“That seems to have been their plan,” said Lorishuk/Rezac. “It also left them the walls to paint their Zsadhi sword symbol onto.” He pointed to the north wall where a six-foot-tall sword had been scrawled onto the white plasterwork.
M’yikku scribbled furiously on his notepad while Kusac waited for him to finish.
“What about any other signs like the molten stone. Any sign of that anywhere?”
Of course not. You weren’t here to do it! sent Rezac. “Nothing like that, just the sword and the leaflets.”
Should I melt part of the floor so it seems consistent?
Only if you can find a place to do it unseen.
“Do you have one of the leaflets I could see?”
“Absolutely. I had them all gathered up before the workforce on my estate could get them, as per the standing orders. I have one here you can have.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Opening it out to its full letter size, he handed it to Kusac.
“Your leaders enjoy their wives and luxurious homes while you toil alone and never know true females. Time for this to change.” Kusac read aloud. “As divisive as the other ones. Whoever is doing this really wants to upset the order and discipline that has lasted for several thousand years.”
“I’d also say that with the knowledge of explosives and as articulate as they are, the people claiming to be the Zsadhi are a cross-caste group with members from every caste in it,” said Rezac.
Keep pushing the multicaste thing; then they won’t think to look at the mountain folk at all, sent Kusac, handing the leaflet to M’yikku. “I agree with you on that. Let’s see how they got into the brewery.”
“It was easily done. I’ve never bothered to have the place guarded. Just locking it up at night has always been enough for me. If you follow me round to the rear, you can see that they broke in the back door using some kind of metal lever to force it open.”
“Photos, Cheelar,” said Kusac as they walked round to the back of the building.
“Yes, m’Lord,” said Cheelar, examining the door and taking photos of the broken lock from every angle.
Rezac and Kusac waited for him to finish, chatting about the damage and how long it would take to replace the equipment and get the brewing production back up and running again.
“Finished m’Lord,” said Cheelar.
“Let’s look at the damaged containers, see if we can discover if they used fuses or detonators, what kind of explosives they used, and photograph the damage,” said Kusac.
Kusac and Rezac stood and watched as Cheelar, M’yikku, and Maalash carefully searched through the debris for clues.
We don’t want to be too efficient, Kusac, sent Rezac. Just enough to keep everyone satisfied that we did a good job.
Don’t worry. I’ve done several of these already. It enables me to choose what to let them know, plus look efficient. On the off chance anyone else is looking at the same evidence, there’s no obvious lies or excluded evidence either.
Gods, I hadn’t thought that K’hedduk would have someone else look at the evidence, too!
I did, so don’t worry. Part of what I do is say what I think the aim of the attack was. Even being right on that doesn’t harm us as there is nothing they can do to stop the effect the lack of the brothel or the brewery will have on the people.
They’re going to start guarding everything soon, sent Rezac.
Which is when we up the ante by choosing targets they think are impregnable and won’t guard properly, if at all. Naturally, it will increase the danger for us, but it will really hit them where it hurts.
“Finished taking the pictures, m’Lord,” said Cheelar, folding the camera back into its case.
“You got some of the painted Zsadhi sword?”
“Yes, Lord Nayash.”
“Are you done now, Nayash? Can I send for a clean-up crew? The smell of stale beer is only going to get worse as the day gets hotter.”
“Yes, send your people away now while I have a last look round. Maalash, take the evidence box back to the house, please.” I don’t want him around when I make the molten floor patch, he sent.
Alone apart from his own people, Kusac walked round the room, choosing a place behind the largest piece of the broken fermentation drum. There he quickly focused on a patch of dry ground, forming the Zsadhi sword in his mind before mentally transferring the image into the ground. The tar of the floor heated up, the surface briefly glowing slickly before it began to flow into the familiar sword shape, leaving a recessed outline around it.
The smell of hot tar assailed his nostrils until he tipped beer puddled in the curve of a section of wall over it.
“Cheelar!” he called out. “Round here, please. There’s a sword etched into the floor here. I need a photo of it.”
“There is? My men must have missed it,” said Rezac coming round beside him. “Amazing how they do that. Must be a handheld weapon of some kind, like the ones used to cut the tunnels in the rock in the Palace way back when.”
“It was under a piece of wreckage,” said Kusac.
“Yes, Lord Nayash.” Cheelar came round to join them, opening out the camera again and crouching down to take a couple of photos.
“Now we’re done,” said Kusac, getting up.
“So what’s your report going to say?” asked Rezac later that night after dinner.
“First, I’ll detail the damage, then that they used specially prepared low level charges of a putty-like explosive set with a detonator to destroy the vats used for brewing. They did this to cause maximum damage but to avoid putting lives at risk. They wanted to damage property not people. They chose the site and used leaflets intending to push a wedge once again between the worker and soldier castes, and the officer caste. Finally, that it bears all the trademarks of a Zsadhi raid in that it has the painted sword and the melted pavement, also drawn into a sword shape. I’ll put the remains of the detonator into an envelope and attach it and the sample leaflet to the report. I’ll offer an opinion that the raiders are made up of a mix of all three castes—workers, soldiers, and at least one officer.”
“Nothing in there an intelligent male couldn’t work out for himself,” said Rezac.
“Exactly.”
Prime world, library, same day
It was the rest time after lunch and Shaidan was in the library looking for a book when Unity contacted him.
Wait, sent the cub, Let me find a place that’s out of sight in here before we start talking. I don’t want to get involved and then have someone walk in and wonder what I’m doing.
I will wait, came the reply.
The library was lined with bookshelves, but other bookcases were placed at right angles to the walls to maximize the number of books the room could hold. It was behind one of these, by the window farthest from the door, that Shaidan hunkered down with a selection of books around him on the floor.
I’m ready now, said Shaidan. What’s so important? Is it Kuvaa again?
No, not Kuvaa, but you are being watched by someone else, a TeLaxaudin in the Palace. Giyarishis is his name. He was asked to watch you and has noticed that every now and then you become invisible.
Invisible? How can I be invisible?
You seem to just disappear from the time line.
The what? You said the time line?
The Camarilla watches time lines for potentialities of what may happen and they try to choose the line that has the least conflict and danger in it.
They manipulate time? But why watch me?
I explained to you before. You are a nexus, things happen around you, events are attracted to you. By watching you, they can see what is happening in the bigger picture of space and time around you.
I’m only a cub. I don’t rule a planet or anything important. Important things don’t happen around
me.
As I said, a nexus also attracts happenings—things happen to them, Shaidan. The main thing right now is that you vanish, and that is drawing attention to yourself. Try not to vanish.
But I don’t know how I do that! I am always here! How can I vanish?
I think it’s when you try not to be seen that you vanish, sent Unity. Like now you are talking to me, but you have vanished for other people looking at your time line.
Do I vanish for you?
No, I see you.
I don’t know what I’m doing, or how, sent Shaidan, getting upset.
Just forget about being noticed, and you should be all right. You’re very like your father. He used to vanish as well, but he didn’t know about me or the Camarilla.
I know, sent Shaidan. I’ll try, Unity, I’ll try. I have to go now for my lesson. He cut the connection and, gathering the books around him, was standing waiting when moments later Kitra came for him.
“Hey. They’re just about to leave for the Sholan gym. Better hurry and go get your gear, Shaidan.”
“Yes, Aunt Kitra,” he said, scampering back to the dorm.
The others chattered their way down the corridor with Jerenn and M’Nar while Shaidan tailed along at the back until Gaylla dropped back to take him by the hand.
“You look like you’se thinking hard,” she said, squeezing his hand. “What makes you do that? What you worried about?”
“Nothing, Gaylla,” he said, mouth dropping open in a smile. “I was just running through yesterday’s lesson, and wondering if there would be any new moves today. Do you enjoy our lessons?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, grinning hugely. “When Shishu chases me for bed and makes a grab at me, I can now get away from her.”
Shaidan chuckled. “That’s not really fair as she can’t counter your moves.”
“Oh, I don’t do it for real and hurt her. It’s only for play.”
“So long as you remember to be fair to Shishu, too.”
* * *
Their sessions always began with a warm-up run and then some stretching exercises. Today they had some of the Brothers and Sisters with them, one for each of them. Spying one of the sisters, Gaylla went marching up to face her, hands on her hips.
“You shouldn’t pick up people like that, you knows,” she said. “It can be very dangerous for you. I knows how to make you let me go now.”
“You do?” smiled N’Akoe. “Well that’s why we’re here, so you can practice your escapes on us.”
“Oh. Well, I will do it for real, you know,” she said seriously. “Just not with claws out cos that would hurt a lot, and I don’t like to hurt people much unless I have to.”
“Do you want to practice with me?” N’Akoe asked, glancing over at where Jerenn was eyeing them cautiously.
“Sure, but I won’t go easy with you cos you’re a girl, you know,” Gaylla said, a serious look on her small face. “Us girls have to be tough, too.”
“We do, indeed,” she grinned back.
“I see you two have met again.” said M’Nar. “She wasn’t trying to take you away in the courtyard, Gaylla.”
“I know now, but we’d had those bad people who took Shaidan’s mama captive not long ago, and he was a Sholan. I thought that she’d come for me.”
“Well, now you know she didn’t,” said M’Nar, stroking her hair. “But it’s always good to be cautious like that. Don’t trust everyone, Gaylla. Only trust those you know well.”
“Time to team up with a Brother or Sister, younglings,” said Jerenn. “Not M’Nar or me, we’re instructing, so choose one of the others. You’re going to practice your escapes today.”
After their long soak in the Sholan baths, the cubs were escorted up to the nursery where M’Nar and Jerenn got permission to take Shaidan back downstairs to the Palace courtyard and the town outside the Palace walls.
“So where are we going?” asked Shaidan for about the tenth time.
“If you can lead us to where this ruined underground warehouse is, maybe we can teach you some knife throwing,” said Jerenn as they threaded their way through the bazaar.
“Really?” said Shaidan, bouncing along between them in delight. “I know the way. It’s not far from one of the farms we visited when we first came here.”
“Lead on, then,” M’Nar gestured.
It was a brisk fifteen-minute walk north across the plain outside the Palace. Aboveground, there was the ruin of a farm outbuilding, but below it was what Shaidan thought was a warehouse.
“Do you have a rope?” he asked. “It’s easier with a rope, especially to get out, but you don’t need one.”
“Too late now, youngling,” said M’Nar. “Next time warn us if we need things like ropes.”
“I will. Oh, it looks like it’s been boarded up,” he said, running over to the doorway. Planks of wood were nailed firmly across the door, and it was obvious that it was off limits.
“Let’s walk round the whole of the building first,” said Jerenn, “It may be there is an easier way to get in than pulling those planks off.”
“There isn’t.”
“Let’s just look first,” said Jerenn. “How often have you been here?”
“Only once,” Shaidan admitted as they began to walk round the outside of the building. “But I remember it well!”
“Someone has been here since then, Shaidan, and they at least nailed the door shut. We don’t know what else they did. Perhaps there are windows, and the planks are not so firmly nailed on. We need to see before we decide what to do.”
There was a small window, with no glass left in the frame, on the far side of the barn, the one away from the Palace. Across it, the planks were thinner and there were only two of them.
“Window,” said M’Nar.
“Yep, definitely the easier one and, being on the far side, less likely to be noticed,” said Jerenn.
It took both of them to loosen one end of the planks, and pull out the other end just enough that though they were still attached to the wall, they swung loose.
“This way we can put them back over the window when we leave, and no one will be the wiser,” said Jerenn as he climbed through. “Better hand Shaidan to me. No need for him to try and scramble through on his own.”
Shaidan was lifted up and swung through to Jerenn, who caught him. Backing away from the window, he placed him on the ground beside him as M’Nar clambered through.
The brick walls were all too high to easily climb over, which was probably just as well because in the center of the floor was a gaping hole. Looking upward, virtually the whole of the roof was also missing.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that something came up from below, something like a craft.” said Jerenn, walking carefully over to the edge of the hole in the floor and looking down.
“This isn’t a warehouse; this is the hangar where King Zsurtul was shot,” said M’Nar, joining his sword-brother. “A secret hangar accessed from the Palace by a hidden tunnel. I heard about this the first day we were all here! Never thought I’d see it, though.”
“Queen Zhalmo was kidnapped from here, too,” said Shaidan, walking round the edge till he was above a large vehicle. Before either of them could stop him, a dull thud alerted them to the fact the cub had jumped down onto the roof of the vehicle. “So this is a hangar, then?”
“Shaidan! You should have waited for us to check it out first,” scolded Jerenn.
“This hasn’t changed,” Shaidan shouted back up at them as he scrambled off the roof to the cab of the vehicle, then down onto the hood. “Come on down, it’s huge down here!”
When M’Nar jumped down, he could see right away that the roof of the hangar was only some twelve feet tall—just as tall as it needed to be to house a shuttle or a small scout ship. As they all stood together in the circle of sunli
ght from the hole in the roof above them, they could see the various vehicles that ringed them. There was the one they had used to jump down on that smelled faintly of fuel, then another that was lower and wider, and had towing hooks and cables on the back of it.
“Hangar, definitely,” said Jerenn. “That’s a mobile tanker, but it could hardly hold enough fuel for a scout ship or even a shuttle.”
M’Nar bent down. “It’s connected by a pipe to something in the ground. I expect the fuel is there and the tanker is only here to act as a pump.” He got up and dusted off his hands. “We’ll stay away from that in future. The other—what do you think it is, Jerenn?”
“Towing vehicle, to get the ship into the correct position for takeoff. Look, there’s markings on the floor,” he said, pointing to where the bright sunlight almost obscured the yellow-and-black diagonal-striped lines painted on the concrete.
“Well, now we’re here, let’s see what we can set up as a practice area for the knives.” M’Nar walked over to the debris strewn to the sides of the hole in the floor above. “It’s wood,” he said. “Very rough and ready, but we can prop it up against one of the pillars to make a target area. It’ll certainly do for now.”
Jerenn and Shaidan came over to look, and between them they found a rough piece about six feet by three that they could use.
“We pace off five steps from our target and turn to face it,” said Jerenn. “We’ll draw a line there for me. That’s where I’ll throw from.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a piece of chalk and marked the concrete. “Now I take one more step back, and one slightly to the left side since we’re all right-handed. This is where we start the throw from. These are practice blades, slightly blade heavy, so you will hold them by the grip, or handle so that the heavier blade goes first.”
“But how do I hold the blade?” asked Shaidan.
“I was just getting to that part,” said Jerenn. “Hold your thumb in the center of the handle on one side, and on the opposite side have your index, middle finger, and next finger. Hold it so the blade points forward like so.” He demonstrated. “Crank your arm back, keeping the blade horizontally flat and step up to your line. Then just let go.” He threw the blade which landed in the wood with a satisfying thunk.
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