“The deal was to stay for as long as I needed you,” Kezule reminded him quietly, tapping ash off the end of his cheroot into a small dish on the table in front of them. “Your people have the skills mine lack when it comes to choosing what is necessary to take off the Zan’droshi. I can’t always be with them, I have duties here as well.”
He turned to look at the General. “What will be next, Kezule? How many more times will you say only we have the skills to help you? We’ve already been here for over two months. I want to take my son home, my crew want to go home.”
“I’ve never put a time limit on how long I wanted you to stay,” said Kezule, lazily blowing smoke into the air while regarding him consideringly. Suddenly, he sat up and stubbed out the remains of his smoke.
“The Zan’droshi has ancillary craft—in repairable condition—on one of the flight decks, among other things,” he said crisply. “As well as taking off what we need to supplement our sick bays and living quarters, I want them and their ammunition in working order. Before you say it,” he said warningly, “yes, this is a peaceful settlement, but we may need to defend ourselves one day, and I aim to ensure we have the means to do so. Once that’s been completed, I plan to visit Ch’almuth and see if I can recruit some of their people. When you’ve helped them settle in, then you have my word you and your son can leave here.”
“You expect me to believe that after getting those fighters off the Zan’droshi, you don’t plan to use them on the Ch’almuthians?” he said, putting all the scorn he felt into his words.
“Don’t take me for an idiot, Kusac,” Kezule snapped back. “I want willing settlers, not a captive population! I have no intention of taking anyone from there by force. I want the fighters for the reason I said, in case I need to defend this Outpost.”
“Who are you expecting to attack you? The Primes?”
“I’m not expecting anyone, I’m just covering my options. You could be going home in as little as three months, Kusac. Think of that rather than trying to give me motives I don’t have.”
Three months? For the first time, he thought about what waited for him on Shola—a trial for treason, not just because of stealing the Couana for the original mission, but because he’d returned from it then immediately taken off again to return to Kezule’s hideout. It wouldn’t matter that Father Lijou and his own father had urged him to take the initial covert mission, unless the political climate at home had improved with the Primes, they couldn’t admit to having sent him. And as for returning for his son, that would cut no ice with the authorities. He’d be disowned by both his birth family and the Brotherhood, and he’d face either imprisonment, or worse, mental readjustment. Surprisingly, his future here was more assured than on Shola. Maybe he should make a new life for himself and Shaidan here, on Kij’ik, where no one would probe into his son’s heritage. Maybe he should be content with what he had now rather than risk an uncertain future for them both.
The thought shocked him. “Agreed,” he said harshly.
Kezule nodded, a slight smile touching the corners of his wide mouth. “I have some matters to attend to on the bridge,” he said, getting to his feet. “I promised you two hours alone with my wife, you can have them now. I keep my word, Kusac.” With that, he left.
He heard the outer door open then close and knew he was alone with Zayshul and both children.
“He trusts you now,” said Zayshul as she ushered Shaidan and her daughter in. “He wouldn’t have invited you here, or left you alone with us if he didn’t.”
He opened his mouth to answer but she shook her head slightly and gestured to the ubiquitous comm screen unit in the corner of the room.
“Shaidan, get the drawing things out from the cupboard, please, and take them to the kitchen. Mayza wants to draw for a while before bed,” she said.
“Yes, Aunt,” the cub said obediently, going to a set of cupboards behind the sofa opposite Kusac.
“Aunt?” Kusac asked as he got to his feet.
“What would you have him call me?” Her tone was slightly acerbic. “Doctor Zayshul? He only calls me that in public.”
“No, of course not,” he mumbled, taken aback by her forthrightness.
The kitchen was through the dining area, and was a small, family room with a circular dining table and four chairs plus the usual facilities for cooking and cleaning up after a meal. Next to the sink stood a food and drink dispenser.
“The communication units were originally used as monitors by Security,” she said quietly as the two youngsters settled at the table with small drawing screens and styluses. She took two drinking vessels from a cupboard and programmed two drinks into the dispenser. “Not that I think Kezule uses them for that,” she added hurriedly as she waited for them to be delivered. “He only uses them for entertainment channels and public announcements, but it’s safer not to speak frankly in front of them.”
Reaching into the dispenser, she took out a bowl of kheffa and handed it to him.
He took it from her carefully, making sure their fingers didn’t touch. Still sensitive to her presence, he didn’t want to make the situation worse.
“About last night,” she began hesitantly.
“It didn’t happen, and it must never happen again,” he said firmly, in a voice as quiet as hers while refusing to meet her gaze. His burning need for her had lessened, thank Vartra, but he still felt an attraction to her.
“Agreed,” she said after a moment. “You asked for this time with me, so what do I tell Kezule we talked about? What reason did you give him?”
He looked at her then. “Shaidan,” he said. “I told him I wanted to know about him and the other cubs. Tell me how Kezule found them.”
Opening his mind, he let his shields drop and absorbed everything she said about the discovery and rescue of the cubs, including the death of two of them. He listened emotionlessly, betraying nothing.
“He’s not a cruel man, Kusac,” she said at last. “He’s obviously a product of his own time and culture, but he’s motivated by honor and duty. It sickened him to see the cubs in the Directorate’s hands. He could have asked for any of them, and even though he knew Shaidan was your son, he asked for Gaylla to save her life.”
“Keeping Shaidan to make me return and help him wasn’t honorable,” he growled, putting his empty drinking vessel in the sink. “And you went along with it.”
He felt her mental presence flare until it touched the edges of his mind. Instantly his shielding returned, blocking her out, but not before he’d felt the mixture of anger and anguish she was feeling.
“I had no option,” she said quietly. “There must have been times when you have overruled your wife.”
Memories tried to surface but ruthlessly, he suppressed them. That part of his life belonged to the past, had no relevance to him now.
She moved closer, her hand touching his arm in an intimate gesture. “I was against this plan, Kusac, please believe that.”
Her touch shocked him by sending thrills of anticipated pleasure through him. He jerked his arm away. “Don’t touch me!” he hissed in a low voice. “We have to work together, but I want no intimacy with you! You mean nothing to me—you’re a colleague, nothing more!” He moved abruptly away from her toward the table and took the empty seat next to his son.
The impact of her scent might have diminished, but her touch evoked memories of their shared intimacy the night before. Telepaths couldn’t hide from the messages that flesh-to-flesh contact brought, and his body wanted hers again.
He tried to concentrate on his son, using the cub’s scent and touch to override hers, but he was only partially successful. The awareness her touch had awakened in him was reluctant to become dormant again.
Zayshul was in an equal state of turmoil and confusion, wondering if she had, indeed, managed to turn off the scent marker. Until she’d touched him, she’d assumed she had, now she wasn’t so sure anymore. She busied herself washing the drinking vessels and putting them
back under the dispenser for fresh kheffa. Then she joined Kusac at the table, pushing his hot drink toward him as she took the last empty chair.
Eventually the two hours were over and M’kou came to escort him back to the Officers level. As the distance between him and Zayshul increased, the beast she’d awakened with her touch finally went back to sleep, and he sighed with relief.
M’kou left the Sholan on his level and rode the elevator back down to his own, heading for the bridge where he knew his father waited.
The General was sitting to one side at the Security post while the evening watch were on duty at the Captain’s and Tactical stations. As he approached, he could see his father had been switching between only two screens—the exterior of the Zan’droshi, and his lounge.
“Thank you, M’kou,” Kezule said, switching off the screens and getting to his feet. “I’m through here for tonight.”
“Will you be going back to your quarters now? I could make a hot drink to ease your tiredness.”
Kezule smiled briefly and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Thank you, but no. I think I will spend a few hours with Shishu and her charming companion. I need—uncomplicated company tonight. There are times when I don’t think I’ll ever get used to sentient wives, and tonight is one of them.”
Nodding, M’kou thought of his own mate, Lazaik, glad he didn’t have the problems his father had. Lazaik had scent-marked him, and he didn’t care if the longing he felt for her was enhanced by the marker or not, because he knew that it worked the same way for her. On that level at least, he could feel some sympathy for the Doctor and the Sholan Captain, as well as for his father.
“Would you like me to inform Doctor Zayshul?” he offered quietly.
“Please,” said Kezule, the weary look on his face vanishing for an instant. “But do it . . .” He hesitated.
“I know how to tell her,” said M’kou.
Kezule gripped his son’s shoulder affectionately and nodded. “Maybe you could ask her friend from the lab to call in on her,” he suggested. “Females like each other’s company in stressful times, and tonight has been stressful for both of us.”
“I’ll tell Ghidd’ah,” M’kou reassured him.
“Would you also make sure all Captain Aldatan’s requirements for tomorrow will be met?” said Kezule as he began to leave.
“Already done, General. Shall I call you tomorrow morning at the usual time?”
“Please.”
As he watched his father leave, M’kou sighed, wondering again why the otherwise competent and sensible Doctor had scent-marked the Sholan Captain in the first place, then hurriedly banished the thought as he had before. No one really believed the story that it had been done by the Directorate, but on the Kz’adul, she had been free to scent-mark whomever she chose.
Lazaik had tried to explain the appeal of the Sholan males to him but he couldn’t really see it from a female viewpoint.
“If the males have that effect on you, La’shol help us when we meet their females,” he’d said, but she’d just laughed at him.
Midwinter Festival, Zhal-Kuushoi 26th day (December)
The recounting of Ghyakulla’s search for Her lost child through Winter’s domain had gone more smoothly than he’d feared it would, given how little time they’d had to practice it. All through it, he’d felt as if he was an automaton, merely playing the part he’d designated for himself—the words were only words, with none of the sentiment behind them that they’d held for him in the past. Now there was only the final ritual to conduct. Rousing himself, he looked over to Khadui and Dzaou and flicked an ear in an affirmative. The two Sholans began to beat their drums, a low, rhythmic beat that matched that of a Sholan heart exactly.
“To open our celebrations, we offer the traditional gifts to Vartra,” said Kusac. “Fire, incense, salt, and water. Let the torch be brought so that the fires of truth and clear thought can be once more lit in our hearts.”
Jayza came forward carrying a blazing torch which he handed to Kusac. Taking the torch, he stepped toward the right-hand brazier and lit it first. The flames leaped upward, crackling and dancing as if they were alive. Moving to the other brazier, he once more turned on the gas and ignited it. A second time the flames leaped high before settling down. Would that he could kindle the light of truth so easily in his own life.
Handing the torch back to Jayza, Kusac returned to his place in front of the altar and its small statuettes.
“These flames shall signify the return of the sun to our land. Let the incense be brought to sweeten the air and aid our meditation.”
It was Shaidan who stepped forward this time, bearing a small container in his hands. As he approached Kusac, he lifted the lid, presenting him with the open box.
From it, Kusac took a handful of the resinous granules and stepping toward the first brazier, threw some into the heart of the flames. They flared up brightly, spitting and crackling as a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke began to billow upward. Clear thought—he no longer knew what that meant these days when everything around him seemed to be steeped in a sea of fog. He repeated his actions with the second brazier.
Shaidan closed the box and hesitating only briefly, went to stand beside Jayza.
“The perfumed air shall remind us of the blossoms of spring.” Spring—he thought longingly of spring on his estate, with the riot of colorful blossoms everywhere. Then he remembered what he was doing and pushed the painful memories aside.
“Let the water that sustains all life be brought that I may add my gift of salt to it,” he said, taking a pouch from his pocket and holding it aloft.
Banner stepped forward, carrying the bowl of water into which he poured the contents of the pouch. Taking his Brotherhood knife from his belt, he held it in both hands and proceeded to slowly stir the contents of the bowl with it.
“Let the water of life and the salt of the earth be conjoined and purified,” he said. Removing the knife, he wiped it carefully on the empty pouch then returned it to its sheath and the pouch to his robe pocket before taking the bowl from Banner.
As his Second stepped back beside Jayza, Kusac turned to the statuettes of Vartra and Ghyakulla and bowing, placed the bowl in front of them. He remained there a moment with his back to the gathering.
If Ghyakulla can search for You, then surely both She and You understand why I am here, why I must do whatever it takes to get my son back.
The drumbeat began to quicken, Khadui and Dzaou using both hands now as the hypnotic sound rose in volume until it reached a crescendo which fragmented into separate rhythms before suddenly stopping.
In the profound silence that followed, Kusac spoke once more. “As we have revered Your Mother, Ghyakulla, by recounting the story of Her search for You in Winter’s domain, we now ask You to bless us who are here today, and bless this celebration which we hold in honor of Your recovery and Your birth.” He bowed once more before turning back to the assembled Sholans and Primes. Reaching out, he took Shaidan by the hand, drawing him to his side. “Let the feast begin,” he said simply, then led the way to the tables at the other end of the hall.
Unlike the Prime festival, theirs was a meal set at tables. Out of courtesy, he’d had to place the General and Doctor Zayshul on his left while Banner and the others of his crew were on his right. Giyarishis had surprised everyone by asking to join them at the meal even though he could eat little of their food beyond some of the vegetables.
Many of the Primes had elected to join them, interested not only to see how the Sholans celebrated their own turn of the year, but because it was a change from the normal daily routine. The food was of course, Sholan-style, with several large joints of roasted meat as well as the obligatory dishes of stews and a variety of vegetables from either the hydroponics lab of Giyarishis or from the planet they’d gone to for their hunt.
For once, even the abrasive Dzaou was disposed to be relatively pleasant to the Primes as well as to Kusac himself. There was plenty of live
ly conversation—aided by copious amounts of ale brewed by the ’ponics level—as the two religions were compared and contrasted.
He said little, preferring instead to watch his son, who sat with Zayshul and her daughter, and listen to everyone else. While part of his mind noted that the integration of the Primes’ military group with the civilians was complete, with both parties completely at their ease with each other, the rest of his mind had retreated until the sound of their conversation resembled the chuckling of water running over small stones.
Reaching for his drink, he noticed Khadui and Jayza excuse themselves from the table and head off to the drums, several Primes following in their wake with their own percussive instruments. Moments later, Dzaou left. Afer a few tentative practice patterns of beats, they began playing again—a light, foot-tapping rhythm that seemed to appeal to both species.
Zayshul had been as quiet as he’d been throughout the meal, speaking only to the children or occasionally to the Prime female seated opposite her. On a distant level, he’d been aware of her glancing in his direction every now and then, but he’d not responded.
Beside her, Kezule was relaxed and expansive, asking first Jayza, then occasionally himself, many questions about their religion. His answers had been automatic, requiring little thought.
The music changed, becoming more complex as the drummers gained confidence. He found he could relax into it, let it flow over and through him till he began to find a measure of peace.
A hand touched his, making him jump in surprise, pulling him back to the real world.
“I think Dzaou’s planning something,” said Banner, leaning close to him so he couldn’t be overheard.
“What?” he asked, lifting the drinking vessel to his lips.
“I don’t know, but he’s been trying too hard to be pleasant for my liking.”
He looked at his Second, raising a quizzical eye ridge. “What could he do?”
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