Fire Margins

by Lisanne Norman

  Dzaka prized Rulla’s hand off his arm. “You’ve really taken a dislike to me, haven’t you, Rulla?” he said. “Why? I’ve done nothing to you. If you think you can use Kitra as an excuse to have a row, think again! Anyone who’d stoop that low is beneath my contempt. Kitra’s as safe with me as if she were my own daughter!”

  “Hey, Dzaka! Your turn,” said T’Chebbi.

  “Just watch your step,” warned Rulla as Dzaka turned to answer her.

  T’Chebbi handed him two mugs, looking past him at Rulla. “Say hello to Kitra,” she said pointedly. “Rulla forgets himself at times.”

  Dzaka turned to leave, only to find his way blocked by Rulla. “Remember what I said.”

  “Get out of my way,” snarled Dzaka, sidestepping him and heading back to where Kitra was sitting.

  She took the mug he offered her. “Thanks.”

  He sat down, keeping his back to the cavern wall so he could see everyone. “It’s getting late, Kitra,” he said. “Might be sensible to drink your c’shar and go home.”

  “It’s not that late, and Mother knows I’m here. I told her I was coming to see you.”

  Dzaka began to feel uncomfortable. He raised his mug, taking a mouthful of his drink. “When you’re over at the villa, where do you tell your mother you’re going?” he asked, almost afraid to hear her answer.

  “I tell her I’m going to see my brother and Carrie, of course,” she said with a small frown.

  Dzaka began to breathe more easily.

  “And you,” she added with a grin.

  The mouthful of c’shar went down the wrong way and he began to choke on it.

  “Are you all right?” she demanded, putting her mug down on the ground and moving closer. She began to hit him repeatedly on the back.

  He twisted away from her, coughing. “I’m fine, Kitra. Honestly. I don’t need any help.”

  She squatted back, looking at him in concern. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Your eyes are watering and your face is scrunched up.”

  He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and began to laugh. “Yes, I’m fine, little one. Now, come on. Finish your drink and head back home. It’s going to be dark soon.”

  She reached for her mug again. “Won’t you walk me back?”

  “Not this time, Kitra. I want to finish this first,” he said, waving a hand in the direction of his partly exposed vehicle.

  “You’re going to be here very late,” she said, glancing over at it.

  “I don’t mean finish digging it all out,” he said. “Just the lettering.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly. “I thought we could have finished it together.” She paused, then added, “I like helping you. You’re one of the few people who don’t treat me like a child. The others won’t see that I’ve grown up now.”

  Acutely uncomfortable and aware that he was being observed, Dzaka thought furiously for a suitable answer.

  “I like talking to you, too, Kitra. I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow morning I’m off duty. How about you come over to the villa and I’ll have a weapons practice with you? You enjoy learning how to use a sword, don’t you?”

  “I’d like that,” she said, brightening up.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, T’Chebbi said hello,” he added.

  “T’Chebbi?”

  He nodded. “She doesn’t think you’re still a cub, does she?”

  Kitra shook her head. “T’Chebbi doesn’t say much of anything to anyone.”

  “Well, she speaks to you, doesn’t she? And she wouldn’t waste her time on a cub.”

  He got a long look in reply. “Dzaka, don’t patronize me,” she said. “If you don’t want me around, just tell me.”

  Oh Gods! he thought. Now I’ve done it! Then anger hit him. He’d managed to hurt her feelings because he’d been concerned at what Rulla had said.

  “Kitra, you want to come and talk to me any time, you do it, d’you hear me?” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. “I’ll leave this bit of my digging until the next time you can help me.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to her. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  She looked up at him, surprise written in the set of her ears. “You will?” she asked, taking his hand and letting him help her up.

  “Yes, I will,” he said firmly. Bending down he picked up their mugs. “Let’s give these back to T’Chebbi on our way out.”

  As they turned to leave her, T’Chebbi caught Dzaka by the arm. “Be careful coming back,” she said quietly.

  “I will,” he said.

  *

  The afternoon was made even longer because they were waiting at home, but as night fell, Garras called them to say that Vanna was well, and the cub, a male called Marak, had been born safely, though Jack wanted them kept in overnight for observation and tests.

  “What’s he like?” asked Kusac, who’d taken the call.

  “What we expected, predominantly Sholan, I’m thankful to say. It makes it easier for me as Vanna’s mate. Had he been more Human, Brynne might have felt he should be more involved in his upbringing than we want—maybe even have tried to take him away from us. Apart from that, it’s difficult to describe how a cub this young looks, Kusac.”

  “Try.” He needed to know.

  Garras sighed. “Small, very small I thought, but Vanna says they’re all that size at first. His pelt is pale just like Vanna’s—you know, that lovely beige color like the sand out by Nazule Bay. His eyes aren’t open yet, won’t be for another five days. The specialist at the center said it’s still too early to see any difference between him and a pure Sholan cub.”

  Kusac didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Their cub ought to be the same, which meant she’d look like his people. But how would Carrie feel about that? At least Vanna was now holding a child that looked like her, who would grow up with two Sholan parents, not one Human, the other Sholan.

  “You worry too much, Kusac,” said Garras gently. “Carrie will cope better than you think.”

  “Why the tests?” he asked, feeling guilty that he’d let his worries intrude into Garras’ news. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

  “Is Carrie there?” Garras asked quietly.

  “No. She’s sleeping in the bedroom.”

  “Because he’s a mixture of Sholan and Human, Jack wants to be sure there aren’t any defects. There’s possibly a heart murmur, but it could just be an echo that’s common with newborns. Don’t mention it to Carrie though. We don’t want her worrying about her cub. Don’t you go worrying either,” he added.

  “Perhaps I should have let Vanna do a post mortem on our cub after all,” he said.

  “No, you did the right thing, Kusac. I would have done the same.”

  “It’s too late now to regret it anyway. But Vanna? You say she’s fine?”

  “Tired, that’s all. Jack said he wished it could be as easy for Humans as it was for her. Vanna wanted me with her after all, and Tutor Sorli himself came over to register Brynne as the father, so he’s happy. Considering he didn’t know that Marak would look so Sholan, he took it well.”

  “We’ll come and see her tomorrow,” said Kusac, shaking himself out of his morbid concern. “Tell her we’ll ask the Green Goddess to look after her and her cub.”

  “She’ll appreciate that. Till tomorrow.”

  *

  Rhyasha persuaded Dzaka to join her for a cup of c’shar and a plate of cookies in the family kitchen. He was puzzled by her sudden interest in him, but too polite to refuse. Consequently, it was dark before he started back, carefully choosing to return by a different route. He was within a few hundred yards of home and the illuminated main street when he sensed he was being followed. Growling softly to himself, he considered his options. Not good, he was in the open. He could make a dash for the lights, but that course didn’t have much dignity attached to it. This was something that wasn’t going to go away. There would be more times like this, when Rulla and his particular friends decided they
didn’t like what he was doing. As well face it now as later.

  Turning so the lights were behind him, he backed off to the nearest tree, scanning the grounds in front of him for his attackers. He could feel Rulla’s anger and resentment washing over him. He blamed him for his father’s capture, and while he couldn’t do anything to help Kaid, he could hurt the one he considered responsible.

  Rulla stepped out from the shadows of a nearby bush. “You couldn’t take a warning, could you, Dzaka?” he said. “You use people, do you know that? You used Kaid to get away from Fyak’s lot, and now you’re using Kitra to get close to our Liege.”

  Dzaka frowned. What was he talking about?

  “You want to make a place for yourself, somewhere you’ll be safe from Kaid when he returns, is that it?” He moved closer, tail swaying rhythmically, ears flattening ready to fight.

  A movement to his left caught his eye. He risked a quick glance. One of the estate guards Rulla had been keeping company with lately.

  “Are you afraid to Challenge me then, Rulla?” he asked. “Is that why there’s the two of you? Can’t be sure you can take me alone?”

  “Count again, Dzaka,” purred Rulla. “There’s three of us. And no, I’m not going to Challenge you. This isn’t worthy of a Challenge. This is a warning. Stay away from the cub. She’s too young to be used by the likes of you.”

  As Dzaka saw a third person join the other two in front of him, suddenly another figure loomed up out of the night. He recognized the scent. T’Chebbi. She stepped up to his side.

  “You fools,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and regarding the three males with utter scorn. “You know nothing, Rulla. You talk lots, say nothing! She’s not child, is Kitra. You males are stupid when it comes to us!” She gave a bark of laughter. “That little one will chose who she wants, and soon! You won’t stop her. Now go, before I tell the Liege you break your oath to him!”

  “I’m breaking no oaths, T’Chebbi!” Rulla hissed. “This has nothing to do with you!”

  “Has. Our oath is obey our Liege. He says Dzaka protected. What is protection worth when his liegemen attack each other, huh?”

  “She’s a child, T’Chebbi! He’s trying to seduce her!” Rulla protested.

  “Not a child,” she insisted, shaking her head. “You aren’t at the villa. You don’t see her follow him. She’s hunting him!” She stepped forward in front of Dzaka. “You want I get the Liegena? You ask her about his sister?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” muttered Rulla, looking away.

  “Ridiculous? You are! Go home. Leave them be. They sort it themselves, not you! Unless you want a Challenge with me!” She growled, one hand going to rest on the long knife at her belt.

  Dzaka moved to stand beside her. “T’Chebbi, I can handle this,” he began.

  She pushed him back. “You stay there. Kaid won’t be pleased if you’re hurt. He’ll only fight Rulla and those two.” She faced Rulla again. “I tell you for the last time. The Liegena knows what happens. Kitra and Dzaka meet at the villa. Not your concern,” she said, taking another step toward Rulla. “Now go!”

  Rulla turned to look for his friends—and found himself alone. He began to back away.

  They watched him turn and head for the Brothers’ house, waiting until they saw him go in. Dzaka turned to T’Chebbi. He didn’t quite know what to say. For the second time that day, he’d found support in an unexpected quarter.

  “He feels too much for Kaid,” said T’Chebbi, starting to walk toward the lights.

  “Feels too much?” asked Dzaka, keeping pace with her.

  She looked at him. “He wishes he was you. Kaid’s son.”

  “Ah, I know what you mean.”

  “You like Kitra?” she asked as they approached the villa.

  “She’s a nice child,” he said.

  T’Chebbi began to laugh gently.

  “What is it?” he demanded.

  “You’re in for a surprise,” she chuckled, a look of pure mischief the likes of which he’d never have expected to see lighting up her usually somber face. She headed under the archway into the villa’s grounds, leaving Dzaka standing bewildered outside.

  He broke into a run, catching up to her as she walked round to the side door. “Why did you help me?” he asked, taking her by the arm to slow her down.

  “Told Rulla why,” she said.

  “Yes. Apart from that. I mean earlier,” he stammered.

  She stopped and regarded him seriously. “You’re Kaid’s son. Like him, but different. I should have known someone like you when I was Kitra’s age,” she said. “I didn’t. It was too late when I met Kaid. Early hurts don’t ever go, Dzaka.” She turned and walked into the house, leaving him to follow in his own time.

  *

  Kaid had been working with Fyak’s warriors for nearly a week now. The desert tribes were a law unto themselves and actually enforcing the conscription into the Forces of all eighteen year old males was virtually impossible, especially when dealing with a large population of nomads. So very few of the desert army of around five thousand souls had ever seen military service, and those who had tended to be in Fyak’s elite bodyguard. They were not included in his training schedules.

  He’d split them into units a couple of hundred strong, each one in the charge of the most experienced warrior. He’d brief the newly appointed officers at the start of the day, then go round the individual units, keeping a check on standards.

  Apart from their weapons, the overall tech level was low. The labels and signs on the packing crates had been obliterated but Kaid knew they’d been illegally acquired. Nothing he saw was overt enough to confirm his gut-feeling that Ghezu was involved, but by playing for time like this, he might just come across the proof he wanted. As yet, he’d had no chance to escape. He might as well be in a cell for all the freedom he actually had.

  Their lack of military experience meant he could manage the training in such a way as to give an advantage to the Forces in any future engagement. Their normal operating procedure was that on sighting the enemy, the base was immediately contacted so coordinates, enemy numbers and other vital information could be passed on. They had three mobile field-comm units—old fashioned but in good working order, and one base unit as their main means of communicating with their HQ.

  Kaid set up a corps of signalers and advised them that waiting till an engagement was over meant more detailed information could be given. He also impressed on them that in the event of a comm failure, it was vital a message be dispatched immediately to let the base know what had happened. The old practice of using a mirror to reflect sunlight was reintroduced, as was the sending of basic smoke signals. Beyond that, he kept his training methods to standards commonly used by the Brotherhood. If, in building up their endurance, he demanded they carry heavier loads or run farther than the Brothers would, it was only because Fyak wanted them ready as soon as possible.

  L’Seuli watched him from a distance with interest. As an elite guard, he didn’t train with the rest. He saw the flaws immediately and waited to see who else would spot them, or complain about the unrealistic goals Kaid was setting. No one did. The fact that the Brotherhood could perform these tasks meant that Fyak’s males would die in the attempt rather than admit Kaid’s standards were beyond them. L’Seuli was content just to watch and wait.

  During a training session Kaid was overseeing, a delivery vehicle flew in, landing close to the mouth of the lair. Since the Laasoi raid, the Forces had kept the Sonashi and Nyacko passes heavily patrolled and set permanent garrisons there. All legitimate arms deliveries to the desert regions had been halted, and presumably vehicle manifests were being checked at the ports before they were allowed to take off in an effort to ensure no illegal shipments were made.

  Kaid didn’t see Zhaya climb down out of the vehicle, but Zhaya saw and recognized him. He stopped dead, watching as the warriors Kaid was working with struggled round the obstacle course. He moved back into the lee o
f the transporter, continuing to watch as one of the males stumbled and fell with heat exhaustion despite the time of year. He had to be carried off, one ankle already very obviously swelling.

  Zhaya, swearing under his breath, waited no longer and headed into the main cavern. He accosted the first male he came across, demanding to be taken to Fyak.

  “The Prophet is in the temple praying, and cannot be disturbed,” said the guard. “I’ll take you to Vraiyou.”

  He followed the warrior across the main cavern past the cooking area to a doorway. His guide stopped, knocking before entering. “Brother Zhaya wishes to talk to you,” he said, bowing low.

  “Tell him he may enter,” said Vraiyou.

  Zhaya pushed the guard aside and stalked in, letting the position of his ears and his lashing tail convey his anger.

  “Is this how your master keeps his agreements, Vraiyou? By harboring wanted males? It’s a good job we at least honor our contracts!”

  Vraiyou finished what he was writing before turning round on his seat to look at him. “Brother Zhaya, what a pleasant surprise. You brought the latest shipment of ‘grain,’ I take it? It’s good of Master Ghezu to take such a personal interest in us.”

  “Don’t bother hiding behind polite conversation, Vraiyou. You agreed to have Rhijudu watched and if Kaid turned up, to take him into custody and inform us. Instead of which, I find him training your people! Just what the hell are you playing at?” he demanded, eyes narrowing and ears folding even flatter.

  “The Prophet was told that we could benefit from his skills for a few days before handing him over to you.”

  “He’s not even under guard out there, Vraiyou! He’s wandering around as if he owned the place! And just what do you think he’s teaching your fighters? He’s exhausting them to no purpose! In the few minutes I was watching them, I saw one fall and sprain his ankle. How many more have been injured trying to carry impossible loads?”

  Vraiyou’s eye ridges met in a frown. “Excuse me? Are you saying he’s purposely working them into a state of collapse and injury?”

  “What would you call it?” Zhaya demanded. “He’s sabotaging your troops under your very noses! He’s treating you like the fools you are, Vraiyou!”