Twenty meters short of the huge metal bay doors set into the side of the mountain, he was met by a cadre. They wore plain black uniforms; their masks had no lines of caste or house. He smelled Bban musk and swallowed hard. But he never altered pace or acknowledged them.
He was two steps short of the man in front when the cadre parted in silence to let him pass. But like a murmured whisper behind him as he stepped into the cold, shadowy interior of the caverns, he heard the words: “It is Asan. By’he, he has returned. N’a en wulrad, Asan.”
The cadre fell into step behind him like an unofficial escort. Asan stopped gripping the strifer butt quite so desperately.
The whispers echoed through the caverns, bouncing back to him, then fading away. He heard the running patter of feet far in the shadows away from the glow of light cubes shining in the main tunnels. Inside, his heart leapt with every step. The Bban’jen were wearing uniforms again. His people had united. Now they could accomplish something.
Ahead stood four sentries in square guard formation. These were Tlar’n. Three of them wore the symbols of Soot’dla upon their masks. The fourth was from the House of Spandeen. They stood at stiff attention, and they did not move aside from the entrance to the cavern of M’thra.
“Asan?” said one.
“It is so.”
“From a n’ka transport?”
As delicate as it was, the questioning was still an indication of distrust that worried Asan.
“I left in such a craft. Why should I not return in one?”
“Wait,” said the spokesman. “When the council has finished, then—”
“Chi’ka!” snapped Asan in anger. He swept his hand out, palm down. “Asan does not wait.”
He strode forward, but the guards did not step aside. Beyond their shoulders, he could see into the large cave where warriors were packed in all the way to the walls. In the center, where the four crystal cases had once rested, a select group now formed a council. Asan could not yet see who they were, but he could hear impatient murmurs from the watching crowd. The guards were not going to move out of his way. In one more step he would bump into the spokesman. He gathered his rings, ready to use whatever force was necessary to join that council.
But just as the blue haze engulfed him, the guards parted for him to pass.
“If Asan must walk, let Asan walk,” muttered the Spandeen spitefully.
Asan strode into the cave as though he had not heard, but the comment added to his worry. He had lost respect during his absence. But if they thought they had a chance to beat the humans without his help, then they’d better think again.
The chilly cave stank with too many bodies, old incense, and Bban musk. Light cubes shone starkly upon the masked faces. Some of the Bban’n were swaying back and forth with the hoarse chant, “Choi-hana, a’jen. Choi-hana chi.”
The din was so loud, Asan could not hear the debate of the council. But several members were gesturing angrily at one another, and Dame Agate’s face was as cold as the desert itself. Like her, the other council members did not wear their masks, and Asan recognized some of them: Unar of the Mura-an, Rroge of the Spandeen, Uxe Ggil. The rest, Bban and Tlar, he did not know.
Rroge was saying, “We must give her more time. She has risked much in going to the n’kai to parley—”
“She will betray us again,” said Unar.
Several shouts rose up from the watchers at this. When they were quieted, one of the Bban elders leaned forward.
“Dame Aural is great, and her word is true. We have the evidence of her favor with Anthi. Let there be no words said against her.”
Asan stiffened, and despite himself, his stride faltered. So Aural was claiming credit for bringing Anthi back online. And because of that, she had everyone tied up in a neat package sitting here ready for delivery into GSI hands.
He had advanced into the rear ranks of the crowd, but ahead of him was a solid mass of bodies. Asan hesitated for a moment, then he holstered his strifer and pulled out his sword instead. The singing of the blade as it left its scabbard caused several warriors around him to turn with hands on their jen-knives.
Asan held the sword aloft, and shouted, “I shall say words against her! If she says she has brought Anthi back to you, she lies. If she says the Institute is your friend, she lies. If she tells you to stand here meekly in peace while she brings the GSI to your place of hiding, then she has betrayed you yet again. And what do you say? Are you warriors or fools?”
It caused an uproar. The soldiers turned, necks craning, to see him. Many were shouting, and others would have attacked him but for the press of the crowd that kept everyone in place. The council members all came to their feet. Asan found himself pushed forward, jostled and half-squashed, until he reached the council.
Only then did he sheathe his sword and face them breathlessly, his heart racing beneath the weight of the medals.
Of them all, Dame Agate was the first to regain her voice. She lifted a hand that was not quite steady and pointed at him.
“All who stand in council, stand bare-faced.”
With a quick movement, Asan ripped his mask away and tucked it jen fashion under his left elbow. He heard the gasps rippling back through the cavern as they recognized him.
“Well, Dame Agate?” he asked. “Has the day come when I am no longer heard among the voices of leadership?”
He felt the pressure of her rings probing him, but he kept himself well shielded.
“Thou are permitted to stand in this council,” she replied. “But what has thou to offer us now, noble leiil? The Tlar’n and Bban’n united. They have fought wars and—”
“—been defeated?” Asan met the anger in their faces. “Yes, defeated! I smell it upon you.”
“At least we were here to fight,” said Unar.
“Oh, yes, that is true,” said Asan. “I have been gone a long while. Escaping from the Institute is not done quickly. But I have returned. And I offer you—”
“What?” interjected Rroge. “The gift of Anthi’s favor? We have it already, thanks to Dame Aural. Thou turned Anthi against us, but Dame Aural brought her back.”
“Fallacy,” said Asan.
Rroge reached for his jen-knife, but Dame Agate stepped between them.
“The question before this council is the n’kai proposal,” she said. “They wish us to meet them in the Outerlands to parley and accept terms. They have offered peace if we will cease hostilities.”
Asan frowned, not liking the sound of this at all. “Where? What meeting ground?”
For a moment there was silence as though they resented his interruption. But at last it was one of the Bban elders he did not know who answered him.
The Kichee well, one of the best watering holes in the eastern expanse of the Outerlands, was a tiny fertile spot cupped in the hollow of a long series of ridges spanning that region. The soil was rocky and rough, the visibility broken. It was a poor meeting ground by any reasoning.
“Don’t waste time by speaking of all the faults with it,” said Dame Agate. “We have discussed these. The site will not be advantageous for the n’kai either.”
“Why?” said Asan. “Have you not yet learned your lesson? They don’t think as we do. They don’t fight as you have had to fight during these many years of darkness. When you are gathered in the ridges, with half your force held back out of sight in case of trouble, they will simply fly ships over you and blot you out with wide-scatter bombs. Then there will be no more Bban’jen and no more Tlar’jen. There will be no more resistance, and the n’kai will have this world in their hand.”
An uproar went up at this. Even some of the council members waved their palms down. But Unar rose to his feet. He looked weary and held himself as though he had hurts not yet healed.
“The leiil speaks with truth. But what choice have we but to try and trust them? We have fought and fought hard. We killed many. But their machines best us every time. They will hunt us all down if we continue to res
ist. Either way we have a small future.”
“Has Noble Asan brought us machines?” shouted a voice from the crowd. “He speaks of war and bravery. He wears the sword of death and the medals of victory. But how do we fight for him? How do javelins pierce the sides of ships?”
Asan signaled for quiet. He said, “I have brought you no machines. But I offer something better.”
Bban barking rose up, deafening Asan and drowning out the words of Dame Agate. With visible annoyance, she repeated herself.
“We are tired, noble leiil. We are hungry. The protected fields of the Soot’dla have been confiscated. They offer us food if we surrender. You bring us nothing but old legends and the cry of hope. We cannot listen to such things any longer.”
“I bring you the Merdarai. If you want them,” said Asan.
Shock reverberated around the cavern. Dame Agate and Unar exchanged astonished glances. The Bban elders were on their feet, gesturing angrily at Ggil, who lifted an impatient hand to quiet them. Someone in the crowd began to wail, and there were cries of fear.
“Silence!” shouted Asan in command tone, and the hubbub vanished.
They were afraid and they were doubtful. Some of them even looked at him as though he were mad. But for the first time he had their complete attention.
He turned to Dame Agate, who was scowling, and spoke directly to her. “Look upon me with truth if you dare.”
“There are many tales about the shadow land.”
“Look upon me.”
“Thou would have us believe that old legend about a mythical army led by a mythical Asan.”
“I stand here,” he said grimly. “So shall they.”
“If they had existed, they would have returned to save Tlartantla. Instead, our ancestors had to flee here.”
“It did not serve the purpose to bring them back during the last days. But now they are our only hope. Look upon me, Dame Agate.”
He dropped his shields and opened his rings to her. She glared at him a moment longer, but with all watching her she could not show cowardice. She touched him with her rings as warily as she might have approached a viper. He could have crushed her with a flicker of thought, and she knew it. But he kept very still and showed her the truth.
When she withdrew she looked shaken. The color faded from her face, and suddenly her age seemed plain. She retreated a step and sank down in her chair.
Rroge put his hand upon her shoulder. Everyone stared at her.
“He speaks truth,” she said in a whisper. “The Merdarai remained frozen between time. They can be brought back. They can be used to defeat the n’kai.”
Rroge removed his hand, looking pale himself. He turned to stare at Asan. Unar also stared. Uxe Ggil tried without much success to hide how shaken he was, but the other Bban elders pulled out their amulets and gestured to one another.
“If the shadow land is opened,” said Ggil hesitantly, “what else will come forth besides thy demons?”
Asan stared into his hideous, plated face with its double mandible and glowing eyes. “Perhaps a way back.”
Ggil looked startled, and so did Dame Agate. But no one else seemed to be listening.
Unar stepped forward. “Do it. Bring them. Let us drive away the n’kai for all time.”
“Noble Unar, you are too hasty,” said Rroge in alarm. “You would involve us in war again when we might have peace.”
“There is never peace with the Institute,” said Asan. “I know them. They are a worse threat than any enemy our people have ever faced before.”
Dame Agate rose to her feet. “It is dangerous, noble leiil.”
“Yes, yes, very dangerous,” said Rroge.
“Not in that way, fool,” she snapped. She stared at Asan, and her eyes held understanding. “After all this time, has thou the strength?”
“Unknown.”
“Vauzier and Rim.” Her brows lifted. “Does thou require their assistance? Would thou have them raised to walk beside thee?”
It was tempting. He wasn’t sure he alone could handle the forces that would soon be unleashed. But Vauzier and Rim would require recovery time, and they might not agree to help him.
“Who, Dame Agate, would you have die as their catalysts? I cannot ask that of anyone.”
Her gaze dropped from his. “Then it is settled. Tell us what thou needs done and we shall do it.”
“I must go to Anthi.”
“Wait!” said Rroge in alarm. “Is this wise? The last time he went to Anthi, he took her from us. This could be a trick.”
“Rroge, you are a fool!” snapped Dame Agate. “I have looked upon him with truth. Do you now question my word? Besides, he may die from this. Speak respectfully now or bide your tongue.”
Abashed, Rroge signaled a request for pardon. Unar joined Asan’s side.
“Let us go to Anthi, noble leiil. Thou has my help.”
“And mine,” said Ggil.
Asan flipped up his palm. “It is enough.”
He started into the crowd, but just then someone shouted, “Hold! Noble Unar, we have caught a n’ka spy in the transport of the Tlar leiil.”
Asan exclaimed under his breath. He looked around to see guards dragging in a struggling Udge. The pale blue gear suit was smeared with black as though Udge had been knocked flat and dragged through the ashes outside. Why hadn’t the old fool stayed in the shuttle where he belonged?
Unar’s hand closed upon Asan’s arm. “What trick is this?”
“He is human but not of the Institute. He saved my life,” said Asan.
But no one was listening.
“A trick! A trick! We have been deceived again! Death to the n’ka! Death to Asan!”
Dame Agate lifted her hand. “Kill that man!”
There was a brief struggle in the crowd, and the shouting stopped.
Asan, motionless, found himself breathing hard as Udge was dragged up to him and shoved sprawling. His helmet had been torn off, and his bald head gleamed under the merciless light cubes. He looked very small and very human.
Wincing slightly, he struggled to his knees and stared up at Asan in unspoken apology. There was a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.
“I thought maybe you needed some help. You’d been in here a long time, Tob—uh, noble one.”
He needn’t have bothered to be careful what he said. No one here understood Standard, and Asan saw no medallions of tongues in sight. The harm was all in his presence.
Asan’s mind felt numb. He could not think of how to salvage the mistake. But once again he chose attack.
“And the other passenger aboard my transport?” he said with icy anger. “Well, pon? Have you disposed of her, or have you given her to your men? Do you know the penalty for abusing a Tsla leiis?”
The masked pon before him flinched slightly. His fingers spread out as though he were confused. “Tsla leiis? I—I do not—”
“Bring her here at once and with courtesy!”
Rroge shouldered forward. “Perhaps the wily leiil need not give orders quite so freely until this is explained. Or do we want to listen to more of his lies?”
“Be careful, dung of the Spandeen,” said Dame Agate with a hand on her jen-knife. “You speak against our only hope.”
Rroge laughed shrilly. “This is hope? Oh, he may want to help us, noble dame, but he is obviously under n’ka control. And we have here his handler.”
By this time Udge was back on his feet, but he was so short, so breathless, and so bald that Rroge’s words were ludicrous. Asan smiled in spite of his tension, and beside him Unar did also. They exchanged quick glances, and Unar released his hold on Asan’s arm.
“So what do I do now?” muttered Udge. “Turn backflips on your command? I screwed up. Shoot me if you want.”
“I may have to,” muttered Asan back in Standard, and had the satisfaction of seeing Udge turn pale.
“Who is the master, and who is servant?” said Unar. He tapped his fingers on his wrist and
stepped back. “Not all Tlar’n support our stance. It is logical to assume that not all n’kai belong to the Institute. I accept Noble Asan’s word on this matter.”
Before the others could inject their opinions, more guards appeared with Zaula. Hot-eyed, Asan glared at all of them, but she was treated with respect as she was brought forward. Puzzlement rippled through the crowd, but Zaula was masked and she would stay masked. The face of a Tsla leiis was not for public viewing.
She broke from her guards and ran to him, extending her hand which he grasped. Her fingers trembled against his.
“We were so worried. Is thee well?”
“I’m fine. And thee?”
“Yes. I—” She turned up her palm. “I thought they would kill Udge.”
“I know this voice. I recognize this pattern,” said Dame Agate. “Dame Zaula?”
Zaula turned to her with dignity. “It is so, revered dame.”
“Thou art honored,” said Agate. “The noble leiil has called thee by thy former title.”
“The title remains,” said Asan.
Surprise showed on their faces, and Zaula stared at him. He squeezed her hand in reassurance.
“She is my ring-mate. She stands at my side.”
Dame Agate smiled and turned up both palms. “This is well. This is right.”
“And clever,” said Rroge, looking just as suspicious as ever. “He has gained the place of Leiil Hihuan, the widow of Leiil Hihuan, and the regency of Hihuan’s child. What have you to say to this, Noble Unar?”
Unar turned as though stung and glared at Rroge. “You speak with the babblings of an idiot, Rroge. Your purpose is to make trouble and divide us. Perhaps it is you we should suspect of evil intent here and not the noble leiil.”
That shut Rroge up. The Bban elders barked softly among themselves.
“How much time do we have?” asked Asan, bringing them back to the important matter at hand.
“Little until we must reply,” said Unar. “Do we go to Anthi?”
“Yes.”
Udge stepped up to Asan. “What about me?”
Requiem for Anthi: Anthi - Book Two Page 21