Jeran could feel the blood draining from his face, making him feel even more dizzy. “Dead? I thought he’d fallen like you said.”
Tirak began to growl low in his throat.
“He was one of us,” said Rezac, his voice hardening. “Ours to deal with. He threatened the safety of all of us, not just this time, but by trying to spread panic and undermining you and Kaid to the others. He was warned.”
“What if it had been one of my people?” asked Tirak.
Jeran watched as Kaid looked at Tirak. “Unlikely, given the nature of your mission. You might have a couple of young crew members, but I reckon you handpicked them all. Tallis was a civilian.”
“You just killed someone!” said Jeran, trying to keep his voice low. “Like you’d stamp on a bug!”
“Be quiet,” said Kaid harshly. “He was a bug. The kind that preys on others’ misfortunes. He didn’t need to try and buy immunity from the Primes at our expense. He was prepared to tell them everything he’d heard us talking about. You heard him say that himself.”
Jeran subsided unhappily, aware of the truth in what Kaid said.
“He’s right,” Tirak said abruptly. “Tallis was a threat to us all. Had I been close enough, I’d have done the same.”
“Our job is to protect you,” said Kaid. “Tallis hasn’t been completely sane since we rescued him. Even then he was trying to force us to abandon you in favor of getting him out of Bradogan’s Keep immediately.”
* * *
Barely conscious, J’koshuk felt a hand grasp his collar, pulling his head up till he was almost choking. He coughed, sending spasms of pain through his chest. He tried to lift his arms but he was still paralyzed.
Thin fingers fumbled at the back of his neck as an alien scent enveloped him. He sneezed violently. Abruptly, both fingers and scent vanished and he was left to fall back against the floor, banging his head on the tiles beneath him.
“You were warned. You will be returned to your quarters till we’ve decided what to do with you,” said the impersonal tones of the translator.
He shrieked in pain as his arms were grasped and he was dragged to an upright position.
* * *
From the corridor outside they heard the faint sounds of someone screaming. Jeran looked toward the door and shivered. “J’koshuk,” he said.
* * *
Day 26
Kitra hesitated outside the door to the shrine room before entering. It had been two days since they’d heard the dreadful news about her brother and Carrie, and since then, her father had virtually taken up residence in the household shrine. He’d done it before, when Carrie had been wounded during the Challenge. She went over to sit on the stone bench beside him.
“Father, you must speak to the Governor,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. “He’s been trying to reach you for days.”
“I’ve no heart for it, Kitra,” he sighed, letting his fingers curl round hers. “I just want your brother and Carrie home safely.”
“The treaty is in danger,” said Kitra. “If you let it founder, then what they worked to set up will die. You can’t do that to their memory.”
He looked up, eyes glowing in the candlelight. “They aren’t dead yet!” he said fiercely.
“Then why shut yourself in here?” she countered. “Please, Father, see Governor Nesul and Father Lijou. They’ve been waiting in your study for hours.”
“I told Ni’Zulhu not to admit them to the estate!” he said angrily. “What right had he to ignore me?”
“Father Lijou says there is too much at stake. He really is sorry to have to disturb you,” she added. “I could feel him. He’s very distressed himself, not just over my brother and Carrie, but about Kaid as well.”
“Konis,” said a voice from the corridor outside. “Words can’t express what I want to say, but we need you, my friend.”
He looked up, seeing Lijou. “You’d intrude on me even here?”
Lijou inclined his head at the rebuke. “I can help, it’s what we are taught to do as priests,” he said quietly.
“I don’t want your mental sedatives, Lijou,” he growled. “No one messes with my mind! I’ll work this through myself.”
“But you aren’t,” said Lijou, his gentle criticism obvious even to Kitra. “You’re neglecting Rhyasha as well as your work.”
Keeping a hold on his daughter’s hand, he got to his feet. “You reminding me of my duties?” he asked. “I’d be worse than useless right now, Lijou, you know that.”
“You’re wrong. The fact that your family is missing will aid our efforts to conclude this treaty.”
“Use my grief to take unfair advantage of our future allies? You worry me, Lijou. Your ethics are no better than the Brotherhood’s!”
“I am the Brotherhood, as are your son and bond-daughter,” replied the priest calmly. “You would be showing our new allies that we’re the same as them. That we care for our children and want to protect them from the harshness of the universe. And remind them that we are treating their missing ones the same as our own. That’s not misusing your grief, my friend.”
Kitra tightened her hand round her father’s. “You must. It’s what they would want,” she said.
Konis looked down at her, remembering she was there.
“Your daughter is right,” said Lijou. “You have a bright young adult there.”
“I have,” he said, letting her hand go to put his arm round her shoulders. “I wish I’d realized it sooner. Very well, Lijou, I’ll talk to you and Nesul, but Kitra comes with me. I’ll let her guide me.”
* * *
“Out of the question,” said Konis sharply. “Rhaid will lead the Council as well as me.”
“You must head the Clans, Father,” said Kitra quietly from his side. “If they hadn’t put pressure on you over me, you’d not have realized what was going on. Most of the Council respect you. Look at the number of calls we’ve had.”
“You’re the only one with the breadth of vision to know the changes we need to make to survive in this new interstellar community,” said Lijou.
“And the courage to implement them,” added Nesul.
“Rhaid can do that.”
“Rhaid has overcompensated,” said Lijou carefully, “since her time as Fyak’s captive. She would return the Clans to the old ways, with males unable to hold office at all.”
“Nonsense. She’ll come around. That’s temporary, I assure you. She just needs a firm hand to guide her.”
“And who would guide her if she was Clan Lord?” asked Lijou. “She’d make an able second, granted, but not Lord.”
“Not my concern.”
“It is, or have you forgotten that young daughter of yours?” asked Nesul, flicking an ear toward Kitra. “I have kitlings, too. I’d not want Rhaid choosing life-mates for them or deciding the course of their lives.”
“You’ll not let it rest till I agree, will you?”
“We can’t force you, Konis,” began Lijou.
“But we can make it damned uncomfortable for you,” added Nesul.
Konis growled. “I’ll not do it, unless . . .”
“Anything,” said Nesul. “The Council has authorized me to agree to your demands, within reason.”
“I want Azkuu and her little pack replaced. I’ll not sit at the Council table with those who blackmailed me.”
“Agreed,” said Nesul.
“Rhaid will be my acting Second. I want time with my family—what’s left of it,” he said bleakly, reaching for Kitra’s hand again.
“Understandable. Agreed.”
“My policy changes will be backed up by the law and made effective immediately. No more delaying and tracking upwind so as not to offend this Clan or that.”
Nesul sighed. “Very well.”
“Finally, I want backing on this matter with the Arrazo Clan. It’s been put off too long. I don’t care if Naeul’s youngest is missing, so is my son. Naeul will be indicted for illegal
ly incarcerating his daughter Khemu, falsifying records of her death, his treatment of her cub, Dzaka, and for denying him his birthright by keeping his parents apart.”
Beside him, Kitra stirred.
“That was something we hoped to deal with quietly,” said Nesul.
“I will not,” said Konis, his tone hard. “This way, Dzaka will have the right to life-bond to whom he chooses, En’Shalla Clan or one of the original Sixteen.”
Nesul shook his head. “I don’t think . . .”
“Agreed,” said Lijou. “You will do it, Nesul. We all need the support of the Clans. The Arrazo family may be liked in the lowlands, but up by Stronghold, it’s another matter. You need the support of the Brotherhood and the Highlanders, too.”
“You push a hard bargain,” sighed Nesul. “Very well.”
“Today,” said Konis, getting up and going to his desk. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a sheaf of papers. He returned, handing it to Nesul. “The case against Naeul Arrazo has been ready for months. Send it to the Protectors today, or the deal is off.”
Nesul took them from him and stood up. “Today,” he said, a growl of displeasure in his voice. “I take it that means you retract your resignation.”
Konis nodded as he sat down. “I’ll stay,” he said, closing his eyes and lying back in his chair. “Now go. I’ll be at the palace tomorrow. You have my word.”
He sat there, listening to them leave, feeling a sudden weight on his lap as Kitra climbed up and wrapped her arms round his neck.
“By tomorrow, you could have your Brother your way, kitling,” he said quietly. “Think again about it.”
* * *
Kezule remained silent within his hiding place in the heart of the undergrowth some hundred yards from the entrance to the estate. It was definitely the one he wanted. Security like this would not have been out of place at the Emperor’s palace. All day he’d watched traffic come and go. Only two vehicles had been allowed to fly straight in; the rest had landed outside the gates where the passengers had debarked while the vehicle was checked and guarded before they were allowed to reenter. He presumed that within the right-hand building their identities and appointments were verified.
Beyond the high wire perimeter lay a group of temporary buildings inhabited by their military. From there came the guards. Patrols seemed to follow no set time as far as he’d been able to discern. There were aerial checks, too, the vehicles flying out over the peninsula and remaining there for several hours. From his analysis of the hardware on the roof of the gatehouse, they also had satellite surveillance.
The estate was also home to Humans and their young, judging from those he saw playing up near the guards’ quarters. These beings knew nothing about bringing up young, he thought derisively. To let them run free like this when they should be receiving instruction, learning duty and loyalty, was tantamount to the adults signing their own death warrants. When they grew up there would be no respect for their elders, nothing to stop them turning on them at the first sign of weakness. He wondered then what they considered weakness. Among his own kind, living with another species, treating them as equals, was the kind of weak concept the intellectuals would play with. It was as well no one paid them much attention—at least in his day.
The Emperor—may His memory be revered for all time—had loved His intellectuals, but it had been His warrior caste who had protected Him, advanced His empire, and crushed His enemies, and He never forgot that, for all the ramblings of the other castes.
The dampness caused by the cooling of the air had made the ground underneath him wet, drawing his thoughts back to the here and now. He moved carefully, tugging his robe under himself till he lay on more of it. When the night had reached its height, then he’d move on, deeper into the forest ahead of him. Time spent checking out the security around the estate would not be wasted. He’d only have one chance to get in undetected.
A noise from the gatehouse caught his attention. Night was falling and the lights were being turned on, illuminating the land both inside and outside the gatehouse. As it spilled over, almost touching his patch of dense undergrowth, he heard an alarm blare out. Soldiers spilled from the buildings to gather in lines by the gate.
Hissing his anger, he began to back off hurriedly as rumbling voices shattered the stillness. Had he been discovered? What had given him away? Out of direct sight now, still keeping low, he twisted around, trying to remember which way the fallen tree lay. He’d seen it on his way here, checked it out as a possible lair in the event of pursuit, never dreaming he’d actually need it. Quickening his heartbeat, he triggered the hormones needed for speed and aggression, then checked the unit on his wrist. The screen was turned off. Cursing, he activated it again. He must have knocked it while adjusting the robe. It had only been moments, but it was long enough for one of their telepaths to pick him up. Diving deeper into the forest, he searched frantically for his own scent trail to follow back to the tree, realizing as he did, that if he could follow it, so could they.
It was faint, but he found it. Getting his bearings, he veered to his right then leaped for the nearest tree. Clawed feet bit deep into the bark some ten feet above the ground as his hands grasped the thick limb overhead.
As he pulled himself up, he risked a glance behind. His night vision rendered the scene as a surreal landscape of reds and blues. In the midst of it, he could see the heat mass of the Sholans heading toward him. Up in the tree canopy, he could hide his scent from them. Keeping one hand on the branch to steady himself, he scrambled along the limb to where it crossed another. He leaped again, clinging to the swaying branch with all four sets of claws, praying it was strong enough to bear his weight. Speed would help. The less time he spent on each branch, the less chance his weight would snap it.
Hauling his robe up through the tie belt, he crabbed along as fast as he could, trying to ignore the swaying, looking for another thick limb in the adjacent tree. Down this time. He gauged the drop, then spreading his arms wide, jumped, landing splayed across its width. Scrambling up, he ran along it till he came to the next overlap.
He managed to cover some six hundred yards like this before he was forced to drop to the ground. No matter, it had broken his trail. It wouldn’t be so easy for them to pick up his scent now. Bearing left, he compensated for the drift from his course. The Sholans were not far behind, he could just hear them in the distance.
Trusting his dark robe and the night would give him enough cover, he sprinted through the trees for the small clearing he knew lay ahead. Just beyond it lay the fallen tree. Heart pounding, breath getting more ragged, he dodged round thornbushes, knowing that to get snagged by one would leave traces of his presence. So far, they didn’t know he was here, they only suspected. He misjudged the distance, overshooting the clearing and running headfirst into a mass of outstretched roots.
Dazed, he staggered back, putting his hand to his face. Momentarily blinded, he could hear labored breathing—was it his own, or a pursuer’s? Panic filled him. Feeling his way along the roots with his other hand, he dashed the sleeve of his robe across his eyes, wiping the blood from his face. His feet suddenly gave under him and he fell, sliding down into the pit at the base of the tree. Biting back a cry of shock, he scrabbled around, searching in the soft earth for the small side cavity he’d seen during the day.
It lay under the center of the upturned rooted crown—a hole that went in some five feet till it was blocked by the remains of a broken taproot. Squirming in, he scrabbled with his claws at the soft earth, digging around the remaining roots. The soil came away easily, filling the hole around him as he dug deeper among the mass of roots. Within minutes, he’d carved out enough to fill the original hole and make himself a small chamber large enough to curl up in.
Taking handfuls of the damp soil, he smeared it over his face, head, and the sleeves of his robe in an effort to hide his scent, and the smell of blood. Tugging his hood over his head, he let it droop down over his eyes. Above him, a ta
ngle of roots provided enough air for him to breathe while still concealing him. He lay still now, quieting his breathing.
Soft footballs and the sound of hushed voices approached his clearing. Eyes slitted almost shut so no moonlight or torch could reflect off them, he waited. The footsteps came closer, sounding more like a beast’s than those of a Sholan. Then he saw it, looming over his hideout.
A large paw came down square on the net of roots above him and stayed there, claws extending for a better grip.
“I was sure I heard something,” a voice muttered. The paw moved, sending a small shower of earth down onto his hood.
Kezule had to fight the urge to sneeze.
“You’re imagining things,” said a second voice. “This clearing’s too open—nowhere to hide. Come on, we’ve fallen behind the others.”
“In a minute,” said the first voice.
The whole tree vibrated to each of its four steps, then it stopped for the space of several heartbeats before leaping to the ground. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Hardly daring to breathe, he lay there, listening to their receding footsteps. No wonder they’d made such good time following him. He’d completely forgotten Sholans had the ability to travel on four legs like beasts.
As the minutes passed, he began to breathe more easily, then risked moving enough to knock the dirt from his hood. He’d wait a few hours yet before venturing out. With any luck, they’d put the incident down to the imagination of the telepath.
* * *
Without warning, it happened again. First the sensation of suffocating, then the heartbeat. Kaid lay there, claws extending into the bedding underneath him as he fought for each breath, unable to move or cry out for help. With each beat, an image was blazoned into his mind. With each beat, the image changed, evolved, till he realized he was watching an embryo grow. With the realization came the pain, the cessation of the visions, and the paralysis. They heard him then.
The Primes came for him this time. T’Chebbi and the others would have prevented them, but Kaid knew he had to go.
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