LC03 Shield's Lady

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “That’s the same noble crew that mutinied right after the crash,” Gryph advised him. “They killed a lot of people before they were driven off. They’ve been living on the frontiers ever since.”

  “Some would say they aren’t much different than the Shields,” Rakken murmured. “A bunch of outcasts who are barely surviving on the frontiers.”

  Genuine rage washed through Gryph at the insult. He controlled it with a fierce dose of willpower. “Shields are not outcasts and you damn well know it, Rakken. We are an honorable class. If you choose to do business with bandits and rogues, however, you had better watch your back.”

  “I always watch my back,” Rakken told him. “I learned that lesson a long time ago. Before I came to the western continent. I don’t need you to teach me that fundamental tactic.”

  Gryph studied him for a moment and then let the matter drop. “It was you who arranged to have the cutter stolen?”

  Rakken relaxed slightly, pouring more wine for himself. “Targyn informed me we would need one to cut open the ship and whittle the prisma into manageable sizes.”

  “You’re talking about a ship that’s been neutralized. My guess is Targyn wants to try cutting into a live ship to see if he can manipulate the weapons individually. That’s suicide, Rakken.”

  “I realize the time has come to get rid of Targyn. But until I found another Shield, I needed him.”

  “Wait a minute,” Sariana said sharply. “This matter of the cutter interests me, Etion. You knew the Avylyns had one, didn’t you? You asked me about it on a couple of occasions.”

  “I was aware of it, yes.”

  Gryph frowned as he realized the direction in which Sariana’s astute reasoning powers were leading her. “Forget it, Sariana. We’ve got more important things to discuss.”

  She paid him no attention. She was scowling furiously at Rakken. “You used me, didn’t you? You used the information I gave you to set up the theft of the cutter.”

  “I’ll admit that having you in the Avylyn household was convenient,” Rakken admitted without any show of remorse. “Don’t look so upset, Sariana. It was just business.”

  Sariana inclined her head proudly. “I see. Business.”

  Gryph sensed her burning anger and deliberately tried to project a command to control herself. He knew he had been successful when she glanced at him, annoyed, and then went back to her meal.

  “Who ordered my informant killed back in Serendipity?” Gryph demanded softly.

  Rakken made a careless motion with his left hand. “We learned that Brinton had gotten too close to the truth. Targyn said we had to get rid of him. He gave the orders to the same two men who had already secured the cutter.”

  “And then you sent those two men after Sariana.”

  Rakken leaned forward, folding his elbows on the low table. “By then I realized Sariana had not only hired herself a Shield, she had, under local law, managed to get herself married to him. Targyn explained to me just what that meant. I knew by then that I was eventually going to have to get rid of Targyn. You seemed the obvious candidate to replace him.”

  “You figured you could use Sariana to control me,” Gryph concluded.

  Rakken smiled slightly. “She proved difficult to nab. The first try in Serendipity failed miserably. One of Targyn’s men died and the other nearly drowned in wine.”

  Sariana drummed her fingers on the metal table. “Was the second try in Little Chance?”

  Rakken nodded. “Ah, yes. The House of Reflections fiasco. I must admit, that was a last minute plan put together with local talent who proved most unreliable. But we couldn’t just pick you up off the streets of Little Chance in broad daylight. When you headed for the fairgrounds we improvised. The attendant was paid well to look the other way while an elaborate joke was played on a visiting eastern tourist. It was easy to find three young toughs who were more than willing to terrorize said tourist. The goal was to frighten you witless and then drive you to a certain corner of the house. There’s a hidden exit there. I had a man waiting to snatch you and bundle you off through the back gates of the fairgrounds. But once again you slipped through my fingers, Sariana.”

  “By then you knew we were on the trail of the cutter and you reasoned we would head for the gorge,” Gryph said slowly.

  “It was a logical assumption. Targyn and I decided that the easiest thing to do next was sit back and wait until you found us. Which you obligingly did very early this morning.” Rakken peered intently at Gryph. “Tell me the truth. Can you kill Targyn?”

  “Maybe. If I had my weapon kit.”

  Rakken looked thoughtful. “If you fail, he’ll turn on me. Ours is a very precarious partnership, to say the least.”

  “What makes you think I won’t turn on you if I’m successful?”

  Rakken glanced at Sariana. “As long as I have her, you’ll behave yourself.”

  Sariana spoke. “I think I’m getting a bit tired of being used by everyone concerned in this mess.”

  Rakken smiled thinly. “Don’t worry, my dear. I am a reasonable man. Once Targyn is out of the way I will be more than willing to discuss the financial aspects of our new relationship.”

  Sariana tilted her head, her expression intently curious. “You’re willing to cut us in on the prisma deal?”

  “I would much rather do business with you than hold you hostage, Sariana.” Rakken gave her a level glance. “I know you very well. More than that, I know your background. I was raised under similar circumstances. You have been trained to think in terms of finances and good business policy since you were in the cradle. One year of living in Serendipity hasn’t changed you in that regard. I think you will be very interested in negotiating with me for your cut. Am I right?”

  Sariana lifted one shoulder negligently and reached for her wine. “You’re probably right, Etion.”

  Only the restraint of the twist kept Gryph from launching himself across the table at Rakken. The other man wasn’t even bothering to seduce Sariana with promises of love and passion. Rakken was too shrewd for that. He was using the one thing guaranteed to make any easterner pay attention: The promise of big business profits.

  Gryph was so full of anger that couldn’t be released he almost didn’t catch the stray, calming thought that wafted through his brain. Then he recognized the source of the soothing sensation. Sariana was telling him to relax.

  “Well?” Rakken asked with quiet satisfaction as he scanned the faces of his prisoners. “Do we have an understanding? Gryph will take care of poor, unstable Targyn and then neutralize the ship. Afterward we will cut up the prisma, split it three ways and make our fortunes.”

  “What about Targyn’s men?” Sariana asked. “Miscroft and the others?”

  “There are only three,” Rakken said. “And to be honest, none of them are very bright. They follow Targyn’s orders because he has promised them great wealth. But with him out of the way they should be easy meat for a Shield.”

  Sariana stared at him. “You expect Gryph to kill all four of them? Targyn included?”

  “Why not? It’s what he’s good at, isn’t it?” Rakken asked blandly. “You forget, my dear, that Chassyn and the other Shields make their living fighting border bandits. Bandit disposal is their specialty, and I have it on good authority that they are very skilled at their job. You have only seen your quasi-husband in the sophisticated social context of a city. But that is not his natural habitat. Don’t worry. Targyn is his only real problem. Taking care of Miscroft and the others will be nothing more than a mopping up operation for him. But if it makes you feel more secure, rest assured, I am not unarmed myself. I have a blade bow and I can use it. I’m not foolish enough to think I can take Targyn by surprise, but if Chassyn runs into trouble with any of the three bandits, I should be able to help him out.”

  The tension that gripped Sariana was almost
palpable. Gryph could feel the violent anger and denial vibrating in her. But her voice was steady when she spoke to Rakken.

  “Why haven’t you killed Targyn yourself, Etion? You must have had plenty of opportunity.”

  Rakken chuckled but there was no humor in the sound. “If you believe a banker who has had no formal experience in hand-to-hand combat or any other kind of fighting can successfully take on a professionally armed Shield, you are very naive, Sariana. You still don’t seem to realize just how skilled at violence these men are. Chassyn is every bit as dangerous to me as Targyn is. But at least with Chassyn I have some control.”

  “Me.”

  “You,” he agreed. “And a business arrangement. It’s said Shields honor their word. Sane Shields, at any rate. We’ll leave poor Targyn out of this. One can’t do business with an insane man.”

  “I suggest we get back to the main business at hand,” Gryph said roughly. He wasn’t picking up anything at all from Sariana now. She had shut down her mind as surely as if she had turned off a switch.

  “Speaking of business,” Rakken said easily, “there is one other point I would like to discuss before we conclude our little planning session.”

  “What?” Gryph asked.

  “I would like Sariana to open your weapon kit for me.”

  Rakken got to his feet and walked across the room to open another hidden panel in the wall. Gryph’s weapon kit sat on a shelf. Rakken picked it up and returned to the table. He placed the kit in front of Sariana who sat staring at it as if it were an alien bug.

  Gryph ran through all the possibilities inherent in the situation in a split second and came to his decision. With all the power he could muster he sent the image of a palm blade in its sheath into Sariana’s head.

  Sariana trembled a little as she sat looking at the kit, but she didn’t give any indication she had caught his silent message. She seemed lost in her own thoughts.

  Gryph concentrated on projecting the message. Along with the image of the small, sharp blade, he sent a picture of how it could be picked up unnoticed and hidden in her palm. Sariana had no training in such things, but she just might be able to pull it off if Gryph provided some cover for her at the right moment. Rakken’s heavy consumption of wine should have the effect of making the man less than keenly observant.

  “I have become extremely interested in the contents of these kits,” Rakken was saying as he fingered the prisma lock. “The prisma alone is worth a small fortune, yet Shields are not known for their wealth. Targyn, of course, guards his kit closely. He would not deign to show me the contents. But a Shieldmate is supposed to be able to open her husband’s kit.”

  “I thought we agreed I wasn’t married to Gryph,” Sariana pointed out wryly.

  “A matter of semantics, I’m afraid. Married or not, apparently he has given you the secret of unlocking his kit.”

  “And you want me to unlock it now?” Sariana stroked the snake cat leather pouch.

  “I want to assess the technology of its contents,” Rakken said quietly.

  Sariana looked up sharply. “The technology? Why?”

  “I want to see if it bears any resemblance to the technology of this room or the technology of the crystal ship. Do you realize that if the legends are even somewhat true then Shields are not like the rest of us, Sariana? They may be more closely related to the beings who built the prisma ships than they are to you and me. Those kits may hold the key to figuring out just who and what they are. I have tried very hard to open that one and I haven’t put so much as a scratch on its surface. The lock is sealed, even to Targyn. Using you as a threat, I might be able to persuade Chassyn to open it, but it would probably be simpler if you did the job.”

  “All this talk of aliens makes me nervous,” Sariana said with a faint shudder. But she didn’t take her eyes off the kit.

  “I agree,” Rakken murmured. “But it is better to be prepared for anything. We are taking some grave risks, my dear. We need to know as much as possible about what’s going on. The Shields keep entirely too many secrets. The weapon kits are one of these secrets. Open it.”

  Gryph watched Sariana slowly pull the bag toward herself. He concentrated on projecting the image of the small knife and how it could be palmed. At the same time he readied himself for whatever small disturbance he could cause. His fingers closed around his bottle of ale.

  With a wary glance at Gryph, Sariana touched the prisma lock. Gryph could feel her concentrating. Opening the kit was still far from second nature to her. She was a little afraid of it.

  Sariana licked her lower lip, touched the prisma once more very delicately and the kit yawned open under her fingers.

  Gryph jerked his hand and the bottle of ale turned over with a loud clatter on the metal surface of the table. Automatically, Rakken glanced over at the toppled bottle. Simultaneously Lucky appeared from the folds of Sariana’s skirts and skittered frantically around the table, small claws making tiny scratching sounds.

  “In the name of the Lightstorm, where did that damn lizard come from?” Rakken made a grab for Lucky who nimbly hopped back into Sariana’s lap and vanished into a pocket.

  “It’s okay, that’s just Lucky, my pet scarlet-toe. You saw it once before in Serendipity, remember?” Sariana patted her pocket protectively. “Sorry about that. It usually stays in my pocket, but I think it’s nervous right now. Lucky’s been through a lot recently.”

  “Well, keep him or it out of the way,” Rakken said grimly as he eagerly reached for the open kit and pulled it toward him.

  “I’d be careful putting my hand in there if I were you,” Gryph said in mild warning as he laboriously tried to mop up spilled ale.

  Rakken looked up, startled at the thought of a trap. Then he pushed the kit toward Sariana. “Empty the contents onto the table,” he commanded.

  Sariana shrugged and turned the kit upside down. A variety of small gadgets fell out. Gryph studied them intently. The palm blade was not among them. He allowed himself a measure of hope.

  Rakken poked cautiously through the items on the table. He picked up the tiny vapor lamp and flicked it on, but he didn’t figure out the second switch that ignited the blinding flare of vapor. Next he fiddled with a small gadget that opened without any warning and revealed a set of tiny disks. The edge of each disk was very sharp. Gryph felt some satisfaction when Rakken accidentally cut his finger on one.

  “What are those damn things?” Rakken demanded in disgust as he quickly bound up his bleeding finger in a small scarf.

  “Throwing blades,” Gryph explained easily. “One of the metal working clans make them for us.”

  Rakken glared at him and went on to the next gadget. Carefully he experimented with one cleverly designed implement after another, but in the end he jumped to his feet in irritation and began pacing the room.

  “There’s nothing in that kit that couldn’t have been made by local craftsmen,” he complained.

  “What did you expect?” Gryph asked calmly. “Local talent is all any of us have to work with. We’re all stuck on this planet together, Rakken. That’s something Targyn seems to have forgotten, but the rest of us haven’t.”

  “Never mind,” Rakken said as he strode back to the table. “I thought there might be something useful in there because you damn Shields are so protective of the kits. But the lock is the only oddity there. It’s of no use to me. It looks like the mysteries of the weapon kits are just another idiotic legend.”

  Gryph kept his mouth shut. If the man didn’t realize that the real value of the kit was in the prisma lock, far be it from Gryph to remind him.

  “What next?” Sariana asked uneasily. She glanced from Rakken’s face to Gryph’s as she quietly scooped up the contents of the kit and dumped them back inside. Then she closed the pouch and released the lock.

  “If I’m going to do anything about Targyn,”
Gryph pointed out, “someone will have to let me out of this twist. What about it, Rakken? Have we got a deal?”

  Rakken glowered at him. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll decide in the morning. I want to talk to Sariana in private before I do anything drastic.”

  “I’ll need the kit,” Gryph said persuasively. With the kit in hand his limited set of options would broaden considerably.

  But there was no chance to talk Rakken into putting the weapon kit within reach.

  The three of them went still as a faint shushing sound announced the opening of the metal door. Targyn stood in the hall, a blade bow held casually in one hand.

  “Something tells me dinner is over,” Targyn said. He glanced at the weapon kit on the table. Then he looked at Rakken. “You’re a fool, banker. The first thing Chassyn would do if he got hold of the kit is kill you. The fact that you’re still around tells me he didn’t get a chance to get his hands on it. Even in a twist he could do the job if he had access to some of the tools in that pouch. All things considered, that might not be such a bad idea. I’m not sure how useful you are anymore.”

  Rakken regarded Targyn with acute disdain. “I thought I would test the legend which states that a Shieldmate can open her husband’s kit. Sariana was about to show me the truth of that tale.”

  Targyn grinned humorlessly. “Fool is not the word for you, banker. Stupid is a more appropriate term.” He walked over to the low table and picked up the weapon kit. I’ll get rid of this so the banker won’t be tempted to explore any of its secrets. Or tempted to give it back to you, Chassyn.” He jerked the blade bow at Gryph. “Get up. I’m taking you back to your chamber.”

  Gryph started to rise, moving even more slowly and awkwardly than the twist required. He made a show of trying to extricate himself from the low bench and table arrangement and deliberately fell into a painful sprawl in the process.

  “Keenshee guano,” Targyn muttered, not moving. “Get up, you clumsy bastard. Sariana,” he added sharply as Sariana jumped to her feet and came to Gryph’s assistance, “get away from him.”