"You, Learned One," retorted the captain, "are no longer a member in good standing of your service—and because you meddled with this very scanner of yours! Any protest will have to be entered through your Clan Elder and, since we are half the galaxy away from your home, that will take quite a time to resolve."
"I am on detached service, Captain. Consult the authorities if you wish. You will discover my credentials in order. My search. Before my journey was so brazenly interrupted, I was on my way to Lochan. I have already shown my authorization for such a study. That this has occurred on Tssek, is, I assert, no fault of mine."
"It remains that there is a civil war in progress on the other side of that fence," the captain waved at the nearest window opening onto the port, "and that you have had a hand in stirring it up, willing or not willing. You have transgressed against the creed of your own people as well as the central law of noninterference."
"Captain," again the port commander spoke, "is it not better to wait and see? There is abundant proof which you yourself have viewed," again he waved toward the discs, "that a strong underground movement was underway even before this Learned One and his bodyguard were brought here. That the attack came at the time it did was also certain. They had knowledge—my listening service is not a questionable one—that the Holder planned to broadcast his carefully edited version of the Great Ingathering. The overturn of his plan was caused because two of the technicians selected to set up the already prepared broadcast of his own editing were members of the underground party. They were prepared to sabotage his efforts. When the Zacathan was brought in it added a new factor they had not planned on. But in fact, Learned One," now he addressed Zurzal, "you did show what might have been the truth fifty years in the past. This was a support they had not counted on, but one they speedily turned to their advantage. For what your scanner showed was broadcast over more than half of the machines, picked up by underground installations and passed on. The broadcast had already been arranged as the signal for the uprising, and they moved in."
"Their control is not yet complete," the captain stated. "It is difficult to believe that they will prevail over such fortresses as Smagan or Wer."
"Thanks to our friends here," the port officer nodded to the three on the other side of the table, "they have the Holder. As do all who rise to power he has for years systematically weeded out all below him who could question his authority, depending on those linked to him so tightly that his fall would mean theirs also. They may hold out in pockets because it means their lives, and even ras-rats will turn and fight if they are cornered, but there is no longer any leader to rally them and there has long been jealousy and infighting among them."
"You have been watching the building of this situation for long, Commander?" Zurzal's frill was lightening in shade.
"As the one responsible for this port I have had to make observations," the other agreed. "Every form of government sooner or later reaches a plateau from which there is no longer an upward advance. Since the lives of sentient beings do not remain static, there follow changes. As your people know so well, Learned One. So it happened here. But when the rebels win they will have something to thank your guard for—that they have the Holder."
"As I have said!" the captain scowled, "interference with the native government—"
"You would rather, Captain, that we be dead?"
Startled, it was not only the Patrol officer but all the rest of them who turned now to look at the fifth member of the party. Gone were the floating, seductive garments of the assured Jewelbright. Taynad had asked for and changed speedily into a spacer's drab garb. The long waves of her hair had been tightly braided, and were now bound around her head, though the wealth of that hair made it seem she must be wearing a turban.
"Yes," the captain had almost instantly adjusted to her entrance into this meeting, to the implied criticism of her question. "There also remains you, Gentlefem. I believe that you arrived here by the invitation of the Holder, is that not so?"
"Having done so," Taynad returned calmly, "there is no reason for my remaining once he is no longer my host. My very presence in his company would probably have damned me with these rebels. I owe my continued existence to the Learned One and his guard. And I am duly grateful. I hardly think, Captain, that you are going to hand me over to Tssekians—"
Jofre was sensitive to what she was doing, using trained willpower. Even though she had not turned it on him, he could feel the gathering force of it. And he did not believe that this Patrol officer, disciplined as he might be, could stand against the issha assurance of the Jewelbright.
"Why did you come?" It was not the officer but the port commander who asked that bluntly, and she answered as fully:
"The Holder had (I sawhim cut down in the hall and so he is no longer my employer) a Horde Commander who was ambitious. He had gone off-world hunting the Learned One here as an offering to his master, and on Asborgan he chanced to learn of the Jewels. As was custom he bargained for my services. I was to be another gift. He had plans—" She shrugged. "I was a weapon; he did not have time to use me."
"Now that we have discussed a number of explanations and scraps of news," Zurzal cut in, "may we return to the main point of this meeting? I have suffered a crude and unnecessary interruption to plans I have been making for years. It is my intention that I carry those out and I do not think that anyone, Captain, is going to produce a good reason why I cannot."
"You will wait until there is a settlement here!" returned the Patrol officer flatly.
Zurzal spoke then, not to him, but to the port commander. "Commander, you have shown that you have ample reason to believe that my coming here had in reality nothing to do with the present embroilment. You also know that my appearance on Tssek was entirely against my will. By Stellar Law can we be held in this fashion?"
The commander looked neither to the Patrol captain nor to the Zacathan, instead he was studying with great interest the nails on his right hand.
"He's right, you know," he observed. "We have proof of the kidnapping, of the fact that he was being used against his will. He has claimed refuge under the Code of Harktapha—that has held since the first spacers met with his kind. We have no quarrel with Zacathans—their knowledge is ever at our service—their persons are diplomatically sacred—"
"This one presumes too much!" the Patrol officer interrupted.
"In your opinion—" The three words brought a sour silence from the captain. His hands clenched on the edge of the desk as if he would upend that innocent piece of furniture and send it in the general direction of those three across from him.
"So, Learned One," as if he need expect no more interruption the commander turned again to Zurzal, "what is your will?"
"I would return to Wayright and carry out those plans of mine," returned the Zacathan. "My guard goes with me and this gentlefem also, if it is her will."
"It is," Taynad agreed. She added nothing to that and Jofre wondered what thoughts clustered now in her head. Since he who had oathed her was dead by what the issha-sworn would consider chance, she was free from employment. Would she, once more on Wayright, seek to return to Asborgan?
"Also," she was speaking again, "there is the matter of the Jat."
"That can be easily attended to." The Patrol officer must have been glad he had a clear and definite answer to that. "It will be returned to its home planet."
"In the condition in which it now exists?" she queried.
The officer looked to the port commander for an answer.
"Unfortunately, the creature has gone catatonic and cannot be roused," he reported. "The bond between it and the Holder was so harshly broken as to send it into a coma. The medic reports that nothing he has been able to do will restore it."
"It might be well to let me try." To Jofre's surprise the Jewelbright spoke. "A broken bond might indeed break a mind, but a transferred bond—"
"Can this be done?" the commander questioned.
She hesitated
for only a second. "My kind have certain powers, Gentlehomos. I have developed a liking for the creature and I saw more of it when it was with its bond master than any of you. Let me try to transfer the bond."
"But it still must be returned—"
"Let that be decided after we see how this will work," said the commander. "Yes, Gentlefem, I shall give orders that you are to try this—and may you be successful."
To Jofre's complete astonishment she turned her head and surveyed him. "This is one of my world," she indicated him. "The training he has been given grants him a certain rapport with other species. I will need him to give me aid."
Jofre had no chance to talk to her alone. She had admitted obliquely that she knew him for what he was. But that that would constitute any tie between them was chancy. The commander escorted them over to the medic quarters and there they looked down upon the small body which had balled itself almost into a knot on one of the bunks.
"It still lives," the medic reported, "but it has had no food nor drink, and the heartbeat is very slow. It is close to death."
"Yan searches for he who is gone, that one who became his other half." Taynad seated herself on the edge of the bunk and leaned over, to gather the Jat into her arms as if it were a hurt child.
"Medic, on our world we have certain training which can unite us with other living creatures beside those of our own species. It may be that we can reach Yan and bring him back. We can only try."
The medic shook his head. "Gentlefem, I fear it is hopeless. But if there is anything you can do—"
He went to seat himself on a stool at the other side of the room, watching them intently.
Taynad, the Jat still held against her, moved carefully around on the bunk, so that as much of her back was now presented to Jofre as possible. He could guess the next step. Though he had never been a part of such linkage, yet he was well aware there were cases in which it would and had worked.
Now he seated himself behind Taynad's back and dropped his hands on her shoulders. The inner commands he knew and gave one by one, each taking him further to the Center. As yet he was aware of nothing but his own search for full control.
With one hand Taynad stroked the small body which she cradled so close to her. She began a soft crooning in which there were no words to be distinguished, only soothing sounds.
Jofre within himself found and fastened upon that strength he sought. Now he drew—launched—as he might a dart—what he shaped. He could feel the feed of it from his center, along his arms, into her body— Then—!
Touch, immediate linkage, being borne along by another's demanding will. A wall against which that will struck, and then began to beat in a heavy pattern, seeking a weakness, a way of entrance—
Swifter grew those blows, steady and unrelenting the draw upon Jofre. He summoned up more and more to feed, to strengthen—
The resistance lessened reluctantly, as if a bit crumbled, and then another. Before him now was a whirling chaos of terror, alien and therefore threatening. Jofre braced himself and held. What they shaped together now was not the battering ram which had found them a way into this place of rolling terror and loss, but rather a thread to be caught up by the churning of what abode there, twisted, tangled. And they were content to have it so for now—though the payment was heavy as there was feedback of that terror, those waves of negative force. They must not only hold their small contact, but protect themselves into the bargain.
Now! She had not spoken, but the order reached Jofre as if it had been shouted like a battle cry. He sent forth a surge of power, the thread tightened as she spun. It was well enmeshed now in the chaos, it held. Yet it formed a path for them. Dark, cold, nothingness slipped along towards those two who dared to touch.
The room was gone, Jofre was aware only of a battle which he could not see, only sense. This—this— Frantically he hunted a shield, a weapon, something to stop that dark counterflow.
As if it lay heavy in his hand he knew now what he must have. The stone out of Qaw-en-itter. Asshi—if it were assha—force—if it could bring him that force. Though he continued to hold to the thread the Jewelbright had spun, yet he groped within him until he in turn touched! Yet this was no chaos—rather ordered energy. His inner self buckled as he strove to harness it. Too much—he was like one filled with fire which ate outward until all which he was might be consumed.
Ruthlessly Jofre fought to turn that wave, that fire, to harness it to the thread. And so it did—whether by his efforts, or perhaps because it was attracted in turn to what they were spinning out from issha strength.
The thread had wound and now was in a whirl which had begun to thicken, to encompass the darkness as if that had substance. And the darkness drew in farther and farther upon its own core until it was like a single nugget of pain and fear. This the thread netted and drew towards its own source.
Jofre was aware again of the woman beside him, of her body trembling in a hold he had tightened to keep her erect and steady. Then the last remaining fragments of the break-bond spread into him and his clap on her shoulders would have fallen away save that there rang from her to him the issha touch—enough to steady him.
He accepted the break-bond as he would swallow some bitter potion if such an act was necessary. Then made one more call, issha—assha—he could not tell which answered but, as the blowing out of a lamp, the flash of a blaster, the darkness was gone.
Into its place there flowed something else—a warmth which was not of his own, not issha at all—alien—yet with no harm—rather lightness of spirit, peace of mind and heart. Jofre realized that their linkage still held but what it had done was more than they had thought—the Jat was free of that despair which would have killed it— but it was—rebonded—with them!
He could see over Taynad's shoulder that the creature was no longer a hard ball in her arms. One of its small forepaws was raised, drawing the blunt finger growths down the Jewelbright's cheek. It chirped inquiringly and she gave a small cry and hugged it closer, rocking a little back and forth as might one who had feared for a child and now found that fear had gone.
"Friend—" Jofre's head jerked. The Jat had moved in Taynad's hold and was now looking over her shoulder to him. Again its forepaw advanced, to stroke caressingly his hand which still caught at the Jewelbright. From that touch came the warmth and peace which he had earlier felt, but increased, as if fueled with the same power as one of the starships.
"You have done it!" The medic was standing over both of them, staring down at the Jat, which kept its hold on Jofre as well as remaining within the circle of Taynad's arm.
For the first time Jofre heard the tinkle of the Jewelbright's laugh.
"Perhaps not as the Patrol captain might wish," she returned. "I am afraid that he will be unable to follow orders even now—Yan has rebonded with—" She glanced at Jofre. Her face had a slight softness which had gentled the masklike beauty she had always turned upon them. "Yan has bonded with—us!"
"And," Jofre swiftly spoke for himself, "I do not think that you can try a second time." He was surprised at the warmth of his own feelings. Issha were not bond-worthy except by oath, and certainly no oathing had passed here. Or had one which was deeper and wiser than that of Lair knowledge?
The woman also, he was sure that some of his feeling at least had been shared by her, known to her now. Which was a muddle—they had indeed wrought thoughtlessly, for it would seem that the two of them were now linked in a way unknown to their breed before—by one small, warm, and peace-spreading creature. He wondered what complications they had both drawn to them by what they had done.
He loosed his hold on Taynad, feeling a little awkward, but he reached forward to draw his hand in a half caress across the bobbling head of the Jat, between those up-pointed ears.
"You are sure?" The medic was demanding. "This is going to present a problem—"
"We are sure," the Jewelbright answered calmly. "Though we could have done no other to save the little one's
life. Bond-breaking," she shivered and her arm tightened a fraction about the small furry body, "is deadly."
The medic looked at them both indecisively. "I shall have to report—" And with that he was gone.
Taynad waited until the door closed behind the spacer. Then she squared her body around on the bunk so she was facing Jofre as well as she could.
"Brother." She had freed her one hand from the Jat and gave him finger greeting.
But dare he answer her as Shadow to Shadow? That was deceitful and not issha way.
"I am no longer of the Brothers," he said, watching her face carefully, waiting for that small softening of the expression to vanish. "The story is a long one, Jewelbright. But thus it stands—" And quickly he sketched all which had happened to him since the morning when the Master had paid the Dead-Stone-price and he himself had been denied. Though he did not mention his night in Qaw-en-itter nor his find there, for that was something he felt he could not share—there was too great a secret about it and he must have the unlocking of that first himself.
"You are issha—for all the blathering of the Shagga," she returned unexpectedly. "Have you not followed the proper pattern and oathed yourself—and to a lord who is well worth the serving? Do you think we could have linked to free this one," she glanced down at the Jat and then to him again, "if you were not a true Shadow? The Shagga sometimes take too much on themselves."
He was startled by her questioning of authority. Perhaps in some fashion she, too, had had something to be angry over after some priestly encounter. But that she accepted him—with a lift of heart he solemnly made the gesture of welcome and dared to change it so that it was not just to a Shadow met in passing but to one who shared a common goal.
ONCE MORE THEY WERE GATHERED IN THE OFFICE OF the Patrol captain but this time two more had been added to their number. These were Tssekians but not in the uniforms the unwilling visitors had seen everywhere during their travels in the city and at the keep of the Holder. It seemed to Jofre that they were trying to make a special effort to break with the restraints of their former clothing. For one wore a one-piece suit of green girded by a brilliant scarlet belt and the other a loose shirt of crimson over dull purplish breeches. But both were armed, carrying a fringe of various weapons about their waists and slung across their shoulders, and the speaker for the duo was a woman.
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