by James Palmer
Then an ugly thought sprouted in Bal’s mind: What if Batrachian had known that these two would be here, and was attempting to frame them? But how could Batrachian have known Virga and Xiten would come here? Bal himself hadn’t known of the Covenant gem -- which hadn’t yet even been identified as being a piece of the original Sacred Heart gem – until a few weeks ago. And if Batrachian had known about the Covenant gem, he’d surely have come himself. No, this wasn’t a set-up by the little Tarbic.
Bal Tabarin, in his practical way, pushed the thoughts from his mind, and decided to be flexible about the situation.
At the Hierophant’s behest, his guests seated themselves. The count removed the cowl from his head, revealing his face. It was the face of a gargoyle of legend, with a large, beak-like nose, thick lips that were parted just enough to reveal small fangs at the corners of his mouth, and dark, beady eyes beneath a small brow ridge. Small bumps which could almost pass as horns sat, stump-like, on his broad, hairless head. His skin was golden and rough, textured something like granite with tiny impurities in it, and at least one wart-like protuberance was visible on the gargoyle-like Xiten’s countenance.
Bal Tabarin’s first thought was: If he was the actor Batrachian had located, it was a sure bet Xiten hadn’t played many leading roles.
The Corruban glanced at Princess Virga. She was as lovely as her holograph, with a small, heart-shaped face and fine, delicate features. Her olive skin was smooth and creamy. Her black hair, long and straight, shone brilliantly like anthracite coal. She was small-boned, but well-proportioned, her hips and breasts womanly on a girl’s frame. Her voice was melodic, like the striking of perfectly-tuned bells.
Bal’s second thought was: What does Xiten have to make a woman like Virga choose him as escort? But maybe he misread their relationship. Perhaps Xiten was the princess’ chaperone. Or bodyguard. Bal hoped so.
Virga’s presence was intoxicating. He had never felt anything like it before.
Virga was even more beautiful in person than her holograph had suggested. She possessed a grace and poise the simulation couldn’t convey. Bal couldn’t believe a woman such as her could possibly be mixed up with robbery and murder. Batrachian must have been mistaken about her. She was probably an unwitting pawn, Bal guessed.
Probably Xiten – the scoundrel! – had gotten the beautiful young woman involved without her knowledge, the Corruban decided.
Rebani Kalba’s terse voice shook Bal from this reverie. “Get a hold of yourself. Virga is exuding powerful pheromones,” the Sabour explained, referring to the subtle chemical scent a person gave off which caused others to be attracted to them. In normal humans, this scent was so subtle as to be undetectable to the conscious senses, but was registered by the unconscious mind.
Bal was skeptical that mere chemicals could be responsible for such a deep and obvious attraction. Princess Virga plainly felt it, too. The whole thing made Bal Tabarin reconsider the possibility of fate.
Rebani Kalba observed that Count Xiten had been studying the two of them. He remained quiet throughout the meal, rarely speaking, and when he did in his gravelly voice, it was always short and to the point. He turned aside questions about himself that Rebani posed.
The Sabour was convinced the two were, indeed, involved with the Sacred Heart.
Unusually, he had thus far gotten no impression of their emotional state during the course of the meal; Bal Tabarin was plainly enamored of Princess Virga – perhaps that was blocking out all “background” emotion, but Rebani didn’t believe so.
The Sabour reached out with a wispy probe that just brushed against Xiten’s mind, and it was turned aside. Rebani felt no resistance to the mild probe; it had simply been shunted aside as if it had been a physical missile that had struck its target in a glancing manner rather than in a solid one.
Rebani Kalba reached out with his mind again, this time a bit more forcefully, and once again, his probe was repelled. The resistance he felt was not that of a strong-willed mind, nor of a natural, racial immunity.
They were using a holotronic masker!
This was a technology not well known, and even harder to possess. Developed by the Sund a generation earlier in order to conceal their hidden agents, the masker blocked emotional emanations from its user. Only the great wealth of Arga Cilus could have purchased such arcane technology. Perhaps his immense resources had located one of the lost devices?
Xiten and Virga had probably needed the masker, the Sabour realized, to get through security if they were actually going to steal the Hierophant’s scepter, as Rebani believed. It would have hidden their dark motives from Covenant’s security force. And now it protected them from the probings of the Sabour – at least initially. No technology could stand up to the full might of a trained psionicists’ mind, Rebani Kalba believed.
Whatever the case, this put Rebani and his companion Bal at a disadvantage, for although they knew of the pair’s general goal, they couldn’t learn the specifics of their plan, as Rebani had hoped. The Sabour was further hampered by a sick-in-love Bal Tabarin. Xiten and Virga would be on their guard now, as well, because they knew that Rebani Kalba was a Sabour, even if they did not know his purpose in coming to Covenant. They might suspect it. The playing field was even once again.
Dinner came to a close, and each pair of visitors went their separate ways, the subject of the scepter never coming up, since Rebani did not want to alert Xiten and Virga to his purpose on Covenant.
Rebani Kalba went with Bal Tabarin into his chamber. He instructed his companion to sit. “Close your eyes and relax. Breathe deeply.”
“I think I’ll go see what Princess Virga is doing later tonight,” said Bal Tabarin as he followed the Sabour’s directions.
“Quiet,” Rebani told him.
Bal Tabarin did as he was instructed. In this relaxed state, his mind was open to Rebani, who gently pushed the infatuation from Bal as he had projected fear toward the mercenary commandos who had raided Bal Tabarin’s ship a year earlier.
It was easier to cause an emotion than eliminate one.
“What’s going on?” asked Bal, feeling mixed emotions suddenly. He was confused by the fluctuating state of his mind.
“I am freeing you from Virga’s control,” answered Rebani.
“What if I don’t want to be freed?” asked Bal Tabarin. “What if we were meant to be together?”
“Listen to yourself,” Rebani said harshly. “You are a confirmed skeptic who often doesn’t believe even after he sees, yet now you subscribe to love at first sight.”
Long moments passed. The Corruban felt as though the Sabour’s fingers were inside his skull, pushing and pulling his brain.
Finally, the Sabour asked, “How do you feel?”
“Clear-headed,” Bal answered slowly. “That was an amazing experience.”
“I suggest you stay away from the princess,” Rebani said. “Her pheromones may be powerful enough to affect you through the pores of your skin, rather than by the sense of smell.”
“How did you manage to resist her?” Bal asked curiously.
“I am incapable of love,” Rebani answered coldly. “There was nothing to affect.”
Bal Tabarin ignored the tone of his companion’s voice, and asked, “So what’s the plan?”
“I will attempt to learn what the two of them have planned,” Rebani said, adding “They have a holotronic masker. You will stay here and find a way to locate the scepter so that we may examine it.”
The Sabour turned, and silently stalked, wraith-like, from the chamber.
Much the same conversation was taking place in the chamber of Princess Virga. She lay sprawled out, like a rag doll, across a large, comfortable bed, dressed in casual eveningwear now. She had changed clothing from formal dinner wear. Her current attire consisted of a tight bodice and loose skirt that resembled a pink cloud. A wrap, which completed the ensemble, rested carelessly over a nearby chair.
Consternation furrowed her delic
ate brow. “Those two are going to complicate things. A Sabour is a dangerous person to have chasing you.
“The other one is handled easily enough,” Virga said, smiling a little smile to herself. “But a Sabour might prove immune to my beauty.”
Xiten stood nearby, his robes removed. He wore only tight dark trousers, revealing a torso covered by tattoos that appeared to be symbols of some unknown tongue; they did not resemble images of reality. He laughed harshly, a sound like that of a stone being dragged across cement. “What Sentient could resist your charms, my dear?”
Virga frowned at her escort, her full lips becoming pouty. He liked to remind her that his race had no sense of smell, and he was thus immune to her influence.
Virga stretched her entire body at once, cat-like, and rolled over onto her stomach. “What are we going to do about those two?” she asked petulantly.
The dethroned princess heard her companion laugh again. It was as evil a laugh as she had ever heard, even after all the months she had by Xiten’s side.
She glanced at Xiten, who smiled an ugly smile that showed rows of small, sharp teeth. “We’re not going to do anything, my dear,” Xiten said. “Those two are going to help us steal the Hierophant’s staff.”
Virga’s fine brow wrinkled quizzically. “Just why would they do that?”
“Tonight,” Xiten answered in an ugly voice as he gingerly picked up a goblet that had been resting on a nearby table, “that Sabour is going to kill the Hierophant and steal the scepter.”
23 In Which a Fox Is
Caught in the Henhouse
Rebani Kalba the Sabour crept silently down the darkened stone-walled corridor, cloaked in his large, heavy greatcoat. The hallway was unlit, the lamps having been extinguished when the Hierophant had retired some time earlier, and now illuminated only by the soft glow of moonlight cascading in through numerous small windows at intervals along the corridor. He was a shadow.
As the Sabour passed one of these windows, soft light fell across his features. His countenance was a frightful one to behold. Rebani’s green eyes, glittering hatefully in the midnight gloom, were narrow slits, his thin mouth set in an angry frown. His expression was one of undisguised malice. Bal Tabarin would have been shocked to see his companion in such a state.
Rebani Kalba made his way down the hallway toward the private chambers of the Hierophant of Covenant.
The Sabour found the door of the Hierophant’s quarters, and cautiously tried the primitive entry mechanism – a doorknob. It turned easily in his hand, and he quietly pulled the door open.
The Hierophant, a portly fellow, sat alone in the chamber, dressed in bedtime attire, poring over an antique paper text.
The religious leader abruptly looked up and saw Rebani Kalba. The Hierophant’s eyes darted to an alarm trigger. The action did not go unnoticed by the Sabour. He bowed deferentially. “Please forgive the intrusion, your Holiness,” Rebani said graciously. “I must speak to you on a matter of great importance.”
The Hierophant visibly relaxed. With a corpulent hand, he sat the thick book down on a small stand beside his chair. “How did you get past my guards?”
The Sabour smiled broadly and laughed. “Really, you didn’t think they could stop a Sabour, did you? It’s the height of arrogance to assume there is no one better than you. But there always is, your Holiness, I assure you. A religious man, above all others, must surely know this.”
The Hierophant frowned, and, glancing at a button that would summon guards, said, “Now what was it you needed to see me about?”
Rebani Kalba came into the room, strolling casually toward the Hierophant, comfortable in his oversized chair. Whether by design or accident, he placed himself between the religious leader and the alarm trigger.
The Hierophant’s fat face became tense.
The Sabour casually leaned against a large, wooden desk. He surveyed the room with emerald eyes. It was a somber place, devoted to study and utterly lacking in frivolity. For all this, it was neither sparsely nor inexpensively decorated. Fine tapestries adorned the walls and sculptures in questionable taste for a religious man stood conspicuously about the room.. The chairs were no less luxurious, covered in tanned animal hides and stuffed with the soft feathers of birds. Upon an altar-like table of dark wood rested the Scepter of the Hierophant.
The religious icon was nearly a yard in length, made of gold, and crowned by an unusual gem that shone brilliantly, even in the poor illumination of the chamber. It was said that it never left the Hierophant’s sight.
“Do you know what the symbols on the gem in the Scepter mean?” asked Rebani in an intent tone.
“No one knows what the symbols mean,” the Hierophant answered. “They belong to no known language, past or present.”
“Surely you must have some idea,” suggested the Sabour.
“I believe they are the words of God, written by God in his own language,” conceded the Hierophant. “That is one of the tenets of our faith. God gave us the jewel as a symbol of his will. When we found it here, on this planet, it identified this world as the one God intended us to settle.”
Rebani Kalba laughed harshly. “You have such a narrow view of the universe for such a learned man, Hierophant.”
The religious leader colored. He wasn’t accustomed to being insulted in his own headquarters. “Can this discussion wait until tomorrow? It’s late, and I’m very tired,” the Hierophant said in an irritated tone.
“I’m afraid it can’t, your Holiness,” the Sabour answered, approaching the bloated religious leader. He suddenly pounced upon the Hierophant, grabbing him about the throat with both hands. “As to the other, you’ll have eternity, or whatever follows this life, to rest.”
Rebani Kalba throttled the Hierophant, who struggled in the Sabour’s grip. As the fat religious leader wrestled against his attacker, Rebani’s long fingernails tore the tender flesh of the Hierophants throat. Blood spurted down the front of the religious leader’s garb, as well as onto the Sabour’s greatcoat.
The Hierophant knew he had been mortally wounded. He began praying, moving his lips silently as death came upon him.
Rebani Kalba laughed cruelly as life faded from his victim.
The Hierophant flailed weakly until no life was left in him. Rebani released his grip upon the corpulent religious leader, who slumped to the hard floor.
The Sabour then went to the table upon which the Scepter rested, and examined the gem. It was what he had expected.
From beneath the dark greatcoat, now stained with the blood of the dead leader of Covenant, Rebani removed a small device that fit in the palm of his hand. A thin beam of very white light burst forth from the end of the device, and cut through the golden scepter near the base of the setting which held the gem.
In a second, the scepter fell asunder.
The Sabour secreted the fist-sized gem under his bloodstained greatcoat, withdrawing a goblet that had been there. Setting this upon the desk of the Hierophant, he quickly left the room, and returned down the corridor the way he had come.
At the end of the long, stone-walled hallway, a single guard stood alert. Light from the adjoining hall flooded the end of the corridor. Rebani Kalba silently approached the young sentry.
The guard, noticing the Sabour, asked, “What were you doing down there? It’s off-limits to off-worlders.”
Rebani came into the light. The front of his greatcoat was covered in blood.
Seeing the stain, the young guard asked, “What’s that? Is that blood?”
The Sabour smiled, and said, “I’m afraid it is.”
At the same time, his hand darted from beneath his greatcoat and solidly struck the guard. The sentry fell to the floor like a stone, and Rebani ran past the downed guard, along the adjoining corridor, away from the Hierophants chambers. He sped back toward the main area of the castle where he would shortly lose himself among the bustle of castle activity.
The young guard hauled himself to his feet. He
shook his head to clear the wooziness from his mind, and hurried to the Hierophant’s quarters. He found the open door to the study and burst into the room without preface.
The still-warm corpse of his leader lay in a gathering pool of blood at the foot of the large overstuffed chair.
For half a second – just a second – the young sentry panicked, then his rigorous training took over. He rushed to the alarm trigger and pressed it. A silent alarm alerted armed security personnel throughout the castle.
The young guard pulled a holophone from his belt, and contacted the security office. He said into the device: “The Sabour has killed the Hierophant!”
24 In Which Hounds
Pursue a Fox
Rebani Kalba, crouched in the semi-darkness of a stone corridor, sensed a disturbance within the castle of the Hierophant. It was a feeling of both fear and hostility, mixed together inseparably.
From far down the stone-walled hallway, which was lit by low-light night lamps, the Sabour heard the sound of men approaching. The clattering of footfalls indicated that the men were moving quickly. There was an urgency to their movements.
Leaping several yards into the air and landing on a small ledge lining the high wall of the corridor, Rebani took up a position between two lamps that left him in darkness. His back to the wall, he waited for the men to pass below.
Affixed to the underside of the ledge were the dimly-glowing lamps. Above the source of light, the Sabour would be almost invisible to those on the ground, even without the use of psionics.
From this vantage point, Rebani watched several armed men come and go through the hallway.
