Seen (Heartstone Book 2)

by Frances Pauli

  Not quite clear visions. His people were never allowed that. Still Tchao sensed it on the horizon. He was destined to do this thing, and he knew it as surely as if he had his cousins’ seeing. Something was about to happen, and that something would work to his ends.

  Dovali had found a way. Of course. There would be no other reason for the man to be about in the middle of the night. They’d succeeded, and now he could do what no Tolfarian ruler had ever thought to attempt. Tchao Rimawdi could lead his people home.

  He met the doctor in his laboratory. Dovali had a tray of syringes out, had his schematics pulled up on the holo-display and his mag-spec tightly fitted over one eye. He looked like an enormous bug, hunched over with a single, glossy eye glowing under a shock of spiky white hair. A sickly, thin, albino caterpillar.

  “The Summit has responded to my request.” Tchao moved farther into the room and pretended to examine the figures floating over Dovali’s table. “They are looking for our mediator as we speak.”

  Dovali grunted and stood up, blinking at him with one ordinary eye and one huge one. “That’s good, right?”

  “Yes it’s good. It means they’re taking our request seriously. It means they will facilitate our negotiation, damn it.”

  “That is good.”

  “Will you be ready?” Tchao needed his doctor sharp. Engrossed in his work was a good sign, but results, confirmation would sit better on his mood. “Is it going to work?”

  “Yes, but I need more blood.”

  “Is there something wrong with the serum?” Tchao shucked his uniform jacket and unbuttoned his cuff. He rolled one sleeve way up, leaning out as he did so in an attempt to see Dovali’s work. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. Settle yourself, General. I’ve used the last of it is all, and I want to run some more tests.”

  “The serum?”

  “Works. Here, give me that sample and I’ll show you.” He handed Tchao a white box, laced with circuitry and slightly convex on one end.

  Tchao obeyed the man mechanically. He pressed the curve against the inside of his arm, right at the vein, and felt the heat of skin breaking, the rush of the sample leaving his body. The shadowy protest of his beastly ancestor. He thrust it back at the doctor with too much force, regretted it instantly when Dovali’s eyebrow arched higher. He saw through it, Tchao’s anger. Dovali saw the source and his shame along with it.

  “Unlike natural clairvoyants, subjects who have recieved serum injections have precognition that is completely malleable,” Dovali said. “And high doses of the serum produce consistent results, reliable timeframes. Access is made through an implanted projector placed just above the ocular…”

  “We’ve been over this.” Tchao handed back the box, now containing a full measure of his blood. “If it works, why are you still testing?”

  “Testing is good science.” Dovali turned away from him. “And the commentary is for my personal record, but I’ll be certain to skip the bits that bore you in the future, General.”

  “I’m not comfortable with recording this.” Tchao frowned and breathed for calm again. The doctor’s lab was lined with compartments, with lights and circuits and the infernal instruments whose function he didn’t understand. Any one of them could be recording him at that moment, and he squinted at a few to see if he could discover the covert device.

  “The rats have developed a level of precognition that I hadn’t anticipated,” Dovali continued, as if he hadn’t objected. “And their aggression was so bad I lost half the samples. Had to order new ones.”

  Reech lab rats had a reputation for malleability. The fact that his own blood had turned them savage was not lost on Tchao. He breathed even slower and watched Dovali slip a narrow plastic cage from its slot in the wall. The doctor removed the lid, revealing the specimen inside.

  “This is my control,” he said. “She’s tame as a kitten.”

  The left side of the rat’s body had been shaved and cyberwires implanted. The blue lines pulsed from its tail to the back of the left ear, and a web branched from there to the creature’s eyes, jaw, and nose. Dovali stroked the furry side and held the thing aloft for Tchao as if he might have an interest. He only grunted, waited for Dovali to get on with it. He didn’t need proof of the genetic anomaly in his veins.

  “The others have all been dosed with the serum. Their precognition has increased to the point that they know when I am coming to feed them and when I have more tests to run.”

  He removed a second cage. This one bounced in his grip as the rat inside dug at the walls and threw itself from one side of its container to the other. Dovali opened a control slide at the top of the container and input a directive. The box rocked again once and then stilled.

  “Have to sedate them. The serum makes them feral and I don’t fancy taking a nip.”

  “Hmm.” Tchao squinted at the box. Reech rats had robust teeth and often gnawed through whatever attempted to contain them. Dovali’s lab had no metal or wood for just that reason, but at the moment he was more intrigued by what his blood, the serum derived from his DNA, might do to a creature that was naturally “as tame as a kitten.”

  Dovali satisfied himself that the rat was out by shaking the container once before opening it. Inside, the Reech slumbered on its furry side, and the lights covering its face blipped softly. The thing’s mouth had dropped open, however, and Tchao could see a tendril of drool when he leaned over for a closer look.

  The doctor plugged a filament into the ocular port in the rat’s bio-net and then set the container down. “I should be able to bring up visuals now.”

  He left the cage open, and Tchao watched for a moment as the Reech rat slept. The lights blipped and the shaved body rose and fell as it breathed. He knew Dovali had done something when the bio-net on the rat’s face blazed and began to flicker.

  “Here we go.” The doctor had a console tuned to the rat’s net. The “visual” at the moment showed a rapid-fire barrage of imagery, most of which concerned a frightening, rat’s-eye view of Dovali himself. A series of angles passed, looking up the doctor’s nose, the twitching of his lips, and then the rat’s mind shifted to thoughts of food.

  “You’ve been watching them think about eating for three weeks?” He didn’t like it. The rat visions could be random thoughts. They didn’t mean the serum would work on precognition. They didn’t mean anything. “How can you be—”

  Tchao stopped short when his own face loomed on the screen. The container on the screen was closed, and the angle suggested he held it, tilted it to peer through the side.

  “There we go,” Dovali said.

  “What’s this?”

  “Apparently you will pay our friend a visit in the future.”

  “Why?” Tchao stood up straight and eyed the sleeping rat. He had no reason, nor any time to be peeking at rats. The image on Dovali’s screen tilted the cage to one side and brought an eye very close to the plastic. “The serum isn’t working.”

  “It is working perfectly, and in the near future you will pay our friend here a visit.”

  “Doctor.” Tchao pinched his nose and inhaled. He was in control of his blood. Even if it did make rats insane.

  “Tchao, Tchao.” The doctor only laughed. “You will look at the rat, Tchao. He has already seen you do it.”

  “And if I choose not to? If I make a point of avoiding this laboratory in the future?”

  “With all respect,” Dovali said. He couldn’t hide his humor, no matter how he tried to feign propriety. “You can try, but if you don’t, eventually, look into this rat’s cage…can you tell me how it knows exactly what you look like?”

  Tchao couldn’t even guess. He’d peered at the tame rat, yes. But this one had come from Dovali’s shelf and straight into sedation. Would he ever come in here to peer at it again? He prayed he would. He prayed Dovali was correct, and at the same time, Tchao vowed to do everything he could to avoid it. He would test the doctor’s serum, yes. But even more so,
he would test the all-powerful seeing of the Uraru.

  He would discover just how much he shared with his cousins, how much of their talent he might squeeze from his own veins. He only had to not look into the cage again, and how difficult could that possibly be?

  *-*-*

  Rowri staggered through the gates half blind. The smoke filled her nostrils, even up here on the plateau. She’d fumbled her way back across the ravine, had broken through to the clearing a quarter mile south of the sheds and had to work her way back to her clothing, to the pathway that was no longer ivory. A gray swath of ash and smolder leading to gates that had been sealed shut, clamped tight against the disaster.

  They opened for her before she could wonder how to get in. Her brain cleared, struggled to reclaim its humanity in the wake of her beast’s panicked flight instinct. Omira would have set a sentry to watch for her return. Rowri growled and resisted the urge to claw at the priest who ran to assist her.

  The gates began to shut again even as she passed through them. The bio-electricity crackled and the huge panels slid together, sparking and snapping as if angry. Maybe they were. The living things on Choma’s surface powered the technology, and from what she’d just seen, the living things had just taken one, gigantic hit.

  “Is she through?” Omira appeared, holding the sleeve of her robe over the bottom of her face. Soot swirled through the gardens. The air inside had nearly as much debris and ash as it did beyond the gate’s protection. They’d been taken unawares, and yet Rowri could see enough resignation in the Senior’s eyes to know the woman had expected this blow. This is what Omira had seen, then.

  Rowri nodded, but the priest found his voice first.

  “Yes. She’s here.” He held her up now, though she didn’t remember sagging into him. Still, somehow, her body had gone limp. “I think she’s all right.”

  “She’s in shock.” Omira spoke with authority, though she never touched or checked Rowri directly. She recited the words, as if she said them from memory. “Summon a healer and bring her inside.”

  Rowri let the voice, the ritual of a seeing coming true, lull her into complacency. She felt her beast settle, as if the walls of the Grand Temple alone could keep it safe from the fire in the air. She still couldn’t sort its senses from her own enough to piece together the events. They blurred into a wild fear, ash falling, air choking, the rain of singed leaves. Now the sky drifted above, a thick slate pillow that only hinted at the burn that had caused it.

  Had she fallen or fainted? How she’d ended up at this angle, looking straight up at the smoke, she could only guess. Arms lifted her and the sky was framed by fronds and spiky plumes of crimson. They carried her into the garden. Footfalls pattered over tiles, and Rowri’s Uraru slunk lower, curled and rested in the knowledge of safety and shelter at last.

  Her eyes grew heavy as well, and her body ached from her flight. She’d earned scratches from the brush along with more than one burn. The cat had not cared, had run furiously for home without concern over a bit of singed fur, but the woman’s skin now throbbed in a few places where a falling ember had rested too long. She shut her eyes and felt what she could, the sharp tilt as they reached the stairway, the stuttered steps as they shifted her up a level to the dormitory block.

  One burned spot near her hip kept brushing against someone’s arm. Each time, it sent a new twinge out through her nerves in complaint. Raw, that was how she felt—raw and tired. The beast already purred in the back of her mind. Rowri longed to join it, to curl up and sleep and sleep and let the world burn down around her without worry.

  The sky ablaze. The jungle singed and shaking.

  Omira’s voice chanted from far away. “Gently, lay her down. Careful."

  The pain dulled and faded. The cat shifted position, curled in tighter, and the woman sighed and let sleep pull her away from them. She saw a whisper of curtain, a dark frightened face, and a single chunk of ash—flat, black, and still burning at one edge. It floated down, wafting from side to side, a plane of gray framed by a glowing, orange line.

  Chapter Four

  A surprise awaited them on Moon Base 14—not in the meeting he expected, but in the faces that met his shuttle from the elevator platform. Dolfan had come for the conference, though he'd been a Council member only in title since leaving Shroud to assist his heartmate Vashia cleaning up the situation on Eclipsis. Her father had engineered the invasion of Shroud, but through their pairing the couple had forged an allliance in its stead. Now Dolfan waited beside his fellow Council member and long time rival Mofitan.

  “How fares the work on Eclipsis?” Shayd asked.

  “Slow going.” Dolfan gave Shayd a half-hearted smile. “The filth Kovath allowed on Eclipsis is more embedded and far-reaching than we knew.”

  “The lesser governors are giving you a hard time?” Mof growled from deep in his belly. It was a snarl he used to aim at Dolfan, not for the man’s sake.

  “We’re sorting them out,” Dolfan shrugged. “Our dwindling mercenaries are a bigger issue.”

  That would explain his presence here. The Shrouded First Consort, Jain Rieordan, had been a mercenary before bonding with King Peryl. If Dolfan had come to beg for mercs to assist with the situation on Eclipsis, however, he’d be leaving disappointed. Jain’s focus had turned to Shrouded security and their own troops of late.

  "Now we're being sorted out," Mofitan grumbled, and kicked at nothing in particular. "The Summit will have more rings for us to leap through."

  "How many of your petitions have they denied already?" Dolfan led the way to the stairs and the next level. "Peryl said they are being difficult."

  "They want us to reach out more," Jadyek interjected, and earned two stern looks from the former rivals.

  Shayd held back, watched them interact while he read the undercurrents. He didn't miss the wink Dolfan shared with Mof, or Mofitan's grumble under his breath, "They can reach out for…"

  "There they are!" Jadyek tried to point ahead and stumbled over the next step. The rest of the council waited for them in the shuttle bay above, the long hallway that ran above the larger ship landings. Two platforms and now two space elevators, and both ferried goods back and forth between the upper platforms and the moon. The increased volume brought revenues to pay for expansion, but eventually they all hoped that the novelty of Shroud would wear off and things would settle again.

  King Peryl led the way to the atrium, escorted by an armed pair of base security officers. The rest of the Princes filed behind. They’d doubled the security force in the bays, and added to the rest of the base presence as well. He didn’t like it, seeing armed uniforms at the entrance to the atrium. He understood it, though. They’d seen too recently what letting their guard down could lead to.

  Someone had arranged for their meeting. The tables that usually sat scattered between the fronds and foliage had been formed into a square. No Brides lingered here today, and the entrances were guarded.

  Shayd tightened his jaw against a flash of second sight. There were strangers here, dignitaries, a member of the Galactic Summit and his aide. They appeared on the path, wandering through the gardens like innocent tourists.

  Yet he knew they had a larger purpose than to sightsee. He knew it, and he knew it involved him somehow. The weight of his immediate future pressed in again, hazy, but full of uncomfortable feelings. Something there, a hint of fear.

  His vision shifted like smoke. As if he were home in the Temple, his view grayed, fogged over, and then formed new images. He saw a man's face, one whose skin wore the color of ash naturally, but who had fine, glowing blue lines inlaid across both cheeks and down over the square jaw and thick neck. He saw a woman with skin like charcoal, with high cheeks and wide sapphire eyes.

  The fog vanished in the voices around him. The world returned, the atrium and the meeting he had no interest in now.

  “Your highness!” The aide addressed Peryl. He dipped into a bow that seemed too brief. “We were beginning to wond
er if you would arrive today.”

  “I believe you were informed of our schedule, Mr. Tout.” Mofitan moved in front of Peryl and offered an equally curt gesture of acknowledgement, not quite a bow, nor was one required by the Summit member’s status. The Galactic government still failed to recognize Shroud, and Shayd agreed with Mof. They owed no homage in return. The King of Shroud did not assemble at the snap of an outsider’s fingers. In fact, that they assembled for the man at all, why they assembled, remained a mystery still.

  “Of course.” Mr. Tout favored his aide with a scowl. “Please forgive Ponce. I’m afraid we’ve been a bit overeager, but considering the developments…”

  “Perhaps once we’ve sat, you could fill us in on those.” Peryl smiled, and Shayd knew he stifled one of his giggles, that his assertiveness was backed by a playful enjoyment of his position. He’d interrupted the man, a portly Terran with tattoos peeking at his collar that belied his military background. The King had seized back the moment, and Shayd could only imagine how pleased Peryl was with himself.

  “Of course.” Mr. Tout’s bow lingered politely the second time. He glared at his aide once more and then marched to the far end of the tables with the shorter, ruder man in tow.

  They left Peryl the head seat, and the rest arranged themselves along the sides, buffering their young regent from the Terrans at the far end of the table. Dolfan and Mofitan sat farthest from the king, posting themselves inadvertently as guards at the Terrans’ wings. The time had come to reveal the visit’s purpose, and yet, despite his eagerness to know, Shayd couldn’t help the stab of sudden insight, the realization that with every Prince in attendance, none were left on Shroud itself. The recent invasion was too fresh in his mind not to notice, and he said a silent prayer to the Heart that Jain Rieordan and Mofitan’s updates to their security would hold strong today, would not even be tested.