razorsedge

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razorsedge Page 32

by Lisanne Norman


  Carrie looked over at where Ross stood by the door. “You’ve been teaching Brynne, haven’t you? What’s your field?”

  Ross smiled. “I cover a lot of fields, my dear,” he said gently. “My skills go back to the earliest times.”

  “You work alone, then.”

  “Most of what I do is listen to people with troubles and try to guide them back onto the right path. My work is most unglamorous.”

  Carrie gave him a long look. “It’ll be interesting to see what Brynne has learned.”

  “I only take one pupil at a time, I’m afraid,” he said, his tone mildly apologetic.

  “Not when you take on one of a Leska pair,” she said. “Our minds exist together. Whether or not you like it, because of her shared consciousness with Brynne, Vanna is also your pupil.”

  Carrie saw from Ross’ face that he hadn’t considered that possibility. It pleased her to be able to wrong-foot him: He was so damned smug! “You should have lived on Shola for a while before deciding to take on one of the Leska telepaths as a pupil.”

  “Brynne approached me,” he murmured.

  “Common sense should have told you to wait. I’ve a pretty shrewd idea of what you are, so I’ll only warn you once. Study Vanna’s report on the mixed Leska pairings, because she’s the leading medical expert on us. What one experiences, so does the other. When one is in pain, so is the other: when one dies, we both die. It’s the price we pay for what we share. Tread carefully, Ross Derwent, and make sure no harm comes to Brynne, or through him to Vanna, lest you have me to answer to. She’s very dear to me— and my life-mate.”

  “Strong words, young lady, but on whose authority do you issue them?” he asked with frozen politeness.

  “My own, as their Clan Leader, and as an En’Shalla Priest,” she said. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking of me as just a Terran woman. I’m not.”

  T’Chebbi made her presence felt with a polite cough. Her robe was open, displaying the short sword she always wore. At her left hip, her hand rested negligently on the butt of her energy pistol.

  “Clan Leader, are you sure you can spare me? Maylgu is downstairs in the lobby. She could go.”

  Carrie hesitated. This was a time for gestures, ones that wouldn’t be lost on Ross. “Yes, ask Maylgu to go. You remain with me, T’Chebbi.”

  The Sister nodded once, then turned and walked crisply from the room as Vanna returned.

  Carrie caught Ross Derwent’s gaze with hers, narrowing them to accentuate the vertical pupil which she alone of the Human mixed Leskas had.

  “T’Chebbi is one of my Clan, too, Mr. Derwent,” she said, her English suddenly accentuated by a low, Sholan accent. “We have a great many of the Brotherhood of Vartra among our number.”

  Brynne broke the tension by beginning to mutter and thrash around in the bed. Vanna bent over him, crooning gently and murmuring soothing words as she stroked his cheeks, pushing the dark sweat-soaked tendrils of long hair back from his face. Slowly he began to settle again.

  “Carrie, you should go home now,” said her friend. “I know you’ve got other things to see to. Brynne will be fine as soon as I get the right medication.”

  Are you sure? I don’t like leaving you here without a guard.

  I’ll be fine. You made your point about us not being folk to take lightly, replied Vanna.

  Did I lean too hard?

  No, I don’t think so. He’s made no effort to understand us at all. It’s time he realized there is a higher authority than his own judgment to answer to. Now, go home. We’ll be fine, honestly.

  Where is your guard? How did you come to be here without Nyash or Lasad?

  I didn’t tell them I was coming.

  I’ll send one of them out to you when I get back. Carrie got to her feet. “Keep in touch, Vanna. Send if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  “Good-bye, Mr. Derwent,” she said.

  When she’d gone, Ross disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a cup of coffee.

  “Why don’t you sit in the chair and take a break for a few minutes? Brynne is sleeping for now,” he said solicitously. “I’ll watch him till your attendant returns.”

  “That’s kind of you,” she said, pushing herself up from the bed. “I was up late with our cub last night.”

  “Your cub?” he asked as she moved over to the chair and settled herself.

  “Brynne’s and mine. He must have told you. If he didn’t, it was on all the vidcasts; so was Carrie’s.” She took a large mouthful of her drink.

  “I remember something about a half-Sholan child,” he said, handing her the mug. “So the young lady who was here chose to give up her humanity just to bear her Sholan lover’s children? I find it hard to understand the reasoning behind such a sacrifice.”

  “But it’s all right for me to give up my Sholanness to bear a Human’s cub, is it?” she asked with a low growl. “I’d be careful what you say, Mr. Derwent. You might find yourself accused of prejudice. And by the way, Carrie’s married to Kusac Aldatan.”

  “If my words caused offense, do forgive me,” he said, sitting down beside Brynne. “It wasn’t intended that way.”

  Vanna gave a low, warning growl.

  “If you were up all night then you definitely need a rest,” Ross said, his voice now soothing, almost hypnotic. “It’ll refresh you. I’ll wake you if there’s any change in Brynne.”

  Vanna felt herself beginning to relax at last.

  *

  When Maylgu returned, she buzzed the door to Derwent’s apartment. Getting no reply, she tried again. After another two minutes, she headed downstairs for the public comm and contacted Carrie at the villa. Within fifteen minutes, she was standing outside the door with Garras, Carrie, and the Accommodation supervisor.

  “This is most irregular,” the supervisor was saying as she took the master key to the locking mechanism. “He’s a good tenant, never any bother, not like some.”

  “Just open the door,” said Carrie impatiently as she reached mentally for her friend. There was no change. It felt as if Vanna were deeply asleep. She needed to touch her to find out more. As for Brynne, his mind was protected by a barrier like the one she’d felt Derwent using. Then the door was open, and she was pushing the supervisor aside.

  “Carrie, let me go first,” said Garras, taking hold of her arm and pulling her back.

  The lounge was empty, and she headed straight for the bedroom, Garras lunged after her again but this time she pulled free. Vanna was sprawled, deeply asleep, in the easy chair. Stopping only long enough to confirm that she was neither harmed nor bound, Carrie turned her attention to Brynne, and to Derwent, who was sitting beyond him.

  “Check Vanna thoroughly,” Carrie said to Maylgu. “Garras, keep an eye on Derwent.”

  The latter, sitting at the other side of the bed, was just beginning to stir from the trancelike state he’d been in when they’d entered.

  “I’ll see to Brynne,” said Carrie. A touch to his forehead confirmed what his color had already told her; his skin was cool and he was sleeping quietly.

  “I should have expected you to come back,” Derwent said ruefully, as he scrubbed at his face with his hands.

  She watched as his color gradually returned and the lines of tiredness began to ease. Probing at the edges of the Terran’s mind, Carrie hoped that while he was in this condition, she could read something of what he’d been doing. The barrier was still there, and as firm as ever despite his exhaustion.

  “Vanna’s asleep, Garras,” said Maylgu, “but it’s not natural. I’d say drug induced.”

  Garras began to growl deep in his throat.

  “Wait,” said Carrie, turning round to look at the two males. “I want to know what the hell you’ve been doing, Ross. I thought I made it clear you were to leave them alone.”

  “They’re both fine,” he said. “The herbs I gave Brynne earlier were only part of the treatment. I needed to finish it with a little h
ealing of my own before your friend’s drugs came. As for Vanna, I gave her a mild sleeping draught, that’s all. She’ll wake shortly. She needed the rest anyway.”

  “How dare you use your homemade medicines on my friends! You had no right to deny Brynne proper medical attention, especially when it was at the hands of his Leska! And as for drugging Vanna…”

  “You’re no healer,” said Garras, his voice deep and angry. “If you were, the Telepath Guild wouldn’t have allowed you off their premises.”

  “No, I’m not a healer,” he admitted. “At least, not of living people. I deal more with the world of nature and the souls of the departed.”

  Garras let out an exclamation of disbelief.

  “Brynne wasn’t about to die,” Derwent added hastily. “However, I do have an extensive knowledge of herbal medicines. As I said, I’d given him something to break the fever, and I couldn’t allow your physician’s drugs to interfere with it. There could have been complications.”

  “And the healing?” demanded Carrie.

  Derwent shrugged. “I linked to his mind and boosted his own natural healing ability, that’s all. It’s worked, as you can see.”

  “That has nothing to do with the matter,” Garras growled. “It’s an offense for you to do what you’ve done. The unlicensed use of telepathy is strictly against all Guild laws. I’m personally reporting you not only to the Telepath Guild, but to the All-Guilds Council.”

  “I think you’re overreacting. Brynne is on the mend, and as he’s my pupil, I have the right to treat him when he consents to it. What can your authorities do to me anyway? I’m a Terran, not subject to your laws. I’m sure the head of the Terran contingent will support me.”

  “You live in Valsgarth, outside the Guild where the Terrans operate, refusing to have anything to do with either group,” said Carrie. “They won’t protect you, especially against us. No one has the right to teach skills except through the Guild system. You’re in direct violation of the treaty that brought you here. You could be imprisoned or deported back to Earth.”

  “I don’t think so, no matter what your connections are,” said Ross. “My basic rights of freedom are the same here as on Earth, even under Sholan laws. All I did was give him a traditional herbal tea. Hardly a hanging offense, my dear,” he smiled.

  “Don’t act the innocent with me. We both know you’ve done more than that. You’ve altered Brynne’s mind,” said Carrie. “Although he’s asleep, there’s too much brain activity in an area not usually used by us. It’s like extra connections have been made.”

  “Brynne is fine, my dear,” said Ross, his voice full of calm confidence. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that.”

  “Don’t,” she said coldly, pushing his mind away from hers. “I’m not susceptible to hypnotic or psychic suggestion. You’ve got no ethics at all, have you? Nothing matters but achieving what you want.”

  Ross blinked, a surprised look coming over his face. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he murmured.

  “You’re so damned confident and arrogant, aren’t you? You think you can do what you want, ride roughshod over other peoples’ rights and beliefs, then claim you were only exercising your own civil rights! I’ve read about you people and your New Era movement. You don’t respect the Sholan culture or any other, so why should you assume it will protect you? It only protects its own citizens, and, Mr. Ross Derwent, you aren’t an Alliance citizen!”

  “Are you?” he countered. “Will they listen to you? A Human woman? I don’t think so.”

  “Yes, Mr. Derwent, they will,” said Garras, activating his wrist comm. “Keiss is a junior member of the Alliance, and that gives Carrie citizenship. However, she’s also the life-mate of a Sholan, and co-leader of a Sholan clan in her own right.”

  Ross dived forward in an effort to stop Garras using his comm, but was easily pushed aside by the larger male.

  “Ni’Zulhu, I want that backup now,” Garras said into the unit, grabbing Ross by the neck of his sweater with his free hand.

  “Affirmed,” came the quiet response.

  Ross stumbled against the edge of the bed and as he righted himself, turned angrily on Garras, trying to pull free.

  “You’ve no right to…” he began, stopping only when he found Maylgu grasping him from behind by both arms and drawing him into the center of the room.

  “Keep a hold on him, Maylgu,” Garras ordered. “We’re taking him back with us. Master Konis can decide what to do with him; it’s his department. Get him out of my sight before I’m tempted to make this personal,” he added.

  “What’s all the row?” asked a sleepy voice as Vanna yawned and stretched.

  “Are you all right?” asked Garras, going instantly to her side. “Derwent drugged you so he could work on Brynne.”

  “What?” Instantly awake, she sat up, peering past him at her sleeping Leska. “He feels all right,” she said. “His fever— has it gone?”

  “It has. You know that corner of his mind that you were complaining about before?” asked Carrie. “Well, I can sense what you meant now. Derwent’s been messing with his mind in some way.”

  “I knew he’d done something to him! Just wait till I get my hands on…” She launched herself out of the chair but was brought up short by Garras wrapping both arms around her waist and hanging onto her.

  “No. We’re taking him to the Clan Lord. He’ll be dealt with, Vanna, and in such a way that he’ll wish he’d never come to Shola. We’re waiting for Ni’Zulhu’s folk to arrive, and then we’re going home. Why don’t you search that kitchen of his for the herbs he used?”

  She nodded reluctantly and Garras released her. As she walked past Derwent, he was treated to a full display of an enraged hissing and growling Sholan, pelt bushed out till even she looked enormous.

  Carrie sat back after straining forward to watch her display and grinned at Garras. “Impressive, isn’t she?”

  “Always. How’s Brynne, really?” His nose creased in concern.

  “Superficially, it’s as I said. The fever’s broken, so he’s past the worst. As for what’s happened to his mind, I can’t tell. Vanna’s all right, that’s the main thing, so whatever it is can’t be too dangerous yet. We’ll need a medical telepath to figure out what, I’m afraid, unless Derwent can be made to tell us. The penalty for what he’s done is to have the areas of his brain that control his psychic abilities destroyed.”

  Garras’ eyes widened in surprise.

  “That’s why Kusac had to face the hearing on the Khalossa because of me.”

  “No wonder you were both so concerned,” he murmured. “Well, it’s no more than Derwent deserves from what Vanna’s told me. As well as what he’s done to Brynne, he was trying to convince the younglings at the Guild that using their Talent involved a religious commitment.”

  “Fool,” said Carrie as the door chime went. “Ni’Zulhu already?”

  “They were waiting in the commercial vehicle park. You get the door while I get Brynne,” he said, waiting for her to move aside before pulling back the covers and carefully scooping the still sleeping Human up into his arms.

  Carrie snatched a blanket from the end of the bed and spread it over Brynne’s still form.

  *

  Spring had come suddenly to this mountain region of Jalna. One night they lay trying to sleep as the wind howled and gusted round their tower, the next day, blue skies and sunlight heralded the beginning of the thaw.

  Jo and Zashou threw the shutters wide open, letting in the warm air to freshen all three of their chambers. From the courtyard down below, the voices of the townsfolk setting up their weekly market were happier and lighter, anticipating the arrival in a few days of the first of the spring caravans from the valley.

  Rezac paced in front of the window, tail swaying angrily from side to side. Not for him the woolen robes that the Human males wore; they restricted his movements, making him even more irritated than his continued captivity was doi
ng. He preferred to use a shirt as a tunic. Zashou, too, had refused the female clothing sent for her, wearing instead the robe that Rezac refused.

  Through the window came the sound of angry, raised voices and the clash of metal on metal. Rezac was first to the window, Kris and Davies jostling with him to see what was happening below.

  “What is it?” demanded Jo, hovering just behind the males. “What’s going on?”

  “Looks like one of the soldiers has turned on some stall holders,” said Kris. “Three guards have gone to help, and they’re trying to subdue him.”

  There was a dull thump, audible even as high up as they were, then more angry, raised voices.

  “One of the villagers just clocked the soldier from behind with a cooking pot,” said Davies. “He’s being trussed up like a Sunday turkey now. That’s a hell of a lot of rope for one man. Killian’s there,” he added as the Lord’s voice drifted up to them.

  “What’s he saying? I can’t hear him properly,” she demanded, trying to push them aside in an effort to see.

  “He’s doubling the guard, that’s all.”

  “Will you look at him!” said Kris, pointing. “What the hell kind of outfit is that?”

  Jo managed to push Davies aside and clung to the stone window ledge, peering over it to see what was happening.

  The person Kris had been alluding to was, indeed, a sight to see. Dressed in a hooded robe of the deepest blue, he was bent over the prone body of the bound guard.

  “He’s not one of their priests,” she said. “Dye that color’s expensive, so he’s someone of major importance. Look at the people around him, how they’re reacting to his presence.”

  “There isn’t anyone near him,” said Rezac.

  “Precisely,” she said. “They’re terrified of him. What’s he doing to the captive? Oh, I see. He’s made a mark on his forehead. Is he a senior priest?”

  “I thought all their priests dressed in brown,” said Kris. “The one that came with Killian the other day did.”

  “Perhaps a higher rank, or a different order,” she said thoughtfully, watching as the man stepped back and the unconscious soldier was hauled off into the castle.

 

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