by Auryn Hadley
"And you think Blaec Doll is responsible for your survival, and not your own skills?"
"Yes," Zep said simply. "I owe the man my life, more times than I can count. I don't think he's responsible for it; I know he is. I was still conscious, Representative, when he took the pike meant for me. After that, how could I care that he has less pigment than I do?"
"Blaec Doll was willing to sacrifice himself for a human?" Toth leaned forward.
"What do you think we do out there?" Zep asked. "Everyone who dies is dying for a human – so that Terric won't rule us. It's why we're in this war, sir. Every last man you put on a battlefield, elite or regular, is dying for the rest of us. Both humans and iliri."
"Are you aware that you are the only human in the Black Blades?" Toth tried to change the subject slightly, aware that he was losing control of this conversation quickly.
"Yes, sir."
"Does that make you feel uncomfortable?"
Zep chuckled. "Sir? Do you know where they came from? The iliri?"
"No," Toth said, giving Zep his opening.
"We made them," Zep said pointedly. "We designed them, and bred them, and domesticated them to be what they are now. We made them to be the perfect soldiers, sir. They are, too."
"And this doesn't bother you?"
"No." Zep leaned back, fighting his damned human urge to smile. "When I have fifty Terrans wanting to see me bleed, I'd rather have a well-designed soldier beside me than some human boy who can trace his ancestry back to Landing but is pissing himself instead of covering my back. I'm not sure I can make it any more clear than that, sir. My ambitions are simple. I want to live to be old. In order to do that, I want to serve with the best soldiers I can, because who you fight with matters as much as who you fight against."
Toth looked at him for a long moment, then stood, opening the glass cabinet. He poured a dark reddish liquid into a small glass and tossed it back, carefully replacing the bottle. Then he glanced out the window behind him, and Zep watched the man take a deep breath, composing himself.
"So they fight well. You think you could make them more efficient?"
"No."
Toth turned back, stunned. "I'm sorry?"
"No," Zep said again.
"Sergeant Zepyr, your records are phenomenal. You've tested in the top percentile in tactics and strategy, as well as a solid understanding of supply lines and troop movements."
"Yes, sir. I am aware of that."
"Valcor," Toth said, sinking into his chair again, and leaning forward. His every movement was designed to portray friendship to the soldier before him, including the use of Zep's first name, but his execution lacked finesse. "You're a shining example of the type of soldier the Conglomerate boasts. I believe in you, and I believe that if you were given the chance, you could rise through the ranks, possibly even to General."
"I know, sir," Zep said, taunting the man.
"I'm willing to give you that chance, Valcor. I will promote you to Colonel and assign command of the Black Blades to you. Keep the iliri, or don't, that's your call, but let’s show the country what can happen with a soldier like you in charge."
"A human?" Zep asked. "No, sir. I appreciate the offer, but I am not qualified to lead the Black Blades."
"Why not?" Toth gasped, tapping a stack of papers on his desk. "Look at your scores, soldier, your records."
Zep nodded. "Yes, sir. Did you compare those to Major Doll's or First Sergeant Chalybs'?"
"No," Toth admitted, realizing he was defeated.
"My performance is twenty-three point seven five percent behind the First Sergeant. Lieutenant – I'm sorry – Major Doll's results are almost forty-three percent better than my own. The Major's placement tests still hold the record for the highest scores to date. I am not qualified, sir."
"What about the girl?" Toth grumbled. "Where does she fit in?"
"Sergeant Luxx?"
"Yeah."
Zep smiled. "In two years, she'll be better than Major Doll. That one's a natural."
"Is she even smart enough to speak Glish?"
"Yes. Fluently, although she was raised as a human, so that might alter your opinion of her. Her instinctual comprehension of combat is..." Zep paused, looking for the right word.
"Is what?"
"Representative, you know those kids who can do quantum physics by the time they're three? Or the ones that master an instrument by five?"
"Savants?" Toth asked, wondering where Zep was going.
The dark man snapped his fingers, pointing. "Yes, that's the word. Salryc Luxx is a savant."
"I'm not following you."
"The Sergeant doesn't stop to think about combat, she feels it. She knows where the enemy will place his men, how, and why. She blinks and has a counter for their strategy. She can use any weapon we give her as well as I can, even if she's never been trained in it. We made the iliri, sir. We made them to be what Salryc Luxx is. The CFC is sitting on the best soldier I've ever seen, even if she's no bigger than the stable hounds. She's a savant. Be glad she's on our side."
"I understand," Toth said. "Is her relationship a problem at all?"
Zep answered that easily, "No. There's no regulations against it. Cyno does not report to her, even if she outranks him."
"Cyno?"
"Corporal Jassant Cynortas," Zep said, watching the man's jaw clench.
"I thought she was involved with Major Doll?"
Zep leaned back, widened his eyes, and tilted his head slightly. This was almost too easy. "LT and Sal?" he asked, chuckling. "No, sir. She's not really LT's type." He sighed dramatically, chuckling, and shook his head. "That would make all of our lives hell, the two of them together."
"So there's no truth to those rumors?"
"I haven't heard them, sir." Zep said, thankful this fool couldn't smell lies either. "I can tell you that Sal and LT spend a lot of time together, but Arctic does, too. We typically call it strategic planning."
"I see. So this is simply a misunderstanding of her duties, then. Nothing I should worry about?"
"No, sir." Zep assured him. "Sir, that’s about as unlikely of a pair as you and Major Doll.
"Thank you, then," the Representative said, standing, and offering his hand. "I appreciate the information. Our talk has helped me feel much more confident about the revelation that the Blades are predominantly iliri."
"I'm glad I could help, sir," Zep said. "If you have any concerns, I'm more than happy to speak with you again."
Toth glanced at him and Zep smiled, forcing the feeling to go all the way to his eyes.
"I may take you up on that. Be safe, soldier, and thank you for serving."
"My pleasure, sir." Zep snapped a quick salute. "Have a nice day, Representative." He turned sharply and strode from the room without a backwards glance, reaching out to LT in his mind. I'm free. They're just digging.
We knew they would be, Blaec answered. Which angle?
Offered me command of the Blades, asked about Sal and you.
We covered?
Yep, Zep thought, pleased. Pretty sure he thinks I'm a dumb soldier, but he's pretty convinced that the story I gave him is my honest opinion. Offered to help him again if he needs it.
I owe you one, Zep, Blaec thought back.
It evens out in the end, LT. What are we doing with those recruits? Is it combat today?
Nope. Second written test was today while you played politics. Wrote off two more. I'm giving everyone the evening off, to see if our potentials take advantage of it and try to form any friendships in the unit.
Gotcha. Zep paused, thinking, then asked, Does that mean we need to stick around?
Why?
Came through Guttertown on my way in. Saw a bookstore, the kind Cyno goes crazy for. Also found a real iliran diner.
You stealing my girl? Blaec teased.
Was hoping to. Haven't had a chance to just enjoy some time alone with my little brothers, you know. Unless it's going to cause problems with the recruits.
<
br /> No, Blaec told him. Take her. Well, them. She needs it.
Zep pushed through the ornate door and stepped into the brilliant sun outside, the summer heat hitting him hard, but he didn't miss the concern in Blaec's thoughts. Everything good?
Yeah, it's just that she's trying so hard to learn everything she missed, Blaec replied. Seeing it will help. She needs to be with him more, too.
You good with that, LT?
I am, Blaec told him. More than you can understand, Zep. I'm good with her and Cyno.
Hearing him say it made Zep feel so much better. He'd been friends with his commander a long time, but his bond with the iliri assassin was deeper. Zep never really understood why, but he'd liked Cyno from the moment they met, even though the bastard had been doing his best to kill him. The little shit had spunk, and a fire inside that was hard to explain to those who didn't understand their kind. Zep had always known that Cyno had feelings for Sal, and unlike most, he knew that iliri didn't love casually.
Chapter 9
Zep's feet carried him into the business district, taking the long way back. He could have ridden, but that would only mean more work, tacking up Cessa, then tacking her down and cooling her out in this oppressive heat. He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced inside the stores he passed, unable to read the signs above them. Finally, he saw what he was looking for. Stacks of books peeked through the dusty window and Zep smiled.
He opened the door, ducking as he stepped through it, a small bell jingling his arrival. Inside, a waft of cooler air hit him and Zep paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the shadows. Iliri might see easily in the dark, but his human eyes needed time to acclimate.
"We do na haf yer books," an elderly man growled softly from behind the counter.
Zep rubbed at his eyes and turned toward the voice. "I understand. Would you be able to help me find something?"
"We do na haf books ya can read," the man said again. "I can na make them in Glish, Ace."
He sighed, his eyes finally working, and saw a small, pale man glaring at him. Zep turned his gaze respectfully to the ground. "I understand, sir. I am looking for something in Iliran, preferably written by a Kaisae."
"Most are written by women," the man said, annoyed.
"Not that kind, sir. I mean, like Kaisae Sryni or Kaisae Wixa."
"Why do ya want those, Ace?" The shop owner's eyes stalked Zep.
"It's for my friend. I mean no disrespect, sir."
"Come here, boy." The feral little man waved him over. "Why do ya na look at me?"
"This is your place, sir," Zep said to the ground. "I respect that, and would not dare show offense."
"Yer skin offends me enough. Ya think buyin' yer slave a book will make him love ya?"
Zep's head snapped up and he met the man's eyes, holding them. "My brother. My dam and sire may have been human, but my amma was more iliri than you. Do not insult my brothers with your assumptions."
The wizened little man smiled, his sharp teeth in perfect shape regardless of his age. "My apologies," he said, waiting for Zep to look away.
He did, glancing back down, but aware that he could make this iliri submit to him.
"Ya do na smell like us, but ya smell like ya been with us."
Zep nodded. "You smell my brothers, sir."
"Brothers, huh? Come closer, let me see this dark skin of yers."
Zep chuckled and moved his hands behind his back, but walked slowly toward the counter. "Then you'll want to hold onto something if you plan to touch me." He unbuttoned his cuff and pushed one sleeve higher up his arm, baring his skin, then offered his arm to the man. "My mind hits like a mule."
The shopkeeper didn't believe him. He grabbed Zep's forearm – and gasped, his eyes flicking up into his head, his knees going weak. Zep shifted around the corner of the counter quickly, grabbing the man before he crumpled to the ground. He made sure to touch only the iliri's clothing. When the elderly man nodded, pulling himself toward the counter, Zep released him and walked calmly back to where he'd stood before.
"How did ya know?"
"My brother," Zep said softly. "Knocked him off his feet the first time. Do you believe me now, sir?"
"Yeh," the shopkeeper breathed, nodding. "Ya love them."
"I do," Zep said. "They're my pack. I would die for them. I just wanted to get my brother something to make him happy."
"And the girl?"
"Kaisae," Zep corrected. "I know my memories won't allow you to smell her, but she's no girl. She's our Kaisae."
"She's all ya have," the old man told him. "Of course she is."
"Wrong kind of Kaisae."
"Keep hoping, boy. The true Kaisaes are gone."
"Were gone."
Old or not, the man moved easily as he glided around the corner toward Zep. He reached up, touching the pin at Zep's collar, tracing the double blades. Zep could feel his fingers tremble against the cloth at his throat.
"Ya sure?"
"No," Zep answered honestly, "but my brothers are."
"Where has she been?" he begged.
"Merriton, the slave of a damned human. She knows nothing. She's not ready, but she's here."
"They'll kill her."
Zep nodded. "If they knew, they would. We won't let that happen."
The little man chuckled. "Yeh? Ya really gonna abandon yer side fer some scrubber?"
Zep leaned down and lifted his upper lip as he met the shopkeeper's eyes again. "I abandoned them a long time ago. They killed my amma. Sal? I'll die for her. We'll all die for her."
The old man nodded, breaking the gaze first, showing Zep that he accepted the truth of that statement. What he said next shocked the Blade more than anything else.
"Ya lie. Ya say ya can na know, but ya do." He tapped Zep's chest. "She has ya. Ya may be Ace, but she has ya."
He could only nod, his throat betraying him, something it rarely did.
"Ya might be more iliri than ya know. Come on. I haf books."
The shopkeeper changed his moods as quickly as any iliri Zep had met before. He followed the little man through aisles stacked full, listening to him hum a tune, working hard to keep up. Zep rounded a corner, careful not to disturb a precarious stack, and found the shopkeeper shifting books from one pile to another.
"What does yer brother want?"
"He's been studying the old Kaisaes," Zep said, then smiled. "He also has a strange interest, suddenly, in iliran courtship."
The man glanced up, grinning. "Is he ahnor?"
"I don't know that one."
"Her lover."
"Not yet," Zep said, meeting the man's grin. "He will be."
He nodded. "Cessivi?"
Again, Zep shook his head, not understanding the word.
"Kaisaes and Cessivi. This one should do him." He glanced at Zep, his mind obviously working hard, then nodded. "Skills and mental changes in Kaisaes. Myths and legends of the powers of Kaisaes." He passed the three books to Zep, then turned, looking high behind him.
Zep followed his gaze to a group of books laid carefully on the shelf above. These were obviously more valuable. Their binding was ancient, but the leather was of the best quality, faux-gilting decorating the spines.
"Grab the green one, Ace."
Zep reached up and carefully pulled a dark green book down. White lines filled the front cover, lined in gilt, and the tome was heavy. "What is this one?"
"The journal of Kaisae Nivix. There are na many copies of it left." The old man touched the book lovingly as it rested in Zep's hands. "Now come."
He darted back toward the front of the store, leaving Zep to squeeze between the too small aisles again. The little man grabbed two more books on his way and was standing behind the counter when Zep caught up. He pointed, gesturing between the books Zep held and the ones before him, mouthing words as he thought, then smiled.
"Five each fer the histories, fifteen fer the journal, one fer the learner. Thirty-one krits total."
Zep nod
ded and set the books carefully on the counter, then reached into his pocket. "What are those two?"
"This one," he said, "is for the Kaisae. Iliran grammar. I saw ya remember her learnin' to read recently."
Zep nodded. "Yeah. Cyno said she's a natural."
The old man nodded. "The other is a gift for ya."
"I'm willing to pay, sir."
"I know. That is why it is a gift. It is Glish to Iliran. I think ya will use it."
"I will," he admitted, flipping through bills. "Thirty one?" he asked.
"Yeh."
Zep nodded and carefully picked out three ten krit notes, then added another, glancing up at the man. The shopkeeper placed the books in a large cloth bag, wrapping the journal in paper before laying it on top. He pushed the package toward Zep and reached out for the payment. Zep laid it in his hand, the bills folded around each other, and grabbed the bag.
"Thank you," he told the shopkeeper, turning for the door. "I mean it."
"Yer welcome back, Ace. Yer a good one," the man said, counting his payment. Zep's hand was on the knob, when the iliri flipped the last bill open. "Wait!" he said sharply.
Zep turned back, a grin on his face. "It's a gift. I think you will use it."
The old man looked down, a wrinkled one hundred krit note in his hand, enough to keep his shop open for months. "I can na take this," he said, his hands trembling.
"You can," Zep told him. "I want this place to be here when I come back."
"This is too much."
"No," Zep said softly. "You could work for months and be lucky to earn that. Because my skin is darker than yours and my teeth aren't as sharp, some Ace thinks I should make that for a single mission. It's wrong, and this makes me feel a little better. I want this place to be here when I come back. It is a gift, but a selfish one."
The little old man nodded. "The stories are true. All of the Black Blades are iliri. I will be sure they know. Ayati, ilus."
Chapter 10
Leaving the store, Zep asked Cyno to grab Sal and meet him at the diner. He didn't know the name of it, but luckily, Cyno was well aware of its reputation. He agreed readily. Zep hefted the bag over his shoulder and grinned. He knew what ilus meant. The shopkeeper had called him a respected iliri, basically.