessly at the green stone.
Following his gaze, T’Chebbi gave a small grunt of surprise. “What is it?” she asked Jeran, pointing at his pendant.
Surprised, Jeran lifted it up and held it out by the length of its thong for her to see. “A local talisman. We all have to wear them.”
“Talisman for what?” asked Kaid in a hushed voice. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A Valtegan la’quo stone here, on Jalna? “How could it be possible?”
“Excuse me?” Jeran, obviously confused, looked from one to the other.
“Is nothing for you to be concerned about,” reassured T’Chebbi, reaching out her hand for it. “Can we borrow?”
“I can’t,” said Jeran, face creasing in concern as his hand closed over the pendant. “The Jalnians insist I wear it. They say it protects me from the madness that comes at this time of year.”
“Take it off for a moment, please,” said Kaid, finding his voice again. “Let T’Chebbi hold it. We won’t keep it, you have my word. We’ve seen its like before.”
“Where?” Interested now, Jeran took it off and handed it to the Sister.
Can you hear me now? sent Kaid, this time forcing the contact.
Jeran took a step back, catching his heels on the container behind him and sitting down heavily. “Better than when Miroshi does it! You are a telepath! But how? Brothers can’t…”
“Can now,” said T’Chebbi grimly, holding the pendant close for Kaid to see. “Don’t touch it,” she warned him.
The sound of distant voices could be heard coming toward the warehouse. Kaid reached out a finger. “I have to,” he said, his voice equally grim. As his finger grazed the surface, he felt the familiar wave of nausea and weakness pass through him. “La’quo,” he said. “Without a doubt. Give it back to him, T’Chebbi, we’ve got to leave.” Vartra’s bones! It was too much for him to take in right now. He forced himself to concentrate on what was necessary. “Leave it off when you can,” he said to Jeran. “We can’t contact you if you’re wearing it. Remember what we said, wait for work on the Sumaan vessel Hkariyash. When it comes, take it. We’ll have time to talk then.”
The pendant spun through the air toward him and Jeran lunged to catch it. When he looked up, they were gone.
The voices had gotten closer and were quite audible now. “I don’t care what you thought you saw, you’re not authorized to go into the warehouses!” He knew that voice. It was the supervisor.
“You want one of those tarnachs roaming round free?” demanded the other. The spacer patois had a distinctive U’Churian burr to it.
Jeran snatched up his clipboard and, at a run, headed back to the consignment he’d been checking. A tarnach running free! It wasn’t possible! They were barely controllable at the best of times.
“No tarnachs around here,” said the guard at the entrance. “All the beasts but those on patrol are in the kennels. You been drinking too much ale, spacer!”
“I tell you, we saw a tarnach!” The door burst open and two U’Churians pushed their way in. They stopped dead, looking at Jeran.
A moment, then the female recovered herself. “Did a tarnach come in here?” she demanded of him.
“No, Lady,” said Jeran. Then on impulse, “I did hear something snuffling around outside when they took their break fifteen minutes ago.”
“Break? What break?” demanded the supervisor rounding angrily on the guards.
The female’s mouth widened in a slow grin and she tilted an ear at him. “We owe you,” she mouthed at him, then spun round and stalked back to her companion. “Was here, but didn’t come in,” she said. “Our cargo is safe.” With that, they went, leaving the supervisor and the two guards shouting at each other.
*
After the coolness of the air-conditioning in the Meeting Point, going outside felt like walking into a furnace. The crowds on the street were beginning to thin as the Jalnians who lived and worked in the town headed back to their homes to prepare the evening meal. Several of the daytime stalls were beginning to pack up, leaving their pitches for the night traders.
Did you learn anything of interest? Kusac asked as they made their way toward the checkpoint for the Port Hotel and Lord Bradogan’s Keep.
A few things. I know how to make both Jalnians and U’Churians uneasy in my company. They dislike seeing a hunter’s eyes in a humanoid face. Their curiosity vanishes rather quickly!
Useful, agreed Kusac. Sholans don’t seem to mind. I wonder why it affects the Jalnians and the U’Churians?
Possibly because they’re used to each others’ species, whereas the majority of Sholans we know met me before any other Humans.
Could be. Have your pass ready, he sent as they approached the gates. Reaching into one of the pouches on his belt, he pulled his papers out, handing them to the guard. Carrie did the same.
The Jalnian studied them for a moment, returning Kusac’s while taking a second look at Carrie’s. A quick glance at her face then his eyes slid back to the pass. Hurriedly he returned it to her, waving them through.
I get the feeling he doesn’t want us to linger. Kusac’s tone was amused as he put his papers away.
Told you, came Carrie’s smug reply.
Through the high, electrified fence they could see that the spaceport was fairly quiet in comparison to when they’d arrived the day before and, taking their time, they ambled leisurely over to the hotel.
The Keep looks very plain, Kusac observed. Featureless. Just four sides and a large entrance with steps.
It’s a fortress. They were designed to be as siege proof as possible. At least they were on Earth, she amended. Your enemy would camp outside the keep, unable to get in, while you were safe inside with all the livestock and water you needed.
That was how they fought? Kusac looked at her in surprise. Strange way to fight a battle.
The point was, there was only one way inâ through the front doorsâ and they were protected by a portcullisâ a large metal gate that was lowered down in front of the doors when the keep was being attacked. It’s an old building, so Bradogan’s land must have been contested many times over the last few hundred years. Look, on the wall above the door. Those narrow slits are for archers to look through. They can shoot down on the attackers without being at risk themselves. Same with the crenellated wall right up at the top.
Built as a stronghold against any enemies. He guards himself well.
Doesn’t he just, she agreed as they drew closer to the hotel.
This building was unashamedly modern, owing much of its design to the advanced technology of its visiting aliens. Passing the ubiquitous Jalnian guards, they pushed open the large transparent doors and entered the main foyer. Their eyes were instantly assaulted by a confusion of functional ship design overlaid with barbaric opulence.
Ouch, sent Carrie, looking round and wincing. At least they’ve got air-conditioning!
Kusac grunted in agreement. I need it with this longer pelt. I’d be prepared to stay here for that alone.
The lobby, set to the left of a staircase, was illuminated by a transparent domed ceiling. Crimson carpeting led the way to the reception area where, behind a plain functional counter, a Jalnian in brightly colored robes stood on duty. An array of comm controls could be seen behind him.
Floor-length crimson velvet curtains, looped at midpoint with golden ropes, lined the pale gray walls. Apparently placed at random, groups of matching crimson and gilt easy chairs sat around ornately carved low wooden tables. Between them, tubs of flowering plants, their blooms a riot of clashing colors, had been placed in the hope of creating an atmosphere of quiet and privacy.
This was designed by people who have no concept of relaxation, sent Kusac as they made their way over to the receptionist.
I prefer our inn, even if it is hotter, she replied as they approached the counter.
“What can I do for you, Trader?” the receptionist asked, eye
s narrowing as he looked past Carrie to Kusac. There was an edge of condescension in his voice.
“Inform Trader Assadou Chikoi that his agent and the Solnian Representative are here,” said Kusac, flexing his claws as he rested his hand on the counter.
“Solnian Representative?” The man glanced back at Carrie.
“No one could fault your hearing,” said Kusac, beginning to tap the surface with a claw tip.
“Certainly, honored Representatives,” he said, dipping his head in a gesture of respect as he backed away to reach his comm. A few moments later he turned back to them. “Trader Assadou is expecting you, Representatives,” he said. He indicated the stairs. “First floor, suite ten. Or there is an elevator around the corner.”
Kusac nodded and turned toward the stairs, took hold of Carrie’s arm. That son of a she-jegget thought you were a qwene! he sent, his hand tightening protectively as he shepherded her toward the stairs.
How was he to know different? I think you’re overreacting a little.
Kusac gave a brief, muted growl as they started up the steps. I don’t have to like it.
They nodded briefly to the Sumaan who opened the door to them. Assadou was sitting in state in a large armchair, well propped up with soft cushions. A drink and a plate of Chemerian fruits sat on the table in front of him.
“Sit, sit,” Assadou said, indicating the settee. “You are prompt, that is good. Is all well where you lodge?”
“Fine,” said Kusac, speaking in Sholan. “I presume the room is clear of listening devices?”
Assadou turned to look at the Sumaan behind him.
“Is clear,” the guard confirmed.
“Have you managed to accomplish anything with regard to our permits?”
“Have only just arrived! Need time settling in, making appropriate gestures of goodwill!” Assadou exclaimed. “Have no idea how to conduct true business, you Sholans. Too much haste!”
“Assadou, we’re not sitting around waiting for a week while you and Bradogan send polite messages to each other,” said Carrie. “We have to get moving now! The longer we delay, the greater the chance of us being discovered.”
Assadou’s ears twitched slightly at the edges. “When put like that, perhaps haste is not unseemly,” he agreed reluctantly. “I send message, with Solnian trinket to whet his appetite for more. Then he will ask that I come to him. You, perhaps, could accompany me. But unlikely you get permit. He dislikes spacers on Jalna.”
“We will accompany you,” said Kusac. “We spent the day at the Meeting Point. The Lord we want is Killian, but he seems to have no agent here at present.”
Assadou inclined his head in agreement. “Is so. I discover agent is regrettably on way to Kaladar with caravan. Not back in Port for several weeks.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Unfortunately, I’ve already put the word around the agents we did meet that you have a cargo of new goods from Sol to show them,” said Kusac. “I’ve said I’m authorized to set up a meeting between you and any of them who wish to examine the goods for themselves.”
“You wish me to sell the bulk of our Terran items to this Lord Killian’s agent,” surmised Assadou. “I can hold out for better prices and delay sale till he returns.”
“I’m not happy about waiting that long,” said Kusac.
“If not able to go to Kaladar, then next city is Galrayin. Lord Tarolyn is favorite of Lord Bradogan. Maybe that would do? Cannot wait for long, as you say. When trading, must cut losses and take next best thing to what you wish.”
We could always leave the caravan and head for the hills, either on the way there or back. Maybe even make it look like we were taken in the night by bandits, suggested Carrie.
Possibly a better option than sitting waiting for Killian’s agent to appear, agreed Kusac. “The goods are transported in wagons, aren’t they?” he asked.
Assadou nodded. “They travel in a caravan for protection. There are many bandits in the Jalnian hills.”
“Then it wouldn’t seem amiss if you insisted that two of your people traveled with this caravan to ensure that the goods arrive safely, and to gauge for themselves how the Jalnian Lord and his family react to the new trade items,” said Kusac. “That might persuade Bradogan to give us our permits.”
“This could be suggested,” agreed Assadou. “Lord Bradogan keeps strict watch on who goes in and out of the Port town, and aliens are rarely permitted to set foot on the real Jalna.”
“Rarely,” said Carrie, frowning at him. “Last I heard it was never.”
Assadou began to blink rapidly, a sure sign of embarrassment. “Is not something that happens often. Who in right mind wishes to go among such violent people?”
“Haven’t seen any sign of their violence yet,” said Kusac indifferently. “They seem as normal as Chemerians to me.”
The look he received was pure hate as Assadou pulled himself up to his full seated height of three feet. “Chemerians peaceful! Not violent, not kill one another!”
“No, you get the Sumaan to do it for you,” he snapped, leaning forward. “Sholans have tempers, too, Trader. You’d do well to remember that! Sholan High Command will not be impressed that you continue to tell us half-truths. We work together, your government said, and together means you tell us everything! Now, just how difficult is it for you to get us our permits?”
“Can be done,” said Assadou stiffly, his ears quivering with suppressed rage.
“How quickly?”
“Today. I send message now.”
“Do it,” ordered Kusac, sitting back. “We’ll wait till you have a reply.”
With a chittering sound of displeasure, Assadou gave a series of short commands in his own language to the Sumaan on his right. The guard disappeared into the inner room, emerging minutes later with a small case of writing implements. Hurriedly, Assadou scrawled a note, then dispatched him to the Keep with it and a small wooden casket.
“Is done. We wait.”
Carrie looked pointedly at the table. “Refreshments would be nice.”
Again the ears quivered, then common sense got the upper hand. “Am failing in duty as host. Please, help yourselves,” he said, his tone, if not gracious, at least more normal for a Chemerian.
Carrie got up and headed over to the dispenser unit to see what it served.
“What are your plans once you reach Kaladar?” Assadou asked Kusac.
He stirred in his seat. “Rescue our people.”
“What of the Valtegans?” Assadou demanded. “That is our prime reason for bringing you here at such vast risk and expense!”
“We hope they’ll have discovered something at the crash site, but we’ll never know unless we get them safely out of Kaladar,” said Kusac smoothly.
“Your rescue attempt. You will try nothing hazardous that will involve me, will you?” Assadou was suddenly nervous. “Where will you hide these people? How will you get them into the Port without discovery?”
“We’re working on that now,” said Carrie, coming back with two mugs of coffee. “Didn’t know you liked this, Assadou.”
“We’re not going to take any unnecessary risks, believe me, Assadou.”
“I hope not,” replied the Chemerian acidly. “I value my life!”
“As do we,” murmured Kusac, taking his mug from Carrie with a nod of thanks. “I’d like our journey to Galrayin set up as soon as possible.”
Assadou made a gesture of assent. “I will have my crew bring the Terran trade items from the ship today. If Lord Bradogan grants you the permits, likely you will be free to journey on the next caravan leaving for there. That you can arrange at the Port Agency office by the gatehouse into the spacers town.”
“If you continue to call them Terran goods instead of Solnian, you’re the one most likely to blow our cover,” Carrie said warningly, sipping her drink. “Remember, you’ll go down with the rest of us.”
A look of distress passed over Assadou’s face and he squeezed his eyes sh
ut in obvious horror. “Apologies,” he whispered. “I will not forget again. Solnian.”
Their wait was not long. Within fifteen minutes, the Sumaan was back, bearing an invitation to meet lord Bradogan later that evening.
As Carrie and Kusac went through the lobby on their way out, they passed a Jalnian of obvious importance seated in one of the chairs. A guard of some half a dozen armed men accompanied him.
Carrie glanced briefly in his direction. Tall and loose-limbed, there was an implicit arrogance in the way he lounged in his chair. She could feel his gaze following them as they made their way to the exit. The hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle and she found herself anxious to leave.
What is it? Kusac demanded, turning to her once they were outside.
Something and nothing, she replied, shivering again. Who do you think he was?
Probably Lord Bradogan, he sent, taking her arm and squeezing it gently. He disturbs you?
He has a predatory look about him, she replied, comforted by the contact.
We’ll take no chances with him, Kusac assured her.
*
“Well?” asked Tirak as Giyesh slipped into the seat opposite him at the Travelers Inn. He could tell by the set of her ears that she had news.
“The two Sholans are here now, waiting for their friends. They found another one, one we’d missed,” she said.
“Where?”
“In the last warehouse, checking cargo. A male. Nice looking, too. Pale colored pelt that makes his muscles stand out,” she said, smiling reminiscently.
Tirak snorted in annoyance. “You were supposed to be…”
“He covered our asses with his supervisor and the guards,” she added hastily. “We barged past them into the warehouse saying we’d seen a loose tarnach. That’s when we saw him.”
“That should have been enough for them to throw the doors wide,” said Mrowbay.
“You kept the Sholans in sight all day?” asked Tirak.
She nodded. “They spent the morning going from ship to ship, chatting to the various crews. Even stopped at the Profit. Were asking how good the Port engineers were in maintenance. Then in the afternoon, they headed over to the workshops, spent some time there, doubled back behind the sheds and made for the end warehouse. I reckon they were looking for him all along.”
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