“You seem to delight in picking on me!” Dzaou snarled, again attempting to pull free. “If you did your job and spent that effort on getting Shaidan from the General, we’d be off this lump of rock and back home by now!” Enraged at still being held, he lashed out at Kusac’s injured forearm.
The pain surged through him, making him see red, but the older male hadn’t reckoned with his heightened pain threshold, courtesy of J’koshuk. Moments later, he had Dzaou pinned across the desk by the throat and was searching through his pockets. He found it, several small bags filled with a fine, gray powder. Dumping the last one on the desk, he tore a hole in it and stuck his fingers in, bringing a small pinch of it up to his nose to smell.
“Fertilizer! What the hell are you doing with fertilizer?” he demanded, searching through his memories for alternative uses for it.
“None of your Goddamn business,” wheezed Dzaou, unable to move because of the forearm pressing across his throat and collarbone.
He must have gotten it from the hydroponics level. Nitrogen compounds like this were volatile. “Were you planning another surprise for me for the festival in two days’ time?” Sprinkled on the incense, it would ignite instantly when he crumbled it into the brazier flame. It wouldn’t necessarily harm him, but it would embarrass him in front of the Primes.
“It’s no crime to have it,” Dzaou said. “Go on, hand me over to the Primes, then. You’re so damned alien now you don’t know what it is to be a loyal Sholan!”
Anger flowed through him, bringing in its wake the surge of energy that fueled it and he had to fight hard to keep his temper under control. Dzaou plainly had no intention of telling him.
“Tell me now, or by Vartra, I’ll rip it from your mind!” he snarled.
“Don’t make me laugh!” coughed Dzaou, struggling futilely beneath his grip.
He reached, forcing his way ruthlessly into Dzaou’s mind, ignoring the pulsing of his torc as he pushed past even the Brotherhood defenses until he’d found what he wanted.
The simplicity of Dzaou’s plan was a revelation. Next time he worked on maintenance classes in the landing bay, he planned to secret some liquid fuel in a series of small containers and smuggle them back to his rooms. Mixed with the nitrogen-based fertilizer, and a suitable primer, he would have several explosive devices which, if planted carefully throughout the Outpost, he thought he could use to blackmail Kezule into handing Shaidan over and letting them all leave.
The sound of low whimpers of pain and the continuous pulse of the torc drew his attention back to Dzaou. Now that he knew he had the full use of his psi abilities back, Dzaou was a liability. Tempting as it was to even consider putting the erstwhile Sleeper out of his misery once and for all, he knew it was impractical.
This time, it was easier to enter his mind. A small adjustment here, one there, and Dzaou would forget not only his plans to make explosives and force Kezule’s hand, but that they’d even met in the office. The final thing he did was put him to sleep.
Releasing Dzaou, he stood up and, grasping hold of his unconscious body, pulled him upright, hissing in pain as his injured arm took the strain. Supporting him with an arm around his waist, he carried him round to the other side of the desk and sat him in the chair, arranging him so that when he woke, he’d think he’d fallen asleep there. He’d sleep for perhaps half an hour then wake with a very sore head. All told, Dzaou had got off very lightly.
The four small bags of fertilizer Kusac shoved inside his tunic, positioning them above his belt for support, making sure the punctured one wouldn’t leak. Picking up the candles that had been knocked to the floor, he did a final check of the desk, wiping the surface with his hand to make sure there were no telltale signs of the gray powder.
He stopped at the door, reaching out cautiously with his mind to check that there was no one in the temple. It was still deserted. Easing the door open, he slipped out. Dzaou’s plan had merit, but it was too dangerous to be left in the hands of someone as undisciplined and unpredictable as he was. The way Kezule had manipulated and lied to him rankled deeply. He could no longer trust the General, or his promise to let Shaidan and them leave. Dzaou’s plan couldn’t succeed because the General would never give in to blackmail, but it gave him another option. He had the means to destroy the Outpost.
“Without Kezule, you’ll not destroy the Valtegans,” said a soft voice to one side of him as he closed the office door. “Who are you to be judge and executioner of so many innocent souls?”
Kusac froze, recognizing the voice immediately.
“And what of your son?” the voice continued. “What crime has he committed to have his very short life ended so soon?”
“He’s part Prime!” he hissed, turning to face the shadowy, robed figure as the hair on his head rose.
“You’re now half Human, so is Kashini. Would you kill her too?”
“She’s not an abomination that should never have been conceived!” How could He mention her in the same breath as Shaidan? “I loved her mother—she was my Leska!” Memories flooded his mind, painful ones.
“Was. Loved. Are you discarding my gifts to you?”
“That life is long past, Vartra,” he said, struggling to shut his memories away again. “You fought the Valtegans. Why are you defending them now?”
“I’m not. They’re Primes, and your son is also Carrie’s.”
“Don’t split hairs with me, Vartra! How could that happen? How could he have two mothers?” he demanded, staring at the anonymous cowled head.
“Does it matter? The cub is not responsible for the circumstances of his birth. You knew he was part Prime from the first yet you didn’t turn away from him. Why does it matter so much now? Is it because he was the result of your rape?”
He took a step back, all the anger suddenly washed from him in the shock of what the God had said. “I was willing,” he muttered. “It was no rape, but she did use and betray me.”
“So the truth is unpalatable,” said Vartra, raising His head till His eyes shone in the blackness within His hood. “Once again you’d rather destroy yourself, and your son, as well as Shola’s hope, to avoid facing the consequences!”
The words hit him like a whiplash, making him flinch backward again but a hand snaked out, catching hold of him by the front of his tunic. Vartra’s eyes glowed hot with anger.
“That’s not true,” he began.
“You’re a fool, Kusac Aldatan! You’ve forgotten what you learned on the Couana! She’s not the one using you! The first she knew of Shaidan was when Kezule told her! As for Kezule, when he could have had your son in his claws, he took Gaylla to prevent her being killed! Yes, he’s used you, but for what ends? Not to conquer, not to torture, but to rebuild his people to what they should be! I warned Kaid and I’ll warn you once more! You and the Liege of Hell must work together or more than Shola will fall!”
He was flung backward with such force he hit the rear wall. Staggering, he fell to the ground, banging his head. Eyes streaming and gasping for breath, he looked up to see Vartra suddenly looming over him.
“Once I may have been long distant kin of yours, Kusac, but never forget who I am now! We’re all someone’s tools, accept it and learn to live with it!”
When he’d staggered to his feet again, he was alone. Light-headed with pain and shock, using the wall for support, he made his way out of the temple and headed back to his room.
Giyarishis was not happy. Once again, the Hunter had somehow managed to block his ability to sense him and his actions, and once again it had been accompanied by the strange surge of power. He wondered if it could be the torc malfunctioning but dismissed that as unlikely. After all, it had been adapted not only by Phratry Leader Annuur, but by the Touibans. They were a species who, if they continued to progress as they were, would one day achieve a level of technical competence worthy of the Camarilla’s attention. He decided to wait to inform the Camarilla until their next contact. There was no rush, after all. A second
meeting between the Hunter and the sand-dweller female had been arranged and the scent marker would take care of the rest.
In a more positive frame of mind, he left the pool area and headed back down the elevator to the science labs on the Command level. There was still work to finish on the new batch of Prime embryos before they could be placed into the growth tanks.
Shola, Dzahai Stronghold, same day
“Slowly, I said!” snapped Physician Muushoi as he guided the cryo unit into its recess in the resuscitation room floor.
Kholgou glanced across the dark metal surface at Maikoi and grimaced. The Physician had been in a bad mood from the moment they’d arrived with the unit, and everyone knew why. Noni was here, and Muushoi didn’t get on with her.
At a signal from Maikoi, once more he reduced the cradle’s lift, nudging the unit a fraction away from the edge of the recess. Finally, with a dull thud, it settled into its base.
“You can take the cradle off it now,” Muushoi said, standing up and holding out an imperious hand to Chaddo for the comp pad the elderly Brother carried.
Chaddo passed it over. “Delivered into your tender care, one elderly male Human, by the name of Conner Llwellen,” he said. “And may Vartra have mercy on him,” he added in an undertone.
Muushoi shot him an angry glance as he scribbled his signature with the stylus, but he held his peace. They were Brotherhood, and he wasn’t. The traditional fear and respect of the Brothers that he’d been brought up with didn’t die easily. He thrust the comp pad back at Chaddo.
Maikoi coughed to cover his laugh as he unscrewed the cradle’s fastening at his side of the unit.
Pressing back the safety cover over the controls, Muushoi retracted the radiation and impact-proof shielding, exposing the elderly male within the cryo unit.
The cradle now detached, Kholgou leaned on the lid, wiping off the condensation that had already misted its surface. “Who is he?”
“That’s classified,” snapped Muushoi. “Don’t lean on it!”
“Some Talented person from Earth, so I heard,” said Chaddo as he turned to leave. “From the British Isles. Apparently one of their best.”
“We didn’t get many telepaths from there. Why send him here by cryo? Is he sick? He doesn’t look it.” Kholgou wiped the condensation away again, managing to make out long gray hair and a face covered by a neat gray beard.
“He’s not sick,” said the Physician. “Don’t you go starting rumors! Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do, even if you don’t!”
Reluctantly Kholgou moved aside. “Are you waking him now?” he asked. “Or keeping him in cryo?” This frozen Human intrigued him. Was he the Human equivalent of a rogue Telepath? Was that why he was here, to be trained? Retrained, he corrected himself, if Chaddo was right, and Chaddo wasn’t usually wrong.
“That’s classified,” his friend Maikoi said at exactly the same moment as Physician Muushoi did. Laughing, they followed Chaddo outside as the physician began initiating the resus cycle.
“C’mon, Chaddo,” said Kholgou, draping his arm round the porter’s shoulders. “You must have some idea of who he is and why he’s been sent here.”
“If I did, what makes you think I’d be telling the likes of you two?” asked Chaddo, his eyes lighting up with humor.
“I’ll buy you an ale in the Seniors’ mess,” offered Kholgou. “How secret can it be? His arrival was hardly clandestine.”
“You’ll be briefed soon enough,” said Chaddo urbanely as they left the infirmary.
“Then why not tell us now?” said Maikoi. “We just want to be the first to know.”
“So you can wind up the other Brothers here, I know. Nothing changes,” sighed Chaddo. He stopped, bobbing his head to the young Human female coming toward them. “Good day, Sister Alex.”
“Hi, Chaddo. Our visitor’s arrived safely?” she asked, stopping beside them and nodding to the others who murmured their own greetings to the Guild Master’s young Leska.
“He’s arrived safely, Sister, but as to whether he remains safe is up to the tender care lavished on him by Physician Muushoi.”
Alex laughed, pushing her blonde hair back behind her ears. “He’s in that kind of mood, is he? Thanks for the warning.”
“Alex, who is he?” demanded Kholgou, letting Chaddo go. “Chaddo won’t tell us. You’re from the same country, surely you know something about him, don’t you?”
“If you young people will excuse me, like our esteemed physician, I have work to do,” murmured Chaddo, taking the opportunity to make good his escape.
“You old fraud!” said Alex, grinning widely. “It’s no secret who he is, you know that! He’s winding you up, Kholgou!”
The sandy-colored male’s mouth dropped open in a grin. “I thought as much,” he said. “So tell us, Alex! Stop dragging your news out!”
“His name’s Conner and he was the leader of an ancient sect of mystics back in England. Apparently he chose a Sholan as his successor—Khyan Rhasho, the son of our Sholan Ambassador to Britain. Our Ambassador was none too pleased, so Conner’s been sent here to us as a kind of Cultural Exchange, Rhyaz said. Clan Lord Konis Aldatan arranged it, and arranged to have him sent here to us.”
“But why in cryo?” asked Maikoi.
Kholgou watched Alex’s eyes glaze over slightly as she communicated mentally with Master Rhyaz. “When the old leader retires, their custom is to put him in cryo in case his advice is ever needed in the future. They kept him in cryo because on Earth, at his college, they don’t own the technology to wake him safely.”
“Excuse me?” asked Maikoi. “Then why put him into cryo in the first place?”
Alex shrugged. “I know, it doesn’t make sense to me either. But apparently Master Konis thought the journey would be less of a strain on him if he remained asleep. So, do I get that drink you promised Chaddo for telling you who he is?” she asked, linking her arm through Kholgou’s.
“But of course,” he said, smiling down at her. The Warrior Leader’s Leska was popular among the seniors, perhaps in part because although she was friendly to all, she gave her time and company to very few. “I’d be honored to escort you to the mess. We’re off duty now if you are.”
“Give me five minutes to check on Conner. Rhyaz has asked me to be there when he awakens. With us coming from the same country, he hopes it’ll be less of a shock to him when he finds out he’s on Shola.”
“We’ll wait for you here,” he said as she let him go and headed into the infirmary.
“Is this wise?” asked Maikoi quietly. “She is his Leska, after all.”
“You worry too much. She’s also a person in her own right,” said Kholgou. “Master Rhyaz knows her thoughts from moment to moment, as she does his. Yes, she’s beautiful, who wouldn’t be attracted to her? But there’s a big difference between being a friendly admirer and making advances to her. Besides,” he grinned, poking his friend in the ribs, “everyone knows she has eyes for no one but Master Rhyaz since they became Linked mentally!”
“I just don’t want you to go getting yourself in too deep. I know how you like to flirt.”
Kholgou laughed. “Forget it, my friend! I have a Human lover back on the estate! I’m not looking for another, even one as tempting as her! Our Leader’s Leska is safe with me, though I admit I will enjoy flirting with her.”
The door swung open and Alex came out. “Okay, I have about three hours until I need to return,” she said. “Rhyaz is busy right now, so if you’ve the time, we can get lunch there too and maybe I’ll Challenge you both to a game of darts.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Kholgou, taking her arm again and leading her off toward the Seniors’ mess. “What about you, Maikoi?”
“Darts, you say?” he asked, looking more cheerful. “That’s the game you and Kai invented, isn’t it?”
“Not invented,” said Alex, looking over her shoulder at him. “Imported.”
Consciousness returned slowly, for
cing him to leave behind the soft, warm cocoon of sleep. In its wake came remembrance. Conner’s eyes flew open and with a start, his hands clutched involuntarily at the light quilt that covered him.
“Hello,” she said, flicking her pale blonde hair over one shoulder. “They asked me to stay with you till you woke. How’re you feeling? You’ve had everyone very concerned, you know.”
He found his voice. “Nimue? Where am I?” he asked, confused. “Why did they wake me? What’s happened?”
“Everything’s fine,” she reassured him. “My name’s Alex. Your Regent Euan sent you to us in exchange for the young man you appointed as your successor.”
Conner struggled to sit up, shocked to discover how weak he felt.
“When we woke you, you went down almost immediately with a twenty-four hour fever,” said Alex, reaching out to pick up a small control unit. Underneath him, he felt his pillows begin to rise until he was sitting up. The girl held the unit out to him. “Press that button to lie down, and the other to sit up,” she said.
Releasing the cover, he took the unit from her, clutching it tightly. “Where is here?” he asked, his eyes drawn toward the window beside him. Outside, he could see the snow-covered rooftops of what he assumed was the rest of the building and beyond it, a mountainside. The sky above was a bright, almost impossible, blue.
“Where is here?” he repeated, looking back to her as he took in the rest of his surroundings.
She hesitated. “May I call you Conner?” she asked.
Conner. It had been many, many years since he’d heard anyone call him by his birth name. He nodded.
“I’m a telepath, Conner, and from what I’m picking up from you, I feel you’d rather be told the truth than have me try to wrap it up more comfortably for you.”
“You’re perceptive for one so young,” he said. “I take it your news is bad.”
“Depends on your point of view,” she smiled. “Coming here for me was freedom. You chose a youth called Khyan Rhasho as your successor, so you’ve met at least one Sholan. You’re on Shola, Conner. It was arranged between the Head of our Alien Relations and your Regent as a cultural exchange. You for Khyan.”
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