by Jaleta Clegg
And then I felt it, a tingling of silver in my mind. It was a pull ahead and to my right. I followed it without questioning. Some deep instinct was awake in me.
The path I was on seemed to glow, to float on the snow. I found my feet following the strange luminescence without my guidance. I stumbled less when I trusted myself, letting my feet go where they would. If I tried to fight the compulsion, the thin tingling, I stumbled and tripped and couldn't find the path.
It had to be the Hrissia'noru guiding me. I was uneasy trusting them. What difference did it make? None. They were the only hope I had left.
The wolves behind me gave voice to a single howling chorus. They were coming. The howling ended abruptly with a single yelping cry. I knew they were still after me, on my trail. I felt them in my mind, a darkness that threatened the silvery tingling light that pulled me up the mountain.
The others were with me, the ghosts from my mind. I had no breath or attention to spare for them. I ran, pouring everything I had into the race.
And through it all was the painful hope that maybe Lowell had been wrong. That maybe Tayvis was alive. And maybe I was fooling myself.
Two tall pillars of pinkish gray stone loomed out of the falling snow. I barely registered their existence before I was out in a meadow, running heavily. I couldn't go much farther.
The silver tugging in my mind grew stronger. I veered to one side, letting it guide my feet. Spots of light danced in front of my eyes, I couldn't see. Each breath tore in and out, aching and painful.
I tripped over a fallen tree and went down, sprawling in the snow. I could almost feel the wolves breathing on my feet. I scrambled up and ran on, ignoring the red stains I left in the snow from my hands and knees.
I staggered into a clearing. Trees ringed it, tall and dark and impassive. The silver tingling ended abruptly. I stumbled to a halt. There was nothing in the clearing, no help, no shelter, no sanctuary. I turned slowly, defeated.
The wolves waited, their eyes glittering in the gloom of the underbrush. Their growling crawled over me, a grating animal sound that made my teeth clench. I backed slowly into the clearing.
They came after me, bellies low to the ground as they slunk free of the bushes. They were mostly gray, long ruffs of fur ringing their necks. Black fur, longer and thicker, ran in a ridge down their spines, ending in a plume of a tail. They crept closer as I backed away. I wasn't afraid anymore. I wasn't much of anything, except cold.
The wolves had cream underbellies, spotted with darker cream. Their ears were large, triangular, and very expressive. I watched one of the larger ones flick its ear at another. The smaller one backed off, teeth bared in a silent snarl. Their eyes were pale green, larger than I expected, and much more intelligent.
One large wolf, a darker gray than the others, slid to the side, creeping closer to me. I changed direction, backing away at an angle. Others moved in, sliding along to the side. They were sinuous, silent on their padded paws. They twisted between each other, shifting and changing position constantly.
They hadn't charged me yet. I hadn't seen the snapping attacks they'd launched on Jhon. They just kept creeping closer, bellies low and ears twitching.
I reached the far side of the clearing before I realized they were herding me. They were working together, pushing me a certain direction. Why? I wasn't in any shape to put up a fight if they attacked me.
I stumbled back another step. My hand went out to the side as I tripped. I brushed something hard and metallic. I glanced away from the wolves. There was a ship buried in the trees. I stared at it, forgetting the wolves. I was too exhausted to deal with more than one thing at a time. The ship behind me looked as if it had been there a very long time. The trees crowded it, vines that were dead and brown draped over most of it. Drifts of soil slowly buried it.
The lead wolf growled, low and rumbling. The sound jerked me back to my predicament.
The wolves slunk closer, bellies still low. The fur on their necks was raised. I reached behind me with one hand. I had one chance to escape, maybe.
My fumbling hand found a control pad. I whirled around and laid my hand flat on the sensor that should open the door.
I heard the wolves closing on me. The ship's sensor warmed, glowing a faint green. I glanced over my shoulder. The wolves were only three feet away, their eyes glowing in the faint daylight. The leader flattened her ears, growling louder.
The door opened with a grating rumble. I stumbled through the hatch before it was more than a quarter open. I had only a moment to slap the controls to close it again as I fell into a quiet darkness.
I heard a wolf thump against the hull of the ship. I shuddered and hoped the ship would hold.
Fatigue washed over me, a sudden wave of exhaustion and hunger and pain. I shivered as the warmth inside the ship slowly thawed me out.
I had no more energy. I curled up where I was and let my eyes close. I was safe enough for the moment.
Chapter 22
It was an unauthorized landing. No one gave the ship permission to land, not the government of Tivor or the Patrol. It settled in the middle of the landing field as if it was on a routine delivery. It was a small freighter, no weapons, no apparent threat.
The winter snow changed back to rain. It drizzled down, almost more of a cold mist than rain drops. The ship merely sat. It was the only ship on Tivor. The Patrol ship had left two days previously. No merchant ships had landed, except this one. Kuran and his police watched it suspiciously from their control office near the port.
The boarding ramp was finally extended. The hatch cycled and opened. A short figure dressed in an eye burning orange and pink paisley suit strutted down the ramp followed by a taller person in a blue ship's uniform.
"What is that?" one of the policemen watching muttered.
Kuran silently asked the question himself. The man strutting towards them was like nothing he'd ever encountered before.
The short man in the screaming clothes stopped just short of the only access that wasn't located in a warehouse. He paused, peering through the closed and locked gate.
"I want to talk to someone in charge," he shouted.
Kuran was intrigued enough to investigate personally. The man was definitely odd.
"Weapons?" he asked one of his policemen, a scan tech sitting hunched behind an ancient control panel.
"The ship officer has a stunner," the man answered.
"The suit should count," another policeman muttered. There were muffled laughs. Kuran chose to ignore the breach of discipline.
"They aren't Patrol," the scan tech continued. "Their ship is listed as the Windrigger, a freighter with Lauroosh Trading."
"Do we have a contract with them?" Kuran asked. It wasn't something he normally tracked. Trade and shipping agreements weren't his responsibility, though he did keep records of most of it, unbeknownst to Citizen Hydos.
"They aren't listed on any of the agreements," his tech answered.
"Curious," Kuran said.
"I think he's getting impatient," the tech said.
The man in the loud suit reached for the gate. He stopped just short of electrocuting himself. "I want to talk to someone. Now!" He didn't look very happy. His thin hair was flattened by the drizzling rain.
"Let him in the first gate," Kuran said. He turned from the tech and his equipment and motioned to three of the officers in the room.
They stepped into the rain, just inside the second gate. The first gate buzzed and opened. The man strutted through it. The ship officer said something very soft. The short man nodded. The officer turned to walk back to his ship.
"What do you want?" Kuran asked when the short man came within a few feet of the second gate. The first gate buzzed and clicked and swung shut. The man was trapped. He glanced at the gates then ignored the fact both were closed and locked.
"Are you the guy in charge?" he demanded of Kuran.
"What do you want?" Kuran repeated.
"I want to talk t
o someone in charge," the man said slowly and belligerently. "The name is Leon Gravis. I'm a lawyer. Don't mess with me."
Kuran didn't know whether he should laugh or be offended.
The short man, Leon, puffed out his chest. "You going to let me in and take me to someone important? It's cold and wet out here and the longer you keep me waiting, the more unhappy I get."
"Are you threatening me?" Kuran asked.
"Do you need me to put it more bluntly?"
Kuran's curiosity was piqued, enough that he signaled his men to let the strange man through the second gate. "We can talk in here," he said, gesturing at the door to the offices.
Leon squinted suspiciously. "I want to talk to someone in charge," he repeated himself, accenting each word. "Not some underling police officer with delusions of grandeur."
"I assure you," Kuran said coldly, offended by Leon's rude description, "I have full authority."
The police flanking Kuran stepped forward. Leon sniffed and shrugged.
"Your problem," Leon said, "if you waste my time." He strutted past the guards as if he didn't care they were a lot bigger and had weapons. He pushed his way through the door Kuran had indicated. He stopped inside and looked around the bare room. "You could use help decorating. I know a few good people. Have this place snazzed up in no time."
Kuran stepped around the offensive little man and led the way into an interrogation room near the back of the building. Was he deliberately insulting them or was he just ignorant? Either way, he was getting on Kuran's nerves.
Leon sauntered into the interrogation room, hands shoved into his pockets. It made his suit even more unattractive. He took his time examining the small room. It was bare plascrete walls, industrial gray and gritty. There was a single bulb overhead for light. Leon wiped one finger across the surface of the battered table. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and made a show of wiping his finger off. The cloth was screaming yellow and covered with tiny green shapes.
Kuran shifted impatiently in his chair. They were hard and uncomfortable, on purpose. "You implied you had urgent business."
Leon looked at the other chair and chose to remain standing. He waved one hand, the one with the yellow cloth, at the other police in the room. "You really want them to listen?"
Kuran waved his men from the room. They would record and monitor anything that happened in here. He doubted Leon would have anything important to say. He really didn't care whose ears heard it.
Leon waited until the door shut firmly behind the last police officer. He spent a long minute arranging his cloth on the seat of the chair before he sat down. Leon leaned across the table, interlacing his fingers and putting a deliberately false look of sincerity on his face.
"Why are you here?" Kuran asked.
"Skipping the preliminaries," Leon said. "No offers of a drink, or a snack, no little chitchat? No?" He raised his eyebrows and leaned back. "But I guess you don't know me that well so we'll dispense with all that."
The irritating man was playing him like an instrument, Kuran realized. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was not going to manipulate Kuran that way. Kuran relaxed, letting Leon know he was no longer important. It was also a threat, Leon could disappear and Kuran would not worry about it.
Leon grinned, exposing an expanse of large white teeth. "You're almost good at this. Who are you?"
It wouldn't hurt to tell him, it might get him to drop his irritating act. "Citizen Kuran, Director of Security and Head of Police."
"And you were watching the gate yourself? Should I be impressed at your dedication to duty? Or are you just pretending to be someone important?"
Kuran kept from grinding his teeth with an effort of will honed by years of intrigue. "Why are you wasting my time?"
"You got other problems?" Leon cocked his head. A distant rattle of gunfire echoed from the streets. He grinned. "Yeah, I'd say you've got problems. I can help with at least one of those." He reached into his inner jacket pocket but paused before pulling anything out. His face was suddenly very serious. "You might want to turn off any listening devices you've got in here unless you want everyone listening in." He waited for a long second. Kuran didn't move. Leon shrugged. "Your problem."
He pulled papers from his pocket, folded lengthwise, and placed them on the battered table. He left them folded, their contents hidden. Kuran reached for the papers.
Leon shifted them back, out of reach. "Story first, then pictures. I was paid to come here and negotiate with you. Here are my terms. You give me what I want, ships keep coming. You refuse, and you can kiss trade goodbye."
Kuran couldn't help the barking laugh that escaped. This man had some nerve. Or he was delusional.
Leon leaned back in his chair and picked at his nails. He wore several heavy rings, gaudy with stones. "That will cost you. I don't like being laughed at."
Kuran stood. "Go back to your ship before I change my mind and have you arrested for trespassing on Tivor and wasting my time."
"You think I can't do it? You think I can't keep ships from landing here?"
Kuran studied the smaller man. There was an edge to him, a glint in his eyes, that made Kuran hesitate. His threat was preposterous, he couldn't possibly stop ships from landing. But he had an air about him that made Kuran think maybe Leon could.
"Who sent you here?" Kuran demanded. He stayed standing, looming over the smaller man.
Leon didn't seem to be intimidated or bothered in the least. He adjusted his rings before answering. "How about you guess?"
"I don't play games."
"Maybe you should. Then you wouldn't be quite so uptight."
"Who sent you?" A sharp demand this time.
Leon polished a ring on his coat. He held his hand out, studying the effect. "You really ought to get better lighting in here."
Kuran was out of patience. He turned to the door.
"Don't think you can make me disappear," Leon said. "I've got some very powerful friends who would be very upset if I didn't send the right message at the right time."
"Then talk," Kuran snarled. "You're wasting my time."
"You sure you wouldn't rather guess?" Leon asked, eyes innocently wide. "No?" He shrugged again and held up one finger. "It isn't the Emperor." He lifted another finger. "Or the Patrol. Or," he said as Kuran shifted impatiently, "the Federation."
Kuran froze. How could this little weasel of a man know?
"You'd be surprised what I know about your secrets," Leon said. "But since I don't work for any of them, it really doesn't matter. I won't tell. Not yet. Part of the package if I don't send my message, though. Your little plot of treason will be exposed. Or should I say both your treason plots?" Leon grinned, showing more teeth than most predators even owned.
Kuran wanted to shoot the man, have him disappear, but he was proving a lot more dangerous than his appearance suggested. "Then who?"
"How about the Guild of Independent Traders?" Leon suggested. "But Tivor is too small a backwater world to interest them."
"You are bluffing. You have no power to control shipping. Not here, not anywhere."
"But you are so wrong." Leon leaned back, relaxed and at ease. "I work for the Council."
"The Council of Worlds?" Kuran asked skeptically.
"That bunch of losers and whiners?" Leon shook his head. "I work for the Gypsy Council."
Kuran gave no indication that it meant anything to him.
"Who happen to own most of the shipping companies in this sector," Leon continued. "Want me to start naming them? They have enough influence to have all shipping stopped to your lovely planet. And don't think the Federation can help. Gypsies don't respect borders." Leon's face suddenly hardened. "So sit down and listen."
Kuran sat. Leon, if he really did represent the Gypsy Council, had the power to condemn Tivor to isolation, just as he threatened.
"What do you want?" Kuran asked, as smoothly as he could.
"Not much." Leon unfolded the papers in front of him.
The top one was a photo, a face only too familiar to Kuran. Leon pushed it across the table. "Know her?"
Kuran let the paper lie where Leon pushed it. He would betray nothing. She was probably already dead. He was confused though. What did a Patrol spy have to do with the Gypsy Council? There were layers and depths to this conversation that he was missing.
"I take it by your reaction that you have at least seen her," Leon said. "And judging by the sounds of fighting in your city, I can guess she's here."
As if to underscore his argument, a distant explosion rattled the one tiny window of the room.
"A political uprising," Kuran said. He pushed the paper at Leon. "I have no idea who this woman is. Only the citizens of Tivor are allowed out of the space port. She cannot possibly be here."
"And my grandmother was a harmless old lady," Leon shot back. "Cut the crap, Citizen Head of Police, whatever your name is. I can smell a lie light years away." He unfolded the rest of his papers and spread them on the table.
Kuran stiffened in disbelief. The obnoxious little man possessed a complete copy of the negotiation with the Federation as well as shipping contracts and other sensitive documents he would have sworn no one could access. But most damning was a single page report, filed on the arrest of one Disia Uvanos, otherwise known as Zeresthina Dasmuller or Dace. Her picture stared accusingly at him from the report.
"As you can see, I know she's here," Leon said. "And don't think these are my only copies. Anything happens to me, or Dace, and your little planet is going to be very sorry." He stood, splaying his hands over the documents. "This is what I want. You turn over Dace to me, unhurt and in one piece and still breathing, and I quietly disappear with her and no one ever hears about any of these papers and shipping goes on just like before. Until you turn her over to me, there won't be any ships landing here. Except maybe the Patrol. I don't have control over them. Yet. You've got two weeks. Any questions?"
"Why her? She works for the Patrol."
"So you have met her," Leon said, brushing the question aside. "Two weeks, or the Patrol will hear about your planned uprising. They won't be happy about it." He turned his back on Kuran to knock loudly on the door. "I'll be waiting in my ship to hear from you."
