Raiban gave a reluctant grunt of assent. “And how do you propose to communicate with her?”
“That’s my job, General,” said Zhyaf. “Her mind’s been programmed to be receptive to mental suggestions. I’ve already established a link with her and am constantly monitoring her emotions and surface thoughts. When necessary I can go deeper.”
“She’s had all memories of her programming suppressed,” said Rhyaz. “Kezule must have no reason to suspect she’s been placed with him as a spy.”
“And if her life’s endangered? What then?” asked Raiban.
Rhyaz shrugged. “This is a war, General. There are always casualties. We’re already grooming a replacement in case we need her. As I said, hopefully we won’t. If we had to go in to rescue Keeza, he’d know she was our agent.”
Raiban nodded and turned away from the window, beginning to walk toward the door. “What information do you hope to get?”
“If we can start a dialogue going between the two of them, any stray comment from Kezule could be useful. A reference to his sun being brighter or dimmer than ours could help us pinpoint his solar system. We intend Zhyaf to mentally guide her toward the questions we want her to ask him.”
“Isn’t that dangerous for her? I presume she isn’t a telepath.”
“She’s not. It could be dangerous,” replied Zhyaf, “if she didn’t have some degree of sensitivity. There’s not much, but enough. When this is over, she’ll need training to learn to live with her heightened senses.”
“Don’t you feel her terror, Zhyaf? I thought you damned telepaths were squeamish about this sort of thing.”
“Yes, General Raiban, I do! But I have to put it aside if I’m to help Keeza,” he snapped. “I find it totally morally reprehensible!”
Raiban grunted as she waited for the door to slide open. “Good to know someone’s looking out for her.”
When Raiban had gone, Rhyaz turned to Zhyaf. “I’d prefer you to moderate your emotional outbursts in future, Interpreter Zhyaf,” he said quietly. “How’s she doing?”
“How do you think she feels, alone with an alien like that? A species that’s known to be violent?” asked Zhyaf angrily.
“She’s been taught how to placate a violent male, Zhyaf,” said Rhyaz. “And with more than her body. She’ll grovel as well as any Chemerian merchant does when discovered in an illegal transaction. She’s been as well trained as possible in the time available to us. We’ve given her every chance to survive. Now it’s up to her—and you.”
“I’ll do my job, Master Rhyaz,” he said coldly, entering his new data into his comm. “You do realize he said that our females were useless for pairing with because they were too violent, don’t you?”
“We didn’t know that until now. Just remember, she should already be dead, Zhyaf,” said Rhyaz sharply. The damned telepath kept taking this morally superior attitude with them! It was getting to be annoying.
“And Kezule has never been imprisoned with one of our females before. It may be that the isolation has gotten to him, and we just can’t tell. We know they have a high sex drive, and he may just turn to her for some kind of relief or companionship. That’s what we’re hoping for! Dammit, I don’t care if he rapes her in revenge for what I’ve done to him if it helps us get the bastards that murdered the millions of Sholans on our two colony worlds! She’s a weapon, Zhyaf, like all of us are at Stronghold. Every day there’s a chance that one of my Brothers or Sisters may be killed during the course of a mission, but they take that risk. This experiment is vital. I can’t afford to care for one criminal!”
Zhyaf’s ears lowered till they were flat against his skull, showing he was suitably chastened. “Your pardon, Guild Master,” he said quietly. “I’d forgotten our two colonies. Are you really training a replacement?”
“No, we’re not. This is a one-shot experiment, Zhyaf. It must succeed.” He watched the tension leave Zhyaf’s face as the telepath’s ears rose.
“Do you want me to help her overcome her terror, Master Rhyaz?”
“No. She has to react to him naturally, or he’ll never trust her.”
“What if she doesn’t lose her fear?” he asked. “What if she becomes so terrified she can’t do what we want? It’s against Guild laws to manipulate her mind.”
“You’re En’Shalla now, not subject to the Telepath Guild,” Rhyaz growled, “and you’re under contract to us. You’ll do as you’re ordered, Zhyaf. Don’t lose sight of our objective. We might not know where they are, but those damned Valtegans are out there somewhere, and we’re at war with them!” Angrily, he turned and stalked from the room, leaving the two males behind. He liked what he was having to do as little as Raiban and Zhyaf, but dammit, they didn’t have to rub it in!
“Mentor Sorli, how pleasant to hear from you,” said Lijou. “First of all, let me personally congratulate you on your promotion.”
“Thank you, Master Lijou. May I return the compliment? It’s good to know our priests will have their own Guild from now on. I would have been in touch sooner, had it not been for my promotion.” His left ear moved fractionally, indicating mild embarrassment as he lowered his voice. “I must admit I didn’t expect Master Esken to hand over the reins quite so suddenly. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d set me here to divert the hunt from his own door! Father Ghyan and I have been busy implementing the Terran education program. An update will be on its way to you in the next day or two.”
“Thank you, Sorli. I must admit that the last three weeks have been novel. To have such mutual cooperation between our Guilds was unheard of till now. We were hard-pressed to know what to do with the sheer number of acolytes arriving at the Retreat! From famine to feast, as they say.”
“Indeed,” smiled Sorli. “They’ve been one burden less for me, I have to admit. The Terrans are a headache on their own. There’s a lot of hard work ahead for both of us, but I’d rather that than relive the last few years.” Briefly his smile faded, then reasserted itself. “I’m actually contacting you on official business. Master Esken has requested an escort to bring his future Consortia bride from Ranz to our Guildhouse.”
Lijou raised an eye ridge.
“Oh, he didn’t specify a Brotherhood escort, but since I have heard there’s trouble brewing in Ranz, I thought the Brotherhood would be more appropriate than the Warriors. After all,” he said, his eyes widening guilelessly, “it would be terrible indeed if anything should happen to her on her way here.”
“Quite,” murmured Lijou, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he repressed a smile. “We’d be happy to provide an escort from the House of Khaimoe to your Guild. When is it for, and what is the name of the lucky female?”
“There’s not many of a standing that would satisfy our Master,” said Sorli. “I’m sure you could hazard a guess.”
“I’m afraid I don’t keep up to date with social politics,” said Lijou, dipping his ear apologetically. “I couldn’t begin to speculate.”
“Juilmi Rraoud.”
Lijou feigned surprise. “I have heard of her. A talented hostess and an intellectual. Esken has set his sights high.”
“She accepted,” murmured Sorli, “against all wagers to the contrary, and quite suddenly, too. She’s to be escorted here for the sixth hour tomorrow for her first meeting with Master Esken.”
“I’ll see all is in order, Mentor Sorli,” said Lijou, adopting a formal tone for the moment. “And yourself? Ghyan told me you’d life-bonded with Mayoi Kyusha some three weeks ago. How do you find married life?”
Sorli’s expression softened perceptibly. “To have someone to share the good and the bad with for the first time—it makes life so much more enjoyable, Master Lijou. Did you know she was at the Guildhouse all along? I’d even worked with her once or twice.”
“Fancy that,” murmured Lijou. “I take it that everything has worked out well for you and her?”
“Without doubt. She’s been working in the medical section recently
, on the case the Clan Lord sent to us. In fact, that was my next piece of news. It seems like we’ve had the best of the people the Terrans intend to send us. The last arrivals had abilities that were considered on the fringes of belief by even those Humans who do believe in telepathy as a science. We’ve had to invent new definitions for them. This Derwent, for instance, he’s a prime example. He says he’s a healer of souls, a guider of the dead, but a large number of the Terrans say he can’t be because he’s from the wrong culture! If you listen to one group, he’s even the wrong sex, it being a female’s skill, one that a male is mentally incapable of doing! It’s like a pasture full of holes made by those damned jumping rodents—you know the ones, the farmers hate ’em. What’re they called?”
“Chiddoes,” Lijou supplied, again hiding a smile.
“Yes, them. You know what I mean. You catch your foot in one of their burrows and you break your ankle. We need to have them more thoroughly screened on Earth before they come here, Master Lijou.”
“I agree, Sorli. I’ll add my petition to yours at AlRel. But back to Derwent. What did you find out about him?”
“It’s very inconclusive,” said Sorli, with a sigh. “Brynne Stevens refuses to allow a medical telepath to examine his mind, and all we can get out of Derwent is that he did nothing to him, that any changes are due to his training methods and come directly from Brynne himself.”
“What do you think?”
“I’m afraid he may be right. We had Brynne’s mind covertly scanned while he was ill, and there’s nothing there that isn’t basically the same as any other Human, certainly nothing like the difference that Physician Kyjishi and Clan Leader Carrie have been talking about. It is possible that Derwent’s training methods produce different results in a mixed Leska than they would in either species. We’re unlikely to find out since Derwent flatly refuses to teach anyone else, or even talk about what he was teaching Brynne.”
“An impasse, unless Mr. Stevens decides to tell us himself, which, I take it, he doesn’t. How is he?”
“He’s fine. It was just the virus that we all caught,” said Sorli. “I apologize that there isn’t better news, but Derwent’s still being detained here under observation.”
“What’s AlRel ultimately going to do with him?”
“Deport him unless he cooperates. He’s got a week left to make up his mind. Personally, I think we’d be better off without him, but it isn’t my decision. He’s still trying to preach his belief that Shola is a living planet, the body of Vartra, and that every Talent is a gift from the God to whom we owe devotion and worship.” He gave a snort of amusement. “I can just see our Master Builder ordering his Guild to pray to the Gods as they lay each stone for a new civic building!”
“It would certainly extend the time it takes to build anything,” agreed Lijou. “And I am in complete agreement with you on the danger he poses to the younglings at our Guilds. Thank Vartra he can get nowhere near my colleges! I hate to think what someone like that would say to the acolytes.”
“Well, I’d best be going now, Master Lijou. Thank you for your time, and tomorrow’s escort. Did I mention that Challa Kayal also arrives at the Guildhouse to see Master Esken tomorrow?”
“No, you didn’t,” said Lijou with a smile. “Let’s hope he chooses the right partner tomorrow.”
“I hope so, too,” said Sorli.
Cautiously, Mara emerged from the tunnel into the lower chamber of the dig, glancing around to see who was there. Most of the Terran team worked upstairs in the ancient lab, but there was usually someone on duty here. Around her, the rusting remains of the vehicles that had once been hidden within the hillside were being exposed from their resting places in the dust and debris. So, too, were the corpses of the Sholans and Valtegans whose final battle this had been.
On the other side of the chamber, the three trestle tables that were the archaeologists’ field lab were butted against one another, forming an open-sided square. Sitting in their midst was Josh Lewis. With a gesture she knew well, he brushed his sandy hair back from his face. There was a harassed look on his face as he passed an artifact back to one of the Sholan diggers.
“I’ve dozens of these damned things,” he said. “All in the same condition—rusty, empty, and full of muck. Tell the others to clean ’em out first and only bring ones that have bullets in them to me. Otherwise, just pick a box and throw them in with the rest!”
The youth lowered his ears disappointedly and, with a nod, slouched back to the face of the excavation.
Looking quickly behind her to make sure her faithful shadow was still missing, Mara headed over to him at what she hoped was a casual pace.
Josh glanced up as her shadow fell across him. “I’m really rather busy just now, Mara, unless you fancy helping me.”
“I can’t stay long. I’m followed wherever I go these days,” she said quietly, leaning on the tabletop in front of him. She liked Josh, and wasn’t looking forward to what she had to tell him. Of all her brief liaisons, for some reason she couldn’t explain, the few hours they’d spent together had meant the most to her.
He frowned, dark brows meeting in concern. “Why should they follow you? Surely you’re in no danger here on the estate.”
“Nothing like that,” she assured him, wishing she could tell what he was thinking. His mind, unlike those of most of the unTalented she knew, remained a closed book to her. “I need to warn you, to tell you something important.”
She let her voice tail off, unsure how to continue. How could she tell him that she’d used him to get pregnant with a Human child, only to discover it was as much a hybrid as Vanna’s and Carrie’s cubs? The look on his face, perhaps even the feel of his mind, would be full of revulsion for her. She realized now that she deserved it. Somehow, she’d passed this damned virus on to him, contaminated him in some way so that his children would never be Human. She’d stolen from him the one thing she’d resented losing herself, her Humanity.
“What is it?” he asked, putting his hand up again to brush back his unruly long hair.
There was no putting it off if she was going to tell him before Jissoh finally caught up with her. “The night we spent together, I let you make me pregnant,” she said quietly, looking away from him.
She counted two hundred heartbeats before he broke the silence. “Why?”
“It was only a matter of time before Zhyaf made me pregnant, and I couldn’t bear the thought of having a child that wasn’t Human.” She found the rough surface of the table fascinating and absently picked at a loose sliver of wood. “Except it isn’t Human. It’s a cub, like theirs.”
“Pardon?”
She looked up as she sensed his disbelief and astonishment. “You fathered a Sholan cub on me, Josh.”
He looked round the cavern, desperately making sure no one was within earshot. “Are you trying to tell me that your child—my child—isn’t Human? You’ve got to be kidding, Mara!” he said, his voice angry despite its quietness. “If this is your idea of a joke, it isn’t funny! I knew I should have stayed away from you, everyone warned me!”
“I’m not joking, it’s the truth. They’re following me because I won’t tell them who the father is.” She stopped abruptly, looking over to the cave mouth. “I’ve got to go, Jissoh’s found me,” she said, moving away.
He stood up, lunging across the table to catch hold of her arm. “Just wait a minute. You can’t come in here and drop a bombshell like that on me and then walk off without explaining it!”
Frantically she tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened their grip. Reaching up, she tried to pry herself loose. “You don’t understand,” she said. “It’s you they want! They want to find out how a nontelepath could father a hybrid cub!”
“I didn’t,” he said bluntly. “They can run tests on me to prove I didn’t. You’re lying, Mara, and I’m going to expose your lies!”
She stopped struggling and watched as Jissoh broke into a run. From behind her, she could
sense Rulla approaching from the upper level opening. “It isn’t a lie, Josh. I’m sorry.”
Carrie was contacted at the range where she and T’Chebbi were practicing their marksmanship. They left immediately, telling Jissoh to rendezvous with them at Vanna’s lab.
As she made her way there, she reached for Josh’s mind, finding it easy to penetrate the few rudimentary mental barriers that shock had not removed. She found what she expected.
“He’s one of us,” she said as she entered Vanna’s office, leaving T’Chebbi outside with Jissoh and Rulla. The two young Humans sat at opposite sides of the room, in various stages of unhappiness. “A minor Talent, but there.”
“Looks like Kusac was right after all,” Vanna sighed, swinging round on her desk seat to face Carrie. “This is probably another Triad.” She turned back to Josh and Mara. “Thanks to you two, I’m going to have to rewrite all my neat little theories,” she said with a half-grin, trying to keep her tone light.
“There’s got to be some mistake here,” said Josh, nervously scratching his bearded chin. “Okay, I’ll admit I might have a Talent, a small one as you say, but as for being one of you, that’s a hell of a long way from second guessing who’s on the phone or at the door!”
“As you say, you have a lesser Talent, but that could be because it’s underdeveloped,” said Carrie, moving toward one of the empty chairs. “We don’t know how sensitive the thirds will become in time and with association with us, but we do all share the same altered genes, and that’s easily checked.”
“That doesn’t make me the father of Mara’s child.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Vanna agreed, “but it does mean you could be, and that coupled with the fact that Mara claims you are …”
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