Renegade

by Justine Davis

  “The Coalition has little use for such judgment decisions.” The man went paler. But he held his ground. And Paledan smiled. “But I do. You’re with me. Pick two others to accompany us.”

  Breathing again, the man gave a sharp—and relieved—“Yes, sir!”

  He did not relish what he must do next. That he once would have did not escape him.

  Perhaps, he thought, there was something in the mist that befouled this place. Perhaps, for all it seemed more annoying than harmful, there was some­thing in it that affected more than vision. Perhaps breathing it in had some deleterious mental effect that only appeared with time. Perhaps that was the explanation not only for his own mental state, but for why the troops that had survived the assault on the fusion cannon were to this day unable to explain what had really happened, but only to repeat the fantastical tale that they had seen a glowing presence, heard a thunderous command to hold fast, and instantly been unable to move, as if frozen to the very rock itself.

  But there were those who had been here longer than he that showed no sign that being here had affected them. But he did not know what they had been like before his arrival, except as evidenced in their records. Which were pitiful enough; the best were not sent to this remote world which had been deemed beaten.

  Which explained why Frall had been assigned.

  His own sardonic thought nearly made him laugh. And that in itself had him wondering about his state of mind again and the mist’s effect on him.

  He would ask Brakely when he returned. He, at least, would be honest. And he had been with him so long he would notice a change. Or at least, any outward sign that might have slipped through.

  But right now, he must deal with the miners and their—

  He broke off his own thoughts when he realized he was rubbing at his arm again. Not because he was still feeling anything; there was no soreness or even a tingle. The woman had not stabbed him, or pricked him with some needle to poison him when she had brushed against him. There truly was no lingering aftereffect. It had been merely a bump between two people in a hurry. It could even have been his fault. He had been preoccupied with a host of things.

  It was nothing. And yet he couldn’t quite put out of his mind that odd sensation generated when she’d touched him.

  “WE ARE—”

  “Bored. And—”

  “You know—”

  “What happens—”

  “When we are bored,” the twins finished in unison.

  Iolana watched Drake as he looked down at his siblings. She had come in just as the pair had approached him. He looked, she thought, much rested. He also was beginning to act a bit restlessly. She had asked him about that yesterday.

  We have struck a great blow, but that is all.

  You—and the Sentinels as well—have well earned a respite. Let the Coalition expend themselves searching.

  But at what point does it turn upon us and make them more likely to destroy all of Ziem’s people in their frustration?

  She had had no answer to that. She could only tell him that she would sense that turning point, if indeed all of her people were at risk.

  But right now, she needed to talk to Drake.

  She looked at the twins. They glanced at her, and then Lux looked back again, frowning.

  “You have changed yourself,” the girl said.

  “I had reason.”

  “To spy?” Nyx asked.

  “Clever boy.”

  “It is a good disguise.” Lux said it in the tone of one rendering a final judgment. Iolana nearly smiled.

  “I know you can learn nothing from your mother,” she said, “but per­haps the Spirit might have more to teach?” She had mentioned she would like to discover if they had any of the skills she had apparently passed on to Eirlys, and they had seemed interested.

  As usual, Nyx looked wary, Lux thoughtful. The girl looked at her twin who, after a moment, shrugged. Lux looked back at Iolana.

  “Perhaps,” the girl said.

  “Then give me a moment to speak with your brother, and I will meet you at my home. Do you remember the way?”

  She deserved the scornful look she got from them both, but she had intended it so; there was nothing so guaranteed to send them off than an op­por­tunity to prove an adult lacking. They were gone at a run almost instantly.

  “You are learning their ways,” Drake observed as he watched them go.

  “It is that or be forever at their mercy.”

  “Indeed.” He turned to look at her. “I thank you for the warning to the miners.”

  “You were able to get word to them?”

  He nodded. “Pryl and Eirlys got there quickly. They managed to get everything hidden before Paledan arrived.”

  She nodded, although it was an effort not to wince at the thought of her barely-of-age daughter undertaking such a mission. But Eirlys knew these mountains nearly as well as the old man, and was strong and agile enough for the trip. And it had been crucial that the miners who were doing their best to sabotage the mining process and slow the Coalition’s supply of planium, not be caught with their hidden tools and devices.

  “I know you do not like the idea—”

  “She is a Sentinel,” Iolana said.

  “Yes.”

  She studied him for a moment. “I am surprised you did not wish to go yourself. You have been . . . restless of late.”

  “I did wish,” he said wryly. “But having Pryl or even Eirlys seen would be one thing, the Raider quite another.”

  “You are wise. Although I know it is difficult for you to stand down.”

  His mouth twisted. “Very. Now, you have something else for me? Was your gambit worth the risk?”

  “Yes.” To me, at the least.

  “Shall we go to my quarters?”

  She followed him through the cavern.

  “A few things, although the trip to search the mines was the only critical one. The rest is more in the nature of . . . illumination.”

  “Such as?”

  “Paledan expected to be recalled and perhaps executed after the ambush.”

  Drake blinked. “Even at his level?”

  She nodded. “And he has stalled them—I do not understand why—but eventually he expects the Coalition order to eliminate all Ziemites.”

  “I . . . see.”

  “There is more—plans, protocols—but I cannot interpret them. You will be able to, I’m sure.”

  “Before we get to that,” Drake said, and she recognized the tone that had crept into his voice, “am I to understand you actually made contact with the man? Physical contact, to get such a reading?”

  “I merely brushed his arm.”

  And I felt . . . whatever that was.

  Drake’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Are you yet suicidal, then?”

  She winced; she could not help it. Nor could she blame him for the thought. But she answered steadily. “I was but a frightened woman from the flats he had never met before. He saw nothing but my cloak.”

  “He is a very observant man.”

  “Yes.” She moved so that she brushed against her son’s arm, a bare moment of touch. “But the contact was no more than that.”

  “He is a well-trained fighter, a man who expects an attack from any quarter. You think he did not notice?”

  “He noticed. And assessed. And in the moment I had to appraise, he deemed me no threat. As I was not.” Be at ease, woman. I do not condemn people for a stumble.

  “Not in the way he is accustomed to, perhaps.” He said it rather wryly, and she decided to take it as a compliment.

  “He is also,” she said, “a very intelligent man. So much so that I marvel he has come as far as he has in the Coalition.”

&nbs
p; “Only to end up in a mainly administrative post on a backwater planet few not native to it can bear for long? Most in his place would consider this a harsh punishment.”

  “He has found diversions. He is, as Brander has said, curious, and as you said, learning much, especially about Ziem. I do not know if this bodes well or ill.”

  “Is one of those diversions the portrait he holds?”

  She had not intended to discuss that, for she was still processing the inten­sity of the burst she had gotten about that. But neither would she lie to her son. “Yes.” She left it there. “And it is true that he admires you. A great deal.”

  “He has always respected the Raider, where Frall did not.”

  “Yes, he admires the Raider. But he . . . liked the taproom keeper. And was surprised by that.”

  Drake looked oddly disconcerted, as if he were just as surprised.

  “And Brander? Did you get anything of him?”

  She knew he was concerned about the danger his second might be in if he were to continue his own charade that he was nothing but a wastrel gambler, so she answered carefully, with the caution that, as always, this was her interpretation of what she had sensed.

  “I don’t believe he has fully formed suspicions yet, but he questions that anyone so clever could be content with the life he presents to have.”

  “And since when has the Coalition worried about the contentedness of their conquered worlds?” Drake asked rhetorically, sourly.

  “Contention valid,” she admitted. “But he admires the deception you managed to carry off so well. Admires it in a way that suggests he has some experience with keeping his true self masked.”

  Drake looked thoughtful, much as Lux did. The likeness made her smile inwardly. “You know Brander and I have both thought there is much beneath his Coalition surface.”

  “I believe you are right.” She drew in a deep breath and went on. “He is also very aggravated that they have been unable to find us.” At Drake’s smile she said, “Yes, but I got an image, the briefest flash, of his view of Ziem should they not find us. A smoking ruin, as far as the eye can see, only the mines left intact. I believe, if they could mine the planium themselves, it would already be so.”

  “They will be able to, in time,” Drake said. “They will someday find a way to adapt their equipment to the mist, learn to read the mines, learn how to keep the quisalt separate, and whatever else it will take. They are not stupid.”

  “But when it comes to matters of innovation, they move with the speed of any huge, lumbering thing. Thank Eos.”

  “We must have warning, when they reach that point. There are places the people can shelter that might save them. And unless they are utter fools, they will not risk taking out this mountain, for fear of damage to the mines and their own facilities.”

  “Yes. And I still believe I will know when all of Ziem is in imminent danger.”

  “I hope that you are right. Is there more?”

  “I spoke with several of the people who remain in Zelos.” Few enough overall that it nearly broke her heart. “They are inspired to continue by the Raider’s success. The supplies we have sent also give them hope. They will hang on for a while yet, thanks to you.”

  “Thanks to the Raider,” he said, as if it were someone else. She supposed he must feel that way sometimes.

  “Several also told me that Paledan could have taken action against them, even ordered their execution by Coalition standards. And yet, he did not.”

  Drake’s brow furrowed. “By those Coalition standards, that would be seen as a weakness. I do not know what it signifies in this man.”

  “He does seem to be an exception to many rules,” she said neutrally. “Now, let me give you what logistical details I gleaned, before I lose them.”

  Drake nodded and, as she spoke, began to make notes.

  Chapter 6

  “SIR?”

  “Sit, Brakely,” Paledan said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. “I must ask you something. And I would like your usual honest answer, please.”

  “Of course,” his aide said, looking puzzled, but not wary. He sat, and Paledan got right to his point.

  “Have you noticed . . . a change in me since we’ve been here?”

  Brakely frowned. “I’m not certain what you mean, sir. This is an . . . unusual kind of posting for you, and therefore different in many ways.” He looked almost anxious as he asked, “Are you not feeling well? Your wound was grievous and—”

  He cut Brakely off with a shake of his head. “It is not that.”

  “I know it yet . . . troubles you.”

  “Some days it aches like hades,” Paledan said, knowing there was no danger in admitting that to this man who had been of inestimable aid to him during the days after his injury. “But it is more a . . . mental status question.”

  Brakely blinked. “You are the sanest man I have ever known, even if—” His aide cut himself off this time.

  “The door is closed, Brakely,” he said, their long-established shorthand for the promise what was being discussed would go no further, nor have reper­cussions.

  Still, Brakely shifted uncomfortably before going on. “I was going to say even if that is little valued of late by the High Command.”

  Paledan stared, then laughed. “I have ever admired your ability to condense things to the essence.”

  Looking relieved, Brakely studied him for a moment. “May I ask you some­thing, sir?”

  “As you will,” he said, curious. That bedamned curiosity that seemed to have only grown since his arrival here. Perhaps it was fed by the noxious mist.

  “I have often thought, despite the fact that you are a warrior among warriors—and that is not flattery,” he added when Paledan shifted in his chair.

  “What skills I have come from good reflexes, long training, and fitness. Your question?”

  “I have thought that you . . . in a different time and place, perhaps would have had another calling.”

  He was truly interested now. “Such as?”

  “You . . . think. Deeply. I could picture you as a . . . philosopher, were such people allowed.”

  You have the mind of a thinker, Paledan. A sage. You had best bury it, if you wish to survive in the Coalition.

  The words of his first instructor echoed in his head. He had been but a child, and still the old man had seen it. He had also, rather than take the normal step of tagging him as potentially dangerous, focused on what else he had observed.

  You are clever at tactics, you have strength already, and a quickness unlike any I have seen in a long time. I will work with that, you work with suppressing that curiosity of yours, and we will see what we can make of you.

  It was barely a week later that he had learned the size of the gift the old man had given him; another student, with a similar tendency to question, to ask, but without Paledan’s physical abilities, was pulled from the ranks and his mind blanked, his conscious life ended practically before it had begun. He’d been sent off to one of the slave colonies before night had fallen.

  “I am sorry if I have offended, sir,” Blakely said, snapping him out of the memory.

  “You have not,” Paledan said. “But I would thank you not to spread the idea around.”

  His aide’s eyes widened. “Of course not, sir. It’s just . . . my grandfather was . . . of the same ilk. And you think in similar ways, sometimes.”

  “And what became of him?”

  Blakely lowered his gaze. Swallowed. “After the Coalition arrived on our planet, he was dragged from his office at the academy and executed, for his questions.”

  Paledan had expected that answer. It was what the Coalition did. Just as they had so unjustly slaughtered Brakely’s uncle for mistakes his commanding officer had made. “I am sor
ry, Marl,” he said quietly, using the man’s first name, which he rarely did. Brakely’s head snapped up at the sound of it.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Life is difficult for those whose worlds allowed blood ties during their lifetime.”

  “Yes. But that will end, soon. Soon all worlds will be as yours.”

  I’m afraid you are right.

  Paledan blinked, hearing the words so clearly in his head that he feared for an instant that he might have spoken them aloud.

  When he was certain by Brakely’s lack of reaction that he had not, his mind went to the next logical step.

  He should be afraid that he had even thought them.

  IOLANA WAS FINALLY alone. The twins had gone, restless after a quiet hour in which she had tried various exercises with them. Her conclusions were still forming, but two things were without doubt. One, they communi­cated in a way few human beings could, often without a word spoken, so in sync were their thoughts. And two, perhaps since they had to spend so little effort in understanding each other, they were uncannily adept at reading other people and gauging their mood. Which thus far had saved them, although she had little doubt they could end in serious trouble should they push too far.

  It was remarkable that they carried even this much intuition, at their age. And she thought that, with time, they might indeed develop some form of the gift that would continue to develop as they grew. Whether it would come to be like the one she and Eirlys shared, or more like their brother’s, she did not know.

  They had been wary about her touch at first, knowing that was how she read people, but she had explained that it was not automatic, that it required she open a pathway in her mind that she swore not to do when she touched them. They still hesitated, their trust in her limited. It was Lux who finally demanded that she swear not to them but to the Raider who, the girl said firmly, would hold her to account should she violate her word. She was both proud and sad; that they held their brother in such esteem was a testament to his success in raising them, and a poignant proof of her own failure as their mother.

  But now that she was alone, she must put that aside. She had much to do. She prepared her sanctuary, the alcove she had designed for the task, the place that isolated her from external sound and sight and let her more easily turn her vision inward. Normally she would ask Grim to be at hand, for he was accustomed to making notes as she spoke the things that surfaced.