He stepped between the guards, stopping a few feet from Dzaka. “You’ve brought a coin from Kaid. Where is it?” He held out his hand.
Dzaka’s eyes slid from him to Garras, then back.
“Yes, I am the greater threat. Kaid’s loyalty, like that of all our people, is to me, mine to him.” Kusac’s voice was a low, menacing purr as he let his ears fold against the sides of his skull. He moved his tail, letting the tip flick lazily, adding to the implicit threat. “If he sent you here with a message, then give it to me.”
Dzaka’s pupils dilated as, hand shaking slightly, he placed the coin in Kusac’s palm. His tongue flicked out, moistening his lips. “He said to give it to Garras and tell him to protect me.”
“From whom?”
Again Dzaka looked from one to the other. “From the Brotherhood, and from you.”
Kusac raised an eye ridge.
“He knew you’d both prefer me dead.” His voice was bleak now and his gaze didn’t waver.
Kusac looked at the coin, flicking it over with a claw tip. He could feel Dzaka’s fear, and his realization that Kusac hadn’t yet decided his fate.
On one face the coin bore the sigil of the Warriors, and on the other, that of the Priesthood of Vartra. It was the coin they used among themselves when fulfilling a commission. Kusac knew exactly what it meant, and through his link with Carrie, he could sense from the actual coin the purpose of Kaid’s last decision, that of giving it to his son as a surety for his life.
He closed his hand over it. “What happened?”
“I waited for him at Rhijudu. When he went to Khemu, I followed.” He stopped. “I found out the truth, but it’s not for me to say. Only Kaid can tell you what occurred between us.”
Kusac caught Dzaka’s tiny involuntary hand movement and followed it through to the knife that sat on his left hip. He reached out for it.
Dzaka’s defensive movement, though once more checked, was more noticeable this time and around them the ring of rifles began to hum in readiness.
Drawing the blade, Kusac examined the crest on the hilt. “The Arrazo Clan. Khemu gave it to you?”
Dzaka nodded. “And the torc and buckle that accompany it.”
“How do we know you didn’t steal them?” demanded Garras.
“Be silent!” Kusac’s eyes held Dzaka, watching for the truth in them. “Why is it that you’re here and he isn’t? I think you owe us that much of an explanation.”
“Fyak’s people were coming. He told me to head for the aircar, he’d be behind me. Then he gave me the coin and the message and pushed me through the window. I had to leave then, the warriors were at her door—were coming round the back … He ordered me, and she sent the image …” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “She must’ve taken it from his mind.” He opened his eyes and stopped speaking. He’d said all there was to say.
“They bought you the time to escape, and to tell us he’d been taken. Why do you need protection from the Brotherhood? I thought you were still with them.”
“I was. I’ve left the Guild now. I told Ghezu personally on the comm, but I don’t expect you to believe me. I disobeyed his orders. I won’t survive the night if you don’t grant me protection.”
There was no hope left in his eyes. He expected nothing but death at their hands.
“You haven’t presumed on your relationship with Kaid,” said Kusac thoughtfully.
Dzaka shrugged. “It isn’t relevant. It’s my actions you’re judging.”
“Not even to save your life?”
He remained silent, eyes still meeting Kusac’s.
Mind made up, Kusac turned to the guard holding Garras. “Release him,” he said, letting his ears raise. Holding the hand that contained the coin out to Garras, he said, “You’ve been given a commission by Kaid; to protect his son. See you discharge it once Dzaka’s oath has been taken.” He handed him the coin. “He’s also under my protection. See that everyone on both estates knows this.”
Silently Garras took it from him.
Kusac turned back to Dzaka. “Your knife,” he said, handing it back to him hilt first. “The Arrazo Clan lost its honor the day they announced your mother’s death. I hope your actions in the future can restore it, Dzaka.”
Too stunned to speak, Dzaka took the knife from him and returned it to its sheath.
Tiredly, Kusac turned to Ni’Zulhu. “Stand your folk down, and get that vehicle returned to the hire firm.”
“Yes, Liege.” At a signal from him, the guards powered their rifles down and silently returned to their posts.
“Garras?” He waited till the older male had come over to him. “Take Dzaka to the Shrine and waken Ghyan. Apologize for the disturbance, but I want him witnessing Dzaka’s oath now.”
“Yes, Liege,” said Garras.
Kusac looked round at his one-time Captain but as Garras crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head in salute, there was no trace of sarcasm present.
“Liege!” Dzaka was standing by Garras.
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” he said, also saluting him. “I’ll not give you or Garras reason to regret this.”
“I trust you won’t. If I can command the same loyalty, however misplaced, that you gave to Ghezu, I’ll be content.” He moved away from the group round the aircar. “I’ll meet you at the Shrine.”
Wake Father, Carrie. Tell him what’s happened. He’ll know if there’s anything we can do.
Why go to the Shrine for the oath? Can’t you do it there? she asked.
No, cub. Only an oath taken in front of Vartra will count as far as the other Brothers are concerned. Remember, he’s the only one forsworn—he was never released from his original oath.
Garras was still angry.
“I’m sorry,” said Dzaka as he got on the back of the hopper behind him. “I know you’d rather see me dead, but…”
“You know nothing,” growled Garras as the vehicle rose into the air. “If you were my son, I’d have beaten some sense into you long before now! How the hell could you believe Ghezu? You nearly killed Kaid that night, do you know that?” he said, increasing the speed of the vehicle as he banked round the bushes onto the roadway to the Valsgarth estate. “Would have, if I hadn’t been there.”
“I didn’t intend to harm him!” Dzaka had to shout to be heard above the noise of the engine.
“You’ve behaved like a fool from the moment you heard he was your father! Did you stop to think how he felt? Imagine bringing up a son of your own, unable to admit to the relationship for fear he’d be killed outright by your Guild Leader! How would you have felt? Just think about that, Dzaka!”
Thankfully, Dzaka remained silent for the rest of the short trip. Garras knew he was speeding, and that it was still too dark to see properly, but he was angry to the core with the younger male. He also knew, being honest with himself, that part of his anger was because Kaid hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about his son. Intellectually he knew why, but that wasn’t enough.
He slowed down as they approached the building, bringing the hopper down carefully. Dzaka got off and waited for him.
As Garras stepped off and turned to face him, he saw the youth square his jaw and look him straight in the eye.
“Get it over with, Garras,” Dzaka said quietly.
Garras opened his mouth to deny it, then changed his mind. “What the hell,” he muttered, taking a backhand swing at the side of Dzaka’s head.
As Dzaka landed heavily on the ground, Garras gave a slight yip of pain and began massaging his hand.
“I’ve got a hard head,” said Dzaka, feeling his jaw carefully.
“I should have remembered,” Garras muttered, but his anger had broken, and with a faint grin, he stepped over and held his other hand out to him.
Dzaka took it and let Garras help him to his feet. “Khemu told me Ghezu’s Talent is glamour. He can make anything seem reasonable when he uses it.”
“He had you well and
truly fooled, didn’t he?” said Garras as they headed for the doorway.
*
The journey to Forestgate had been slow but uneventful. Their small caravan thankfully hadn’t seemed attractive enough to any marauding bandits for them to risk their lives against the caravan’s guards. The town, enclosed as it was by a wooden palisade, wasn’t large. Dusk had been approaching as the caravan straggled tiredly through the gates and headed for the only inn.
The following day they went in search of supplies to see them on the final leg of their journey. That done, they returned to their room to check and repair their kit, and equally important, for Kris to contact Vyaka. The Summer Bounty, the Chemerian merchant ship they had arrived on, was in port again. She was able to confirm that the weather in the mountains showed no signs of thaw. This meant they could take an extra day to fully recuperate.
The next day, shortly after dawn, they set out toward the forest. It was bitterly cold—too cold for the luxury of speech as they trudged along in silence. Gradually the landscape around them began to change as they passed between the first of the trees. Small animal tracks weaving their way around the snow-covered tangle of bushes were all that marred the virgin surface, and as the undergrowth grew denser and interspersed with evergreens, gradually the force of the biting wind dropped.
Jo was the first to unwrap her scarf from around her face and ears. She stopped, signing to the others to do the same.
“Kris, can you check our heading?”
He nodded and pulling off his mitts, dug the various sections of their compass out of his pockets and assembled it.
“If we keep heading in this direction, we’ll be fine,” he said, squinting up at the pale sun above. “We’ve got another three hours before we need to start looking for a place to camp.”
Davies groaned. “Are you planning on building an igloo? Because that’s about all that will keep us warm tonight!”
Kris looked over at him, faintly amused. “Look around you,” he said. “There are animal tracks—they manage to survive in this weather, so will we.”
“How?”
“Lots of ways,” said Jo, moving off again. “You should have tried to stay awake during the survival lessons.”
That night they camped in a sheltered hollow at the center of several tangled bushes. They constructed a primitive shelter by anchoring their lightweight groundsheet to the branches above and around them, leaving enough of a space for them to see through. A small fire built in a shallow pit, heated up enough water to make warm drinks and rehydrate the dried meat they’d brought with them.
They’d underestimated how tired they’d be the day after a night punctuated by taking turns at sentry duty. Their tiredness, added to the thickening of the forest meant their progress was slower, and as the sky began to darken, they still hadn’t come across a suitable campsite for the night.
“Why can’t we use a bush like last night?” asked Davies, pulling his pack off his shoulders and resting it on the ground.
“Wrong kind of forest now,” said Jo, leaning against a tree trunk. “Conifers. The ground’s bare under them: no undergrowth worth mentioning.”
Kris looked around, weighing up their options. Davies groaned as he saw him look upward.
“I’m not a bloody Sholan,” he said. “They can shinny up a tree in no time flat, but they’ve got clawed feet to help them!”
“It’s a conifer, Davies,” said Jo, pushing herself away from the trunk and walking over to join Kris. “It’s easy to climb. Plenty of branches.”
“And that one has branches that are nearly level,” said Kris, pointing to the one ahead of them. He pulled his pack off and handed it to Jo. “I’ll check it out first,” he said.
They watched as he clambered up the trunk, reaching a height of some twenty-five meters before he stopped. Carefully, holding onto a thinner branch above, he began to edge along his perch. He stopped, looking down at them.
“This one’s fine,” he yelled. “A couple of branches intersect here. It’ll give us a narrow platform where we can spend the night. Throw the rope up to me. It’s easy enough to climb but there’s no point taking risks.”
“Up you go, Davies,” said Jo.
“I don’t want to spend the night in a tree,” he objected, slipping the coil of rope over his head.
“I thought you’d prefer to once you’d seen the size of those paw prints,” said Jo, picking Kris’ pack up and moving closer to the tree.
“Hang on a minute,” said Davies, hurriedly joining her. “What paw prints?”
“Didn’t you see them?” she asked, letting surprise creep into her voice. “Sorry. Kris and I did. We just assumed you had too.”
“What was it?” he asked, getting ready to fling the rope upward to Kris.
“We reckon something the size of a large dog—maybe even one of those we saw on guard at the spaceport.”
Davies’ throw went wide and he turned to her, face pale. “You’re kidding, right? Those brutes don’t live wild out here do they?”
“Yes, they do,” she said, serious now. “It’s getting dark, Davies. I think you should hurry up and get that rope up to Kris.”
As if to add emphasis to her words, the air echoed to the sound of a hoarse howl that ended in a bark.
“Bloody hell,” Davies muttered, running over to retrieve the rope. Hurriedly he recoiled it and, aiming more carefully this time, flung it up to Kris. This time it reached him.
Ten minutes later, they and their kit were all balanced on two broad overlapping branches. Kris had already taken some pitons out of his pack and was hammering them into the trunk.
“We’ll need to anchor ourselves and the kit to the tree, unless we want to wake up on the ground.”
“If there’s packs of those wolf things roaming these woods, what chance have we got of reaching the mountains safely? As soon as we get down tomorrow, they’ll be after us.”
“They’re mainly nocturnal,” said Kris, threading the rope through the straps of all three packs and lashing them securely to the piton and the upper of the two branches.
“Mainly? Is that meant to be reassuring? Anyway, how the hell do you know that?” demanded Davies.
“I read the guard at the gate. The animals are not much good during the day. They’re too sleepy. Davies, stop chattering and get yourself tied onto the branch, while there’s still enough light to see by. Jo?”
“I’m doing it now,” she replied. “It’s going to be a cold meal tonight, and no hot drink either. Davies, it’s your turn for a full sleep tonight. Kris and I’ll split the watches.”
Somewhat mollified at the prospect of a decent sleep, provided he didn’t fall out of the tree, Davies began digging another rope out of his pack.
Huddled in their cloaks, they sat with backs pressed to the main trunk.
“D’you know what I want most,” said Jo, her tone taking a dreamy quality as she chewed on her piece of dried trail meat. “A hot bath. Maybe after an hour or two’s soak I’ll be able to get the cold out of my bones.”
“The Warrior Guild has nice baths,” said Kris as he broke bits off his meat ration to feed to Scamp. The jegget was huddled inside Kris’ jacket, against his chest. It was too cold for him to want to do more than stick his head and paws outside. “We could go there when we get back,” he said, looking over at Jo.
“Not me. I want a soft bed and a good, hot meal,” said Davies. “I’ve got used to living in a house since the Sholans arrived on Keiss. I never did like camping out. What about you, Kris?”
“Oh, a hot bath’ll do me fine too,” he said lazily, turning back to Scamp. “Not that I would turn down the offer of a meal and a decent bed.”
In the distance, another canine started to howl, his cry answered by another from a different direction.
Jo shivered. “I thought they said all the large carnivores had gone down to the plains.”
“If there wasn’t easy food there either, they’d probably return to
their pack territory,” said Kris, looking over toward her again. “Don’t worry. We’re safe up here.”
*
Morning dawned, bringing with it the end of Vanna’s Link day. Waking alone, she sighed with relief. Since the incident with Sara, she’d had no patience with Brynne and it was she who kept their time together as short as possible. To give him his due, Brynne had tried on several occasions to apologize but she’d refused to listen to him. He’d eventually given up and withdrawn from her. Now they talked as little as possible.
She moved cautiously, pushing her heavy body up onto the pillows by dint of carefully using her hind claws for purchase on the mattress. Twisting round onto her back, she managed to sit up. A noise by the door drew her attention and she looked up to see Brynne coming over carrying a mug of coffee for her.
“I felt you waken,” he said, putting it down on the night table beside her. “I got this for you as well.” He held out the plate he’d been concealing behind his back. “It’s one of your favorite fruit pastries.”
Vanna was about to deny any hunger when her stomach betrayed her by grumbling.
“Take it,” he said, putting the plate on her lap as he sat down beside her. “I know you’re hungry.”
Inwardly cursing her vanished telepathy, Vanna picked up the pastry and began to nibble round the edges of it. Though her advancing pregnancy had silenced her talent several weeks earlier, it hadn’t diminished the need for their Link days. Now there was no mutual exchange of memories; for her, there was nothing but the physical pull toward him.
“Look, Vanna, I think it’s time we talked.”
“I’ve nothing to say.”
“I have.” He hesitated briefly. “Our son is due in a few weeks. There’s decisions we have to make about him.”
“I’ve made all the decisions.” She narrowed her eyes as she regarded him. Lhea was outside in the main lounge. Vanna insisted on a guard being within calling range since the incident with Sara. She hoped he wasn’t going to get difficult. “Let get this straight, Brynne. He’s my son.”
“He’s my son too, whether or not either of us likes it. I have a right to be involved, Vanna. I’d rather we came to an agreement.”
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