Razor's Edge

by Lisanne Norman

  Sorli’s temper had been rising during Esken’s tirade. Now it had reached its zenith. “Master Esken, I am in charge of the mixed Leskas. You yourself appointed me to the position, and to oversee the daily running of this Guildhouse. I am doing this. The testing of the telepaths was not my concern. It was requested at a higher level, by the military, I believe. It’s no longer my job to keep you informed of gossip! You have aides in plenty to do that, and your legions of whispering jeggets like Khafsa!”

  “You forget yourself, Sorli.” Esken’s tone was arctic. “An appointment can be reversed as easily as it is made.”

  Sorli got to his feet. He hated confrontations, and prayed that Esken couldn’t tell how badly this was upsetting him. “You forget, Master Esken, that I returned on the clear understanding that I would be independent of you. Do you realize just what damage you’ve done to our Guild? You refused Governor Nesul a legitimate request for a knowledge transfer to bring him up to date on the off-world political situation. You blackmailed and frightened members of the ruling council into voting your way at meetings; you antagonized the Aldatan Clan, and the Clan Lord, to the point where he removed his daughters from their training here and none of his family will visit this Guildhouse without bodyguards! You kidnapped and drugged Physician Kyjishi and her Leska, Brynne Stevens … Do I need to continue, Master Esken? Don’t threaten me with demotion, because before you can do that, I will very publicly leave here and join the Brotherhood of Vartra as a priest!”

  He stopped, taking a deep breath, then turned and walked slowly to the door. Pressing his hand to the lock, he stood back. “Good day, Master Esken. I’ve nothing more to say to you.”

  Esken got silently to his feet and walked to the door. He stopped as he drew level with Sorli and opened his mouth.

  “Good day,” repeated Sorli, looking past him into his outer office and the bird run beyond.

  Esken left, and Sorli thumbed the door closed. Letting out a sigh of relief, he leaned against the wall for a moment, shaking.

  In the adjoining room, his mate, Mayoi, looked across to where Lijou and Kha’Qwa sat. Their door had been open and they’d heard everything. “Would you excuse me a moment,” she murmured, getting to her feet.

  Kha’Qwa reached out a comforting hand. “Tell him we wish to take him out for a meal. I think you both need a change of scene right now.”

  Mayoi smiled. “That should help, but give us a few minutes first.” As she left, she made sure to close the door behind her.

  “We must do something, Lijou, else Sorli will leave and we’ll be back where we started. It’s time for the Brotherhood to get involved.”

  “Involved?” Then he realized what she meant. “Oh, no. We’re not going to start intimidating …”

  “Esken’s proved himself to be untrustworthy, Lijou. Should we lose Sorli because of him? I don’t think so. I’ll speak to Rhyaz when we get home. Now hush, I can hear them. Help me get up. I’ve been sitting in this position long enough.”

  Instantly Lijou was at her side, helping her out of the chair. More than halfway through her pregnancy, she was beginning to find herself less agile than usual.

  Events took their own turn as, a couple of days later, Master Esken was struck down with a heart seizure in the middle of one of his rages. While he was recovering in the medical unit next to the Guildhouse, he requested a truthsayer and notary and tendered his resignation as Master of the Telepath Guild. A week later, Mentor Sorli was confirmed in his new post as Guild Master.

  “Was the Brotherhood involved?” Lijou asked Kha’Qwa when he heard the news.

  She shrugged prettily and reached for another rainbow fruit. “How could they be? Master Esken had a heart seizure, Infonet just said so.”

  He looked at her suspiciously for a moment, but when she winced and tried to make herself more comfortable as the cub inside her kicked, he decided there were other things he’d rather think about.

  Left to her own devices, Keeza had quickly developed a rhythm of resting, eating, and sleeping. The resting drifted into trancelike states where more of the strange dreams came to her. Most importantly, though, the food and the enforced rest were returning her to full health.

  The dreams were troubled, all about a time she had no memory of, a time of conflict and fighting, the night around her laced with the glow of energy weapon beams and the screams of the injured and dying. There were others, more peaceful ones, of gardens and flowers, and an old female who spoke kindly words. These she liked and when she could, returned to them, enjoying the quiet of the garden and the scent of the blossoms there.

  Kezule had wakened once to drink and gorge again. She’d fed him as before, piece by piece till he was done. When he got her to help him to the bathroom to wash the strips of dead skin from his body she could almost see the shape of the undigested food pressing against his distended belly.

  Strangely, it didn’t disgust her. Perhaps she’d gotten as used to the coolness of his smooth, hairless skin as she was to his musty scent.

  “You felt the sickness?” he asked as she wrapped him once more in the blankets.

  “A little,” she said, glancing involuntarily at the bite on her forearm.

  “Show me.”

  She held it out for his inspection. The dozens of tiny puncture wounds were healing, but the scabs over them had a greenish tint.

  He grunted. It had worked. “No one has disturbed us?”

  “No one.”

  “They feed you?”

  “They send your food, and I eat it.” Her nose wrinkled in concern, ears flicking back worriedly. “Do I do right, my General?” she asked, risking a touch to his face.

  “Yes,” he said shortly, turning away from her. Anger began to build within him and he tried to suppress it. His body responded slowly, but it responded: he was healing. He needed to be calm to go back into laalgo, but his anger was justified. They had made it impossible for him to do without her attentions; they were responsible for the indignity of what he’d had to do—what he still had to do. He hissed, then closed his eyes and began to compose himself once more, feeling the laalquoi begin reacting within his stomach. This was a long healing. His ability to cope had been badly lessened by his treatment and injuries.

  She watched as he grew still and cool. The chill of his body had frightened her at first, but she’d realized this was part of his laalgo state. Lying back, she settled down, cuddling herself close against the mound of blankets that was him. He needed her to protect him. Well, he’d learn his trust wasn’t misplaced. She pushed herself up on an elbow and looked down into his still face. He was just different, not ugly as she’d first thought.

  His crest lay folded, almost invisible against the central ridge of his skull. Beneath closed eyelids, the bulbous eyes were still: no eyelashes to quiver, no eyebrows above them either. Forehead and cheeks curved upward till they met in a nose that wasn’t quite what a nose should be; his nostrils were just two slits which dilated almost imperceptibly as he breathed. Below them, his deadly sharp teeth were concealed behind a wide, almost V-shaped mouth.

  She risked touching his cheek, her fingers gently checking the still swollen cut and the yellowing flesh surrounding it. He was healing very slowly for him, but he was healing. Sighing, she lay back down, drawing comfort from the fact that her body warmth was helping him.

  “I want those test results,” said Fazzu from the bio-scanner console. “Why haven’t they come up with them yet?”

  “Takes time,” said Dzyash, hovering behind him. He disliked it when the physician took over his station like this, and he’d been doing it a little too frequently of late. “Now they know he can manufacture chemicals almost at will, they’ve been working on the cadavers as well. They’ll have the findings soon. I’m sure they’ve told you that already.”

  “No need to be snippy with me, boy,” growled Fazzu, pushing the chair away from the work counter and getting to his feet. “Get on with your job and leave me to mine!” With
that he stalked out of the room.

  Dzyash resumed his seat, his frown changing to a slow smile as Nayla reached out a comforting hand to pat him.

  “Don’t take it personally, Dzyash. He’s as concerned as the rest of us,” said Zhyaf, glancing over to him. “It makes him irritable.”

  “We’re all worried for her, Zhyaf,” said Nayla, “but we don’t all behave like Fazzu.”

  Zhyaf shrugged and turned back to his work. “I’ll be a damned sight happier when I know what Kezule pumped into her,” he growled. “She’s focusing too much on him, unhealthily so. I’m afraid she’s going to try approaching him again, and next time, she might not be so lucky.”

  “Not a lot we can do,” murmured Nayla.

  “Don’t be too sure about that,” muttered Zhyaf.

  Dzyash turned to look at him. “Don’t do anything unorthodox, Zhyaf,” he warned. “That could cost her her life. We don’t know how she’s supposed to be reacting to that bite. It could be this is what he’s intended. She’s sure as hell as protective of him as a mother with a cub!”

  Zhyaf snorted contemptuously. “This is no mothering response, believe me! I take your point, though,” he sighed. “I’ll leave her alone.”

  Keeza lay in the dark, looking at the ceiling. It had been over a week now since he’d last woken. It couldn’t take much longer, surely. Faintly, as if at a distance, she sensed an alarm go off.

  A buzzer began to sound in the control room. Everyone froze, looking up at the alarm light set into the wall above Dzyash’s station. Dzyash was the first to react. Dropping the mug of c’shar he’d been fetching from the dispenser, he ran to his monitors.

  “Vartra’s bones, we’re losing him! His readings are dropping off the monitor!”

  “Checking for system failure,” said Nayla quietly, patching through to his console.

  “I’ll call for the physician,” said Zhyaf, reaching for his comm.

  “No time. He’s flatlined,” said Dzyash, activating the cell lights then spinning round for the medikit. “I’m going in. You two, cover me!”

  “Don’t be so damned foolish!” said Nayla, trying to grab him as he went past. “Help’s coming! It isn’t our job to …”

  He pulled away angrily, slapping his palm on the door mechanism. “If he dies, so could she! We don’t know what that bite did yet! Come on!” Grasping her by the arm, he hauled her out into the corridor and down to the entrance to Kezule’s cell.

  “This is madness! He’s dangerous—he could escape!” Nayla said angrily.

  Dzyash slammed Nayla’s hand against the lock, holding it there long enough for it to be scanned, then released her. “He’s dying, dammit! He’s not capable of hurting anyone!” he snarled, putting his own palm on the plate. Seconds later, the door began to slide open.

  As light flooded the room, Keeza sat up, blinking in the sudden glare. What was happening? It wasn’t time for the lights to go on. Then the door opened, and two Sholans rushed in.

  She rose, spanning Kezule in a four-legged stance, pelt bristling and rising around her face and neck, teeth bared, watching them as they skidded to a stop.

  “It’s all right, Keeza,” said the male, holding out a placating hand. “I’m a medic, here to help him. He’s dying, Keeza.”

  “You lie!” she snarled. “He’s in laalgo!”

  “No. His heart’s stopped. He needs medical attention now,” said Dzyash, edging slowly closer.

  Bunching her thigh muscles, she leaped across the still form, landing on the floor in front of the bed. “You’re not touching him!”

  “Watch her,” said Zhyaf’s voice from the doorway. “She’s prepared to kill.”

  “Then do something, dammit! Mind-zap her or whatever the hell it is you do!” said Dzyash angrily.

  Keeza crouched lower, tail lashing from side to side in warning. “Leave him alone! You caused his injuries, you’ve done him enough harm!”

  Guards pushed Zhyaf aside, training their guns on Keeza “Move away,” ordered the lead one, waving his rifle at Keeza. “Let the medic through.”

  She remembered the pain of the last time and glanced over her shoulder at Kezule. Did he need help? He said not to let them wake him, but if he was dying, surely that was different? Confused, she backed up till she felt the bed behind her then turned to touch his face. Cold, icy cold. She heard a movement and looked up at them again, growling warningly.

  “Keeza, we’ve got no time! Let me examine him please,” said the medic.

  He was right, she should let him check Kezule. He mustn’t die because of her. She’d be failing in her trust if she allowed that to happen. Still growling, she moved aside, not taking her eyes off the guards and their guns.

  Dzyash was at the bedside in an instant, pulling back the covers, feeling at Kezule’s throat for a pulse.

  Nayla joined him, opening the medikit he’d placed on the bed. Searching through it, she drew out a vial and began loading the hypo.

  “Epinephrin compound,” he snapped, holding out his hand for it.

  “Loaded,” she said, passing it. “Standard dose for resuss. You could kill him …” she began.

  “He’s dead if I don’t,” he said, putting the hypo to Kezule’s neck. As he did, the Valtegan’s clawed hand closed round his throat.

  With a full-throated roar, Kezule surged from the bed, shaking Dzyash once as he took in his surroundings. Turning, he saw Keeza’s eyes widen briefly before she flung herself at the Sholan opposite her. Feeling blood trickling down his hand, he remembered the one he was holding. As if he weighed no more than a chiddoe, he lifted him and threw him at the guards.

  Hearing the mewl of fear from beside him, he reached out and pulled the female in front of him as a shield. Keeza, he saw, had hold of the other, and his gun.

  “Bring him here,” he ordered, moving toward the fallen guard. With his foot, he snagged one of the rifles, pulling it closer. Shifting his grip on her, he took her by the throat and carefully leaned down to pick up the gun.

  Dragging her captive with her, Keeza raced across to join him, landing a vicious kick to the head of the guard who was scrabbling for the one remaining weapon. He collapsed and seconds later, she had the rifle.

  “We’re leaving,” Kezule said, aiming at the two guards blocking the doorway. “Move, or die.”

  Beside him, Keeza fired. One of the guards collapsed, screaming in agony. She fired again, and his screams were silenced. The other dropped his weapon, and arms held high, backed away from the door.

  “Better safe,” she said, looking at him. “They want you too much.”

  She was right. He’d been out of the field for too long. “Do you know this place?”

  She nodded, and taking her captive in a similar neck hold, began to move forward. “I know the way out.”

  “They’ll have exits covered. Need a different way,” he said following her.

  As they emerged into the corridor, they could see the guards at the far end, alerted by the noise, coming toward them.

  “Main exit’s through them,” said Keeza, making sure to keep her prisoner in front of her.

  “Behind?”

  “More rooms, an elevator, no exits.”

  “Windows. We need a room with windows.” He shook the female, careful of his strength and claws. He needed her alive. “Take us to one.”

  Nayla pointed down the corridor. “Down there,” she croaked.

  “We go this way,” he said to Keeza, heading down the corridor, keeping his back to the wall. “Which one?” he hissed in his captive’s ear. “Trick us, and you’ll die like your friend. Help us, you’ll go free.”

  Keeza hit the door lock on the cell before following him.

  The guards at the far end were approaching slowly. Hearing a familiar faint whine, she flattened herself and her hostage to the wall, reaching out to press Kezule back as an energy bolt hissed past them.

  “Tell them not to shoot,” said Keeza, twisting the male so he was faci
ng the advancing troopers.

  “Don’t shoot!” he said, his voice shaking as he clutched at the hand gripping his neck.

  “Louder!” She jabbed the gun into his side.

  “Don’t shoot! They’ll kill us!” he yelled, dropping his arms and trying to steady himself against the wall.

  At Stronghold, L’Seuli charged unceremoniously into the Guild Master’s bedroom, activating the light as he entered.

  “Kezule’s broken out,” he said, picking up Rhyaz’s clothes and handing them to him. “An aircar’s being readied for us now.”

  “What?” Rhyaz rubbed the sleep from his eyes and reached automatically for what his aide was holding out to him.

  “Kezule’s escaped,” repeated L’Seuli. “He and Keeza have Zhyaf Rakula and Nayla Kiolma as hostages.”

  Rhyaz was up in an instant. “Inform the Aldatan Estate,” he ordered, pulling on his robe. “And get an …”

  “The estate’s been informed and a speeder is waiting in the courtyard. I’ve also told Father Lijou.”

  “Any casualties? In Vartra’s name, how’d he get out?” he asked, buckling on his weapons belt and moving toward the door.

  “Three casualties. Dzyash Liosoe, the medic on duty with Zhyaf and Nayla, and two of the guards. The medical alarm was triggered by Kezule’s bio-sensor, and they went in. We don’t know any more yet because he’s taken the surviving team members,” said L’Seuli, running to keep up with him.

  Garras reached for his wrist comm and, picking it up, stumbled from the bedroom into the lounge. Activating it, he slumped down in the nearest chair.

  “Whatizzit?” he mumbled.

  “Garras, Ruth here. It’s Mara. Something’s happened to Zhyaf! I need Vanna’s help now!”