Dark Nadir

by Lisanne Norman

  “I just heard. I’m sorry, Dzaka,” she said quietly.

  He said nothing, just leaned forward on the table, resting his head on his forearms.

  * * *

  “Dammit, he has as good a lineage as any in the Seventeen Clans!” said Garras angrily when he heard the news. “Both parents were telepaths, and we know his grandfather Rezac was!”

  “But Dzaka isn’t,” said Vanna.

  “The female Kusac was betrothed to wasn’t.”

  “Dzaka can’t claim both parents were telepaths unless he publically reveals the fact that Kaid is one.”

  “Most folk have worked that one out for themselves,” Garras snorted. “And he’s En’Shalla! He has every legitimate right to ask for her as his mate.”

  “No, he hasn’t. Dzaka’s one of our gene-altered Brothers. He and Kitra aren’t fertile with each other. Believe me, Garras, I went through each of those ideas with Dzaka. He had no choice but to accept Konis’ decision.”

  Garras sighed noisily and picked up his mug of c’shar. “So what’s he going to do now?”

  “He’s gone back to the villa to continue watching Kashini.”

  He shook his head. “Damned shame. They were good for each other. About time the Clans changed the arranged life-bondings to a system like ours that gives the young ones a choice.”

  “That can only happen if Konis stays Clan Lord—which brings us full circle.”

  Garras took a swig from his mug. “Ah, well. At least once the bonding ceremony is over, they can be together again.”

  “Not even then, Garras. Konis forbade it for a year or two, and Kitra was so enraged that Dzaka refused to stand up to her father, that I doubt she’ll have anything to do with him now.”

  “Well, he’s one of our Clan. I have the right to speak for Dzaka in this matter since Kusac and Carrie are away, and I intend to do so!”

  * * *

  Jo couldn’t afford to be afraid. The scent of her fear had always excited M’ezozakk, made him difficult to control. Those times she hadn’t been able to suppress it, she’d suffered her worst injuries from him. Then, at least, she’d had access to Human medics afterward. This time, she was alone. Worse, in trying to help her, Rezac had been taken. Never get yourself noticed by a Valtegan officer. The warning echoed through her mind. And she and Rezac, therefore their whole Triad, had been noticed.

  Another bout of shivering wracked her and she pulled the cover off the bed to wrap around her shoulders. She was losing the battle against fear, she realized. The slightest sound from outside filled her with an icy dread. Her head hurt with a dull throbbing that dominated her senses: her limbs and joints ached with the fever that she knew was building. One moment she was drenched in sweat, the next, icy cold. And her arm felt hot and swollen, difficult to move. She didn’t dare look at it.

  The arrival of the medic with an armed escort a short while ago had sent her retreating to this far corner of the bed. Something was seriously wrong, she realized.

  “What did he do to me?” she’d asked unsteadily as the medic examined her. “Why did he bite me?”

  “He was setting you apart, preventing the other males from approaching you.”

  She winced as he carefully touched a soft, sterile probe to the puncture wounds. “You’re here.”

  He said nothing, merely took his sample and left.

  * * *

  M’ezozakk followed the medic into the room he’d assigned to Jo. “You’d better be right,” he said, tongue flicking out angrily. “If you’ve disturbed me from my sleep for nothing . . .” He didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

  Jo sat cowering on the farthest corner of the bed, clothing darkened by sweat, her face slick with it. Against her chest she cradled her injured arm.

  M’ezozakk sensed instantly what the medic had meant but he still had to see it for himself. He stalked into the room, his booted feet making no sound on the carpeted floor. Ignoring her cry of fear, he grasped hold of her and hauled her into the center of the bed. Her forearm was red and swollen, the puncture wounds oozing a dark, greenish-yellow substance.

  “I haven’t treated it yet,” said the medic.

  M’ezozakk bared his teeth, his loud hiss one of pure rage. “You deceived me!” He flung her back, causing her to hit the wall violently. “You deceived me!” He rounded on the medic and soldiers. “Get this piece of trash out of here,” he snarled, his voice suddenly deceptively quiet.

  “Where do I put her?” asked the medic. “When the fever passes, she’ll turn on every male that approaches her.”

  “Put her in with the Sholans,” he said, pushing them aside angrily as he turned to leave. Then he stopped. “No. Take her down to J’koshuk. Have her restrained till he’s finished, then loose her on her mate. Let her finish him off!” He laughed. “A fitting end for both of them!”

  * * *

  “Kaid! Kaid!” Someone was shaking him.

  He struggled up into a sitting position, recognizing T’Chebbi’s scent in the darkness. “What is it?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He shivered, chilled to the bone by the coldness of the deck beneath him.

  “Be afraid, Kaid,” she whispered, clutching his hand and moving closer. “Be very afraid. It’s come.”

  “What? Where?” He could feel her trembling against him and wrapped his free arm around her.

  “Danger. Here—all around us. I’ve never felt it so strongly before,” she whimpered.

  In the distance, a klaxon began to sound, then a blinding glow filled the room, lighting it up for a brief moment. Darkness returned, and with it, oblivion.

  * * *

  A low-pitched klaxon began to echo through the ship: one sharp burst, one long. Startled, J’koshuk let Rezac’s limp head fall against the restraint collar. He looked over to the four guards lounging at the back of the hold, guarding the heavily bound female.

  “Check it out,” he ordered. A proximity alert this far out from the Jalnian shipping routes? J’koshuk turned back to the unconscious Sholan as the lights began to flicker and fade before plunging the small hold into darkness. Within seconds, the emergency lighting came on, its faint, reddish glow making giant shadows leap across the bulkheads.

  This was worrying. The Sholan could wait, this warranted his personal attention. He began to stride toward the exit when, abruptly, even those lights went out.

  * * *

  Slowly, the giant ship hovering below the M’ijikk and the Profit emerged from its chameleon shields. As the main landing bay doors folded back, an eerie glow suffused the two smaller craft. They began to move, being drawn downward into the belly of the ship until they had disappeared from sight. Even before the doors had closed, the craft shimmered briefly, then it, too, was gone.

  * * *

  His head hurt, that was J’koshuk’s first realization, closely followed by the fact he could see a glow beyond his closed eyelids. A tremor ran through him and he realized he’d been lying on the deck for some time. J’koshuk flicked his tongue across his dry and parched lips, tasting the air. The scent of fear was there, but it was old, more than two hours old. He’d been unconscious, but why? And how?

  The sound of the door sliding back drew his attention. He opened his eyes. Four pairs of armor-clad legs entered and marched in step toward him, forming a wall in front of him when they stopped. A terrible certainty began to form in his mind, then, beyond the legs, he saw the flick of a gray robe.

  A sound not unlike those Rezac had made a short time ago, escaped him. He shut his eyes again.

  “You are awake. You will stand and do as you are told,” said the flat tones of a translator.

  He cowered where he was, incapable of moving, praying that this was all some terrible nightmare, until he heard footsteps. With a strangled sound, he leaped to his feet, swaying a little with dizziness and renewed pain from his aching head. He took a deep breath, flicking his tongue out again. Nothing. No scent, no taste from them. He opened his eyelids a fraction. W
hat he saw defied belief.

  “You are our captives,” the voice from behind the soldiers said in the same flat, impersonal tones. “Your ship is ours. You are ours. An interface with those on this ship is required. I have chosen you.”

  J’koshuk concentrated on trying to breathe and to break the paralysis that seemed to have possessed his mind and his limbs.

  “Look at me.”

  He couldn’t. Briefly he wondered if this was how his captives felt when facing him. Agony lanced through his body, taking the strength from his limbs. He collapsed to the deck, writhing. As suddenly as it came, the pain was gone. He lay where he’d fallen, gasping for air, instinctively looking up at the source of his torment. Four weapons were trained on him.

  A strange sensation began to solidify in the pit of his stomach, flooding through him. Fear. A movement from the robed figure as it stepped forward drew his eyes away from the weapons.

  “An interpreter is needed. It will be you. You will obey our orders without question or you will suffer pain. Is that understood?”

  J’koshuk nodded his head, tongue flicking out again in a futile attempt to moisten his lips. Still no scent, not even from the robes. It was unnatural. How, in all the names of the Holy Ones, had they boarded the M’ijikk?

  “Answer me!”

  “Yes,” he croaked, trying to swallow. He felt a constriction around his throat and put his hand up to investigate. A solid band of metal, with no hinge or clasp, now circled his neck.

  “The collar ensures your obedience. It inflicts pain when you disobey. You will go now and release the one you were questioning. A medic will come to treat him. You will help. You will accompany him onto our ship and when he wakes, tell him what you’ve been told. Do not harm him any further.”

  With that, the tall, robed figure turned away.

  “Wait! Who are you? What do I call you?”

  The alien turned to face him again, the faceplate in its helmet glinting in the harsh light.

  It said nothing for the space of several heartbeats. “Primes. We are the Primes. You will address me as Seniormost.”

  Chapter 5

  Day 7

  THE next day, Konis called in at the Telepath Guild to talk to Sorli about his troubles with the Clan Council and Kitra.

  “We have a common problem, then,” said Sorli, as his mate, Mayoi, finished handing their drinks to them then departed, shepherding out the student who had carried the tray of refreshments for her.

  “We have?” asked Konis, surprised. He was grateful he didn’t have to dissemble with this Guild Master as he had with the previous one.

  “Only a small proportion of students in the Guild are from the leading Clan families, so the issue of arranged bondings isn’t a major one. However, at this Guildhouse, we’re unique in being so close to your son’s estate. And on his estate live the mixed Leskas, who, no matter what position they held in their birth family, are able to choose, or not choose, their own life-mate. This is making the Sholan Leska pairs here, who don’t have that luxury, dissatisfied, and they’re demanding the same freedom.”

  “Just like the Clan heirs,” agreed Konis morosely, taking a sip of his c’shar. “How can I be accused of failing in my duty as Leader of the Sixteen Telepath Clans because two of my children have made unconventional matches? What in Vartra’s name was I supposed to do? Kusac and Carrie took matters into their own hands, and as for Taizia, no decision can be reached on her future until her contract with Meral expires and we know if their child is Talented or not!”

  “Seventeen,” Sorli corrected him gently, holding out the plate of pastries Mayoi had brought.

  “Eh? Oh, yes, I mean Seventeen Clans. Keep forgetting Kusac’s got his own Clan now.”

  “Perhaps it’s time we looked at the whole issue of arranged bondings,” said Sorli. “Do you feel they actually work?”

  Konis shifted in his seat, taking one of the pastries. “Well, most of them seem to work well enough, but you can never . . .”

  “No, not that. Do they actually achieve the results we want? Has the birth rate of Talented cubs gone up because of our genetic pairings?”

  Konis’ eyes narrowed slightly. Was Sorli on the same trail as himself? “Actually, no. Not according to the records of the past fifty or so years. There have been more Talents from among the contract bondings, even allowing for the fact they represent the larger proportion of the telepath population. I have been looking into the whole matter for some time, Sorli, and I believe my son was right. We need an injection of new blood into the main Clan families. We’re becoming too inbred.” He braced himself for the argument against his stance.

  Sorli said nothing for a minute as he took another bite of his pastry. “My conclusion, too. It’s time for a change, Konis. But how do we accomplish it against the conservatism of the other Clan Leaders?”

  Surprised, Konis’ mouth fell open as he stared at Sorli.

  “Do shut your mouth, my friend, lest I accuse you of catching flies,” Sorli said, his tone gently teasing.

  Konis shut his mouth with a snap.

  “I don’t know why you look so surprised. I always said the winds of change were sweeping our world. Why should I then be ignoring them?”

  “I’m used to Esken,” Konis said.

  “Ah, well. You’ll find my tenure quite different, I assure you. Now, you didn’t come here without a proposal to put forward. I’d like to hear it.”

  Konis relaxed a little. With Esken, he’d never had the feeling they were part of the same team, working toward a common goal. He’d always had his own agenda and power ploys that advanced himself, usually to the detriment of others. Sorli was something of an unknown quantity, only because it wasn’t in Esken’s nature to let anyone under him in his Guild shine. Already some of the rigid protocol, dating back a hundred years or more, that Esken had been so fond of, had been dropped in favor of a more relaxed system. It augured well for the future, if it continued. This matter would certainly test the new Guild Master’s attitudes and outlook.

  “There will be resistance from the Clan Leaders to change of any type,” he said. “So we have to move gradually and in stages. New blood is desperately needed, but we’ll have that with the inclusion of the Brotherhood in the contract bondings. That’s been a large enough chunk for the older leaders to swallow as it is. We can’t look to extend their inclusion in main family life-bondings for some time yet. What I can do is, instead of matching names on my lists, make the list available to the Clan Leaders and give them the right to choose their child’s future husband or wife.”

  “Is it workable, though? What if one person should be chosen twice? We can’t have them haggling like merchants over mates. And how will the younglings be able to choose among those from the other continents, those they’ve never met?”

  “There is that, of course,” Konis agreed, reaching for his mug. “The other main option is to arrange social functions, perhaps here, or possibly at the Governor’s palace, at which they can meet. Kusac set up a similar system for potential mixed Leskas before he left for Jalna.”

  Sorli nodded. “I know. The military endorsed his request for tests to be done on our students and we transferred those he subsequently requested over to his estate. How is his system working?”

  “Very well,” said Konis. “Among the new pairs there’s been a higher proportion happy with their Leskas and less trauma over adjusting to the Link as a result. I’d say it was definitely an improvement.”

  Sorli leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingertips together thoughtfully. “I’m pleased, of course, but I wonder if our implementation of it wouldn’t be a step too far for our ultraconservative Clan Council. Perhaps we need to observe Kusac’s system for a little longer. After all, it’s only been a few weeks. I do, think, however, that making the list available to the Clan Leaders for them to choose from is a step in the right direction. If they feel they have a say, it’ll go a long way toward dissipating their censure of you.”


  “I don’t care a damn about their censure,” growled Konis. “I’ve got larger worries at home. You have no idea what I’m having to put up with from Rhyasha!”

  Sorli grinned openly at this, letting his hands fall back into his lap. “A female of great strength is your Clan Leader, Konis. I don’t envy you. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place right now.”

  “Tell me about it. They all take after their mother, even Kitra!”

  Sorli raised an eye ridge. “Oh, I’d say it was about equal, Konis. You’re well matched, you and Rhyasha. Both strong willed and determined. It’s easy for us males to undervalue ourselves.”

  “I always thought they got their strength from their mother,” Konis murmured, surprised.

  “There’s a lot of you in that son of yours. I watched him grow over the years, and knew he would finally leave the hunt to go off by himself.”

  “Seems everyone but me knew that.”

  “When the younglings are your own, it’s easy to be too close to the problem to see it. Implementing the list will have to wait till the next half year now. It’ll be useful then, but it won’t do anything to alleviate your current problem, I’m afraid.”

  “No, it won’t,” Konis sighed. “You know, Sorli, I’m almost minded to resign from my position right now and let Kitra choose her Companion as a mate! Being told I’m shirking my responsibilities is beyond endurance.”

  “Appearances are what they go by, Konis. You and I know differently, but they don’t want to see the larger picture. All they want is to be sure their own predictable lives aren’t disrupted by strange new ideas. And you have to admit, they don’t come stranger than these Links with the Humans.”

  Konis made a grumble of annoyed agreement.

  “Tell me, Konis, how are our friends at Stronghold going to make themselves more available for potential mates? Have you discussed it with Father Lijou?”

  “They can’t. The nature of the Brotherhood is to be inconspicuous. It’s more a matter of if one of the Brothers or Sisters wishes to bond with a telepath, they now have the legal right to do so.”