by Alma Boykin
“Are they really offering that much for the Rakoji?” one of them, the male, asked.
“Yes, and in either trade credits or local currency. And it is now an open contract, damn it,” the female’s irritation cut through the self-control that was expected of a Trader, warning that she was angry indeed. “Anyone can bring her in and get the cash now.”
The man snorted, “Well, we all know how well da Kavalle took care of their Rakoji, don’t we? No wonder the Elders are growing impatient.”
“More than just impatient. They want her alive so they can kill her themselves. I heard Mistress Torlok warning her apprentices before we divided for this contract: the Elders want to make certain that no one ever thinks about out-mating again. They plan to record the execution in order to show the next generations exactly what makes the mischling so foul.” Rada took another sip of her drink just to keep moisture in her mouth as the female from da Malnavi dropped her voice and described in detail what the Elders Council planned for the woman currently sitting two tables over from the tipsy Traders.
The Traders paid for their drinks and left, headed for the settlement’s entertainment quarter. Rada waited for a count of four hundred, paid her own tab, then slunk from shadow to alley to doorway. She’d already conducted her business, so she would not lose the sale by fleeing. Her paranoia saved her again, she thought with a touch of hysteria, as she dodged possible observers, easing into the secondary spaceport entrance and ducking under and around the big bulk cargo lifters to where she’d parked the Dark Hart.
Once inside her ship she began humming, then singing, as she extended her mind to touch that of the creature in the central processor. The equipment around her generated a hum, first matching and then harmonizing with Rada’s song, as Rada and the creature engaged the ship’s power and navigation systems. They jumped to the first available location. After safely reaching that point, they made a second jump sideways, onto a different timethread, that led to an uninhabited ice world. The Dark Hart parked there for the moment as Rada fought through her panic, unable to keep it at bay any longer. Unadulterated terror swept coherent thought from her mind and Rada could not tell how long she cowered, shaking and sobbing, before she managed to regain control of her emotions and flight response. Once she could think, she opened her eyes. “I’m dead.”
She reconfirmed that the surface outside had not cracked under the ‘Hart’s mass, and then took a very old-fashioned data card out of her hardcopy file. Master Thomas’s assistant had handed it to her while she was serving on detached bodyguard duty for someone else, saying, “My master asked me to give this to you. If you ever run out of options, he requests that you please contact him.”
She’d just run out. It was one thing to have a simple imprisonment threat hanging over her head. Hell, everyone in Krather’s Komets was under that on Mirshan’s Planet! She’d lived with the Elders Council’s original penalty for half a century and had assumed that the Council would give up. Oh, but no, they hadn’t. This was worse and Rada Ni Drako shivered with renewed fear. She couldn’t even stay in the Komets, not with this. Someone would finally put the pieces together, or would make a lucky guess, and she’d expose everyone around her to the danger.
“I can’t run forever, not with this,” Rada whispered aloud. “Every scavenger in this spiral arm will be looking for me.” But could she trust a complete stranger, someone she’d never even seen? Self-destruction remained Rada’s only other option, something that would also kill the Dark Hart, handing the Elders their victory. Rada’s entire body shook again; the news terrified her to the point of incoherence. Desperate and frightened, she looked at the card and made a call.
Master Thomas agreed to at least meet with her. Rada sank back into the pilot’s seat and forced herself to relax, to let go of the emotions surging through her. She needed to go back to the Komets’ base and turn in her resignation. She’d worked off her initial contract years before, so leaving would cause no problems. Then she would meet with Master Thomas. And if he could not help her... Rada set that thought aside and began working out the navigation to get from the ice planet back to Quildar, four years in the past.
She almost didn’t reach Master Thomas’s estate. After she left the Komets’ base for the last time, someone, another Trader no doubt, picked up her ship’s track and began following it. Rada had allowed for that possibility and set her destination accordingly. Just as the Dark Hart began its arrival sequence, she redirected it, twisting her melody without warning or preparation, yanking them onto a new track and time thread. White and black chaos swirled and she felt something pulling her and the ship in different directions, twisting and disembodying her and the symbiotic creature at the core of the ‘Hart. The Wanderer hybrid concentrated on her song, the only link still binding her to the ship. After an endless, agonizing period of chaos, the Dark Hart reassembled itself or whatever it was that it did. All Rada knew was that she could feel her body again, and the material of the command seat, and could hear her gasping breath, and felt the creature’s own pain and vertigo in her mind. It confirmed her true desired destination, and the pair guided the ship through four and six dimensions, to reach a world Rada knew only as a set of coordinates.
They both needed rest. Rada lay back and panted, not trying to move until she knew for certain that she was still sane, more or less. She ached all over and her head spun as if she’d had one mug of keritang too many. She gathered her strength and sat up, waited until the ship’s interior stopped waving back and forth, and then stood. When nothing strange happened, she knelt and opened a small cabinet, removing a food shaker. She stood again and removed the transparent lid on the creature’s life support chamber. She sprinkled the food onto the surface of the thick, creamy-translucent fluid that the symbiote lived in. Something orange appeared just below the surface and Rada glanced away. She did not know exactly what it looked like and did not care to know. Instead she lowered her hand until her fingertips just broke the surface of the fluid. Something nipped her finger and she sent feelings of apology and concern to the creature.
Rada in turn felt the creature’s unhappiness with her. She had drained both of them and it would not tolerate that again. But it also sent her a piece of information that made her blink with surprise. “I’ve never heard of such,” she told it. Well, her instructors would never have mentioned even the possibility, since they maintained that no times and places existed that a Trader timeship could not reach, except the future and the inside of a gravitational and temporal singularity. And even a singularity could be accessed once. After a few more minutes of communion the Wanderer set Dark Hart’s controls to run a passive energy recharge. Rada took a deep breath, opened the door, and went to meet whatever waited for her.
Master Thomas’s assistant, a middle-aged bipedal canine, stood waiting on the other side of the small clearing where the Dark Hart had landed. “Miss Ni Drako? This way please.” Too numb to ask any questions, Rada followed as the canine led her through a small copse of white-trunked trees that shivered in the afternoon breeze. The woods thinned, revealing a vine-draped, chest-high wall and a white metal gate, which the canine opened. They passed a series of gardens, one of which contained a small house. The servant walked through the back gate of an anachronistic, large, stone and half-timber building, utterly in keeping with the landscaping Rada had seen thus far. “Would you like to freshen up before you meet with Master Thomas?” the bipedal canine inquired.
“Yes, please,” and Rada’s guide showed her a small but tasteful washroom. She cleaned up and smoothed her hair and worn clothes, feeling a bit more confident if still desperate. Six weeks of Quildar-time had failed to diminish her fear of the Elders Council’s sentence. When Rada emerged, the canine escorted her through wood-paneled halls decorated with a mixture of artifacts from various time periods and cultures. Spideroid lace hangings, landscape paintings in watercolors and oils, an elaborate abstract mosaic, weapons from Terpak’s Bronze Age, and full-dimension h
olograms hung side by side. And somehow it worked. Rada had no experience with interior design, but the arrangement didn’t clash or feel chaotic, and it pleased her eye.
The canine stopped in front of a pair of carved hillar wood doors, stained to bring out the material’s natural pale golden color. He tapped before opening one panel. “Sir? Your guest is here,” he announced, his tail wagging slightly.
A mellow tenor voice replied, “Very good. Please come in, Miss Ni Drako.” The servant held the door open for her and she walked forward into a warm, sunlit office. Master Thomas stood and came forward from behind his large desk, offering her his hand. She accepted, noting the controlled strength in his three-digit grip. What she could see of his glossy black haircoat looked shinier than her own fur, and his silver hair blended into a mane down the back of his neck. He stood at least a head taller than she, although he stooped a bit. Rada didn’t care to guess how many credits his tailor charged for the workmanship in his superbly cut tunic and trousers. The distinctly equine gentleman pointed towards a pair of chairs on the shaded side of the office. “Miss Ni Drako, have a seat. I’m certain you must be a bit tired from your recent, let’s say adventures.”
She took the smaller of the two chairs as he also sat. “Thank you sir. As you say, recent events have been draining.” Rada found herself relaxing for the first time in several years and it scared her a little. The gentleman studied her, black eyes intent. Then he sat back and Rada wondered what he had been looking for.
“Since you have accepted my invitation, I assume you feel you have no place else to turn to for assistance,” he stated.
Rada chose her words with great care but did not lie. “Yes, sir. My situation has become, ah, precarious.”
He appeared to be amused. “Precarious. If you feel capable, please tell me the story.”
Why she trusted him, Rada could never explain. She should not have spilled her guts to a total stranger, not on his territory, without even knowing his true name and connections. But something about him drew out her tale and after a hesitant start she recounted her story almost from the beginning. The sun had set by the time she finished with a description of her arrival at this place. He let her talk, only asking three or four questions. The canine assistant had brought them water and other drinks, and turned on dim lights as the daylight faded. When she finished, her host remained silent for several minutes.
“Tell me, Miss Ni Drako. Why did you come here, rather than taking the simplest way out of your situation?” She sensed more than idle curiosity behind his question and she mulled it for a bit.
“Because then they would win. I would have carried out their sentence for them. I’d even be saving them the cost of the bounty!” She chuckled without humor. But there was more and she continued, “I’m not quite ready to surrender, sir. A time may come when death is my best hope but not now.”
“But you are close.”
She nodded, once again reluctant to admit the depth of her fear. “Very close, sir.”
The gentleman stood and offered her a hand, saying, “But you are not there yet. And I am being an especially poor host, to ask you about business when you are tired and hungry! Would you care to join me for supper?”
“Thank you, sir. You are very generous,” and she rose to follow him, still confused and suspicious, but a little happier for having told someone her story. Master Thomas led his guest to a small dining room and Rada noted more simple furnishings. She brushed the surface of the table, noting the soft polish on the black bloodwood. This cost at least six months of my wages, she noted, automatically cataloging the furnishings and wall hanging. The arrival of food ended her mental calculations.
Master Thomas possessed a taste and a budget for the finer things in life, including the skills of an excellent chef. The male equine seemed to be vegetarian, although the dishes Rada sampled featured meat. Yes, well, it’s obvious that I need animal protein she thought as her tail twitched. Master Thomas was a good conversationalist and they kept to light topics. Despite his gracious manners, Rada felt out of her depth, but did her best to act as if she were used to table service, multiple forks, and options as to what she wished to eat.
Rada’s host noticed that his guest seemed to be wearing out and said something to one of the canines serving the meal, who nodded and vanished. After dessert, Master Thomas laid down his fork and after the dishes vanished, inquired, “Would you object if we discuss my proposal tomorrow, after you have had a chance to rest?”
So exhausted that she didn’t even try to politely protest, Rada asked, “Can someone show me back to where my ship is parked?”
Her host frowned. “Is there something you need, Miss Ni Drako?”
“No sir. I’m just not certain about finding my way when I’m tired and I don’t want to impose on your hospitality.” Which was true. She didn’t want to owe him more than she had to until she heard his proposal.
“Very well.” He didn’t seem too pleased, but didn’t object to her request. “It is nine at night. Shall we meet again at eight in the morning?”
“My time is yours,” and she made a small bow.
“In the morning then. Rest well, Miss Ni Drako.” He left and a third canine servant arrived and led her back to the Dark Hart.
The command chair in her ship was not the most comfortable place to sleep but it beat the floor and it belonged to her. Rada reclined and dozed off, hoping she wouldn’t dream too much. That was another reason to be away from anyone else—her nightmares tended to drag other people into them. She felt a hint of awareness from the psycho-symbiote before they both faded into sleep.
Rada walked back to the manor through a soft, misty rain the next morning. She took her time despite the chill and damp, enjoying the perfumes of the gardens. One enclosure held flowers, another herbs and perhaps medicinal plants? The sharp, astringent scent suggested as much, although she did not venture off the main path to investigate. Pastel and white blooms spilled around and even over the small cottage that she’d noticed the day before. As on the previous afternoon, the spotted canine assistant met her and led the way to his master’s office. This time the gentleman gestured with his hooved fingers and she took a seat across the old-fashioned wooden desk from him.
“I hope you slept well?”
“Yes sir, thank you.” She told her stomach and nerves to settle, running through the old calming ritual the Traders had ingrained into her: Be calm, be focused, be detached. Rada waited for him to make the first move in the game.
“Miss Ni Drako, I am what you would call an academic, a diplomat, and a collector, among other things. Once, I traveled extensively, but no longer. That is how I first heard about you, before we indirectly crossed paths while you were guarding Minister Pearsam. You seemed to have a great deal of potential and so I investigated a bit further into your background and learned about your ‘little difficulty’ with the tarqina.” He watched her, observing her reaction to his statement.
Rada didn’t like what she heard. She thought she’d been careful, keeping a low profile, hiding her past as best she could. Apparently it had not been good enough if he could gather the information he claimed to have, and assuming, of course, that he wasn’t bluffing.
The black-coated equine resumed his discussion. “I am impressed by what you could become, Miss Ni Drako, should you live long enough and receive some proper training in your skills; skills that far exceed what my research suggested. Does this interest you?”
Rada smiled. “Living as long as possible interests me greatly, sir!” Then she sobered, guarding her bargaining position more closely. “And yes, there are some abilities of mine that could benefit from refining and improvement. However, my willingness depends on the cost and what sort of commitments are involved.” Better to keep her eagerness hidden, she thought.
“What I propose is this: to become your teacher and mentor, to provide you with a refuge and the training you need.” He leaned forward in his chair, locking eyes with he
r. “In exchange I only ask two things from you: sexual continence and stories.”
“Forgive my skepticism,” the Wanderer began, “but what credentials do you have and how can you train me?” She didn’t doubt that the Traders would not be able to find her here, from what her ship had “told” her the day before.
A voice, lower than his speaking tone and much stronger, rang through her mind. «You are an empath, a potential Healer and can change form, from Wanderer to hybrid to feline. And your shields are both instinctive and weak, easily breached unless you concentrate on them.» She felt Master Thomas pushing into her head and gritted her teeth against sudden pain. «And you must break the Traders’ conditioning if you are to function for much longer.» The intrusion and pain stopped and Master Thomas continued aloud, “While I do not practice the arts of war, being a healer and scholar first and foremost, I have studied them. If you wish to continue that path, I can guide your studies and several of my assistants are versed in various forms of martial arts and will further your education on that level. As to credentials,” and he pointed to something on the wall.
Rada stood and went over to read the diplomas, certifications, and awards. She didn’t recognize all the scripts and institutions, but those she had heard of were, well, a little overwhelming. She spun around, facing her host and blushing faintly. “I apologize for my earlier skepticism, sir.” She bowed a little before returning to her seat. “You say that you only want continence and stories in exchange for all that you offer. I’m not certain I understand.” There had to be something else.
He turned slightly, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows and into the misty morning. “As I said, I no longer travel off this planet except under the most unusual of circumstances. But you do and will. I want you to tell me what you see, what you do, to recount your adventures, your failures, everything that passes while you are away, in as much detail as possible. And I want you to remain celibate until such time as I release you from your promise. To realize the full potential of your gifts you need to remain undistracted.” He turned back to his guest, a faint and knowing smile on his features. “And as you of all people know, accidents do happen despite an individual’s best intentions.”
