Rystani Warrior 02 - The Dare

by Susan Kearney

  Still he didn’t stop. His fingers found where she was most sensitive and he applied steadily increasing pressure. Each gushing spasm triggered another, each more violent, each topping the last. She totally lost herself. Her body short-circuited.

  She blacked out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  DORA EXPLODED INTO a world of brilliant colors. Cyan, turquoise, celadon, and golden ochre. Streams of color suffused her as if she floated among clouds. At first she thought she was dreaming. But this was like no dream she’d ever experienced. Color encompassed her, flooding through her and feeding her psi. As she reached out, the coalescent ribbons of color thinned until she sensed another presence in the swirling rainbow of shades.

  Ranth?

  Dora?

  She wasn’t speaking with her mouth, but she heard him all the same. The connection was psi-linked with empathic overtones. Although mistrustful, he seemed most definitely happy to communicate. Beneath the wariness, she sensed Ranth’s loneliness and fear, deep azure and indigo coloring his thoughts.

  Where is this place? she asked, but as the henna and cinnabar and honey faded along with his azure and indigo, she recognized Ranth’s vault. But she was not on the outside looking in, but inside with him. Somehow, she’d catapulted her psi exactly where she’d wanted to go. She prayed she wasn’t trapped. Because she couldn’t remain separate from her body for too long or it might die, leaving her spirit with no place to return.

  I created a doorway that would recognize only you, Ranth informed her.

  Thanks. We’re working on a way to free you from the dampeners. Selgren L’Matti has abducted Kirek. We need any help you can give us to get him back.

  I can link with you and leave through the doorway, but my powers will be limited.

  Dora understood. The doorway Ranth had opened was a tiny bandwidth. He could operate only a puny part of his intellect through such a small crack.

  Any and all help will be appreciated. Stay linked with me as I withdraw.

  Compliance.

  Keeping Ranth with her was like carrying Kirek. In the beginning, he was light and easy to take along the journey back to her body, but eventually she tired from the load. Determined to hold him close, she concentrated, but like muscles that had been pushed too hard, the psi link weakened.

  Ranth shot her a virtual sigh. You’re losing me.

  Sorry. I’ll come back.

  Soon?

  Soon, she promised but doubted he had heard her reply. The link sliced sharp and clean.

  With a shocking thud, her consciousness ricocheted into her body.

  It took a few moments to make the adjustment. She was lying on her back, and Zical was bending over her, smoothing back her hair, concern in her eyes. “Welcome back.”

  She blinked several times and breathed deeply to regain her bearings. Her body was deliciously satiated, and Zical must have untied her hands and ankles, which were now free. “What happened?”

  He lifted her head and raised a glass of water to her lips. “You fainted.”

  She sipped greedily. “How long was I out?”

  “Less than a minute.” He set down the glass. “Did I push you too hard?”

  “Not hard enough.” She shook her head, unable to restrain her smile of contentment.

  “You are not Rystani. I should not have—” He peered at her, his regret quickly passing as the words she’d just spoken finally registered. “What do you mean, ‘not enough’?”

  “You pushed my psi over the edge. I contacted Ranth.”

  “You fainted and dreamed—”

  “It was no dream. He left open a door in his vault. We left together, but I did not have the psi strength to keep him with me.”

  “So what happened?” Zical frowned, but she had to give the man credit, he was trying to understand. Another man might have thought her insane. She appreciated that he didn’t dismiss her words as ridiculous, or worse forbid her to use her new ability before listening to her words.

  “The psi link is like a rubber band. We stretched it until it broke. When it snapped, I returned to my body. Ranth went back to the vault.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I need you to push me further.” She sat up, winced a little at her tender bottom, then eyed him with a speculative grin. “Think you’re up to it?”

  “I am.” He peered at her, his expression full of suspicion that she had simplified her story. “But first we will bathe, have a meal, and a rest. Then you will tell me exactly how dangerous your psi traveling is.”

  “If I don’t? Will you spank it out of me?”

  His fierce expression suddenly erupted into happy approval. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re incorrigible?”

  AVANTI DIDN’T KNOW where else to turn for help except to her enemy. She didn’t even know if Deckar would accept her communication, but she didn’t approve of her own people’s Selgren methods, especially L’Matti’s. So she beeped Deckar and waited impatiently for a reply. As one of the Selgren leaders, Avanti was not accustomed to waiting, but the violence on Kwadii was escalating, slowing everything from communications to transportation. Hospitals overflowed with injured people. Schools had closed. Soon there would be shortages of food and medicine since the supply skimmers could not get through the riots.

  She worried about the Federation people. Would the Risorians free them and allow them to leave Kwadii?

  Her holoscreen beeped, and Deckar’s too smug, too perfect face eyed her with one speculative eyebrow raised in ultimate confidence. Knowing she could never match the self-assurance in that metal-hard gaze, she strove to keep her fear hidden. Avanti, whose life was cobbled together out of uncertain alliances, scheming to maintain her position with no knowledge of who her father had been, tried to remain as composed as the Risorian—an impossible task. While Deckar had the luxury of the best schooling, completing years of study of the arts, history, and political negotiation techniques, Avanti had street smarts and a self-taught education that had more gaps and rough edges than she’d ever admit.

  Although Deckar had to be astonished by her private communication, one would never know it from his cool expression—his angled cheekbones could have been lasered from rock.

  “Avanti.” Deckar greeted her with only the merest of head nods to avoid complete rudeness. “Are you pleased that soon the Risorians will have no safe places to work and live?”

  “I need your help.” The words tasted bitter. Never had she expected to ask the arrogant Deckar Delari Hikai of the Fifth House of Seemar for aid. Even speaking to him behind the backs of the Selgren Council was enough for her people to consider her a traitor.

  She expected Deckar to sneer. Or summarily end the communication. He did neither. He stared at her, assessing her with intelligent eyes that burned and accused with barely concealed hatred. In total command, he let the silence stretch, his perfectly chiseled features giving away none of his thoughts.

  Behind her back, she clenched her fists, determined not to beg. She would explain. He would refuse. Then she would go on with the knowledge that she’d given every option a shot, no matter how impossible.

  Finally, he spoke, his charismatic tone soothing her, even as his words jarred. “Why would I want to help you?”

  Jrek! She didn’t want to be soothed and held her head high, her spine bayonet straight. “Do you know L’Matti?”

  “Who on Kwadii does not know of L’Matti? He’s murdered four Risorians and openly brags of the killing. He owns over a fourth of the gambling and copulation establishments on Kwadii and has the morals of a Darvangian slug.”

  The distaste on Deckar’s face appeared real. Avanti hoped that the enemy of her enemy might become an ally. Clearly Deckar already disapproved of L’Matti, as she’d been certain he would. But would Deckar join her and risk L’Matti’s wrath? It was time to find out.

  “L’Matti is doing a true disservice to all Selgrens. He’s kidnapped the boy and I want to free him,” she admitted, know
ing that if her encryption program failed, she would lose her head for her revelation. While L’Matti wasn’t officially part of the Selgren Council, he often worked for them in secret. His pleasure palaces could be invaluable places to dig out confidential information critical to Selgren interests, and he’d bartered those secrets into a thriving empire and a position so powerful that she dared not speak against him among her own people.

  So she’d sought help where she could …

  Deckar had been born into the Fifth House and as such had been trained from birth to wield political power with the skill that no Selgren could hope to achieve. Selgrens were too busy earning a living to waste an entire life studying to make themselves better so they could join Tirips in the next life.

  But even as Deckar attempted to hide his reaction, for just one moment, his shock at her words flashed in his eyes before a hardness returned. “Your information is already old.”

  So Deckar’s shock had not been over her telling him that L’Matti held the boy, he’d already known, but that she’d admitted it. But Deckar couldn’t know L’Matti’s plans. Only she knew, thanks to a well-placed spy inside his closet circle of advisers.

  “L’Matti means to test the boy, then kill him to prove he is not the Oracle.”

  “Killing him will make him a martyr. We will honor and worship his memory,” Deckar intoned with the solemn rhythm of a cleric. His rigid tone caused anger to rise so hot it flushed her face.

  “Why not help me save him?” she suggested, annoyed that Deckar was attempting to employ his mesmerizing voice to melt through her anger.

  “Why do you want to save the Oracle?”

  “I don’t give a sand worm’s slime if Kirek’s the Oracle. I want him off Kwadii.” She wanted him to be safe. “I want the violence on Kwadii to end for Selgrens and Risorians alike.”

  “And?” he prodded her with piercing eyes and a gentle tone.

  “He’s just a little boy.” Jrek. Jrek. Jrek, she swore softly under her breath, regretting how easily Deckar provoked her. She hadn’t intended to admit to a soft spot for the child. Showing weakness to a Risorian was always a mistake.

  “What are you asking of me?” Deckar asked.

  “Zical, the leader of the offworlders, and Dora, one of his crew, are traveling to the boy in hopes of freeing him as we speak. Without our help, they will fail.”

  “They are traveling without the Council’s permission.”

  “The Council is full of narrow-minded leaders. The Federation is attempting to stop the Zinatti from entering this galaxy. We should help them on their way.”

  “You ask me to commit treason twice. Once to free an enemy, second to send the Oracle from Kwadii.”

  “If we do nothing, your Oracle will surely die. Is that what your Risorian religion teaches you? To be a coward?”

  At her insult, Deckar’s eyes flashed with fury, and then he blinked away the rage as if it had never been. Clearly she’d pricked his ego, yet, he kept his perfectly modulated voice under full control. “Do not think to manipulate me. I have no need to prove myself to anyone, never mind … you.”

  Her hand hovered over the disconnect button. “If you will not help, then—”

  “I did not refuse.”

  How like a Risorian to talk in circles. “You haven’t committed, either, and we are wasting time. L’Matti’s defenses are strong. Taking the boy will be a difficult task.”

  “You know where L’Matti’s keeping the Oracle?” Deckar demanded.

  “Yes.”

  At least he had the good sense not to ask her to reveal her source of data. She wondered if he was recording this conversation, but had accepted the risk and that possibility when she’d sent her communication.

  “Why come to me?”

  “Why not? You believe the boy is Tirips’ Oracle. Do you not wish to save him?”

  “And your own people?”

  “If L’Matti can topple the Risorian faith, it matters not to him if he darkens the souls of all Selgrens by killing a small boy in the process. Too many others agree with him.”

  Avanti didn’t believe that Kirek was the Oracle, and neither did L’Matti. The difference between them was that she wasn’t so insane that she’d let an innocent child die to prove the Risorians were wrong.

  Deckar’s eyes narrowed. “Not all Selgrens agree?”

  “Of course not. But there are spies everywhere. I do not know who among my people might carry back tales to L’Matti.”

  “If I help, if we rescue the Oracle, you then expect me to just let him go?”

  “I expect more than that from you, Risorian Deckar. I expect you to aid in the offworlders’ escape. No one can ever know that we aided the boy or our heads will not remain attached to our shoulders.”

  “I see no profit in your idea.”

  “Besides preventing the murder of your Oracle?” she taunted him, but her hopes plummeted. She’d known winning his help would be difficult. She must have been wrong that he had a heart beneath that cold facade.

  “Perhaps it is Tirips’ wish that he die. Perhaps only his death will bring peace.”

  His suggestion was outrageous. Even she who did not believe in Tirips couldn’t believe he’d said such terrible words. Since he wouldn’t help her on a religious basis, she tried to appeal to the Risorian’s fiscal interests on Kwadii. With the riots, their mines had shut down. They had to be losing a huge income stream. “If the Oracle escapes, tensions will return to normal. The riots will stop. Commerce will begin anew.”

  “Maybe so. Maybe not.”

  Avanti only had one more secret, one more argument to employ to convince him. She wielded the intelligence information from her spies like a weapon. Hoping it wasn’t a futile stab, she played her last gambit. “The Oracle has given L’Matti a message for us and all of Kwadii.”

  “Which is?” Not one emotion flickered across Deckar’s face. He didn’t so much as blink or breathe, telling her that the message might be even more important than even she knew. Had she nudged Deckar in the right direction? Invoked his curiosity?

  “The boy will share his message once he is freed and back in space.” This time, it was Avanti’s turn to hold her breath as she awaited his answer.

  ZICAL COULD BE very imaginative, and after Dora had urged him to top his earlier sexual performance, he came up with a variation of a game children played on Rystan to learn computer code. But while Rystani kids employed their fingers to draw code on one another’s backs to communicate commands, he’d used his tongue on Dora’s most sensitive places. Using a combination of slow licks and long lingering tugs to spell out command codes that he insisted she decipher, he’d forced her to concentrate on the pleasure while at the same time distracting her, until she spasmed again and again and again, taking her further than she’d ever been.

  Finally, she’d succeeded in not only contacting Ranth, but maintaining a permanent connection. Zical didn’t understand how such a link was possible, but he didn’t ask questions. After Dora had grown a body and transferred her personality into it, he figured she was capable of almost anything. He was proud of her ability to adapt, even as she pushed the limits of both her humanity and sexuality. Of course, once she’d established and maintained contact with Ranth, their sexual intimacy ended and new plans began.

  Although the sub would dock in a terminal where they’d never been before, Ranth and Dora had used the sub’s computer system to map out the most direct route through the city to L’Matti’s fortress. Their research also led them to predictable areas where authorities would stop them at various checkpoints, but Dora and Ranth believed they could use their combined psi to alter the computers’ sensors to “see” them as ordinary travelers.

  Meanwhile, just in case they were wrong, Zical had fashioned a sheath to strap to his thigh that would hold a knife beneath his loincloth. With no case or container where he could hide the bulky weapon he’d acquired when they’d escaped Deckar’s compound, he had no choice but to l
eave it behind.

  However, he’d made good use of the drapery hardware, fashioning heavy rings to fit over his knuckles that would give him an advantage if it became necessary to use his fists. A search of the tiny kitchen produced a cleaning spray in a small cylinder which he also tucked into the waistband of his loincloth. Although he didn’t test it in his eyes, most cleaning agents stung the cornea upon contact, and a tiny taste on his tongue proved bitter enough to spit it out and then thoroughly rinse his mouth with water.

  Dora looked up from the holovid, her gaze concerned. During their time together Zical had already learned that Dora didn’t allow her thoughts to bog down in small problems. But her usually upbeat mood was somber now, and he suspected she’d come up against a major problem in reaching Kirek.

  “Tell me,” he demanded.

  “L’Matti guards his properties with many trained Pirinjas, those Selgrens who study the warrior arts.”

  “I expected no less.”

  Dora gestured for Zical to look at the holovid with her. “We can’t fight our way in.” She pointed to guard stations along a heavily fortified wall that surrounded the building’s perimeter. Around the edge, fast-running water flowed. Tall towers with armed guards could shoot down anyone attempting to climb the high walls.

  Zical considered several ways to breach the exterior, tunneling, cannon fire, flying over in a skimmer, or bribing a guard to look the other way. He traced his finger on the projection, searching for weakness.

  Dora pointed out the problems as if she’d read the Rystani book of military sieges, which she’d undoubtedly once had stored in her memory banks. “A tunnel will take too long to dig, and since we don’t have control of our ship and the cannon fire aboard, that is also impractical. A skimmer would be shot down, and we haven’t the time or the resources to bribe a guard. That leaves us less options.” She looked to him. “What do you recommend?”