Assassin (The Revelations Cycle Book 11)

by Kacey Ezell

  “I greet you, Murrron, old friend,” Deluge said, and reached out to tap his paw against the other’s in hello. “It is good to see you again.”

  “And you, Del. It has been a long time.”

  “Well, you were home visiting your clan,” Del said. “And I was out doing some local hunting. No need for anything exorbital.”

  “Nice. A little pleasure hunting to keep sharp,” Murrron said with a nod of his rusty orange head. “I did as much in my day, before I settled down to work this contract for your dama.”

  “I still think it’s funny that this is your retirement job, Murrron,” Del said. He looked at the other Hunter out of the corner of his eye. “It’s full time work, and then some, with as much as we travel. And you’re the maintenance lead for the whole clan!”

  “Night Wind is strong, but small, yet. And while I completed a few contracts in my day, machines always fascinated me. So, when I decided to retire, and your Reow needed someone to help her with her ships, this seemed a natural fit.”

  “Plus, you like Dama,” Del said slyly. Murrron let out an amused rumble but did not say anything else. A wise Hunter knew when to hold his tongue. Deluge laughed at the look on Murrron’s face and remembered when the older Hunter had taught him that maxim.

  “I imagine your contract is time sensitive? Given your uncivilized departure hour?”

  “It is,” Deluge said, laughing again. “Your pointed hint is well taken, Murrron. I should be going.”

  “Iora is ready for you,” the older Hunter said as he began walking toward the launch cradle. Deluge fell into step beside him. “We’ve just upgraded the docking points, so the coupling process should be faster and smoother. Your defensive armament is loaded and shielded so as to be nearly undetectable. Your cover identity and transponder codes have all been loaded.”

  “Who am I?”

  “Luxury goods merchant. Besquith registry. Primarily spiced fish and other foodstuffs.”

  “Ha! So, you heard about my encounter in the city?”

  “I did, young Hunter. Take care you do not overstep. The clans are clear on the laws for off-world traders.”

  “They are. But he was just a young pup. It seemed harsh to kill him when his life had just begun.”

  “So instead you maimed him and cast him and his mother into poverty, then sent them off world with nothing to their names.”

  “I doubt that, Murrron. She would have to have other assets even to get here. We’re not exactly a crossroads of the galaxy here on Khatash. And I only took what she offered, which was everything that she owned on planet. I doubt that was everything she called her own.”

  “But you do not know that it was not.”

  “No, I do not know.”

  “A wise Hunter makes sure.”

  “Yes, Murrron,” Deluge said, suppressing a sigh. Murrron slow blinked at him, then stood up and toggled open Iora’s cockpit hatch.

  Deluge gave the older Hunter a playful swipe and then leapt up through the hatch onto the pilot’s couch. He settled himself, belly down, paws on the control pads. As Murrron closed the outer hatch, the pinlink cradle came down and settled comfortably over Deluge’s head. He inhaled as his pinplants made the connection, and suddenly he was the ship.

  “Your orbital escape window starts now,” Murrron’s face appeared in his vision.

  “Keying launch sequence,” Deluge responded, and the instant he thought it, Iora’s powerful engines hummed to life.

  “Good hunting,” Murrron replied. “Launch in 3, 2…”

  The last number was lost in the cacophony of thunder and the sound of Deluge’s own blood in his ears as the launch cradle catapulted him into the sky. Iora’s engines answered with their own throaty roar an instant later as they caught the momentum of the launch and kicked into full power. He imagined himself as a bright streak against the blinding brilliance of Khatash’s rarely-seen sunlit atmosphere. Even behind goggles and his own closed eyelids, Deluge could feel the piercing light battering at him, trying to penetrate the sleek metal skin of his ship.

  Hunters, he reflected as the ship fought through the buffeting effects of the atmosphere, preferred the dark for a reason. The light was too damaging for the secrets they carried.

  Soon, though, his patience paid off. Iora’s flight smoothed out as she exited the last surly bonds of Khatash’s atmosphere. With a thought, Deluge brought up her current intercept course toward the free trade orbital zone. He ran through the calculations in his mind and confirmed that they all looked and felt correct. With a little luck, he’d find a dockable freighter ready to leave the system within the ninenight or sooner. Hopefully sooner.

  He’d dock and be dragged to the Praf region, and then he’d fulfill his littlest sister’s contract for her. Because he loved her, and because when it came down to it, he was a Hunter, and that was what he did best.

  * * *

  Death luxuriated in bed the next evening. She had never been so sleepy in her life. The Healer had told her to expect this, but it still felt disconcerting to sleep away an entire day and still not be ready to rise at darkfall. Mhrand had risen, rubbed his face along hers, and left to find her brother kits, or to train. She didn’t really know. All she knew was that the soft fur of the bed still carried his warmth and scent, and she wanted to roll both of those all along her body.

  Therefore, she was still lying in bed when Reow came calling.

  “Still abed?” Reow asked as she padded quietly into the room. “Are you feeling ill?”

  “No, Dama,” Death said. “Merely tired. Healer Jhora said this wasn’t unusual.”

  “It isn’t,” Reow said, leaping up to the elevated platform that held the bed. She stepped delicately over to Death and laid down next to her, curling her body around Death’s back. For just a moment, Death closed her eyes and remembered being a small kita, held safely in the warmth of her dama’s fur.

  “Were you tired all the time?” Death asked.

  “At the beginning, yes,” Reow said. “Pregnancy is hard work. Your body is building the bodies of your kittens as we speak. Such things require much energy. That is why you must have a care for your proper nutrition during this time.”

  “I know,” Death said. “Jhora told me, and I noticed Susa watched every bite I ate at dinner.”

  “She loves you and is proud of you. We all are. Are you frightened?”

  Death shifted slightly as she considered the question. Truth be told, there wasn’t much in the known universe that frightened her. Like any predator, she thought in terms of risk and reward. Risk was to be considered, mitigated if possible, and then ultimately accepted. But feared?

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “That is both good and bad,” Reow said and ran her rough tongue along the back curve of Death’s skull, grooming her like she was still little. “Many are lost in the birthing fight. But you are young and strong, and I think you will survive.”

  “I will do my best to do so,” Death said, allowing a bit of dryness to leak into her tone. Reow flipped her tail against the bed with a thump of laughter.

  “I am sure that you shall. My kita, I must ask you something, and it may displease you.”

  Death fought not to stiffen in her dama’s embrace.

  “If you must, then you must,” she said softly.

  “Are you absolutely certain this lifebond is what you want? That binding yourself to Mhrand is the wisest choice for yourself?”

  Death did stiffen then, and her words felt etched in ice when she spoke.

  “Do you object to him? Is there a reason you believe him unfit for our clan, Dama?”

  “No,” Reow said, her tone patient. “I have no specific objections, nor reasons to believe he would not be a valuable addition. I just want to make sure you are certain.”

  “I am,” Death said, ice turning to steel. “You may be sure.”

  “Then I am assured,” Reow said, running her tongue over Death’s head again and again in th
e grooming ritual that millennia of damas had used to soothe troubled kittens. After a few minutes, Death relaxed into the caress once again.

  “I am very proud of you, my kita,” Reow said.

  “Because of the litter?” Death murmured.

  “For many reasons. The fact that you have successfully conceived is but one joy added upon millions. You have brightened my life, little Death. Before you and your siblings were born, I was alone. You are my clan, and everything I have done in my life has been for you four.”

  “We know, Dama; we love you too,” Death said. A rumbling started deep within and poured out of her on a low purr.

  “I did not know which of my kitas would succeed me as elder of the clan. You and your sister kita would have had very different command styles, I think. I am interested to see in what direction you will take the Night Wind Clan.”

  “Dama! What are you saying? You will be here to lead us.”

  “Perhaps I will, but if I take this Peacemaker contract, sweetling, you must know that I will be gone more often than not. Much of the clan leadership will naturally fall to you at that point.”

  Death closed her mouth with a snap. Reow let out a soft rumbling chuckle.

  “Do not think to tell me you don’t feel ready. I have been training you and Flame for this since you were born.”

  Death blinked, and realization broke open in her mind. She thought back to the exercises of her youth. Reow’s training had always emphasized problem solving and stealth, but now that she reflected on it, she could see how she and Flame were encouraged to take the lead during any cooperative ventures. Clearly, Reow had engineered some of their training scenarios to demonstrate how concepts like delegation and empowerment made for a stronger overall team. She’d actually utilized a lot of what she’d learned during her recent term as commander of the Basreeni squadron.

  But leading a squadron for a term of two years was quite a bit different from being head of the family.

  “I don’t know that any training could actually make me ready, Dama,” Death said. “Is anyone ever ready?”

  Reow rumbled again.

  “I don’t know, kita. I’ve not asked the other elders. I imagine it’s much like taking your first contract. It doesn’t matter if you’re ready or not. The situation is what it is, and you must either succeed or die. Simplicity itself. Remember the first lessons.”

  “Watch, then find a way.”

  “Watch,” Reow said, rising up to rub her cheekbone against Death’s. “Then find a way. Our clan must do two things to survive, Death. We must prosper, and we must grow. Watch which way the wind blows, and find a way to do those two things. That is how you must lead.”

  “Yes, Dama.”

  “And now, I have a question for you, my heir,” Reow said, lying back down. “What are your thoughts on the Peacemaker contract?”

  “I think you should take it,” Death said, without hesitation.

  “Just like that?”

  “You said it yourself, Dama. We must do two things. The Peacemaker contract is a very lucrative one, which will only help our prosperity. And it is prestigious, which won’t hurt, either. It takes you from us for a longer timeframe than I’d like, but…perhaps that’s not entirely unwelcome, given recent events. I imagine you’ll want to use this time as a training exercise for me. To help us grow.”

  “Not just you, kita. All of you. If Flame conceives, she may elect to form a cadet branch, and will need practice leading as well. And do not neglect the potential of your brother kits. Strong male elders are something every clan desires, with good reason. The day may very well come, my lovely, when you are in dire need of council unclouded by the emotions of motherhood. Only your brothers will be able to provide that for you. They will be the very backbone of the clan we are building. Especially if Flame branches off.”

  Death felt her uncertainty of moments before return. Those were angles she had not even considered, but as Dama, she would have to do so. And though the Night Wind clan was small, things would only get more complicated as it grew. She would be responsible for the lives of each member of her family…and not only them, but to a lesser extent, the Hunters and other beings off world who contracted with the clan as support personnel. All of them depended on the Dama to make decisions and determine policy.

  “Do not fret, sweetling,” Reow purred, and began grooming Death once again. “You will not be alone. I will help you as I can, and your siblings will always support you.”

  “Yes,” Death said. “And Mhrand.”

  “And Mhrand,” Reow added. And if she was a little slow to do so, well, Death figured it was just because her thoughts were elsewhere. She had no doubts about her lover. He would support her till the last breath in his body. Reow would see. Mhrand would win her over.

  Eventually.

  * * *

  The next ninenight passed in a surreal sort of blur for Death. Surreal, because she felt trapped in a constant pendulum swing from joy to misery. Joy in her pregnancy, in her love, in being at home. Misery in the sickness that the pregnancy caused, and in the unrelenting fog of fatigue that constantly pulled at her. She took to sleeping for nearly eighteen hours every night, rising only long enough to eat, and then promptly throw up what she’d eaten.

  Four nights in, Jhora put her on intravenous supplements.

  “This isn’t uncommon in pregnancies,” the healer said briskly as Death wiped her mouth with a shaky paw. Mhrand had brought her to the infirmary after she’d been unable to keep anything down, and Jhora had shooed him out just before Death started heaving again. Jhora waited another heartbeat, and then whisked away the basin in which she’d caught the last remains of Death’s evening meal. “Uncomfortable for you, certainly. And dangerous if left unchecked. But we’ll ensure you’ve good nutrition and hydration, and you and your kittens will be just fine. I’m going to give you a little anti-nausea medication along with the supplements, and we’ll see how you do.”

  “I just wish I didn’t feel so weak and tired all the time,” Death said, hating the whining note in her voice.

  “It will pass. Give me your forearm.”

  Death obeyed, ignoring the quick sting of the needle as Jhora started an intravenous line.

  “Nanites can’t do anything?”

  “What would you have them do?” Jhora asked. “They are programmed to repair damaged tissues, whether from injury or illness. You have neither. This is a normal part of your life cycle, Hunter. At most, the nanites could abort the pregnancy, but I do not imagine you want to go that route.”

  “What…Why would anyone…?”

  “There are reasons, Death. Medical and otherwise. It’s not up to me to judge whether or not those reasons are valid.”

  “But kittens are so rare!”

  “Yes. Which is why it is often a last resort. I should not have mentioned it to you. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

  Death felt her eyes widen with horror, her tail twitching in distress. To her shame, she didn’t seem to be able to bring her body under control. Lately, anything she felt became immediately and obviously manifest in her body language. It was maddening.

  Jhora reached out and stroked her head, her touch soothing.

  “I am sorry, Death. I did not think. Put it out of your mind. You and your litter are safe here at home. Between the prowess of your clan and my skill, nothing will harm you or your kittens. I promise.”

  Death closed her eyes and tucked her head down. She focused on taking deep, calming breaths. Slowly, the horror began to recede as she forced her thoughts to move in another, more useful direction.

  “How long is your contract with us, Jhora?” she asked after a few moments.

  “Hmmm?” the healer asked as she watched a readout scroll across her slate. “My contract? Nine years. I just re-upped last year.”

  “Good,” Death said as her eyes started to drift closed once again. “My kits will have the best medical care available. You must never leave us.”


  “It would take something quite extraordinary for that to happen, Hunter. Quite extraordinary indeed.”

  * * *

  A few nights later, Reow announced she would formally accept the contract to serve as the Hunters’ next Peacemaker. In typical Reow fashion, she didn’t waste any time, planning her departure for the station above Capitol for the following night. She would take Sarru, the clan’s largest ship, and would likely not return for several galactic standard years, except for visits.

  “So,” Reow said at dinner, speaking both to her offspring and the gathered retainers. “I will leave you in the capable care of my heir. While I am otherwise occupied with Peacemaker business, you may refer to my daughter, Death From Above, as your dama. She speaks for me in all things, and her decisions will be as mine.”

  Shock rocketed through Death. She felt her eyes widen, and her tail and ears start to tremble. So soon?

  “You will find that she is more than up to the task. Her experience as a Basreeni commander and the number of contracts she’s fulfilled speak for themselves. And, as I’m sure you all know, she has proven herself fertile. We expect the first litter of a new generation of Night Wind kittens in a couple of months.” As Reow spoke, those present turned to look at Death in twos and threes. She felt the weight of their eyes, their smiles. They trusted her, Reow trusted her…but she still had so much to learn.

  “So tonight,” Reow said, raising her voice slightly to cut through the murmur of approving conversation. “Let us celebrate a chance to be with one another before we depart on our separate ways…all but my wayward son Deluge, who is already gone on contract.” A ripple of amusement followed this dry observation, as Reow had no doubt intended. Death watched her mother play the small crowd like a master and wondered if she’d ever be that skilled.

  “But he, like each of us, works toward a singular goal: the ascendancy of the Night Wind Clan,” Reow continued and turned to fix her penetrating blue eyes on Death. Death suddenly knew without a doubt that something was expected of her in this moment…but she had no idea what. She felt out of her depth and lost, but the words of her mother’s most important lessons echoed in her mind.