The Beauty of Our Weapons

by Jilly Paddock

  I considered carefully before replying, not just because Jeb was absorbing every word. I’ll admit that there are similarities between the two. Both give an impression of vast, inexhaustible power, but where Thea was serene, overtly good and reassuring to be near, this is chaotic and evil. The feel of it makes me instinctively want to run, to be anywhere but here. It lacks human qualities, it’s something old and misshapen that has dwelt here for centuries unremembered, yet in all that time it has never encountered fear.

  Are you sure?

  It’s evil, Zenni, and Thea was never that.

  People change.

  Thea wasn’t people. If there are such things as goddesses, she was right up there with them. I felt his reluctance to believe me even now.

  “Indeed there are such things.” Jeb murmured.

  We could wish for her help. Whatever this power is, if we have to fight it, we’re going to lose.

  Yet Draoi controls it, without the aid of a single gram of talent. Zenni reminded.

  I suppressed a shudder. Perhaps it has a hidden agenda and wishes to appear to be controlled. I can’t believe that a zero can handle a force like that.

  Draoi had dismissed the audience and they slipped away between the trees to spread the word in the city, the rot of rebellion off to a fine start. It took a while for the clearing to empty and when they were gone, several Tambou appeared from the shadows behind the stone to extinguish and remove the lanterns. The bonfire had burned low and they left two lamps near the fallen monolith to light the party still there. Nansi placed a beaker in the magician’s hand and he sat on the edge of the stone to drink. Weariness was evident in his wan face, but did little to mar his semi-divine beauty.

  “An excellent performance.” Nansi spoke in Terran Standard. “The healing was a good touch, I thought.”

  Draoi nodded dispassionately. “The fire spoke within me and declared that a sign was necessary. Unbelievers are our worst enemy and these paltry miracles are more convincing than words.”

  “I thought our worst enemy was Earth and its damnable technology?”

  “So it is, but we must be strong from within before we challenge Earth. If we are united, they cannot break us and we shall triumph.” His face lit from within at the vision. “We shall carry our faith to the ends of the universe, dear Nansi! All shall believe, cast away the pitiable crutch of technology and be free! Think of it—we must not rest until we have saved every living soul for paradise!”

  The woman bared her repulsive ebony teeth in a grin. Draoi was too naive to recognise the contempt behind her approving mask.

  Poor, pretty fool! I said softly. He can’t see that he’s being used, by her and that nameless power alike. Either of them would destroy him if he stepped out of line, brush him aside like a fly, without a thought, yet he won’t ever see their treachery until it strikes him down.

  Don’t pity him, Anna. The man is deranged. From the way he speaks, he must be mad.

  “Aren’t all of us a little mad?” Jeb wondered.

  I turned my attention back to the stone. Draoi had quenched his thirst and paced to and fro, while Nansi watched scornfully. Playing to his audience had left the magician in the throes of an adrenalin high, bone-weary but too restless to seek sleep. He needed a diversion and I saw the idea swim to the surface of his mind. “Nansi, whatever became of that little human girl? That sweet little thing that you brought to the undercity—I haven’t seen her today.”

  The woman shrugged. “She’s about.”

  His arched red brows knitted together. “You’ve not let any harm come to her? By the spirit, Nansi, if you have, I swear you’ll pay for it!”

  “Don’t worry your clever head over it, Draoi, my dear. She’s safe, I assure you.” Nansi lied, backing away from the magician. She might use his power, yet she feared it.

  “I thought you’d brought her to us to persuade her mother to make a contribution to our funds?” He frowned. “Shouldn’t you have returned the child by now?”

  “The Earthers refused to co-operate.” Nansi scowled, her tone bitter. “They tried to cheat us, but I outwitted them all. I have them prisoner, close by.”

  “Can I speak with them?”

  “Why would you want to?” She was honestly perplexed.

  “I’ve never met anyone from Earth.” His expression held all the wistfulness of a child. “You always tell me I need to know my enemy. Here’s my chance to learn.”

  Nansi paused for a moment, then beckoned to her Tambou sidekick. “Fetch the captives. Wake them and bring them here.”

  “They might not be easy to wake.”

  “Don’t argue—do it!” Nansi snarled. “You know what to give them to break their stupor. Our master wishes to see them. Ruane, you will help.”

  The Tambou nodded and the construct ambled silently after him.

  “Have you drugged the captives?” Draoi questioned her sharply.

  “I thought it best. We didn’t want them wandering into our meeting tonight, did we?”

  “You shouldn’t have drugged them.” The messiah shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t care for your methods, Nansi. Here am I preaching an end to degenerate technology and you persist in using it!”

  “You misjudge me, sir!” She pretended outrage. “I abhor high-tech poisons as much as you do! What I used was an ancient herbal potion, its recipe handed down through the oral tradition of the wise-women of my planet—”

  I lost sound and vision, snapping back to my own senses just as the canvas sheet was drawn back. Through slitted eyelids, I saw Chandre lifted by the giant construct. Ruane shook her with a gentleness at odds with his ox-like strength and she swung limp in his hands. The Tambou yapped an order and my boss-lady was lowered to the ground. I caught the hiss of an impact-syringe—ancient herbal remedies indeed! Then it was my turn and I moaned softly as I was pulled upright, not caring to sample their drugs.

  “Put her down, you big oaf!” the Tambou instructed.

  I was deposited back on the grass and the native slapped my face. I babbled incoherently at him, blinking up into the scanty light.

  “Come on, girlie.” He leered at me and I was surprised not to see satyr’s horns lurking in the thatch of his curly brown hair. He applied another few slaps to my cheeks.

  “Hey!” I clawed ineffectually at him. “Stop that!”

  “That’s better.” He chuckled, then moved on to wake Lyall. Both he and Meeka received doses of stimulant to rouse them. When it came to the child, the Tambou waved Ruane aside and picked up her tiny body himself. He shook her carefully and she began to come round, rubbing her eyes and starting to cry.

  “Angel!” The piteous sound brought Meeka back to full consciousness as no drug ever could and she struggled to her feet, swaying with weakness. “Give her to me! Oh, Angel!”

  “Here, take the noisy brat!” The Tambou bundled the child into her mother’s arms. Meeka crooned to her daughter, comforting her and rapidly quieting her sobs. I turned away, oddly disturbed by the sight of reunited mother and child. Chandre’s elfin face was lined with strain and she massaged her temples to ease the headache. Lyall was at her side, bringing her up to date with his silent mindspeak. I caught her eye and saw her fractional nod in my direction, as good as words. It was down to me to get them out of trouble and down to me to clear up this entire mess.

  “Why is it always down to me?” I murmured.

  “Come along now!” the Tambou ordered. “Ruane, get them moving!”

  When the construct loomed over us it seemed a good idea to stand up and shuffle in the required direction. Lyall supported Chandre and I limped after them, with Meeka bringing up the rear, limited by the slow pace of the dazed child. Ruane shepherded us to the rear of the fallen stone, where Nansi and her magician waited in the ruddy circle of firelight. We halted in front of them in a ragtag line, breathless and battered, our clothes crumpled and sweat-stained. As Meeka caught up with us, I had my first chance to really look at Jansen’s little d
aughter. Her flowered dress was torn, her cheeks dark with tear-stains, her hair knotted and unkempt, the colour of pale honey. Her terror-filled eyes were cornflower blue and her face—

  How well I knew that face!

  I’d seen it in albums and holos, seen it in the images on the walls of my home, seen it grow older in the mirror each day. I’d dreamt of an angel hiding behind a mask of my face—I’d dreamt true, and the sight now was like a kick in the guts. I froze, knowing that I daren’t let any of my shock show, not in front of Nansi Ruhanna.

  “Caron?” Lyall touched my arm, aware of my sudden flush of horror. “Are you all right?”

  “I... I’ll be okay...” I pushed his hand away, wary of physical contact, although it would never help him past my defences. My head was locked up tighter than Merryweather’s underground sanctuary. “Feel weak, that’s all.”

  He nodded and backed off.

  That damnable man! I raged inwardly. That bastard Jansen! He mocks me, even in death!

  What is it, Anna? Zenni demanded.

  Look at that child! Don’t you see it? We could be twins—the resemblance is uncanny! I grew impatient at Zenni’s slowness. She’s me!

  “Are you saying she looks like you did at that age?” Jeb asked.

  I found a fragment of control. Look in my family archive, Zenni. Find an image of me at around two years old—better still, run the holo of my third birthday party.

  Zenni decided to humour my sudden lunacy. Accessing now. What’s happening down there?

  I took a deep breath and came back to real time. Draoi was studying each of us in turn, rapt fascination on his face.

  “So these are Earthers?” he mused.

  “All except her.” Nansi waved vaguely at me. “She claims to be a colonist from the Barnard system.”

  “You say that as if you don’t believe her. Why should she lie?”

  “No reason.” The silver-haired woman shrugged. “Unless she was an Earth spy.”

  Draoi laughed. “Why should Earth bother to send an agent out to this insignificant world? We’ve given them no reason to suspect Tambouret.”

  “Don’t underestimate the resources of Earth.” Anger flared in her face. “Terra has an extensive and efficient intelligence net. Precious little escapes their notice.”

  “They cannot stand in the face of our power.” Draoi declared, dismissing me and passing on to Meeka. “So, you’re the little girl’s mother? It’s strange that you don’t look like her—”

  I lost the end of his remark as Zenni meshed back on the link. He said nothing and I knew what he’d found. Well? Am I imagining things again?

  The resemblance is absolute. The only uncertainty is where Jansen obtained your genetic material to produce an illegal clone.

  I left nothing in the cell banks—our departure from Earth was too sudden for that. The clot of dread in the pit of my stomach was growing by the minute. The only other chance he had to get hold of my tissue was on Lysseya.

  The hand Paul amputated and took back as a token of your death? Properly preserved, it could have yielded the necessary material, and the timescale fits. Zenni admitted.

  “You’re telling me that Jansen created a clone of you, implanted it in his wife and passed it off as his own child?” Jeb echoed my disgust. “Why would the man commit such a vile crime?”

  We can only guess at his motives, Zenni said. Perhaps he hoped to duplicate your natural talent, this time with all the prerequisite controls in place and careful training from infancy.

  “But to do that, to so exploit you, and then to lie to his wife, because she obviously knows nothing about it— That’s abominable, utterly abominable!”

  Jansen would stoop to it, if he thought it would bring him glory, or power.

  Perhaps, in his own twisted way, he admired you. Zenni suggested. Could we have misjudged his ceaseless pursuit, thinking it was driven by hatred when, in fact, it was a guilty obsession, not hate, but its exact opposite?

  “Hate and love, two sides of the same coin?” Jeb shuddered. “And only a whisker between the two.”

  Sudden revulsion made me want to vomit. What kind of sick, warped mind plots a murder with such evident relish, only to resurrect the victim in the guise of his daughter? It doesn’t bear thinking about! The man was a monster, Zenni—and you’re seriously suggesting that in his own perverted little way he might have had some misplaced affection for me? I bit down on my nausea. I can’t accept that! I refuse to!

  “Are you ill?” Draoi’s question pulled me out of my introspection. He stood close to me, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, so close I could see the glitter of concern in his eyes. “You look so pale. Have Nansi’s potions made you sick?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I don’t think you are.” His flame-red mane rippled as he shook his head. “But I can heal you.”

  I shrank away from his touch. “No, please don’t bother—”

  The answering smile was so tender that it made my heart ache. He wielded true magic did this one. “It’s no bother,” he said, and touched my hand.

  The tainted power welled up within him like a venomous snake uncoiling, and I saw it writhe along his arm towards me. My reaction was instinctive and instant—I threw a wallop of TK at him, flinging him backwards. As his hand left mine a brilliant blue spark crackled across the space between us. Whether it erupted from him or me I don’t know, but in that microsecond I found a name for his foul power.

  “Demon!” I spat, curling my fingers into claws. “Take your stinking hands off me!”

  Draoi’s face contorted into a mask of bestial fury and for a livid split second I saw my death in it, then he hauled his temper back on the bit and picked himself up from the monolith. “What are you?”

  I straightened warily, shaking from anger and fear at being so close to that evil. “My name is Caron McVeigh.”

  “A tourist from Barnard’s Star?” He shook his head. “I think you’re really from Sol system, little miss. An Earther spy? A Terran witch? Tell me, are you either of the two—or both?”

  I answered with silence.

  The magician glared at me, then turned to the others. “Perhaps you can enlighten me? Who is your friend?”

  I didn’t have to look at Lyall or Chandre; I sensed his mind become opaque and felt her aura turn dark and uncompromising. Meeka watched me out of the corner of her eye and there was a wavering of doubt in her head.

  “Yes, do tell!” Nansi’s voice was light as she moved behind us, as soft on her feet as a dancer. “What do you know of our cool little redhead, Mister Marteen? Could she be a good friend of yours, a very good friend? Perhaps you know her pale, skinny body a lot better than your wife suspects. And you, Madame Marteen, do you envy Caron her youth and fair face? Do you fear that your husband might prefer her to you? And lastly you, Madame Jansen—what do you know of our mysterious colonist?”

  Meeka faltered, torn between her loathing of me and her fear for her own life and that of her daughter. The latter won. “I know nothing. I never met the girl before I came to Tambouret.”

  Nansi part-smiled, curling her lip like a hunting dog sniffing out a weakness in its prey. When she made her move even I was surprised and I’d been expecting something. She snatched up the child and ran. Meeka shrieked and would have chased her, but Ruane laid his hand on her shoulder and pulled her up short. Draoi and the Tambou moved to prevent the three of us following Nansi. Angel was bemused, still sleepy from the drugs, yet she wept and wriggled in the woman’s hold. Nansi halted beside the dying bonfire.

  “All of you know who the woman who calls herself Caron really is.” She accused. “But you, Meeka Jansen, you are going to tell me!”

  Angel screamed in earnest as Nansi seized her by the hair and dangled her over the fire, her feet only inches above the lazy flames. The silver-skinned woman smirked in pleasure at the child’s struggles, but held her firmly, taking a second grip on bunched fabric at the back of h
er dress. Meeka opened her mouth to speak and I stopped the words in her throat, oblivious to her hysterical fury and the cascade of mental obscenities that came in its wake. I tried to read Nansi, but her aura was a seething mess of kaleidoscope colours and her mind was worse. I wondered just how far she would bluff.

  “Answer me!” Nansi swung Angel, increasing the level of panic in the child’s cries. “Or see her burn!”

  “I’ll tell you!” I said quickly, ignoring Zenni’s horror and Jeb’s curses in my ear. “Put the child down.”

  “Information first.” There was a hunger in her voice and she licked her lips nervously. “Then the brat will be safe, if you tell the truth.”

  I knew I ought to call her bluff, but I couldn’t do it. To give my true name to one such as Nansi Ruhanna was defeat, an almost-certain sentence of death. If Angel really had been Erik’s daughter I might have held out and ridden Nansi right to the limit, but the shrill terror in the little girl’s ragged shrieks drilled holes in my skull. I had a personal interest in the child. How could I condemn my own flesh and blood?

  Anna, don’t! Zenni warned. It’s madness to give her that data. She’ll kill you!

  Angel’s fear swamped me, turning aside all logic. I gave in. “I’m Anna-Marie Delany.”

  For three heartbeats Nansi froze, then she threw her head back in a bray of harsh laughter. She dropped the child—into the fire.

  Meeka broke my thrall over her and screamed like an alarm siren, Chandre yelped, Lyall charged and was neatly tripped by the Tambou, but I was ready. I quenched the flames, cushioned the child’s fall and rolled her clear of the embers. As soon as I was done with them the flames reared up again, yet Angel was untouched. She flew like the being she was named for and I plucked her out of the air. She clung to me, burying her wet face in my hair. I fed strands of reassurance into her horror-struck mind, cuddling and cooing to her as I might to a hurt animal.