Razor's Edge

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Razor's Edge Page 2

by Lisanne Norman


  Once their escort had left, a search of the suite showed that the exit was guarded. The windows were shuttered, but in any case they were too far above ground level to make escape through them a practical proposition.

  In front of the main fire, the table was set with food and wine.

  “Ever get the feeling you were expected?” asked Davies, strolling over to the food and helping himself to a piece of meat from some type of fowl.

  “We weren’t betrayed,” said Jo shortly.

  Rezac turned to his Leska. “You should eat, Zashou. It’s been a long time since our last meal.”

  She flicked an ear in reply and headed slowly for one of the dining chairs by the fire. He could feel her tiredness affecting him.

  “You, too,” he said, looking at the remaining two Humans. “We must all keep our strength up. No telling when or where our next meal will come from.” As he turned toward the table, he felt a hand on his arm. Abruptly he turned back, teeth partially bared in a snarl.

  Jo didn’t flinch, but she did release him very slowly. “We’re allies of Shola,” she said in his language. “They brought us here undercover to examine the Valtegan scouter. There are four more Sholans imprisoned on Jalna. We have to work together, Rezac.”

  He turned away from her and continued over to the table. Lifting the flimsy knife, he began trying to hack some meat from the cold joint in the center.

  “You’ve been to Shola?”

  “Yes, briefly,” replied Jo.

  “Where?”

  “Valsgarth Telepath Guild and the Warrior Guild in Nazule.”

  “What about Ranz, on the plains?” He sensed Kris joining him at the table.

  “Don’t you mean in the Dzahai Mountains? I’ve been to Vartra’s Retreat too.”

  Startled, Rezac looked round. “Vartra’s Retreat? So he did go to the temple at Stronghold after all.”

  “The temple at Valsgarth is the main one now, but yes, there’s also a temple of Vartra at Stronghold.”

  “Temple?” asked Zashou, looking up at Jo and Kris. “What has Vartra to do with temples?”

  Rezac watched the two Humans exchange glances.

  “You’ve a helluva lot of catching up to do,” observed Davies sitting down. “On the Shola we know, Vartra is the major god of warriors and telepaths. He was responsible for saving them from the Cataclysm.” He reached out for another piece of meat.

  “He was a person? You knew him?” Jo sat down opposite Zashou.

  Shocked once more to the core, Rezac let the knife fall from his grasp and sat down heavily. “A god? How?”

  “It seems we’ve outlived ourselves,” said Zashou. “You were right the first time, Rezac. Let’s eat. We can talk of these matters later, when we’re stronger.” They can’t tell us much if they were only there briefly.

  “I lived there for six months, Zashou,” said Kris, taking the seat next to Jo.

  “You can hear us mind-speak to each other?” demanded Rezac.

  Kris smiled. “We Terrans have one or two Talents of our own. That’s why I was living on Shola.”

  A small chirrup of sound drew Rezac’s gaze to Kris’ jacket pocket. From its depths popped a white-furred face, muzzle and ears tipped with brown, large eyes glancing rapidly round the assembled faces. A trill of pleasure as it saw Jo, and a sniff of disdain at the two Sholans, and Scamp emerged. Scrambling up Kris’ arm to his neck, it raised its front paws to pat his face then leaped down to the table to run to Jo.

  “A jegget!” exclaimed Zashou. “You brought a jegget with you?”

  Rezac began to laugh. “You’ve got more than Talents if you can befriend a jegget!” Now he knew they came from Shola—and more: as the only other telepathic species on their world, no jegget would go near a person it didn’t trust. In fact, the little creatures were notorious for that. Get a nest of jeggets in your barn, and you’d never get rid of them! They knew when you were coming, knew where your traps were.

  Scamp, meanwhile, was twining himself and his dark-tipped bushy tail round Jo’s neck, chirruping and purring for all he was worth.

  Aware of his pet’s feelings, and a large part of the reason for them, Kris glanced over at Rezac.

  Please, say nothing. The Valtegans ruled Jo’s world, using females like her for sex. I need her trust. If she realized what I feel for her …

  Rezac cut him short with an affirmative gesture. It’s not my business.

  Reassured all was well with Jo, Scamp returned to Kris, looking and sniffing hopefully in the direction of the meat.

  “Feed him,” said Rezac, gesturing at the plate as feelings of ravenous hunger stole into their minds. She doesn’t sense him. Why not?

  Jo is only a latent telepath. She chooses not to train her Talent. She’s a linguist—she studies languages and was responsible for compiling the first Valtegan lexicon.

  So the Valtegans are still at large.

  There are no Valtegans on Shola. Your people came across them on our first colony world, Keiss. They rescued the colonists—Jo was one of them. We don’t know where the Valtegans are now, or what they’re doing, that’s why we’re on Jalna. That’s how we found you.

  Rezac, later, sent Zashou. Catching up is not important. Eating and sleeping is, so is deciding what to do about Killian and the weapons he wants.

  You’re right.

  “How did you avoid Scamp being found when we were searched?” Zashou asked Kris as she tore off a lump of bread from the loaf and handed the rest to Jo.

  Kris grinned as he pushed some small pieces of meat to one side for Scamp. “I suggested to the guard that he didn’t really want to touch me. Strangely enough, he agreed.”

  “They’ll find out soon enough,” warned Davies.

  “I don’t think they’ll care,” said Kris.

  “You said you’d trained at a warrior guild. We had something similar in our time, but it taught you to fight unarmed and with traditional bladed weapons.”

  “Now it also teaches you the use of modern energy weapons. I can strip and maintain most Sholan weapons with the best of them, but build one from scratch?” He shook his head.

  “Davies is the electronics genius,” said Jo.

  Rezac looked at him. “Could you build a weapon?”

  “Depends what they’ve brought here from the shuttle. The good Lord Killian had the craft stripped of just about everything that might have been useful, and naturally, they didn’t know what they were doing!”

  “What kind of vessel was it?”

  “A scouter. Space to ground vehicle.”

  “From a Valtegan warship?”

  “Do they have any other kind?” asked Jo wryly.

  Rezac grinned slightly. “No. Then the scouter will be armed. It will have its own weapons system. We could dismantle and use that.”

  “Should we even be thinking of giving them a weapon at all?” asked Zashou. “I’m sure they’ve discovered enough efficient ways of killing each other on their own.”

  “We haven’t a choice,” said Kris. “You heard Killian.”

  “Besides, it doesn’t have to work for long,” said Davies. “Just long enough for us to get out of this place!”

  “Fuel sources alone will limit its life,” agreed Rezac. “Unless I’m mistaken, there should be a backup battery that stores energy for it to use.”

  “You know a fair bit about the Valtegans, don’t you?” said Jo.

  “Should. We were prized pets of theirs for a year,” growled Rezac, the grin vanishing.

  “You mentioned a palace. What palace?”

  “The Emperor’s. God-King of the Four Realms.” He tried, but couldn’t control his hate and anger at what they’d suffered during their captivity.

  Zashou winced. “Rezac,” she said warningly. “He’s dust now, they all are. Let the rage go.”

  With an effort, Rezac pushed the anger to the back of his mind and refocused on the business at hand.

  “That was fifteen hundred years ago, tho
ugh,” said Davies. “How much use is that knowledge to us now?”

  “How much can a people change in that time?” Jo asked Rezac.

  “Valtegans, not at all,” he said shortly.

  “You seem much the same as your modern counterparts,” said Kris. “I imagine the basic Valtegan species traits will have remained unchanged too.”

  “Well, you’ll be able to tell, won’t you?” said Rezac, aware his tone was somewhat snappish but unable to stop himself.

  “I was sent on this mission because I understand the Valtegans more than anyone else at present,” said Jo. “Your knowledge is invaluable. Will you both share it with me?”

  “If it’ll help, of course,” said Zashou, glancing angrily at her Leska.

  “Assuming this shuttle is military and has a weapons system on board, then we’ll need to look for it, with no guarantee that the Jalnians haven’t ripped it apart,” said Kris. “That should buy us some time at least.”

  “Agreed,” said Rezac. “However, it will be bolted into the structure of the vehicle and I doubt the Jalnians would have been able to work those panels loose.”

  “Were your people in space when the Valtegans came?” asked Davies.

  “Only just. They arrived without warning and in such vast numbers that there was little we could do to fight them.”

  “So how come you know so much about their spacecraft?”

  “I don’t, but I was communicating with those of our people who were on warships in space.”

  Zashou leaned forward to touch Davies on the arm. “On Shola, telepaths were hunted by the Valtegans as live trophies and kept to show how important a person was. Anyone of high standing had a Sholan telepath as a pet,” she said quietly. “That was the crux of their downfall. It took time, but eventually there were enough of us on the four Valtegan home worlds and in their galactic fleet to strike. It was we who coordinated the communications between the ships and the worlds—the slave worlds, too. We gave the order to strike.”

  “To strike?” asked Davies. “You’re supposed to be unable to fight!”

  Zashou shook her head. “Rezac can, for a short time, then the nausea gets to him, too. But I didn’t mean that way. The nontelepath slaves and the other species, they fought. What we had done was to subvert the Valtegans’ minds, cause them to doubt one another, Challenge for position—and more. We used our abilities to destroy them, weaken them for the civil war that followed. We turned Valtegan against Valtegan. So we know them, know their weaknesses—and their strengths.” She shuddered briefly at the memories, still fresh for them, and sat back.

  “Did you say the Valtegans had four home worlds?” asked Jo.

  “Yes, plus some three other slave worlds.”

  She moaned quietly. “Four worlds full of Valtegans! There’s no way we can possibly win against them!”

  “We thought that, but you say Shola’s free of them now,” said Rezac. “It wasn’t how many we killed, it was who we killed. Take out the bridge crew of a warship, barricade the doors, and within minutes you can crash the ship into the rest of that fleet and all for the loss of one person.”

  “That’s suicide on a mass scale!”

  Rezac looked calmly at Jo. “Yes, it was, and it was the price we all, us included, expected and were willing to pay.”

  “You communicated over interplanetary space?” Kris asked quietly.

  “Were we not answered by telepaths from Shola?” asked Rezac. “The skill has obviously lived on.”

  “Those who answered you weren’t exactly Sholan telepaths,” said Jo.

  Rezac frowned. “Of course they were. Who else could it have been? Not Humans—the minds were Sholan.”

  “They would seem so,” said Kris. “The one who answered you was Human, a Human female with a Sholan Leska.”

  “Impossible!”

  Jo shook her head. “No. He’s telling you the truth. There are several Sholans with Human Leska partners now, but Carrie and Kusac Aldatan were the first.”

  “Aldatan?” exclaimed Zashou. “That’s my family name! But how … ?”

  “Vartra,” said Rezac. “His tinkering with our genes led to that. Your sister must have been enhanced, too.”

  “Sister?” asked Jo.

  “My sister Zylisha was Vartra’s Companion when we were taken by the Valtegans,” said Zashou. “The enhanced genes must have passed on to their children. Vartra did what he originally set out to do.”

  “He did more than that from the sound of it,” said Davies dryly. “Carrie and Kusac would have had a child if she hadn’t lost it when she was injured. Another mixed Leska pair were expecting one when we left Shola.”

  “Cubs,” said Zashou faintly. “Human and Sholan cubs.”

  “No wonder he’s achieved godhood!” said Rezac. “Maybe Shanka had the right of it after all. Without Vartra playing god with our lives, none of this would have happened.”

  “Leave Shanka out of this, Rezac! Just remember, when I offered you the serum, you chose to take it! You could have refused.”

  Rezac snorted angrily. “What good would it have done? Once you’d taken it, we were all going to catch it.”

  “What does it matter now anyway! It’s history—ancient history!”

  At that moment, a knock came at the door. It opened to admit an obviously self-important man dressed in long robes, followed by a peasant woman carrying a large pile of clothing.

  “I am Durvan, in charge of the smooth running of Lord Killian’s house,” he said, gesturing to the woman to follow him as he approached their table. “My master has asked me to bring you these clothes. He insists that you wear them as he doesn’t want to advertise the fact that he’s, shall we say, entertaining off-world visitors.” His mouth split into a too-cheery smile that showed off his teeth.

  Rezac began to growl low in his throat.

  Humanoids show their teeth when they smile, sent Kris. It isn’t threatening—usually. In his case, I’d make an exception.

  “Put them down on a chair,” Durvan said sharply to the woman as he strolled over to Jo, eyes roving across her face and those parts of her anatomy he could see. “The red dress, I think, for this lady,” he said, holding his hand out for the garment.

  Hurriedly the peasant pulled the dress from the pile and handed it to him.

  Taking it from her, he advanced on Jo ready to hold it against her.

  Kris rose to his feet in front of him. “I’ll take that,” he said, reaching out for the garment.

  Durvan frowned but handed it over. “I was merely going to hold it against her to see if it suited her coloring.” He stepped back and looked around the little group. “I was told there were two ladies. Where is the other?”

  “Just leave the clothes,” said Kris. “We’re capable of working out who should wear what ourselves.”

  “I’m sure you are,” said Durvan. “However, the servant will remain to show the ladies how the dresses are fastened.”

  “We can manage ourselves,” said Jo.

  Still angry, Rezac decided to put an end to the intrusion. Slowly he stood up, stretched his arms, and flexed his claws. “I think you should leave,” he said, his voice a low rumble that carried to every part of the room. “We’re tired and wish to sleep.”

  Durvan had begun to back away from the table as soon as the Sholan moved. The servant fled with a squeal of terror. Realizing he was alone, the steward beat a hasty retreat. “Should you need help, ask the guard,” he said before closing the door behind him.

  Rezac reached for the clothing and began sorting through it. A dress of blue he handed to Zashou, the rest he put over the backs of the nearest chairs.

  “Help yourselves,” he said. “They’re all robes such as that character was wearing. Nothing practical, I’m afraid, but at least they’re warm, which is more than can be said for what we’re wearing.” He looked down at his own clothing, then over at Zashou.

  Both of them were dressed in garments that offered very littl
e in the way of either covering or warmth. Rezac’s consisted of a brightly colored woven belt from which hung two short panels of the same patterned material; one larger one in front, the one over his rear partially split to accommodate his tail. It most closely resembled a loincloth. From both ears hung gold rings, and on his wrists were broad bracelets inset with jewel-colored enameling.

  Zashou was similarly clad, but her garments included a short tabard top, and her earrings were larger.

  “What favored Valtegan drone slaves wear at the Emperor’s court,” said Rezac.

  “Drones? They have drones?” asked Jo, getting up to examine her dress.

  “Who do you think does all the domestic work? You know their females are feral, don’t you? They keep very few females because of that. Once they’ve mated, they’ll fight off any other male that comes near them until they’ve laid that clutch of eggs. The drones are the only ones who can get close to them most of the time,” said Rezac.

  Jo looked at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you? I’d figured they were egg layers, but they have such a high sex drive that I’d assumed females were common.”

  “The males have a high sex drive because they need a high incentive to mate. Without the control collars on the females, the males would be ripped to shreds even approaching a female, let alone trying to mate with one. They are seriously feral. Mindless eating and laying machines that have to be separated from their eggs just before they hatch, or they’d eat them, too.”

  “So that’s why they put those damned pleasure cities on Keiss,” said Davies as he reached out to pick up the green robe. “They need to direct that sex drive elsewhere. On Keiss, it was our women in Geshader and Tashkerra.”

  “That’s what they use the females of the slave races and some drones for,” agreed Rezac, then he felt the sudden flare of fear mixed with pain and revulsion that came from Jo. It was gone almost immediately.

  “Excuse me,” she said, dropping the dress and heading for one of the bedrooms.

  Rezac looked to Kris for an explanation.

  “Look, guys,” said Davies, drawing their attention. “It wasn’t for me to say before, and still isn’t, but I think you should know that Jo did undercover work with Elise, Carrie’s twin, in one of the pleasure cities. I wouldn’t have had the guts to do what they did with the Valtegan officers to get information for our movement. When Elise got caught and tortured to death, it hit Jo very hard.”

 

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