by PJ McDermott
Jess completed Hickory’s thought. “He could be mixed up in what happened to Gareth. That bastard!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You run a trace on Nolanski’s finances; I’ll go to this place tonight and see what I can find out.”
“Be careful. It might be a trap. You could be being set up.”
“I will. Let me know if you learn anything new.” She disengaged and checked the time. One hour to go. She decided to walk to the location shown on the map and take a look around.
Hickory gathered her cloak about her and slipped quietly into the deeper shadows as she headed to the rendezvous point. Few people were out and about—a quartet of city peacekeepers patrolling the dark streets, and an occasional night reveler weaving their way between watering holes.
At this time of night, the city took on an eerie quality. The gas lanterns outside the public buildings provided little illumination. Ekezanis turned in early and got up with the sun, she realized. Makes it easy for groups like the Pax to do whatever they have to do.
She kept to the shadows opposite the Peace Compound. A little further on, she crossed the road and then turned into an alley, pausing to glance at her map of the city. This is the place, she decided. Strange it’s so close to police headquarters. They must be confident they won’t be discovered. She padded softly along the alleyway, noting the sign above the doorway of the meeting place as she passed. Looks like an empty shop front. A few blocks further on, she stopped inside a portal from where she had a clear view.
She didn’t have long to wait. The first stranger stopped outside the Abacus building and looked around furtively before knocking. The door opened a crack, and a face peered out. The newcomer exchanged words with the doorman and then drew open his shirt, revealing a Pharlaxian symbol on his chest. The guard nodded, and the stranger disappeared inside.
The Pax arrived in ones and twos, and all went through the same procedure. Some had the symbol tattooed on their chest, others an ankle or a thigh. Brandt was right. They all have a password, and it has something to do with a tattooed part of the body. It had to be something simple because the guard didn’t need to refer to a checklist.
A naur walked up and removed a sandal. The symbol was on the sole of his foot. Hickory strained to hear. Ootfit, she heard, and he was passed through. A few minutes later another Pharlaxian approached the door. He rolled up his sleeve. Hickory thought the word he spoke sounded like oramfit. She realized she’d heard wrong when the next naur also rolled up his sleeve and said clearly orearmfit.
Suddenly she had it. It was a variation of Pig Latin code. You took the first letter of the body part and put it at the end and then added two agreed letters to form the code word. She waited for another arrival to make sure, then walked up to the doorway and revealed the symbol on her left breast. “Reastbit,” she said.
The guard smirked. “Nice mark,” he said.
Hickory grinned back, her azure flashes on display. “And where do you keep yours?”
He nodded to the entrance. “Perhaps I will show you later tonight.”
Hickory brushed against him as she passed. “It must be very tiny.”
The guard laughed as he pointed down the corridor towards an interior room. “You will be surprised at how big it is.”
The room was lit by candles placed in nooks along the walls, and there were no windows, only darkened ventilation shafts that disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling. The gathering of naurs and nauris sat cross-legged in a semi-circle facing a figure in black talking quietly to two others. Good. Doesn’t look like they’ve started yet. She settled in the back row and tried to raise Jess on her SIM, but realized the thickness of the walls and the location of the room within the building would prevent any signal from getting through.
The speaker turned to face the audience, and his two associates took up a position to one side of him. “Avanauri of the sacred order of Pharlaxia.” He opened his arms wide and paused. “It is fitting you are here tonight. I am Ecknit. I welcome you and urge you to keep our covenant. Do not converse with one another at this time, save as necessary to carry out the commands of our God. Soon, we will stand unshackled and united as brothers, but until then we must remain strangers, even to each other.
“The time is near when we will return Prosperine to the rule of our forefathers. Balor is a jealous God, and for too long he has watched his people harnessed to the yoke of the false law of Ezekan. The book of Balor tells us what those who believe must do.”
He raised a heavy-looking tome above his head and shook it. “‘Beware strangers claiming to be my children. They are less than the beasts in the fields, even though they walk on two legs.’ So says the Book of Balor.” He passed the book to an associate and raised his voice. “Many monsters walk with two legs in the streets of Ezekan as we speak, brethren. Beasts that have arisen from hell, and come to our world in the guise of Prosperine beings!”
Hickory could sense the crowd warming to the speaker. Some were holding their hands in the air, others were calling out “Balor.” She wondered how long she would last if they realized there was a monster on two legs in the room with them. She glanced around and saw the guard eyeing her, a wry smile twisting his lips. I hope I’m not going to have trouble with that one, she thought, before realizing there was another in the room not watching the speaker. The figure stood behind the guard, a hood obscuring his face. She felt it was male, but she couldn’t be sure. He was surveying the room as she had been. His head turned towards her and he started as their eyes met. His hand came halfway out of his pocket and then he pushed it back quickly. Hickory reached out empathically and felt a mental barrier go up as the figure turned and hurried out the doorway.
Her pulse quickened. The hooded figure’s glove had shielded the hand from her view, but she had glimpsed the wrist covered in scales. Cautiously, she moved towards the door. The speaker had paused. His eyes were on the departing alien then flicked around the room. Hickory lowered her head and felt his gaze pass over her without stopping. There has to be a connection between these two. She decided to wait.
The speaker gathered his robe about him and pointed his finger at the group. “As evil as the fiends on two legs, are those amongst us who harbor them. Those who speak blasphemy; those who lie.” His finger stabbed out again and again. “And the most evil of all is he who seeks to put aside the words of Balor and replace them with foulness. He who seeks to abandon our way of life, and would see Prosperine damned by consorting with shades and wickedness. This evil one would break our holy covenant with the God of our fathers. What should we do with such a one?”
His voice rose to a shrill note, and the audience, as one, climbed to their feet, raised their arms above their heads and shouted out in rage, “Kill him! Burn the heretic! Death to Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth!”
“Aiaiyee!” cried the speaker, “Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth is he, of whom it has been written, “One will come amongst you and his words will be as venom blended with honey.” His coming was foretold by our fathers long ago. But he will choke on his own vomit. Now is the hour! Who will join with me in this righteous war against the evil one?”
He smiled with satisfaction as he saw all in the room thrust their fists in the air, clamoring to claim the honor. “Brethren, you will be warriors of Balor and will live in the palace of our God for eternity. Blessed are you, for your every desire will be provided for.” He singled out three devotees. “You will remain behind after the others depart. We have much to do.”
Ecknit exhorted his followers to leave in silence and seek out and destroy the followers of the evil one wherever they were found.
The meeting broke up and Hickory shuffled out in the midst of the crowd to avoid the attention of the partisan who had admitted her.
She knew the rules. Local politics was none of her concern, although she hated to see religious bigotry, especially when it exhorted hatred and violence. But her mission was to scrutinize the Teacher, Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth, and that wo
uld be problematic if he were dead before she had a chance to talk with him. And, as the Pharlaxian leader, this Ecknit would surely know something about Gareth’s death.
The night was dark, and a mist had fallen. The last of the brethren disappeared into the gloom. Hickory waited until she was sure they had gone then re-traced her steps until she stood outside the meeting room once more. She scrambled over the wall surrounding the house, climbed onto the roof and waited.
She considered the hooded alien. Scales—at least on his hands. NAP obviously, but what—Ortagan, Gerbik, Bikashi, Tzernubenoll? A lot of NAP had scales to some degree or another. In fact, some of the IA members had scales too. I hope I get another chance to find out who this one is.
A short time later, the three devotees emerged with Ecknit. He embraced each, and they went their separate ways.
Hickory prowled along the rooftops and followed the black-robed leader at a distance. Ecknit glanced around several times, but Hickory had little trouble avoiding his scrutiny. Where the lane met the main road, she sprang down to street level and trailed him at a distance. He was heading in the direction of the central district, and Hickory thought his destination might be either the government buildings or the detention center, but the Pharlaxian abruptly changed course, swerving left when he reached the Silver Park entrance. Hickory quickened her pace when he climbed the stairs and disappeared into the Temple of the four faces of Balor.
Conspiracy
Hickory closed the temple door quietly behind her. Her first impression was one of austerity. There was no gold paint, or glitter, or colorful murals here to distract the eye of the worshiper, only shades of gray. The temple was clean, precise, and built on a grand scale into the side of the mountain to emphasize the spiritual nature and permanency of the creator. A domed roof stretched high overhead. On the far wall, a tableau carved out of the mountainside depicted the four faces of Balor seemingly caught in the moment of emerging from the rock.
A series of broad steps led down to a giant iron fire pit set on a dais a few yards in front of the sculpture. Flickering flames sent shadows dancing across the carved images, enhancing the supernatural aura. A few supplicants lingered, supine on mats, praying to their God.
Halfway along the left wall, a grotto dedicated to Connat-sèra-Haagar had been hollowed out of the rock. The heroine held a double-edged sword aloft while the dead and dying enemy lay before her.
Ecknit was on his haunches in front of the grotto, his arms stretched out and his head lowered as though inviting Connat-sèra-Haagar to bring the double-edged sword down on his neck. Hickory wondered whether the Pharlaxian dreamed of having his hands on the hilt of the weapon in another life. She crouched out of sight with her back against the wall and established a SIM-link with Jess. The connection was scrabbly, but she managed to update her on progress. She asked whether Jess had found out anything on Nolanski.
“Not much, but then if he’s really on the take it’s not going to be obvious, is it? I’m… a search of Earth banks. If he’s saving for his retirement, that’s where… And Hickory, please be… If… aligned is involved, it could mean serious trouble.”
Hickory signed off. One of the worshipers had risen to his feet and was moving towards Ecknit. He stooped as he shuffled forwards, which kept his face in the shadow of his hood, but Hickory was certain this was the alien from the meeting. She wasn’t sure what she should do. She wanted to hear their conversation, but could she get close enough without being seen? Would they recognize her from the meeting? She could confront them, but to what end? While she was considering her options, the door opened and a tall figure entered. Nolanski! She could scarcely contain her excitement. “Jess?” she transmitted again. “I don’t think you need to chase up any more bank accounts. Nolanski’s here.”
“You’re… ing! He left here half an hour ago, saying… a meeting with the Peacekeeper Chief,” said Jess.
“Well, unless Josipe-sѐr-Amagon arrives soon—which wouldn’t surprise me—I think he must have his venues mixed up. Jess, see if you can round up the Chief—tell him I believe that we've found Gareth’s murderer.”
Hickory followed some distance behind Nolanski, flattening herself against the wall and edging towards the grotto. She strained to hear the words over her thumping heart. Ecknit was speaking.
“There was no outsider, save you, present at tonight’s gathering, Vogel. You imagined it. You are beginning to see ghosts at every corner.”
The shrouded figure expelled a long hiss. “I see no ghosts. It was a mistake to take the boy. Now his friends will look for him and may interrupt our preparations.”
“You’re damn right it was a mistake!” thundered Nolanski when he reached the other two. “What the hell were you thinking, Ecknit, kidnapping an Earthman in the first place? And tell me how you thought that killing him was a good idea?” He grabbed the Prosperine by the throat and forced him up against the mural.
Vogel, with seemingly little effort, pulled his arm away. “Let him speak.”
The Pharlaxian adjusted his jacket, fury written plain on his face. “I do not answer to you, Biletung! If you lay hands on me again, I will see to it that you are flogged.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and waved it under his nose. His features became impassive again. “It was an accident. Vogel thought he was a spy sent by the Agency and a threat to our joint operations. I ordered the Inquisitor to make him talk—find out what he knew. But the boy proved stubborn. He insisted he was not from the IA but sent by some religious corporation to study Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth. He died slowly but told us nothing. I ordered his body taken to the hill as an example to others.”
Hickory felt her anger rise but kept her breathing under control. An accident? Gareth was tortured to death because of a misunderstanding?
“Jesus,” said Nolanski. “And what was your part in this, Vogel? Don’t tell me the Bikashi were innocent bystanders.”
Vogel glared at the Earthman from beneath hooded lids for a few seconds before he replied. “I neutralized his comms chip—that’s all. I left the interrogation to Sequana. But this is all pointless. The important thing is that our arrangement is in jeopardy.”
Hickory felt confused for a second until she realized Sequana and Ecknit were one and the same. Her heart beat furiously. She now knew who was responsible for Gareth’s death. All three were working together on something important, but what? Could it be as straightforward as crynidium theft, or was there something else?
Her concentration was broken by some nearby worshipers who were muttering and gesticulating at her. What the… She realized her furtive posture was causing some angst amongst them and decided it was time to get out of there. She wasn’t quick enough.
Vogel had heard the disquiet and stepped out from around the corner to see what the fuss was about. He started at her in surprise. “You!”
Hickory turned to run, but the Bikashi grabbed her arm and pinned her against the wall.
Nolanski sighed. “Hickory. You just couldn’t let it rest, could you?”
She straightened, assessing the trio. Nolanski and Sequana alias Ecknit, she thought she could handle, but the Bikashi looked dangerous.
Vogel reached towards his belt, but Sequana held him back. “You cannot. This is a sacred place. The spilling of blood is proscribed on penalty of death.”
Vogel growled and shook free of Sequana’s grasp, but he slid his dagger back into its sheath.
Hickory pleaded with the Earthman. “Nolanski. Give yourself up. You’re not like this lot. I promise you’ll get a fair hearing. You won’t be implicated in Gareth’s death.”
“I’m sorry, my dear. I’ve worked too hard and taken a lot of risks to build my little nest egg. I’m not inclined to give that up, and even if I wanted to … well, that’s a story for another time. But the question is, what do we do with you and your partner now? Where is Jess, by the way? I presume she now knows your situation and is taking the appropriate action?” He turned to his accomplices.
“The peacekeepers will be arriving momentarily. Any suggestions?”
Vogel shook his head in disgust. “The problem is yours, Nolanski. The IA will be all over this planet within hours. I will not sacrifice myself for no reason.”
Sequana’s eyes flared, and he no longer looked an effeminate fop. “You will not abandon us, Vogel. You have committed to this course because we need each other. The future of the Bikashi race and Avanaux depends on the success of our mission.” He coughed violently and raised the handkerchief to his nose again and sniffed. “Besides, you promised me more of this magical elixir.”
Hickory sensed the Pharlaxian’s discomfort. He was an asthma sufferer. The handkerchief had been doused with medication that the Bikashi had provided.
Vogel dismissed Sequana with a snort and started towards the exit. At that moment, the temple doors burst open, and Chief Josipe and his naurs rushed in and fanned out.
Vogel hissed in anger and charged. He almost made it to the door but was dragged to the ground by half a dozen peacekeepers. They ripped off his hood, and his thin lips peeled back revealing snarling pointed teeth and a quivering proboscis. The guards fell back in alarm. “Demon!” screamed one, and turned to flee.
The Chief smacked him hard across the head and snarled louder at his men to bind the fiend. “If you let this monster escape I will flay the skin from your body and feed your carcass to the Violators. Bind his hands and legs. Quickly now, or by Balor…”
A dozen peacekeepers immobilized Vogel and tied a rag around his mouth. The alien struggled, but the knots were taut and resisted his efforts.
Sequana had slunk off, but Hickory had hold of Nolanski, and she could tell by his sardonic smirk and slumped shoulders that he was resigned to his fate. He had rolled the dice and lost. There was no point in him either fighting or fleeing—he was too old to fight and too well known to get away. She saw Josipe-sѐr-Amagon approach, looking grim.
