Razor's Edge

by Lisanne Norman

  “And the healing?” demanded Carrie.

  Derwent shrugged. “I linked to his mind and boosted his own natural healing ability, that’s all. It’s worked, as you can see.”

  “That has nothing to do with the matter,” Garras growled. “It’s an offense for you to do what you’ve done. The unlicensed use of telepathy is strictly against all Guild laws. I’m personally reporting you not only to the Telepath Guild, but to the All-Guilds Council.”

  “I think you’re overreacting. Brynne is on the mend, and as he’s my pupil, I have the right to treat him when he consents to it. What can your authorities do to me anyway? I’m a Terran, not subject to your laws. I’m sure the head of the Terran contingent will support me.”

  “You live in Valsgarth, outside the Guild where the Terrans operate, refusing to have anything to do with either group,” said Carrie. “They won’t protect you, especially against us. No one has the right to teach skills except through the Guild system. You’re in direct violation of the treaty that brought you here. You could be imprisoned or deported back to Earth.”

  “I don’t think so, no matter what your connections are,” said Ross. “My basic rights of freedom are the same here as on Earth, even under Sholan laws. All I did was give him a traditional herbal tea. Hardly a hanging offense, my dear,” he smiled.

  “Don’t act the innocent with me. We both know you’ve done more than that. You’ve altered Brynne’s mind,” said Carrie. “Although he’s asleep, there’s too much brain activity in an area not usually used by us. It’s like extra connections have been made.”

  “Brynne is fine, my dear,” said Ross, his voice full of calm confidence. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that.”

  “Don’t,” she said coldly, pushing his mind away from hers. “I’m not susceptible to hypnotic or psychic suggestion. You’ve got no ethics at all, have you? Nothing matters but achieving what you want.”

  Ross blinked, a surprised look coming over his face. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he murmured.

  “You’re so damned confident and arrogant, aren’t you? You think you can do what you want, ride roughshod over other peoples’ rights and beliefs, then claim you were only exercising your own civil rights! I’ve read about you people and your New Era movement. You don’t respect the Sholan culture or any other, so why should you assume it will protect you? It only protects its own citizens, and, Mr. Ross Derwent, you aren’t an Alliance citizen!”

  “Are you?” he countered. “Will they listen to you? A Human woman? I don’t think so.”

  “Yes, Mr. Derwent, they will,” said Garras, activating his wrist comm. “Keiss is a junior member of the Alliance, and that gives Carrie citizenship. However, she’s also the life-mate of a Sholan, and co-leader of a Sholan clan in her own right.”

  Ross dived forward in an effort to stop Garras using his comm, but was easily pushed aside by the larger male.

  “Ni’Zulhu, I want that backup now,” Garras said into the unit, grabbing Ross by the neck of his sweater with his free hand.

  “Affirmed,” came the quiet response.

  Ross stumbled against the edge of the bed and as he righted himself, turned angrily on Garras, trying to pull free.

  “You’ve no right to …” he began, stopping only when he found Maylgu grasping him from behind by both arms and drawing him into the center of the room.

  “Keep a hold on him, Maylgu,” Garras ordered. “We’re taking him back with us. Master Konis can decide what to do with him; it’s his department. Get him out of my sight before I’m tempted to make this personal,” he added.

  “What’s all the row?” asked a sleepy voice as Vanna yawned and stretched.

  “Are you all right?” asked Garras, going instantly to her side. “Derwent drugged you so he could work on Brynne.”

  “What?” Instantly awake, she sat up, peering past him at her sleeping Leska. “He feels all right,” she said. “His fever—has it gone?”

  “It has. You know that corner of his mind that you were complaining about before?” asked Carrie. “Well, I can sense what you meant now. Derwent’s been messing with his mind in some way.”

  “I knew he’d done something to him! Just wait till I get my hands on …” She launched herself out of the chair but was brought up short by Garras wrapping both arms around her waist and hanging onto her.

  “No. We’re taking him to the Clan Lord. He’ll be dealt with, Vanna, and in such a way that he’ll wish he’d never come to Shola. We’re waiting for Ni’Zulhu’s folk to arrive, and then we’re going home. Why don’t you search that kitchen of his for the herbs he used?”

  She nodded reluctantly and Garras released her. As she walked past Derwent, he was treated to a full display of an enraged hissing and growling Sholan, pelt bushed out till even she looked enormous.

  Carrie sat back after straining forward to watch her display and grinned at Garras. “Impressive, isn’t she?”

  “Always. How’s Brynne, really?” His nose creased in concern.

  “Superficially, it’s as I said. The fever’s broken, so he’s past the worst. As for what’s happened to his mind, I can’t tell. Vanna’s all right, that’s the main thing, so whatever it is can’t be too dangerous yet. We’ll need a medical telepath to figure out what, I’m afraid, unless Derwent can be made to tell us. The penalty for what he’s done is to have the areas of his brain that control his psychic abilities destroyed.”

  Garras’ eyes widened in surprise.

  “That’s why Kusac had to face the hearing on the Khalossa because of me.”

  “No wonder you were both so concerned,” he murmured. “Well, it’s no more than Derwent deserves from what Vanna’s told me. As well as what he’s done to Brynne, he was trying to convince the younglings at the Guild that using their Talent involved a religious commitment.”

  “Fool,” said Carrie as the door chime went. “Ni’Zulhu already?”

  “They were waiting in the commercial vehicle park. You get the door while I get Brynne,” he said, waiting for her to move aside before pulling back the covers and carefully scooping the still sleeping Human up into his arms.

  Carrie snatched a blanket from the end of the bed and spread it over Brynne’s still form.

  Spring had come suddenly to this mountain region of Jalna. One night they lay trying to sleep as the wind howled and gusted round their tower, the next day, blue skies and sunlight heralded the beginning of the thaw.

  Jo and Zashou threw the shutters wide open, letting in the warm air to freshen all three of their chambers. From the courtyard down below, the voices of the townsfolk setting up their weekly market were happier and lighter, anticipating the arrival in a few days of the first of the spring caravans from the valley.

  Rezac paced in front of the window, tail swaying angrily from side to side. Not for him the woolen robes that the Human males wore; they restricted his movements, making him even more irritated than his continued captivity was doing. He preferred to use a shirt as a tunic. Zashou, too, had refused the female clothing sent for her, wearing instead the robe that Rezac refused.

  Through the window came the sound of angry, raised voices and the clash of metal on metal. Rezac was first to the window, Kris and Davies jostling with him to see what was happening below.

  “What is it?” demanded Jo, hovering just behind the males. “What’s going on?”

  “Looks like one of the soldiers has turned on some stall holders,” said Kris. “Three guards have gone to help, and they’re trying to subdue him.”

  There was a dull thump, audible even as high up as they were, then more angry, raised voices.

  “One of the villagers just clocked the soldier from behind with a cooking pot,” said Davies. “He’s being trussed up like a Sunday turkey now. That’s a hell of a lot of rope for one man. Killian’s there,” he added as the Lord’s voice drifted up to them.

  “What’s he saying? I can’t hear him properly,” she deman
ded, trying to push them aside in an effort to see.

  “He’s doubling the guard, that’s all.”

  “Will you look at him!” said Kris, pointing. “What the hell kind of outfit is that?”

  Jo managed to push Davies aside and clung to the stone window ledge, peering over it to see what was happening.

  The person Kris had been alluding to was, indeed, a sight to see. Dressed in a hooded robe of the deepest blue, he was bent over the prone body of the bound guard.

  “He’s not one of their priests,” she said. “Dye that color’s expensive, so he’s someone of major importance. Look at the people around him, how they’re reacting to his presence.”

  “There isn’t anyone near him,” said Rezac.

  “Precisely,” she said. “They’re terrified of him. What’s he doing to the captive? Oh, I see. He’s made a mark on his forehead. Is he a senior priest?”

  “I thought all their priests dressed in brown,” said Kris. “The one that came with Killian the other day did.”

  “Perhaps a higher rank, or a different order,” she said thoughtfully, watching as the man stepped back and the unconscious soldier was hauled off into the castle.

  “I get the feeling they were expecting this.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Rezac. “How could they anticipate something like this?”

  “We were told the Jalnians were a violent people, so violent that none of the species who trade here want them allowed into space,” said Jo. “We’ve never witnessed anything to substantiate this allegation—till now. Perhaps this is what they were talking about.”

  “One incident isn’t enough to base an assumption like that on,” said Kris, turning away.

  “I agree, but could their violence be seasonal? We arrived at the end of a late winter. Now it’s spring.”

  “Why should it be seasonal?” asked Rezac, leaving the window to take a seat at the worktable.

  “Spring is the mating season on most worlds,” said Jo. “Maybe it’s something to do with that.”

  “Do your people become violent in the mating season?” asked Rezac curiously. “Ours don’t. Our females have personal seasons, but they aren’t tied into the weather cycles of Shola.”

  Jo flushed slightly. Rezac had been taking an interest in Human customs lately and had been making a point of asking her for information.

  “No,” was her short reply.

  “They have a cycle that matches that of the Earth’s moon,” said Davies, taking sole control of the window now that the others were gone. “But I don’t know how that’s affected them either on Shola or here, given the moon doesn’t have a twenty-eight-day orbit on either world.”

  “This is getting a little too personal, fellas,” said Jo in a tone that effectively stopped the conversation. “We were talking about the Jalnians. Could they have violent episodes caused by a reaction to wind-borne pollen?”

  “It hasn’t been thawing long enough for that,” said Kris, picking up the cables he was working on. “I’d say we have to wait and see if it happens again. I’d like to know who the chap in that blue robe was, though.”

  Jo settled herself at the main table where she continued sorting and dismantling components from damaged boards.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs a few minutes later made them all look toward the door.

  “Killian and one other,” said Rezac.

  Jo found his abilities uncanny. He had a knack for correctly telling them how many people were approaching their door before they arrived. He said he didn’t fully trust his psychic senses, but for all that, he was seldom wrong and his mind was always on the alert.

  The guard on duty outside opened the door and stepped inside, checking the room before confirming it was safe for his Lord to enter. A younger man, somewhere in his early twenties, followed Killian inside.

  “How goes the work today?” demanded the Lord, striding over to the table to examine what they were doing. “What’re these?” He gestured at several panels connected to each other by thick wires.

  “Don’t touch,” said Kris hurriedly, putting a hand out to block Killian’s inquisitive finger. “These’ll be the units that will enable us to control the weapon. This laser wasn’t designed to be used independently, it was supposed to be an integral part of a scouter. We have to adapt everything, including the power it uses.”

  “What powers these?”

  “The same battery that’ll power the laser,” said Davies, pointing to a large cylindrical container stored under their worktable.

  Killian shook his head, obviously no wiser. “These are matters for the priests,” he said, “not for the likes of me. I’m a soldier, fighting’s been my life. You told me that this … laser … is downstairs in the guarded chamber. When will you be working on that?”

  “Until we get these units made, we can’t begin to work on the actual laser,” said Rezac, looking up from where he was painstakingly attempting to mount some of the smaller components onto a board. “We’ve told you there are many weeks of work to be done before we can give you your weapon. We’re just grateful their tech level is so primitive.”

  The younger man, meanwhile, had edged closer to the other table until he was standing beside Jo, looking at what she was doing.

  “You’re taking this apart,” he said, his tone one of suspicion.

  She looked up at him. Dark, penetrating eyes bored into hers, demanding without words to know what she was doing. Instinctively she glanced over to Killian, then back to him. There was a resemblance in the square shape of the jawline and the set of the eyes.

  “Yes, I am,” she said, putting down the tweezerlike tool she’d been using. “These panels are too damaged to use, so I’m taking off the sound components. They’ll be checked to see they’re working, then we can use them to build the control panels we need.”

  He leaned closer, his plaited scalp lock falling forward across his face. He brushed it behind his ear, then reached out to pick up one of the small gray components.

  “They have script on them,” he said, turning it round to examine it from every angle. “Symbols such as priests and mages use.”

  “It identifies what the piece does.”

  “It looks like a stone. How can this do anything?” he asked, turning the component over between his fingers. Light glinted off the tiny locating pegs on its base.

  “We pass an electrical current through it.”

  He placed it back on the table. “Our priests and mages know of electricity,” he said. “The power of the Storm God, they say.”

  “Urn. Yes. Well, I wouldn’t know,” she said, at a loss for a reply.

  This time he reached for a panel that was splintered and broken. “How do you get the pieces off? They look to be one with this plate.”

  “They just pull out.”

  “Taradain,” called Killian.

  “Coming, Father,” he replied, putting the panel back down. “I’ll return tomorrow so you can tell me more about this,” he said before turning to leave. “They should dine with us tonight, Father,” he said. “Belamor wanted to speak with them: he could do so at dinner.”

  “I told you, I don’t want word getting around that we have off-worlders here,” said Killian, his tone one of censure.

  “All but the furred one could pass as Jalnians,” said Taradain, joining him at the doorway.

  Killian looked round the room. “Where is the other?” he demanded.

  “She’s feeling unwell,” said Kris. “She’s lying down.”

  Killian gestured to his son to go and check. As he made for the bedroom door, Rezac rose to his feet with a growl of anger.

  Jo watched Kris clamp his hand firmly on the Sholan’s arm. No! He’s only checking that she’s there. He won’t touch her.

  She could feel him primed for an explosion if he picked up the slightest distress from his Leska. His tail was rigid and beginning to bush out as his low, ominous growl continued.

  Taradai
n did no more than open the door and glance within before shutting it again. “She’s there,” he confirmed.

  Slowly Rezac began to relax and as he did, Jo sensed what Zashou had been talking about when she said his attitude to life was confrontational. To be prepared for trouble was one thing, to expect it all the time was to live on a razor’s edge. The sooner they escaped from here and returned Rezac and Zashou to Shola, the better. They’d lived for too long without the normal securities of life.

  “Is she sick?” demanded Killian. “If she needs medicines, I can send my apothecary to you.”

  “She’ll be fine,” said Jo. “It’s the lack of fresh air, that’s all. We need to get out now the thaw’s begun.” She looked hopefully at Killian, trying not to push her suggestion mentally. “The Sholans particularly. They aren’t used to remaining indoors for long periods of time.”

  “If you’d made more progress, then you’d be working from the chamber where this laser is stored,” Killian replied, waiting for his son to precede him from the room. “There is plenty of fresh air there.”

  As the door closed behind them, Kris let out a sigh of relief.

  “Good try,” said Davies. “It might work, you never know. Getting him to let Rezac and Zashou out into the fresh air will be difficult, they’re too obviously alien. Looks like you’ve got an admirer, Jo. Killian’s son seemed quite taken with you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “He’s right, Jo,” said Kris. “I was definitely picking up an interest in you from him. Be careful. If we end up going down to eat with them, don’t let Taradain take you off alone.”

  “Lay off it, you two,” she said scornfully. “Why should he be interested in me?”

  “It’s not you I’m concerned about,” said Kris, looking back at his work. “Just remember how the Jalnians view women. We’re outside whatever codes of conduct their polite circle has because we’re only alien captives.”