by Sharon Lee
"No, I—"
She took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Sorry? For being Father's daughter, and a member of this family?" He shook his head, grin lingering. "Allow me to compliment you, Theo. That was perfectly done."
She glared at him.
"Why're you drinking it, if you don't like it?"
"It is a compromise. Here, let me clear these away so that you may have room to work. A moment . . ."
He vanished 'round the partition in the back of the office, boots making no sound at all on the plastic floor. Theo adjusted the screen and entered her search terms.
#
The log showed that Master Liu ran a balanced and reasonable port—or at least she had for the last half-year, local. It would be interesting, Theo thought, to do a compare and contrast of port conditions and penalties before Korval had settled on Surebleak and after.
It would also take some time, and she was on a borrowed computer.
Bechimo, she said in bond-space.
There was no answer, though she thought she'd felt the barest brush of attention.
Right. She was being censured. She sighed. Another thing to fix, but—
"Has your search yielded evidence?" Val Con asked from too near at hand.
She shook her head and looked up.
"Nothing in the last half-year. Probably nothing at all, though to be thorough, I'd have to read the whole log, since Korval arrived on planet."
"Ah." He looked politely interested. "And will you do so?"
"In my spare time," she told him; "when I have access to my own computer."
"As you will." He placed a tea tin on the edge of the desk, and sat down in his chair. She turned the screen back to him, eyes on the tin.
"Bitter Truth?" she asked, feeling her eyebrows rise. "Who names a tea Bitter Truth?"
"Obviously, the White Wing Beverage Company does, though in earnest or in jest, I dare not speculate."
He paused to glance at the screen, then turned a serious look in her direction.
"I wonder, Theo, if you wish to . . . emancipate yourself, so that you might establish your own family, or corporation. As you point out, being known as Korval kin is not necessarily advantageous, and in fact has been dangerous for you and for your ship."
She stared at him. Emancipate herself? Repudiate Father, and Luken, Miri, and, well—Val Con? Even Lady Kareen was—
"Um, no," she said carefully, to her brother's speculative green gaze; "I don't want to divorce myself from the—our—family." She sighed. "I just wish you were a little less prone to trouble!"
He grinned.
"One might return the compliment, were it not well-known in the family that we are, as individuals and as a unit, prone to trouble."
She felt her mouth soften, and gave him a nod.
"Point. But, even if I did start my own family, and formally divorce myself from Clan Korval, I don't think the people who've been hunting Bechimo are going to see—or care about—that level of detail."
"They do seem to find the fine print a challenge," Val Con agreed. "And here we approach my topic. As you are yourself kin without being clan, it may have escaped your attention that Clan Korval is a very small . . . family, indeed. Dangerously small, one might say. For our own security, we need to improve our situation. The choices before us are to disband, and allow each member to form their own alliances with other families or clans—or we might merge with another small clan and thus form a larger, to the benefit of both."
He gave her a wise look.
"However, as we have just discussed, Clan Korval's marriage portion will inevitably include trouble; and there are not many clans—of any size—who seek to add to their stores of trouble. As we are now placed on Surebleak, and as Surebleak will, sooner rather than later, so I believe, evolve a hybrid culture, Miri has proposed a third solution, which looks toward the future, rather than seeking to accommodate the past."
He paused, head tipped to one side.
"I wonder if this might not be better discussed over an early lunch at the Emerald. If you have time, of—"
"Scout, attention," Nelirikk's big voice came over the intercom. "Status reports incoming. There have been explosions on several streets in the city, moving in toward the port. Jeeves—"
The bell over the front door shrieked and clanged as it burst off its hanger. In the screen, the port-side door burst open, admitting one man, weapon ready. Neilirikk surged to his feet; There came the sound of pellet fire, and a second figure, throwing a smoking—
An alarm went off, wailing like a sackful of cats in a fight to the death.
Theo was on her feet, turning toward the door—and was jerked to a stop by Val Con's hand around her wrist.
"This way!" he snapped, and pulled her with him toward the back of the office.
#
They emerged into a thin, smelly alley. Val Con glanced over his shoulder, and let go of her wrist.
"Stay near," he murmured, and moved, silent as a shadow, to the right, down-port.
Theo followed, astonished to find that she still held the stupid tea tin. She thought about dropping it, then didn't. No reason making it easy for them, if they got through Nelirikk and out the back door.
It didn't, she thought, look like the alley had much use. From her mental map of the port, she thought they were heading to the Emerald. Given Pat Rin and the whole rest of the family, they could probably seal the Emerald up into a fortress if they needed to, and—
"Theo," Bechimo said inside of bond-space. "There is a group of armed individuals waiting around the corner your brother is approaching. Hold back, let him distract them, then run. I will guide you to safety—"
Theo increased her stride, and was very nearly on Val Con's heels as he stepped 'round the corner . . .
A heavy, meaty sound, followed by a grunt—that was what she heard before she leapt around the corner, going wide, so she didn't crowd Val Con, or trip over him if the sound had been him going down . . .
One stranger in leathers was on the ground, and Val Con was dancing under a blow from a second leathered person when Theo joined the fray.
"There she is!" somebody shouted, and Theo was dancing and ducking herself, turning hard on a heel and kicking backward, hearing a kneecap crunch.
"Theo!" Bechimo wailed. "Save yourself!"
"And leave my brother?" she demanded, before her attention was grabbed by another thug, swinging down hard, like he meant to flatten her. She ducked under the descending fist, opened the tin, and threw the contents into face and eyes, eliciting a satisfying yelp, even as she kicked another assailant.
Val Con, she saw in a frenzied glimpse, was holding his own, having knocked down another opponent.
It was an ugly fight; though nobody, thank the gods, was risking a gun. There were too many bodies in the thin alley, and the only way to go on was to go through. Six to two, Theo calculated, but two of them were down already—
"Behind you!" screamed Bechimo, and she hit the ground, rolling, hearing something strike the 'crete with shattering force.
A boot came out of nowhere, aimed at her head. She kept rolling, and grabbed the braced leg, taking him down, half on top of her. She kneed him, pushed him off, and managed to snap to her feet. She was on the outside of the fight, she saw, with three assailants concentrating on Val Con, though one was hanging back.
She saw something gleam in that one's hand, and lunged forward, thinking knife even as a pop sounded, and the alley began to fill with acrid-tasting smoke. Theo coughed, backing away. The assailant with the canister dropped it and turned, kicking hard and fast, connecting with her knee. Agony flared, but she kept her feet, swinging—blinded by tears, and the alley was swimming out of focus, bordered in black.
Something struck her in the right side; she gasped, her lungs clogged with smoke.
* * *
Lisle raised the butt of her gun again, then held back. The skinny blondie was down and out,
crumpled up small on the sticky alley floor.
She turned in time to see Benny and Jake rush the guy, who was still fighting, despite the gas, and despite the fact that his right arm was hanging limp. She raised the gun—and thrust it in its holster, as the security siren wailed toward them.
"Leave him!" she yelled, reaching down and hauling the unconscious woman up over her shoulder in a rough carry. "We got her, that's good enough!"
Benny got in one more kick at the guy's head—not a solid blow—and the three of them were running, leaving their fallen to the mercy of the gas.
Behind them, the guy rallied, straightened, and threw, the knife flying true, as the thrower slid down the wall and collapsed.
Chapter Six
Surebleak
Jelaza Kazone
"Shields up full!"
Jeeves's voice rang across the garden, as the sky dimmed perceptibly.
"Damage report!"
Miri was on her feet, the brown cat cuddled against her breast. Daav and Aelliana were up, too; Emissary Twelve lay like the dead.
"yos'Galan's land has been bombed," Jeeves stated. "Damage to supplies and terrain. Defensive resources are low, but I have deployed what is possible."
"Casualties?" Miri demanded, stomach tightening.
"Day crew had not yet arrived. Work suspended until further notice."
"Anything else?"
"Boss Sherton reports old borer and earth-moving equipment on the move toward a village nominally under her protection. The settlement is being evacuated. Joyita has hacked the command lines; Bechimo is building stop-codes. The goal is to preserve homesteads and crops."
"ID on hostiles?"
"Joyita is working on a match. He reports negative on Scout vessels, as well as the light-ships utilized by the Department of the Interior. Status report: Localized shields have been activated at prime locations in the city. Shelter-in-place has been transmitted. The portmaster's office has been alerted to the presence of hostile craft-–"
Val Con.
Miri reached; found him at the end of her mental fingers, more or less calm, though somewhat weary.
She blinked back into the garden.
Daav was looking grim, Aelliana only slightly less so.
"Seems like somebody's committed," Miri said, and shivered. They'd been waiting for this, or something like it. For the DOI to finally realize that Korval was as vulnerable as it would ever be, right now, and decide to throw everything they had, right now, at Surebleak.
"They have not attacked the house," Aelliana said. "Surely that would be the first priority."
Miri shook her head.
"They'll figure the house is base, and well-defended. They'll take less-defended targets first, so they won't have any surprises at their back when they turn their full attention here."
"They're striking on many fronts at once in order to confuse," Daav murmured.
"That, too."
"Status report," Jeeves stated. "Bechimo's codes have been transmitted; the machinery has stopped advancing. Civilian evacuation continues, but a human tech crew is being dispatched to the machines."
There was a movement at the edge of her eye. Miri looked down in time to see Emissary Twelve raise her arms, and roll to her feet with a speed and grace not to be found among the ordinary run of Clutch.
Emissary Twelve turned to face Miri; the cat she was still cuddling hissed, claws pricking skin through her sweater.
"I have been the recipient of offensive action," Emissary Twelve stated. "Who dares strike the emissary of the Elders?"
"Knock it off," Miri muttered. Gods knew what would happen if she put the cat down; probably it would attack, and Emissary Twelve would declare war on feline-kind.
"Korval," a rough voice said softly. "May I relieve you of your burden?"
Right.
With a sense of relief all out of proportion with the problem, Miri handed the cat to Daav, and turned back to Emissary Twelve, deliberately reaching for the High Tongue.
"You were inadvertently struck down while receiving the Elder Tree's explanation of events, which you had requested. Apparently, the flow of information from the Tree overcame your sensibilities and you fainted."
There; let her get snippy about Ren Zel again.
"I do not faint," Emissary Twelve stated.
"Every event is unique, the first time it happens."
"Status report!" Jeeves announced.
"Shops on six streets are on fire; emergency crews and the patrol have been called out. Gas canisters have exploded at the entrances to the Portmaster's office, Andy Mack's repair shop, the Emerald Casino, Tantara Floor Coverings, and the office of the Road Boss."
Miri didn't have to reach this time; she was there, inside his head, staring at the screen with him: Men bursting into the outer office, Nelirikk rising like a mountain out of a cloud bank, Theo spinning-–
They jumped with one will, and were on the way to the bolt hole, dragging Theo by the wrist.
The alley stank of nothing but its usual mold and mud; she let Theo go with a muttered stay close, and moved cautiously toward the corner. She could hear boot soles moving on grit, heavy breathing, the whisper of leather against leather . . .
Six, she estimated; waiting for them. She glanced over her shoulder at Theo, keeping slightly back, ready on the balls of her feet, eyes intent. Right then, Miri thought-–we go first.
She moved, fast, snaking 'round the corner, dodging a fist, and landing a kick. The first was down, as she swung to face—
Something hit her square between the shoulder blades. Her sight went black, and she yelled, crashing to her knees on grass-–grass. A breeze supported her like a comrade's arm around her waist, and she blinked the Tree Court into reality.
"Jeeves! Port Security to the utility alley behind the Road Boss's office, now! Val Con, Theo-–six attackers. In the office, Nelirikk's down."
"Working," Jeeves said.
She lurched upward, and for a heartbeat she saw the alley again, ghostly and grey-–stumbled, and felt her shoulders caught in a strong grip, while the breeze pushed her upright.
"Miri!" Aelliana snapped.
She blinked again, staring into bright green eyes.
"Threw me outta his head. Helluva time to learn that trick."
She shook her head.
"I gotta get down there."
Aelliana's fingers tightened on her shoulders.
"Your place is here, Korval," she said, the High Tongue ringing like crystal bells in the quiet garden. "You have given your orders. Allow those who serve you to act."
She swallowed, tasting smoke.
Delm-for-the-day, Robertson.
Her laugh morphed into a cry as the kick landed, slamming her back into the wall, her right arm going with an audible snap.
Aelliana braced her, guiding her collapse until she was again kneeling in the grass.
"Van'chela, of your grace."
"Yes," said Daav. "One burden for another, Pilot."
He put the brown cat on Aelliana's shoulder on his way past, and the next moment, Miri felt herself swung up into strong arms.
"I can walk," she said, her voice so unsteady she didn't even believe herself.
"Of course you can," Daav said, moving briskly toward the pathway. "Merely, at the moment, I can walk better."
* * *
Emissary Twelve watched the three humans, with attendant predators, depart. The delm of Korval had fallen ill, and the others had an imperative to care for and guard her. This was comprehensible.
In the throes of this crisis, they had forgotten the emissary of the Elders. This was less comprehensible, but possibly the humans did not understand the Elders well enough to know that one removed one's attention from them at one's very great peril.
This could also be said of Emissary Twelve, under most of the circumstances into which she might have been quickened. That she had been called forth to perform diplomacy, considerably lessened the peril the humans mi
ght expect to confront on her account. She might yet need to resort to force in order to obtain what the Elders had ordered her to bring to them, but-–not yet.
This naive forgetfulness, in fact, served the purpose of the Elders, Emissary Twelve thought. She now had the opportunity to question the Elder Tree in her own way, without the interference of the delm of Korval.
They would see, now, who prevailed, when it came to strength against strength.
She turned toward the Tree—and paused, tantalized.
An . . . aroma reached her nose. A delicious and provocative scent that awoke feelings of a strange and particular hunger.
She knelt down, scanning the ground, looking for the source of that wonderful –
There!
A round object lying among the grasses, green and definitely organic, yet seeming to glow, as if lit from within.
Emissary Twelve extended a three-fingered hand. The object fairly leapt into her palm. The scent was stronger, more seductive . . . compelling. She must eat of this fruit, whatever it was, or she would never be free of hunger again.
Fruit did not behave in this manner, so her store of memories informed her.
Fruit did not behave in this manner.
But traps did.
She brought her hand up to throw the thing away from her-–and stopped, hand falling, as hunger spiked. A peculiar hunger; not merely a need to replenish her resources, but a hunger specific to the fruit itself.
The skin of her palm was warming gently, agreeably.
She looked down to find that the fruit had obligingly fallen into quarters. The Elders and the mission she had been born to fell before the assault of the fruit's promise, and faded into nothing.
Emissary Twelve picked up one single quarter and brought it to her mouth.
* * *
Miri roused, and sat up, grabbing for her hideaway, even as she realized that this was no back alley, but the morning parlor, and she was lying, not on sticky, cracked crete, but on the window seat.
She sighed, and slid the gun away. Aelliana, who was watching her interestedly from a chair set at a prudent distance, gave her a smile.
"As you bore no wounds, and your arm is perfectly unbroken, we decided against the 'doc," she said. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"
