Revenge of the Catspaw

by Helena Puumala

  Hints of future danger had been swirling about the couple since Coryn had proposed marriage to Sarah at the end of their last adventure. The proposal had come about, when, unexpectedly, at a celebration on the planet Altec III where the adventure had ended, the Guru Johannes had suggested that the couple who had recently found each other, legalize their relationship “soon”. Their friend, the Pilot Steph Clennan, had immediately upped the ante by demanding that Coryn clarify his intentions regarding Sarah. Steph had, some time ago, decided that Sarah was his “adopted kid sister”, and that it was his responsibility to (playfully) advocate for her whenever it seemed necessary. Coryn thought such advocacy was somewhat annoying and nonsensical, but since Sarah appeared to enjoy Steph's antics, he had gamely played along. He had gone down on one knee, as requested, and asked Sarah to marry him. She had accepted his offer wholeheartedly.

  For a short time, the two of them had enjoyed being “officially engaged”, and had shared some delightful moments before Sarah had had to return to her studies of Witch-lore at Ferhil Stones.

  Then, a week or so after her return to the Stronghold of the Twelve, she had contacted Coryn at the Terran-Kordean Liaison Office in the City of Trahea, to say that Marlyss wanted him to come to Ferhil Stones—alone—to marry Sarah. Marlyss wanted to officiate at the ceremony, but the couple were not to speak about the plan to anyone.

  The instruction for secrecy had disturbed Coryn. What kind of impending trouble was Marlyss foreseeing? Images of the Neotsarian attempts to kidnap Sarah in the past had filled his head, and he had immediately agreed to do whatever he might, to ensure her safety. Sarah's unusual talents had made her a target for those who wanted to use her to further their crazy ambitions for galactic dominance. If a hurried marriage ceremony could somehow help to deflect such threats, he was all for it, even if it meant doing without the family celebration which he knew that Sarah longed for. If there were solid reasons for the rush, he would accommodate. Only, neither Marlyss, nor the Guru Johannes had been forthcoming when it came to the reasons for the hurry, and the secrecy.

  Apparently, they were still avoiding explanations.

  **

  Sarah's rest days (or was it nights, on a planet on which the diurnal cycle of the inhabitants was upside down?) from her studies followed the marital festivities. She and Coryn boarded the Liaison Office flit while accepting the last of the good wishes from the inhabitants of Ferhil Stones, to fly to the Port at Trahea, before the hot sun came up. Jaime Morrow came with them as far as the nearby farmhouse which was being transformed into quarters for the new Institute of Kordean Studies. The members of the Circle of the Twelve, and especially Witch Dian, would be collaborating with the Institute's researches. Sarah's father, Peter, and her brother, Cameron, having been rescued from slavery to the Neotsarians during Sarah and Coryn's last adventure, were scheduled to begin work at the Institute, as well, once they had returned from a prolonged visit with Sarah's grandparents on Earth.

  Sarah, her mind meandering to her relatives, wondered how her father was handling the circumstance that her mother had begun a new life and remarried, sometime after Peter and Cameron had been lost. Nobody could blame Cara for her choice; the first husband, and the son had been presumed dead, and had remained gone for more than a dozen years. All that time, Sarah had thought that she was the only one who had refused to accept the validity of the story of their disappearance in omega-space.

  Jerold, the nominally Neotsarian scientist who had worked with Peter and Cameron to create the amarto reflector-refractor which Sarah had destroyed, and who had elected to come to Kordea to work at Jaime's Institute rather than return to his home world, was at the old stone farmhouse which was being converted into a modern, scientific workplace. He helped Jaime show Coryn and Sarah around; both scientists were clearly pleased with how the work on the building was progressing.

  The Witch Circles were taking quite an interest in the development of the Institute, as were various branches of the Terra Confederation Government. Offers of money and equipment had poured in, Jaime explained; he could have arranged to create a much larger outfit than the one which he, Dian, and Marlyss had envisioned. However, for the present they had decided to stay with the original plan. Once they had the Institute up and running, Jaime said, would be time enough to decide whether to expand it on the spot, or choose to build a sister Institute somewhere else on Kordea, perhaps in Trahea City itself.

  “Here we definitely want to work with amartos,” he explained. “Since we're close to Ferhil Stones, and not that far from the Stronghold of the smallest Circle, that of the Six. It is easy for at least some of the Witches, and the Apprentices, to make themselves available for our studies.

  “I'm thinking, though, that studies involving more use of off-world talent might be better done in, or nearer to, Trahea.”

  The Liaison Office with its Agency connections had a sizable stake in the Institute. Jaime was still on the Office's payroll, and Coryn had agreed that the arrangement could continue indefinitely, unless the Confederation Government decided to fund the effort in its entirety through some other bureaucracy. The Liaison Office was well-funded by the Confederation Diplomatic Corps, and the Institute certainly qualified as a form of liaising. Jaime and the staff of the Liaison Office were exploring the other funding offers, hoping that they could be used to pay proper salaries to other Institute employees, both the ones already confirmed, and future arrivals.

  Ferhil Stones had donated the premises; the farmhouse was on a property which a farmer with no direct heirs had willed to the Circle Stronghold, and which had, since the farmer's death, been cultivated by servants who either lived at Ferhil Stones or had their own domiciles. Much of the work involved in modifying the house into the Institute headquarters was also being done by the Stronghold servants, and by local tradesmen who were paid from the Witch Circle's purse. Eldest Marlyss had turned into a strong supporter of the Institute, thus proving that she was, indeed, taking The Organization threat very seriously.

  “Things seem to be proceeding admirably,” Coryn told Jaime before he and Sarah climbed back into the flit. “As you know Jillian and Fiana have taken it upon themselves to do strategic messaging about funding: Jillian is contacting the Universities which she knows to be well-funded, and getting Fiana to charm whatever officials return her calls.”

  “Tell them that we can be reached now, if the schools want to talk to me or Jerold in person,” Jaime said. “Our coms are up and functional—I'll call Jill to give her our contact information, at the earliest.”

  **

  “So what was it you found in the musty, old books in the Stronghold Library?” Coryn asked Sarah, when they were alone in the flit, heading for Trahea. “You were poring through paper volumes I presume. I had the definite sense, at dinner, that neither Marlyss, nor the Guru Johannes wanted you to speak of it publicly, even among the trusted folk of the Ferhil Stones. Did I have that right?”

  “Yeah, they were making sure that I kept quiet,” Sarah sighed. “I do wish that they were a little less evasive. I wanted to ask one, or both of them, how much weight I ought to place on what I found, because it could amount to nothing much, really, or it could be very significant.”

  “I suppose the simple fact that they avoided the issue is significant in itself,” Coryn suggested.

  “Not necessarily,” Sarah contradicted. “You see, what I came across is known as the Curse of a Marriage Blessed by the Eldest of the Twelve.”

  “A Curse! No kidding! I don't like the sound of that!”

  “The Curse is not laid on the marriage partners,” Sarah said quietly. “Remember how Marlyss intoned the words 'Let no man or woman dare to try to tear your union apart'?”

  “Yes. Strong words, those, especially when spoken by the most powerful woman on Kordea.”

  “Right. Well, the dire warnings to whoever might have the nerve to home-wreck grow worse. The Curse, as I read it, states that anyone who tries to break apart
a union blessed by the Eldest of the Circle of the Twelve will find himself or herself torn apart by a pack of wild animals before long. I have no idea how long. Nor do I know what constitutes an attempt to 'break apart a union' thus blessed.”

  Coryn whistled, then concentrated on controlling the vehicle.

  “Well, well,” he finally said. “No wonder Marlyss did not want to talk about it. Remember when we first got together, and I commented on the fact that you would, probably, someday, get annoyed enough with me to consider sleeping with some other man, since you came into this relationship totally inexperienced?”

  “I remember.,” Sarah replied. “Not that I thought then, or think now, that the scenario you outlined is likely to ever take place. But I get where you're going with this. If some such an event should happen, and if I cared about the 'dark, intense' fellow whom you posited, I ought to stay the hell away from him. I sort of doubt that it'd be difficult.”

  She reached over to caress his cheek. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, letting it go only reluctantly, as air turbulence required him to give his attention to the flit's controls.

  “I sort of doubt that it was what was on the Guru's mind when he set out to persuade Marlyss to perform the marriage ceremony,” Sarah added.

  “I agree,” Coryn responded. “It'll be something more along the lines of The Organization making another grab for you, I'd say. Although I kind of doubt that the Neotsarians would take seriously any threat implied by a Kordean curse—even if they knew about the Kordean curse, which they don't.”

  “Right. So we're not much further when it comes to trying to figure out what he and Marlyss are up to, or what sort of trouble awaits us.” Sarah sighed again. “I realize that they try to do what's the best. Everyone, including you, seems to be fanatical about keeping me safe.”

  She managed to smile crookedly as she spoke.

  “But I kind of wish that they'd tell me what they think is going on. I wouldn't object even to guesswork at this stage. They're both intelligent, and I certainly have the impression that the Guru has sources of information other than the ones usually open even to the Witches of Kordea.”

  “I wish that I had something encouraging to say,” Coryn responded. “But I don't. Trouble is that their behaviour really makes me suspect that shit is going to hit the fan, sooner, rather than later.”

  Their secretiveness worried him, too. Why were they not allowing him and Sarah in on—the whatever? They were the two people in the middle of the mess!

  CHAPTER TWO

  “So, Coryn, did you have an interesting strategy session with the Esteemed Eldest of the Twelve, the Guru Johannes, and the Greencat?” asked Jillian Ashton, the Second Liaison Officer, when Coryn and Sarah arrived at the Liaison Office the following evening, the beginning of the Kordean workday—or work night, to be precise.

  “Sure; and, as you see, I brought Sarah for her rest from lessons—Marlyss is always pleased to pass off the responsibility for her safety for a couple of days,” Coryn replied.

  Jillian, who was an astute observer of humanity, was aware of the firm hold her boss had on Sarah's arm. But, then, everyone worried about Sarah's safety. She was such a strong amarto-sensitive that she would be a major prize to the Neotsarians should they manage to grab her, and turn her into their catspaw by harnessing her to a Stone-energy-amplifying machine. It was only prudent to assume that they were busy trying to figure out a new way to abduct her, while rebuilding an amarto-reflector-refractor like the one Sarah had destroyed.

  Sarah, again, wondered what it was that the Eldest Marlyss and the Guru Johannes feared. Did they expect the Neotsarians to succeed in snatching her? Was the Kordean marriage curse supposed to, somehow, help to ruin the Organization Elites' plans if they had the nerve to separate her and Coryn?

  She had no answers. About all that she could do was to make use of the mind-calming methods that she had learned at her lessons at Ferhil Stones, to keep herself from stressing too much.

  “The Boss has been trying to get in touch with you, Coryn,” Jillian said, making a face.

  She was talking about The Agency Head, Ry Marcues. Marcues was not particularly well liked by the Agents on the ground; he was a political appointee, and had been appallingly ignorant about The Agency when he had come into the job. He had had to depend on the fact that, after the long time that it had existed, The Agency basically ran itself. At the same time, he had also refused to accept that reality, and had begun to meddle with the operations. He had tried to put his stamp on things, occasionally notching up a success, like when he had championed Coryn Leigh by giving him the responsibility for what had been considered an obscure, if perhaps a fascinating side issue, termed “the amarto-angle”.

  “I think that you probably should contact him sooner rather than later,” Jillian added.

  Coryn always turned his personal communicator off when he visited the Witches. It was a courtesy to the wise women who, he felt, deserved his full attention, and were, he knew, somewhat contemptuous of the technology. Although they did have a communications console on premises, and did not hesitate to use it when they had the need.

  “He wanted me to route his call to Ferhil Stones, last night, but I told him that we did not do that, ever, except in an emergency. I reminded him of the fact that this is the Kordean-Confederation Liaison Office, and an Agency facility only secondarily. The Witches of the Circle of the Twelve do not appreciate interruptions except if the matter concerns them, and is very serious.

  “Marcues was not happy with me.”

  “Thanks for the heads up, Jill,” Coryn said. “I'll return his call, and try to smooth ruffled feathers.”

  He ran fingers through his hair, and sighed.

  “That man has become more and more difficult to deal with, lately,” he added. “Not that he ever was easy, but at least he used to recognize that our competence, here, actually reflected well on him. Now it's as if he has forgotten that.”

  “He's jealous of you, Coryn,” Jillian said, pressing her lips together into a thin line. “You've turned into a very accomplished Agent, as well as a strong diplomat. Meanwhile he is still the same unimaginative bureaucrat that he always was, and various people are noticing both those facts. I suspect that he'd like nothing better than to be able to take you down a peg, or two, or three, even.”

  “Well, I'm not after his job, if that's what he's worried about. Although, if I'm completely honest, I wouldn't mind seeing him retired.”

  “You, and many others,” Jillian muttered. “You're actually kinder than others that I've spoken with. Some are hoping that he annoys someone in our governing elite enough to get fired.”

  “I haven't forgotten that he gave me my big chance by handing me the amarto-angle,” Coryn said with a grin. “Granted, he was making sure that I'd stay far away from the Head Office!”

  “Hah! With your looks, you were bound to end up doubling as an alyen!” Jillian said, wrinkling her nose. “And the word was that you passed on a lot of good information, so he had to reward you somehow. He gave you the amarto file because he thought it was a dead-end which would never amount to anything!”

  “Well, he was seriously wrong about that, to my benefit, in more ways than one,” Coryn laughed.

  “But now that you've proven that you can do excellent work, he's consumed with envy,” Jillian responded tartly.

  “Nothing new about that kind of a reaction,” Coryn replied with a shrug. “We're human beings after all. It's just very inconvenient when the person who envies you is your boss.

  “But I guess I better go and contact him; find out what he wants.”

  He gave Sarah's shoulder a final squeeze, and headed for his inner office.

  “Jaime was at the Stronghold, and we stopped on our way here to look at how the Institute is coming along,” Sarah said to Jillian after Coryn's office door had closed. She thought it best to forestall any possible questions about what had been happening at Ferhil Stones.

 
; “Ah, yes, the Institute!”

  It was easy to divert Jillian's attention with The Institute. She was keen on it.

  “We can thank The Organization for one thing,” she added. “They've definitely helped to shift Kordea from the fringes of the so-called civilized universe towards the centre of the political map of the Galaxy. Everyone seems to know about the attempt to force the Kordean Witches to kneel at the Neotsarians' feet, and to contribute their amarto-energies to The Organization cause. It's good for Jaime's Institute-building—I received a stack of queries this very day, and a handful of endowment offers!”

  “Jaime is keen on creating a scholarly enterprise,” Sarah said. “When we talked to him, he complained that some of the funding offers had come with strings attached. Some business mogul from Space Station RES wanted his name attached to the research he was offering to fund! That did not go over well with Jaime!”

  “People with money can be pretty narcissistic,” said Jillian, with a shake of her head.

  **

  Coryn, meanwhile, was trying to be patient with his boss.

  For some reason Marcues was refusing to accept the limitations that Coryn's double role as the Kordean-Confederation Liaison Officer and a working Agent imposed on him. It made no sense, the Agents were almost always juggling two jobs, and Marcues himself had helped Coryn take on this particular two-fold responsibility. When Coryn had discovered that there should have been a Liaison Office on Kordea, that the funding for it had been allotted years ago by the Confederation Government, and had never been rescinded, even though the office had not been established, Marcues had encouraged him to pursue the matter. Having the office functioning gave The Agency a way to help ensure the safety of one amarto-sensitive young woman, and to have input into any decisions as to what was done with the Witches' Stones which Sarah had found, and, inadvertently, keyed.

  “What do you mean by saying that you can't just leave Trahea and come meet with me in person?” Marcues asked now. It was if he had not the slightest notion of what was involved. “I'm the Head of The Agency, and you are my employee. If I want to have a face-to-face conversation with you I'm certainly within my rights in insisting that you show up when and where I want you.”