“Dori’,” I began, frustrated.
Another voice broke in before I could finish.
“Hey, guys?” Jon looked between us, his hazel eyes faintly worried above the hard line of his mouth. He stood by Dorje over the security console, one arm folded over his chest while his other hand pointed down at something on one of the smaller organic screens.
“I hate to break up the weekly ‘fight about Revik’ ritual,” he added. “...But maybe you could come over here, take a look at this...”
After a faint pause where I bit my lip, I gave Balidor another glance, then walked over to where Jon stood.
“What?” I said.
“That,” he said simply, pointing. A transcript was scrolling down the screen in black script over a pale gray background.
Leaning over him, Balidor and I read the words, Balidor voicing them aloud.
“...in addition to inviting them to stay as guests, as a sign of my continued goodwill towards the Esteemed Bridge, as well as my fealty to her and her husband, Syrimne d’Gaos...I have asked them to remain in the Imperial Suites until such time that I can hear the substance of the Esteemed Bridge’s request for transfer of the rebel traitors and following my obligation to apologize to my lords and intermediaries in person...”
Balidor looked up at Jon, his eyes holding a faint puzzlement. “Is this from the Chinese?”
Jon nodded, his mouth still grim. “Voi Pai’s emissary. Keep reading.”
I picked up roughly where Balidor had left off.
“...I also greatly desire to know more of the work that is occurring in the West, related to a weapon that I had been heretofore told was only under development by the American warlords and their servants. I have since learned that operatives working under your name have taken it upon themselves to destroy the main stores of this organism...after procuring samples with which to threaten our human hosts. As all of our people were privy to a demonstration of the power of this weapon in Hong Kong, I wish to know what your intention is with this sample of the disease, and what your intended response to the American warlords will be, when speaking to them of our mutual interests in noninterference with the larger population of the world's humans...”
I looked up at the two of them in bewilderment, before returning my eyes to the screen.
“...I am told that you lost a brother in this operation, as well...for that you have my genuine condolences. It is possible I can help you to exact revenge for this brutal transgression, particularly if I were to receive adequate assurance that my host families are not intended targets for this weapon you now are in sole possession of, and further, that you only procured a sample as a means of insurance against threat from personal harm and to further the goal of peace among all of our peoples. Although I recognize that the Bridge does not concern herself naturally with regional or factional differences among our brethren, much less our cousins, I would expect some concessions in this matter, as it clearly transcends a simple dispute over borders or economic rights to individual states and could bring about an untimely start to the war that all of us are intent on guiding to its highest evolutionary potential since Her arrival among us...”
I looked up again, trailing on that last line.
“Do either of you know what the hell she’s talking about?”
Balidor shook his head, gesturing ‘no’ in seer in the same beat.
Still, I saw something in his eyes that made me pause.
"'Dori?" I said. "Do you know anything about the op she's talking about?"
"No." Meeting my gaze, and then Jon's he frowned, pursing his lips. "...Not exactly. I did have an operative looking for the disease in the States. It's possible she found it. I didn't authorize destruction of the disease...but I would have, most certainly."
"Would this operative have taken a sample of the disease?" I asked, hearing my voice sharpen a little.
He hesitated again, then shrugged with one hand. "Possibly. Again, I didn't authorize it, but I can see the sense in it." He met my gaze. "An antidote could be developed, for one."
I felt something in my shoulders relax. "So Voi Pai might be right. We might have the only sample of this disease..."
"Possibly."
I felt my fingers tighten again. "Do you trust them?" I said. "This operative?"
He met my gaze directly, his eyes holding a faint guilt. "It's Chandre."
It took another few seconds for this information to penetrate. "What?"
Again, Balidor shrugged with one hand. "She's been working for me. I couldn't tell you before..."
Jon burst out into a laugh, even as I shook my head, unsure if I should laugh like Jon, or hit Balidor in the face.
"So she's been with you, this whole time?"
"Well..." Balidor glanced at Jon, then at Dorje, before looking back at me. His expression remained uncomfortable. "...Yes."
"And she might have a sample of this disease?"
"I will try to contact her..." Balidor's eyes were scanning the text again though, running over it with his eyes. "...I don't have another operative on this now, though," he added. "And she is specific that it is a 'brother' of ours who was killed..."
"Who do you think it is?"
He shrugged, one handed. "Possibly someone Chandre aligned with. Someone she was working with, to look for the disease...?"
"Uh, guys?" Jon broke in, pointing at the top of the message. "Did you miss this part? On top? Not only has refused your request for negotiation on the rebels without an in-person audience...but she's holding Cass and Baguen captive...”
I frowned, re-reading the transcript. “She’s holding Cass prisoner? Are you sure?”
Balidor also pointed to the relevant lines of text. “It says right here they are being held as ‘guests.’ You don’t suppose Cass decided to simply remain in the Forbidden City, perhaps to relax for a few weeks, while you complete your work with your husband?”
My frown deepened. "Jeez," I muttered. "I must be tired. How long have they been there?"
“You have to get her out of there, Al,” Jon said, looking at me.
My eyes rose to his. Before I could answer, Balidor spoke up, gesturing more strongly in the negative.
“Out of the question,” he said. “For multiple reasons. There are about a hundred bounty hunters out there looking for you, for one..."
Jon gave him a disbelieving look. "It's Cass, Balidor."
"I don't care who it is." Turning from Jon, Balidor looked at me, a complete lack of compromise in his gray eyes. "You're not going anywhere. Not until we’ve stabilized your mate.”
I looked at him. “I’ll have to go there, sooner or later.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But we’ve discussed this, Allie. The bounties on you are astronomical right now. There's also the question of Wreg...and the rest of the rebels. Once we’ve stabilized Dehgoies, fine, we’ll go. In fact, we can all go. But, Allie...” His eyes flickered up, meeting mine grimly.
“...You can’t leave here and expect to come back. You can’t. The second you pop up on the grid anywhere, you will definitely be tracked. That means no more tank...which means no longer will we be able to shield Dehgoies from the Dreng, either. That will bring the Rebels here, in days, I would imagine, if not hours...as well as anyone out there looking to collect on those bounties. This message went out through our main channels. That means there’s a good chance that anyone watching the Adhipan...anyone looking for you...might also have picked it up...”
“She can’t just leave Cass there, Balidor!” Jon said, exasperated. “We have no idea how long it will take for this thing to play out with Revik...”
“No,” I said, giving both of them warning looks. “I can’t leave her there, not for that long.” I turned my eyes to Jon then. “...But Balidor is right, too, Jon. I can’t just show up there, wearing my ‘I am the Bridge’ T-shirt. We need to negotiate a safe way to settle this. If Voi Pai won’t do that for some reason...”
Balidor finished t
he thought for me.
“...Then we can assume Voi Pai is colluding with one or more of the bounty hunters,” he said. “Or worse, that she has no intention of giving up the Rebels, and intends to declare war on us once they are trained as members of the Lao Hu...”
“So what about Cass?” Jon repeated, looking between us.
I sighed, folding my arms.
Exhaling, I glanced into the tank, looking at Revik. He was asleep, lying on his back on the pallet I’d had set up for him in the past week. His bare feet faced towards the window, one of his arms lay on his stomach while he cushioned his head with the other. I watched his chest rise and fall, his face taut as he slept.
“She wouldn’t mess with him,” I mused, barely aware I’d spoken aloud. “She’d never admit it, but she’s afraid of him...I saw it when he came to get me that time.”
“No, Allie,” Balidor said.
When I turned to look at him, his eyes were flat.
“Allie,” he said. “Even you must admit...it is too soon for that. He’s not ready. Not for something like that. You’re talking about a military exercise...”
Jon spoke up next to him. “He’s right, Al. That’s not a good plan...not now.”
Sighing, I looked back at the tank, refolding my arms.
“Yeah.” I sighed again, suddenly feeling more tired than I’d felt in weeks. “Yeah...I know. Just wishful thinking.”
Pulling out of where my head wanted to go, I forced myself to snap back, to level out my light. Once I had, I looked at Balidor.
“Get the Adhipan on it,” I said. “I want scenarios...at least two...in the next 24 hours. And get ahold of Chan. Find out if she's really got a sample of that disease...and where she is, if so. If what Voi Pai claims is true, I want her in a safe location as soon as possible. Send some people over there, and to get her out of the country. We might be able to use the disease as a bargaining chip with the rebels, assuming Voi Pai intends to let them go at all..." I hesitated, then added, "...And see if you can find out who got killed. Voi Pai seems to think I knew him, whoever it was. We’ll regroup after my next session, come up with a response...”
“Allie,” Jon said. “Aren’t you going to get some sleep first?” He glanced at Revik, then back at me. “You just got out of there...”
“I’ll sleep in a few hours,” I told him. “It’s easier to go in when he’s sleeping. He fights me when he’s awake...he doesn’t mean to a lot of the time, not anymore, but he can’t help himself. I don’t want to miss an opportunity...”
“You’re exhausted,” Balidor said.
I turned to look at him, hearing the seriousness in his tone. I found him appraising me with narrow eyes, scanning my light. A pulse of worry left him in the same instant, even as I felt him kicking himself for not having noticed before.
“Allie,” he said. “You cannot continue at this pace. You will break yourself, before you break him...”
“I’m all right,” I told him, waving it off dismissively.
At Balidor and Jon’s exchanged glances, I clicked at them a little.
“...I’m all right,” I said, sharper. “I mean it. I’ll sleep tonight.”
“It is three a.m. now,” Balidor said.
“Then I’ll sleep in the morning.”
They were still looking at one another when I turned back towards the door, walking up to it and keying in the combination that lived in the security side of the construct, where it changed at random intervals from five seconds to every thirty minutes.
Neither of them spoke again as I unlocked the hatch, stepping through the door and closing it behind me. But I heard the seal catch as one of them must have swung the wheel shut on the other side, re-locking the mechanism that kept the Barrier seal in place.
I did my best not to make a sound as I crossed the long, green, organic-paneled room, and when I laid down on the pallet next to his, I didn’t touch him. He didn’t seem to move where he lay, either, but I felt his light envelop mine in a pale cloud, exuding that same, faint pulse of relief it always did when I rejoined him inside the tank.
Even so, I felt a twinge of...something...as I settled on my back. I didn’t dwell on it though; I closed my eyes, willing the Barrier to pull me back into that other place.
In any case, it didn’t slow my fall.
15
LAREN
...AND THEN THE skies go dark overhead, only now he is outside.
Time has passed. Not a lot, but some.
He is home again. There is a familiarity in where he steps, even in the dark, a purpose as he thinks about where he might go before he heads for his bed. It crosses his mind to practice, while everyone else is drinking or asleep, when he can use the fields and no one will notice him. He has the cloak as back-up, which he can use to disguise his appearance if required, to keep the curious whispering only of the confusing and shifting appearances of their intermediary cousin, Syrimne. But his uncle warns him of the danger of relying on this, when some day he will be cornered and unable to get away.
And he is tired...more tired than he wants to admit.
He ran field exercises most of the day, with Wreg and the others. After, he spent more time with Menlim, working on manipulation, as well as some of the more subtle work in strategy for which he needs the higher structures in his light...the structures he cannot let the other seers see him access, even for something other than manipulation.
He finished the second round of work well after dinner, only to end his evening with a fight in the long cowshed belonging to the Rutghers.
He did the last solely for the money, since he knows they will be moving again soon. He still feels safer with his own stash of coin, despite how unnecessary his uncle tells him it is. He continues to fight and earn money, without arguing with his uncle outright...nodding without answering when his uncle tells him he will not need for anything for very much longer.
He is climbing down a path, a shortcut over a small hill that separates the fields beyond, and the forest beyond that. His face is cut on one side, and he wears a new bruise that will bloom into a black eye. The monster they put with him got in one lucky punch, but it was his last before he got him on the ground.
He is about to make the turn that leads to a shortcut path that winds its way through the trees to his home...when he feels them.
He realizes too late that they’ve been waiting for him...and that they already surround him.
He glances around at the dark forms, reading them swiftly with his light. They are partly shielded, so he doesn’t get all of it, but he gets enough to understand. He does not want to understand though, and stares around at them again, feeling a kind of clutching pain in his chest as it sinks in, a near disbelief.
“Hullo there,” the first one says, stepping directly into his path.
Nenzi scans his options. He cannot use his sight. He might not be able to push so many without witnesses anyway...but they have a seer with them.
She told them to bring a seer. She told them what he is.
His breath comes shorter, even as he looks around, counting, taking in sizes and faces and the way they move. Using the telekinesis is out of the question. And there are many of them, he realizes...many more than he first noticed when he realized they had him trapped. The seer obscured their numbers before they had him surrounded; he now counts at least eight forms standing around the small clearing, none of them small.
“What have I done?” he asks in German. “Please tell me...I have not wronged you.”
The one who first spoke to him smiles, moving closer.
“That’s not how we heard it,” he says.
Nenzi digs a hand into his pocket, pulling out the bills half-sweated together inside his pants. He holds them out, keeping his voice steady.
“Is it this you want?” he says, knowing it is not. “Take it. It is yours.”
“Keep your money, ice blood,” another says, his voice thick, some of it from drink. “You’re going to need it
to pay the doctor when we’re done...”
He finds himself sliding into a fighting stance, but looking around him, he knows some of these men. Some he’s even seen in dirt rings in different parts of the city. They know who he is, too. They came expecting a fight.
Finally, picking out the one he knows to be a mediocre fighter at best, he slides around behind him, trying to force the human between himself and their leader.
But he stood there too long, looking at them. He let them get too close to him before he acted. Three of them dart up from behind, force him to turn. He catches one in a cross after dodging a hit from the larger of the two. Weaving under another series of hits, he manages to drive two of them back with hits to the temple, but he is not fast enough, he can feel it.
Twisting to get the largest of the four with an elbow to the face, he misses a block to a hit from the other side, and staggers a little from the blow. Again he slides his body sideways, tries to get someone between himself and the others, but he is too slow...his body too tired.
Adrenaline has him forcing another off him with a sharp side kick to the ribs, but he feels his own desperation now. He connects, knocking a man backwards, but he kicks too high. Again, it slows his reactions, and one of the men behind him hooks his arm, round-housing a punch to the side of his head. It’s a solid hit, and it dazes him...enough to make him pause before twisting his weight to free his arm. When they catch hold of him again, he head-butts the man directly in front of him, breaking his nose.
Then someone has his chest in a vise grip. He wrenches himself backwards, feels a pain in his back and gasps as the knife slides between his ribs.
Two more hits to his face and one to his throat, and they have him on the ground.
He’s made them angry...not from fighting back so much as from getting in too many hits.
So once they’ve knocked him down, they start by taking turns kicking him.
Things get foggy after that.
He wakes, gasping, when someone throws water on him.
Pain eclipses any awareness of where he is, or who is with him. He lets out a cry when someone grabs his arms, hoisting him up. He barely hears the words from the men under him.
Allie's War Season Two Page 90
