"I don't know about the rest of you," Orick said, "but I'm getting nervous with all of this talk. I think there's trouble on this ship. I saw those Tekkar. Even without your warnings, I knew they were dangerous."
"Yes," Ceravanne agreed. "The Inhuman is with us, but does it know of our plans? Will it seek to thwart us?"
"I don't think any of them followed us from the city," Maggie said. "Orick and I watched the boats, and we saw no familiar faces."
"That's a good sign," Gallen agreed.
"But the Inhuman is often subtle," Ceravanne warned. "Just because you do not see it, that does not mean it isn't here. We should take care. We should stay to our cabins as much as possible for the duration of the trip, and never speak openly about our quest again. I know that it is much to ask for you to agree to such seclusion, but it should only be six or seven days till we reach Babel."
Well?" Captain Aherly asked.
Zell'a Cree pulled his head away from the cabin wall where he'd been listening. "They don't suspect either of us strongly," he whispered. "But they are wary of the Tekkar."
"You should have left the Tekkar in Northland," Aherly said. "They'll be nothing but trouble. They've already asked my permission to kill some of our guests. I denied them, but they're thirsty for blood."
"Yet we may need their services before this is over," Zell'a Cree whispered. He considered. He had only three copies of the Word left in his pouch. He couldn't harvest all of the souls in the neighboring cabin. But perhaps he didn't need to. The bear was expendable. Still, most unwilling converts would fight the Word, and there was no way to be certain that three copies would be enough.
"The Tharrin woman, Ceravanne, is beautiful," Aherly said. "I have often longed to see a Tharrin. And yet I find that if I had seen this one on the street, disguised as she was, I would have passed her, never knowing what she was, knowing only that she was lovely." His tone became hard, commanding. "Whatever happens, I don't want you or your men to kill her."
"She's more than just beautiful, she's useful. I'll order the Tekkar to stay in their room," Zell'a Cree agreed.
Aherly shook his head in bewilderment. "Are you sure these people are what you say they are? Gallen and Maggie look like . . . well, just nice kids. Not Lords of the Swann. And Ceravanne looks like their younger sister. They're practically children!"
"Were we not children before the Inhuman claimed us?" Zell'a Cree said.
"Well, yeah," Aherly fumbled.
Zell'a Cree sighed, obviously fatigued. "We'll find more copies of the Word when we reach port. It seems that time is against our friends. From now on, at night we will put the sails at quarter mast."
"You bastard!" Captain Aherly said. "I've got cargo to carry. You'll cost me days!"
Zell'a Cree scowled at the man. Aherly might be Inhuman, but he was still greedy, a vice that Zell'a Cree could not claim for himself.
"If you have complaints about how I treat you," Zell'a Cree whispered dangerously, "perhaps you should take them to the Tekkar." Zell'a Cree was a broad man, incredibly stocky, so that even in spite of the fact that he was not much taller than Aherly, Zell'a Cree seemed to dwarf the captain.
Aherly's jaw quivered, and Zell'a Cree studied the movement . . . wondering if he could learn to simulate fear.
Chapter 15
That night, Gallen wore his mantle to bed. The heavy metal ringlets were uncomfortable, and the many tiny knowledge crystals dangling from it tinkled when he moved his head. But he cared little for sleep this night. He needed knowledge, and so he lay thinking for a long time, wondering how best to speed their trip to Moree.
With his mantle's many sensors, he could see around the room clearly, and he let the mantle heighten his hearing, until the creaking of timbers and water lapping the hull were well amplified. Maggie slept beside him in the narrow bunk, facing the wall, and Gallen enjoyed the sweet scent of her off-world perfumes.
He lay curled against her, smelling her hair, just holding her.
Outside, there was the occasional sound of a scout calling his reports, and the scurry of feet over the weather deck.
Gallen tried to call up files about the Tekkar, but he was using Veriasse's old mantle, and Veriasse had never battled that race. His mantle carried information about the planet Tekkar—a fiendishly hot world where near-sentient dragons hunted by night. Gallen could guess at the specifications one might set in creating a subspecies to dwell on that world, but the reasons for colonizing the place at all were baffling.
And so after a bit of study, Gallen let his mantle seek files on other subspecies he would find on Tremonthin—size, coloration, distinctive features; visual, auditory, and olfactory sensitivity; speeds and strengths; various traits. The information he received was very discomfiting. He found that many races had been boosted for sensitivity, for dexterity, for intelligence, for fierceness.
The Lords of Tremonthin were designing subspecies to colonize thousands of worlds in this galaxy and beyond, yet Gallen saw that the attributes given to some made for incredibly dangerous combinations. He shook his head in wonder, wishing vainly that Ceravanne and the other Tharrin would have had more control over such decisions.
Late in the night, Gallen suddenly became aware of soft footsteps outside his door, and he realized that for several minutes he had heard stealthy sounds—the creaking of timbers at long, infrequent intervals.
For a moment, he watched his door. He'd thrown the bolt home before retiring, but he watched the door handle. His mantle let him see it dearly in the dark, and Gallen silently willed the mantle to let him view the scene in infrared.
He spotted two people standing on the other side of the door—their form revealed by the warmth of their body heat striking the planks.
For a long time they stood, then one of them gently pulled the wooden door handle, testing to see if the door was locked.
Gallen silently sat up, pulled his knife from his sheath, and began stalking toward the door, thinking to pull it open, surprise the men.
He slid his feet across the floor, careful to make no sound, and his mantle detected none. But suddenly the man at the door froze and distinctly hissed to his companion, "The Lord Protector!" They turned and fled above deck.
Gallen rushed to his door, threw it open, and raced above deck. The deck was cluttered with the lines and mast, dozens of nooks where someone might hide. There was a swift, cold breeze outside, and a dozen sailors were on deck, but Gallen couldn't be certain which of them had been at his door. He looked at them in infrared, and their bodies seemed to shine while flames flickered across their skins as if they were demons from hell.
He addressed one giant who stood at the wheel above him, back turned. "Did you see anyone come up here just now?"
The giant looked over his shoulder. "No. But I heard a noise. Could have been someone."
Gallen nodded. There was no one else close enough to have been keeping watch. He looked up, noticed that the sails were at quarter mast.
"Why are the sails lowered?"
The giant shrugged. "Cold wind from up north, I guess. Might bring a squall. Captain said to lower them. It's his ship."
Gallen pulled his tunic up tight around his throat. It was a cold wind. Very cold.
He looked to the deck to see if there were any prints. The blackguards' body heat should have left its mark. But the men had run too quickly, and he could see no trail. At least the sensors in his mantle weren't strong enough to pick it up.
He asked the mantle to give him an olfactory boost, but this was a feature of his mantle that Gallen had not used before, and the heavy odors that came to him meant nothing.
He grunted, went below deck, and bolted his door. Maggie had slept through the whole thing.
Gallen lay back rehearsing what had just happened, and he could not recall making a sound that would have alerted the intruders. He had his mantle play back the recorded sounds of the incident, and there was nothing that could have alerted the intruders.
Which meant there was but one alternative: they had to have seen him. His foes could see infrared. But far worse, Gallen realized, was that even though he had kept his mantle and weapons concealed, his foes knew that he was a Lord Protector.
The next morning, Gallen asked Orick to check the corridor, see if he could track the intruders by scent. But the cabin boy had already come through the hall that morning, swabbing the decks with lye.
So Gallen went to the captain's quarters to speak with Aherly, and Orick followed. Gallen had hoped to meet the captain in private, but his bodyguard, Tallea, was there. The captain sat in a stuffed chair at his desk, writing in his log, and Tallea stood at his shoulder, her eyes alert, muscles bunched.
Still, Gallen felt he needed to speak now. "Two men tested the doors to my room last night, trying to break in," he informed the captain.
Aherly looked at him askance, his balding head gleaming in the light from the portal. "That's a substantial accusation. Was anything taken, anyone harmed?"
"No," Gallen said. "But they did try my door."
"Did you see them? Could you point them out to me again?"
"I didn't see their faces, but they were of normal height."
"Of normal height?" Aherly pursed his lips. "That's not much of a description." "And I know that they can see in infrared," Gallen added, hoping to narrow the field.
"It's a common trait in Babel—or even in Northland, for that matter." Aherly shrugged. "Half of my crew has it—all of the night watch. I insist on it, for safety's sake. I would love to resolve this situation, but—is there anything more I could go on?"
"Nothing," Gallen said. "Except—could it have been the Tekkar? Were they out last night?"
"I'm sure they were, but it would prove nothing. The Tekkar prefer darkness, and they sleep during the day."
Gallen stood thinking, and Captain Aherly said, "Look, sir, I don't know what I can do about this matter. But it does concern me. So, I have but one question for you: do you feel unsafe on my ship? Do you feel threatened in any way?"
Whoever had tried his door last night knew Gallen was a Lord Protector. And if he knew that, he would almost certainly know Ceravanne's identity, and Maggie's. Gallen could not ignore that threat, and it was so horrific that he wished he could hide it from his companions. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to get off this ship. "I do," Gallen admitted. "I feel threatened clear down to my boots."
The captain frowned. "Then there is only one thing to do. I deal with many kinds of people, some who feel threatened by things that are real, others who feel threatened by things that are imaginary. . . ."
"Och, here now," Orick grumbled, "Gallen's not one to go about imagining devils and banshees—"
"Oh, I didn't mean to imply . . ." the captain said, studying Gallen's eyes, "I just mean that—it is . . . it is my policy to make all of my customers feel safe aboard my ship. Welcome and secure. Which is why I hire the Caldurian.
"Would you feel safer if I assigned Tallea to watch your rooms at night?"
Gallen studied the warrior. She had short dark hair with streaks of gray, and deep brown eyes that were very intense. She moved with a grace and power that he only someday hoped to match, and Ceravanne had said that the woman could not be Inhuman.
"Yes," Gallen said. "I would feel safer."
"Good," Aherly smiled. "She will be outside your doors from dusk to dawn." He began to fumble with a drawer of his desk, as if he would open it. "Uh, look," he grumbled. "I assure you that I want to catch these intruders as much as you do. I try to run a clean ship. I pay my crew well, but it may be that one or two of my men—or even some of the other passengers-were intent on pilfering. If that's the case, it's bad for my reputation, you see?"
Gallen nodded, for he could ask no more of the man, but as he turned away, he muttered under his breath, "That's not the case."
He went back to his cabin, and called a meeting. When Ceravanne heard his tale, she was terrified.
"Are you sure that the intruder called you 'Lord Protector'?" Maggie asked Gallen.
"Certain," Gallen answered. "I was wearing my mantle. I've played back the recording a dozen times."
"Then the Inhuman's agents are on the ship, and they know who we are," she said.
Maggie and the bear looked at the porthole, then at the door, as if the Inhumans would come piling in at any moment. "What can we do?"
Gallen had been sitting cross-legged, but he pulled his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees. "I see only one thing that we can do. I have to find the servants of the Inhuman, and eliminate the threat."
Ceravanne said, "Perhaps you're wrong in imagining that it is the Inhuman. Perhaps these intruders know only that you are a Lord Protector. We were gone from our room for a time last night. Perhaps someone entered the room and went through your pack, found your mantle and incendiary rifle."
"Perhaps," Gallen admitted. "But I think you are only hoping for the best. If they were thieves, why didn't they just take my things, then?"
Ceravanne could come up with no answer.
"There are lifeboats aboard," Maggie said. "We could sneak off the ship some night, try to make it to shore."
"The night crew can all see in the dark," Gallen countered. "To them, you glow like a firefly. You'll not get off this ship unnoticed."
"Then we'll have to be patient, and courageous, and wait," Ceravanne said.
"For what?" Orick demanded.
"For them to come to us," Gallen said.
Chapter 16
They sailed that week without further incident, and after a couple of days, the group began to rest easier. During the days they walked the decks of the ship, but in the evenings none of them journeyed abroad.
Orick in particular soon began to wonder. After five more days without a sign of trouble, he began to wonder if Gallen had not dreamed of the danger.
So Orick took to scrambling across the decks longer and longer during the days, watching over the railing as porpoises leapt in the waves and salmon swam in lazy circles, tantalizingly close to the surface of the water.
Each day, the sun came up clear and bright, and the wind filled the sails. Orick spoke to some of the sailors—the red-skinned men of Penasurra were boisterous and always had a joke handy, while the strong Annatkim giants seemed more wistful, always dreaming and talking of their homes in the White Isles far to the south and east.
But it was the warrior Tallea who sat night after night guarding their rooms who most captured Orick's interest, and so one night, he went to speak to her.
He opened the door to his room, found her in her accustomed position outside, standing in the light of a small oil lamp. Orick just stood for a moment, looking at the woman, embarrassed.
She watched Orick's face. "You want from me?" Tallea said.
"I'm curious," Orick said freely. "You're a Caldurian, but you devote your life to following the teachings of Roamers—so that means that when you die, you hope to be born again in a Roamer's body?"
"If I worthy of honor, yes, my memories put into body of Roamer."
"I knew that some folks could be reborn into young bodies made from the old," Orick said, licking his lips, "but I never imagined that they could give you a different body. Could I be reborn—as a human?"
"Perhaps . . ." Tallea said doubtfully. "Body is shell. What lives inside, is important, judges say. But rebirth not granted to many. Immortals in City of Life, they judge. Sometimes strangely."
"What do you mean? How do they judge strangely?"
"They read memories, thoughts. Sometimes, person not given rebirth, even when all other peoples think person should be. Judges make hard for person who is not human to get rebirth."
"Maybe it's not just the actions they base their judgment on—but also thoughts and desires," Orick said, "so that everyone who knows the person thinks well of him, but the judges at the city don't. That's how I'd handle it, at least." And that's how God does it, Orick thought.
&nbs
p; "Sometimes," Tallea admitted, shaking her head as if to say he was wrong, "I think humans judge human ways, not peoples' ways." ""What do you mean?" Orick asked, licking his nose. He could smell something annoying in the air—lye soap.
"I abhor violence, but excel at it," Tallea said. "Among Caldurians, those who fight best are honored. They would be reborn. But among humans, those who serve best reborn. We do not value same."
"Then you feel cheated by the humans?"
"They gave life," Tallea said. "How I feel cheated?"
"Because your people die young?"
"You forget, I am devotee of Roamers. They own nothing. No land, no clothing, no honor. Not even lives. This is wise, to know you cannot own life. It passes."
He left then, but Orick could not help but wonder at the Caldurian.
After a week, Ceravanne began to worry. "We've been at sea too long, with such strong winds," she said. "It's but a five-day journey to Babel under such winds. We must be off course."
Yet when she spoke her fears to the captain in his office, he only scratched his bald head and muttered, "Aye, we're not making good time. We're heavily laden, and that slows us. And we've faced some strong head winds two nights in a row. Give it a day. We'll find land tomorrow."
But it was two days before they sighted land, just after dawn, a line of blue hills barely discernible where the water met the sky. But the scouts knew those hills. The ship was still two days from port.
It rained that afternoon, and everyone was forced to remain inside for most of the day, so it wasn't until evening that the weather cleared. Gallen seemed tense, his muscles tight, and he stared into the darkness.
Maggie knew he was thinking about Moree, wishing that the ship was already there. To ease his tension Maggie convinced Gallen to walk with her under the moonlight.
Beyond The Gate - Book 2 of the Golden Queen Series Page 19