thefiremargins

by Lisanne Norman

  The Prophet let his arms fall by his sides and turned toward the curtained-off portion of the tent that was his private sanctum. L'Seuli shook his head to dispel the feeling of dizziness that always came over him when Fyak began to speak. He was convinced the Prophet had to have some kind of Talent. It was the only way he could mesmerize a crowd like that and somehow get past his own training. But why target telepaths as being from the same den as the demons? And who the hell were the demons anyway?

  A hand closed on his shoulder and shook him roughly, making him jump. He looked round to see Rrurto.

  "Come on, lad. We've got work to do," he said. "Stop dreaming."

  L'Seuli flicked his tail in compliance and accompanied the older male to the edge of the tent. The crowd of villagers was dispersing now, returning to their homes to wait for the Faithful to call on them.

  "We're on the usual duty," said the old trooper. "Mingling in the village, ready to arrest anyone that causes any trouble."

  L'Seuli remembered their last stop with a shudder of horror. A suspected telepath had been identified but they hadn't reached him in time. The villagers had managed to inflict such severe wounds on him that he'd died shortly after.

  "Don't go remembering the one who died," said Rrurto as they ducked under the tent edge and walked toward the village walls. "That's why we're here. To stop that."

  "What the Prophet does to them is almost as bad," said L'Seuli. "They're like the walking dead when he's finished."

  "Aye, well, maybe, but they say life of any kind is better than death," said Rrurto. "I'm not so sure myself, but I wouldn't want the death he had. Dying fighting is one thing, but being torn apart by a mob is another."

  L'Seuli turned to look at him. "What's he got against telepaths?"

  "You know as much as I do, lad. You heard him. The telepaths worked with the demons to destroy us."

  "Do you believe all that?" he asked, frowning.

  "He's the one the God takes back to those days. What he says he sees is what he sees. Now enough talk. We got work to do," Rrurto said as they passed between the gates into the village square.

  L'Seuli kept his eyes open as they walked through the narrow lanes between the houses. He hadn't seen any sign of the female he was looking for yet, but then if she was as ill as he'd been told, she'd likely be inside her home.

  All was quiet for now as the Faithful had dispersed into the houses to speak to the family groups. It was easy to tell they'd been here before. Peer group pressure had worked on the dissenters in the interim, and everyone who remained was prepared to listen to their lay-priest as he or she dispensed punishment or praise for their actions over the past four weeks.

  Here and there blank windows faced the morning sun— homes that were now empty because their owners had been driven from the village for raising their voices against the Word of Kezule.

  "It's not right," said L'Seuli abruptly. "These houses," he indicated the empty ones, "they should have families in them. They shouldn't have been forced out."

  "Keep your opinions to yourself, lad, I told you that already," growled Rrurto. "It's not about families any more, it's about couples. Some of those empty houses will be used for couples, and others will be single-sex houses where the cubs will live till they're old enough to pair, then the Faithful will choose mates for them."

  L'Seuli stopped dead. "What?"

  Rrurto grabbed him by the arm and pulled him on. "You heard me. It won't be families any more, only couples, with one of the Faithful assigned to them."

  "When was this decided?" he asked, still too stunned to take it in properly.

  "The last time the Prophet talked with the God. You missed it. You were in Laasoi getting provisions. That's what the Faithful are out there doing now," he said. "We're to stop here for a couple of days till the village has been set up right, then four of the Faithful will stay behind. When we move on, we're taking the Tribal Elders with us. The Prophet says their presence is a reminder of the old ways."

  L'Seuli's mind was beginning to work now. This latest edict of the Prophet's fit in with his doctrine of one male bounded to one female for life. By destroying the structure of the family, and through that the Tribe, Fyak would control the whole of the desert community.

  "It's not so bad," said Rrurto, misunderstanding his si-lence. "At least it's not our lot to go on the punitive mission to Sonashi village. I've done my time fighting. I don't like the idea of waging a war on poorly armed villagers. I've seen too much death and bloodshed."

  L'Seuli said nothing. His time among the Ghuulgul desert people was turning into a nightmare.

  Raised voices nearby drew Rrurto's attention. "Over there," he said, pointing to the street corner on his left as he began to run toward it.

  L'Seuli followed, rounding the corner and almost send-ing Rrurto flying into the house as he skidded to a stop behind him.

  "What the hell's going on?" the older male demanded of the villager standing in the open doorway.

  "She refuses to get up," he said, ears flicking in distress. "Because she lives alone, the Faithful at our house said I should take her to the gathering hall where all the other infirm are being assembled."

  L'Seuli's ears pricked forward. If they were collecting the infirm, then there was a chance he'd be able to see the female he sought.

  "One old female's causing all this commotion?" said Rrurto in disbelief.

  "I'm not old, you ignorant plainslander!" came the quiet but venomous reply. "This has been my home for thirty years, and no dirt-grubbing snit like you is going to tell me to leave it!"

  "You see?" said the villager.

  Rrurto gave a low growl of annoyance. "Just go in, pick her up, and carry her out."

  The villager looked at him in horror. "It's not that easy," he said. "You don't know what she's like!"

  "Get in there and do it," snapped Rrurto, giving him a push.

  The male disappeared from sight as he stumbled inside, only to reemerge with a howl of pain amidst a shower of pots and pans and other kitchen implements. Rrurto and L'Seuli dodged aside.

  "You see?" the villager said, leaning against the wall for support as he removed his head covering and began to massage the back of his head. "If you want her out, you can damned well fetch her yourself!" With that he stalked off up the street.

  Rrurto stood there with an expression of disgust on his face. L'Seuli was hard pressed not to grin, and when a smirk did escape him, the older male rounded on him angrily.

  "Wipe that grin off your face and get busy picking this rubbish up," he snarled. "I'll get one of the Faithful to see to this." He stalked off back the way they'd come.

  L'Seuli thumbed on his rifle's safety switch and, slinging it over his shoulder, began to pick up the pans.

  Finished, he stood at the doorway, unsure what to do next. "Excuse me," he said. "What shall I do with your pans?"

  "Bring them in here, of course! What do you think I use for cooking? There aren't food dispensers out here in the desert, you know," she said in a voice that this time held a trace of vulnerability.

  "You won't throw anything at me, will you?" he asked cautiously.

  "Are you going to try and take me out of my home?" she asked in reply.

  "No. I'm just going to put these inside the door."

  "Then unless you try something you'll regret, I won't throw anything at you. I'm not short of ammunition, you know." She broke off to cough.

  L'Seuli cautiously poked his nose round the doorway. The room smelled musty though it looked clean enough. To his right, leaning against an ancient stone cooking range, stood the female he was looking for.

  The autumn sunlight, still powerful here in the eastern desert, illuminated her strong features unkindly. The wasting disease had obviously got her firmly in its clutches. The high cheekbones were almost as sharp as blades, the hollows below them and around her eyes, pockets of dark shadow. The arm that held onto the range was stick thin, the bones almost showing through the thin
layer of gray fur.

  Cautiously, he stepped inside, his arms full of her hardware.

  "Bring it over here," she said, gesturing to the stove. "I won't bite you. I haven't got the strength anyway," she said, mouth opening in a faint grin.

  He crossed over to her and waited as she took the various metal objects from him and replaced them on the stove top.

  "At least you've got your ammunition back," he said.

  She turned to look at him, eye ridges lowering in concentration.

  "A strange thing for one of you Modernists to say." Her voice was quiet, barely audible. "Best not let anyone else hear you."

  "Why do they want to move you?"

  "Pass me a chair, lad. I might as well sit beside my ammunition. If I have to stand any longer, I'll fall down."

  L'Seuli turned and fetched a wooden chair from beside the table. He placed it behind her, lending her his arm to lean on as she lowered herself onto the seat.

  "Thank you. They want all us old and infirm together because they know that away from our families and the young ones, many of us will just give up the fight to live. We'll have no purpose in life anymore." She shrugged, leaning against the back of her chair and closing her eyes. "They want to be rid of us. With no Elders in the village, the rest are dependent on the Faithful for advice, aren't they?"

  "Can't they see what's happening?" demanded L'Seuli. "Are they that stupid?"

  "Yes, lad, they're that stupid," she nodded. "Four years of drought have given them a hopelessness. They don't want government handouts, what they need is hope. This Prophet gives them that. He says the drought is Kezule testing His people, hardening them for the time of fire that will come soon." She sighed. "At least he's stopped the interminable bickering and petty fighting that's always gone on among the Tribes," she said.

  L'Seuli heard voices from outside. "I'd better go," he said, backing away from her toward the doorway.

  "Go, and don't let them catch your thoughts, lad," she said, her voice only a thin whisper now.

  Rrurto was approaching with one of the more senior Faithful. They came level with him, then stopped. "She still as belligerent?" he asked.

  L'Seuli shrugged.

  "I'll see if she'll talk to you," Rrurto said before sidling into the building. "One of the Faithful wants to talk to you," he called out.

  "I'll talk, but that's all," she said. "He can stand inside the door."

  Rrurto turned back to the street. "Go on," he said to the sandy-robed acolyte.

  They waited a minute, hearing only a quiet murmur of voices from inside. The acolyte emerged again. "We'll leave her here," he said. "One dying female living on her own doesn't interfere with the Prophet's interpretation of Kezule's Will. She's more trouble than she's worth."

  Rrurto nodded, and the acolyte left. "Come on," he said. "Back to the main streets."

  As they walked back round to the square, L'Seuli was still thinking of the female and what she'd said. It was becoming more and more obvious that these people were utter fanatics, following some sunstroke madness of Fyak's. Not mad-ness,

  he corrected himself, he's too methodical, too devious for mad.

  * * *

  Kaid rose at dawn the following day and went in search of T'Chebbi, who was on duty outside Carrie's and Kusac's suite.

  "I'm going to the Valsgarth estate, T'Chebbi," he said quietly. "I need to speak to Ghyan. You know what to do when they leave?"

  She nodded.

  "Meral will relieve you at midday. You two and Lhea will cover them over the next two days."

  She raised a curious eye ridge. "Aren't you taking a shift?"

  "No, not this time."

  "He's asked you," she said with satisfaction. "Knew they'd choose you."

  Kaid gave her a long look. "I'm spending this time in retreat myself at the new Shrine. Dzaka's coming with me."

  T'Chebbi looked away, ears flicking back and remaining there in apology. "Your pardon, Brother Kaid," she said quietly. "There's a rightness in you going."

  He reached out and briefly gripped her shoulder with his hand. "It's all right, T'Chebbi," he said. "It's just that it comes as a mixed blessing for me. You know where I am if you need me."

  Dzaka was waiting for him in the aircar. As soon as Kaid was seated, he took off.

  "Why are you going on retreat?" he asked, banking the aircar out toward the Valsgarth estate.

  "I thought we could both do with some time for meditation. I'll tell you now, since you'll hear soon enough. I've been chosen as the third for their Triad."

  Dzaka glanced briefly across at him. "Was that ever in doubt?" he asked.

  "I take nothing for granted," said Kaid. "Ghyan and Rulla are expecting us. If I know Rulla, he'll be planning a large first meal for all of us. I need to speak to Ghyan first, so we'll join you when we're through."

  "As you wish," said Dzaka.

  As predicted, Rulla was waiting for them at the doorway of the newly appointed Shrine of Vartra. Kaid and Dzaka picked their way through the still unfinished front yard, trying not to stand in the muddy ruts.

  "We're getting the cubs onto that today," Rulla said, grinning at their discomfort. "At least we're finished inside. We've even taken delivery of the statue of Vartra. That arrived yesterday, courtesy of Father Lijou."

  Kaid looked at him in surprise. "A generous gift indeed."

  "Lijou is Head of the Order," Rulla reminded him, "but I agree. Ghyan's in his office. He asked me to point you in the right direction when you arrived." He led them into the main corridor. "Straight ahead, last door on the right."

  Ghyan looked up from his desk as Kaid entered. "Good morning," he said, closing his book and getting up to come round and join him. "Can I offer you some c'shar?" he asked, gesturing to the jug and mugs that sat on a storage unit to one side of the old-fashioned hearth.

  "Please," said Kaid.

  "Take a seat," the priest said as he went over to the unit. "I take it you've requested this retreat to study the En'Shalla rituals," he said, adding whitener and sweetener to the mugs.

  Kaid moved toward the fireplace, sitting down in one of the two informal chairs placed there. "I've already been studying them, Ghyan," he said, accepting the mug he was handed.

  "Kusac's asked you then," Ghyan said, sitting down opposite him. "Since you're here, I take it you didn't refuse."

  "I tried, Ghyan," said Kaid, taking a sip of his drink. "Vartra knows, I tried. Kusac would have none of it, though. Said it was what she wanted too. I need to get close to the God, to find out what He wants of me."

  He could see the coldness in Ghyan's eyes when he looked at him. Inwardly, he sighed. Personally, Ghyan's preju-dice didn't matter, but it would make him more difficult to work with.

  "You're welcome, of course," said Ghyan. "Father Lijou is due later this morning to dedicate the Shrine. We're not on the same level as the Temple at Valsgarth town was, never will be, in fact. I'll have a small staff of acolytes, plus any of the youngsters from either estate who choose to serve some time here. In fact, the cubs that are helping outside are all from the main estate. There's still quite a lot of building work going on to extend the premises, so this isn't the quietist of times for you to be here."

  "It has to be now. The Liege and the Liegena are on an En'Shalla retreat for the next two days," said Kaid, looking away from him as he put his mug down on the table that sat between them. "Kusac asked me as a lay-priest to witness his intention to make sure that the cub they'll conceive in the next two days will be En'Shalla— in the hands of the Gods."

  "He has, has he?" The question was rhetorical, but Kaid could hear the amusement in his voice.

  He looked up sharply, frowning as he saw the humorous look Ghyan was giving him. "What?"

  "You're not the only devious one, Kaid," said the priest, mouth opening in a slight smile.

  "What are you talking about?" asked Kaid.

  "You know what he's doing, don't you?" Then he stopped, ears flicking bri
efly backward as he obviously realized Kaid had no idea what he was talking about. "You don't know, do you?" he said. "Vanna's DNA tests show that there's a chance that some of us may be genetically compatible with the mixed Leska pairs."