"Of course, we would not expect you to demand a weapon with which Kabahstalla had no prior experience," Shervanis finally said, his dark eyes reminding Thomas of a hooded cobra's. "I thought you two could engage without weapons. A match of skill and—how did your commander put it?—belief."
Thomas exhaled slowly, moving forward. That removes the blades. Now all I have to do is win.
The body of the olive-skinned man was dragged from the cleared space, trailing a bloody smear across the floor. Thomas stepped from between a pair of guests and into the circle, removing his shirt. He kicked his shoes off and to one side, throwing his socks after them. Kabahstalla handed his blades to a nearby guard, then waited calmly for his opponent to ready himself. A few stretches to loosen the muscles, and Thomas nodded toward the other dark-skinned man.
While Kabahstalla saluted Shervanis, Thomas bowed in Kurita fashion to the caliph and then slightly deeper to Marcus. Perhaps it wasn't quite proper, but it demonstrated where his loyalties lay and that was enough for him. The drums rolled up to a violent level, and with the crash of cymbals both men moved toward each other.
Kabahstalla came in fast and aggressive, trying to overwhelm Thomas in a style similar to his swordplay. Mistake, Thomas thought. He crouched to keep his center of mass low, bare feet planted wide apart and arms held ready before him. As he expected, Kabahstalla tried for a kick at his conveniently lowered head. Thomas ducked under the kick, sweeping back with his right leg to connect with the other man's ankle. Kabahstalla fell awkwardly, and Thomas sprang back to a defensive posture. Keep him mad and I own the fight.
The two men circled each other, Kabahstalla favoring his right ankle only slightly. Wary now, the black man did not attempt another reckless charge. He struck out with hands and feet, probing Faber's defenses. For his part Thomas concentrated on blocks and dodges, all the while smiling at Kabahstalla as if the other man's attacks meant nothing. The black man stepped up his attacks, and Thomas parried each successive strike a bit closer, drawing in his opponent under the guise of wearing down.
And, now! Thomas left himself open for another blow to the head, then ducked under the punch and struck out open-palmed to stiff-arm Kabahstalla in the lower chest. He felt at least two ribs break under the blow as Kabahstalla's feet left the floor and the man flew back two meters to land hard on his back.
The fight's over. He can't continue. Thomas heard the voices in his head as he watched Kabahstalla try to roll back onto his feet. But the memory of Kabahstalla's last opponent was still too fresh in Thomas' mind. As the black man managed to get his right leg underneath him, Thomas sprang forward in a low sidekick that caught him in the knee and folded Kabahstalla's leg unnaturally inward. That ends your fighting days, Thomas thought as a shriek of agony escaped the other man's lips. He snapped another kick alongside Kabahstalla's head, rendering him mercifully unconscious.
With a deliberate slowness, Thomas walked over to the caliph's dais. Many guests moved out of his way, giving him a clear path, but others among the sharp-eyed natives glared at him with a prideful malevolence. Too late he wished he'd waited for his opponent's capitulation, and he cursed himself for letting anger rule those last few strikes.
At the edge of the dais, Thomas accepted the jeweled dagger, which he thrust into his belt. Then he took the dancer's hand and helped her down to the floor. She stared at him with wide, soft brown eyes. Her eyes were beautiful, but also filled with fear of what was essentially her new owner.
Thomas knew that Shervanis would be studying him, trying to decide whether or not to take offense. To let the man see the anger still smoldering behind his own eyes could only work against the Angels. So he kept his gaze firmly locked on that of his "prize" and willed himself to not even glance at the Caliph.
"My thanks, Malachye-pasha." He tried to smile in a close approximation of lust, hating himself for the intensified fear in the young woman's eyes. "A truly lovely reward."
25
Reception Hall, Palatial Estates
City of Shervanis, Shervanis Caliphate
Astrokaszy
The Periphery
28 June 3058
A small unit such as the Angels survived by relying on the strengths of each member. As much as Thomas Faber's calm acceptance of the challenge had first surprised Marcus, he quickly recognized the big man's control over the situation and backed off. He would trust Thomas to know what he was doing, even if it looked as if he was about to throw his life away in an effort to save the others. As Karrskhov had.
The thought that he could leave such a choice up to a single member of his command startled Marcus. Charlene's accusations came back to haunt him; did he really care about his people? Yes. Dammit, yes. He didn't take unnecessary risks with either their lives or equipment, and he would never sacrifice the life of another Angel, no matter how many others it would save. Unless the life was my own, he thought. Maybe I do distance myself from the others, Charlie, but that doesn't mean I don't care. He watched Thomas thread his way through the guests. And I respect them enough to honor their personal decisions.
Still, Marcus remained on edge throughout the fight, teeth clenched so tight his jaw hurt. He shrugged Jericho's hand off his shoulder, even though he realized she was only trying to offer some silent support. He didn't rejoice or even relax when Faber won, either. Victories must be defended, he reminded himself. And Shervanis' darkening mood warned Marcus that the defense had better come quickly.
"A truly lovely reward," Faber said, leering at the dancing girl.
Marcus knew Thomas could be boisterous and rash one minute, taciturn the next. Not mood swings, but as if saving up strength in the lulls between his more energetic moments. But he had never seen Thomas act any way but respectful to women, and so easily recognized the sudden rakish attitude for the act it was. From Jericho's reactions, though, Marcus knew she'd bought into the routine and maybe that meant Shervanis had as well.
"Your Excellency," Marcus called out loudly, drawing Shervanis' attention away from Thomas. "I appreciate your instruction. You have proven me completely in error."
The caliph frowned, a guarded expression in his black eyes. "How is that, Commander GioAvanti? Your mercenary defeated one of my best warriors."
And quite adroitly too. Marcus glanced at his man. Thomas was moving back to rejoin the other Angels, his prize in tow. This would be easier if you hadn't crippled Kaba-whatever-his-name-was, he thought, but found himself unable to hold it against Thomas. He'd seen something in the big man's eyes that said he'd acted in the only way he knew how.
"As you just said, Caliph Shervanis, Thomas is a mercenary. He wasn't fighting for me or the Angels." He tried to look disgusted. "He fought for her." And there's your way to save face, Caliph. Unless you're ready to slaughter us now and take your chances with the Angels' vengeance.
"Are you saying that lust defeated Kabahstalla's belief in me?" The pasha sounded dubious, and still dangerous.
Careful, Marcus. "Surrounded by all this?" he said, gesturing around at the revelers and entertainers who had quieted to a hush. "How could anyone deny the power of desire, Malachye-pashia. You have proven its lure to all of us tonight." Marcus smiled, as if half-joking but still partly serious. Then he sobered. "To be fair to Kabah-stalla"—he stumbled over the name—"Thomas also loves to fight. It's a toss-up which he likes to do more," he finished, eyeing the dancer in an exaggerated manner.
Caliph Shervanis smiled wide and full, then erupted into laughter. The tension in the room eased as others also began to laugh or merely turned back to earlier conversations. At a signal from Shervanis, the musicians struck up a spirited tune that soon had the dancing girls once more moving about the hall in a swirl of flesh and multicolored ribbons. The caliph raised a large cup filled with the purple wine in salute to the Angels, which Marcus returned before shifting his attention back to his comrades.
"Thank you, Marc." Thomas rejoined the small group, still leading the dancer by the hand. She lo
oked defeated, having moved past fear to simple resignation. Jericho glanced from Marcus to Thomas, as if she couldn't decide who to take issue with first.
"So what do we do with her?" Marcus asked, nodding toward the scantily clad woman.
"She's away from him," Thomas said with a shrug, "and that's the important thing." He gave the young woman an apologetic smile. "I'll get you off Astrokaszy," he promised, keeping his voice low. "Then you're free to go." Turning to Jericho, Thomas smiled. "She could get employment in the Magistracy, couldn't she? Maybe as a dancer?"
A look of surprise mixed with relief washed over Jericho's face. "Yes. Yes, of course."
Ki-Lynn raised her own cup to her lips, using it to hide her warning. "Do not look." She paused, making sure everyone had time to steel themselves against the natural compulsion to glance around, "The Caliph is heading this way."
Jase was the fastest, changing the subject by loudly speculating on where the Angels should start looking for the rumored Star League facility. Marcus started to make suggestions when the caliph interrupted. "Commander, I do not intrude?"
"Of course not, Caliph Shervanis." Marcus smiled thinly, as if nervous at the caliph's attention. Not a difficult feat. "The Angels would always make time for you." Marcus looked past the older man at the two hulking guards who had followed him from the dais and two more dancers Shervanis had apparently commandeered in route.
"Excellent," the caliph said. The man swayed a bit on his feet, his indulgence in wine and hashish revealed in his posture as well as on his breath. "Commander, I wish to compliment you again on your warriors. I may have been too surprised at Kabahstalla's defeat to properly congratulate Mech Warrior Faber."
What are you up to, Shervanis? Marcus kept a grin plastered on his face, but inwardly his mind raced to second-guess the wily pasha. Half-drugged or not, Shervanis would be a man best not taken lightly. "His Excellency is most kind."
"Actually, I have been most delinquent in my manners as a host." Shervanis waved the two dancers forward. "I suddenly realized I had not thought to arrange"—he smiled, teeth large and wolfish as he gestured to the dancing girls—"pleasant companionship."
"Ah, Caliph Shervanis," Marcus paused, at a loss. What had Ki told him earlier? To refuse a direct gift would be taken as a personal insult? But if the caliph insisted on providing companions it would separate the Angels from each other. "Most generous," he said, stalling. He wished he could consult with Ki-Lynn, but there didn't seem to be any way. Marcus would have to stumble along on his own. "Too generous, in fact. I could not accept."
Shervanis' dark eyes narrowed. "And why not?" His voice was hard and dangerously cold.
"Well," Marcus began, but let it trail off. Think. "If I were to accept—"
Marcus hadn't really thought it all out, but was relying on bluff to get him through. Fortunately, Jericho stepped in smoothly. "If he were to accept," she said, moving forward and taking Marcus by the arm, "he would find himself in very hot water. Might make even the Astrokaszy deserts look inviting." Her voice was at once playful and disarming.
The caliph blinked his surprise. "I didn't know. That is, Arch Vizier Ji-Drohmien never told me you two were ..." He trailed off, glancing from one to the other.
"Involved?" Marcus finished for him, hoping the pasha's apparent surprise wasn't mirrored on his own face. He was all too conscious of Jericho's touch, a warm flush spreading up his arm. He swallowed hard, but made an effort not to squirm under her grip. "Well, the arch vizier never asked. And we do not flaunt the relationship in public. You understand, of course." He lowered his voice, as if speaking only to the caliph. "As commander of a unit, I have to remain," he paused as if searching for the word, "morally superior. No fraternization during a mission."
He felt the stiffness in Jericho's grip, but she quickly covered her discomfort to continue the charade. "Typical," she complained with a smile. "All work and no play." She leaned in to nip Marcus playfully on the ear and then retreated back to her earlier position.
Shervanis looked from one to the other, his face once more masked in politic neutrality. "Indeed," he muttered. "And the other two?"
"The same," Jase Torgensson was quick to respond, all smiles and happiness as he glanced at Ki-Lynn, then back at the pasha. "We don't suffer the command stigma, but there is a little matter of Combine etiquette while in public."
"Faber is one of the few eligible bachelors in the Angels," Marcus lied. "But he has found himself a diversion."
Shervanis let nothing show, either in his face or tone. "Of course," he said simply, then waved off the two dancers, who melted quickly into the background as they returned to their duties. "Well, then, enjoy yourselves, my guests. Sample what Shervanis can offer you. And, Commander, tomorrow I hope to discuss again what your Angels can offer me."
"At your disposal, Caliph Shervanis," Marcus said as the pasha turned back toward his dais. He waited in silence until he could be sure that the trailing guards couldn't overhear them even without the music. Faber sat the dancing girl off to one side, where she could be excluded from the conversation.
"I don't think he bought it," Marcus finally said. "But he won't push the matter. I'm sure he's got other plans for us." He chewed his lower lip and thought. "I don't know about anyone else, but I've had enough fun for one night. We'll start leaving here; two by two, over the next hour. We keep to the new story, too, so we stay in pairs. That means one person can sleep while the other keeps watch." He swallowed hard. "Jericho—"
She interrupted him with a teasing smile. "It's you and me. I can handle it, Marcus." She paused, head cocked to one side as if deliberating. When she continued, her voice was playful. "I made the bed, now I have to sleep in it?"
Jase hid his smile diplomatically behind a raised hand, and though Ki-Lynn kept strict control of her expression Marcus read the amusement in her eyes. Thomas didn't even try to hide his. "Thomas," Marcus said with a trace of annoyance, "you're out of here in ten minutes. Then Ki and Jase."
"I have a better idea, Marc." Jase glanced around the room. "This is the first time today I haven't had a watchdog. I want to hang around a little longer, maybe make a few friends." He glanced at Ki-Lynn. "And no offense, but—"
"But you work better alone," Marcus finished. "Okay, Jericho and I in thirty minutes. Ki, you head to your room in about fifty. Make a small show of saying goodnight to Jase." Ki nodded, which was enough of a guarantee for Marcus. "Jase, don't stay here much longer. This trip into Shervanis was worth a shot, but I don't like the look of things.
"We play it safe until tomorrow, then we get out."
* * *
Lounging against the wall not ten meters from the Angels, Cameron St. Jamais watched as the mercenaries rebuffed Malachye Shervanis and then talked briefly among themselves. He wore a sand-colored caftan, his dark skin making him blend in easily among the Astrokaszy natives.
He stroked the shoulder of a courtesan provided him earlier by Arch Vizier Ji-Drohmien, the woman's unruly hair and unnaturally light skin reminding him of Demona Aziz. The music might have diverted his attention toward baser thoughts, but his Word of Blake training gave him clarity of mind as he caressed the young woman's shoulder and continued to spy on the Angles.
St. Jamais watched as first Thomas Faber left with the dancing girl, and then not thirty minutes later Marcus GioAvanti followed with his Canopian bitch. Sleep well, Commander, St. Jamais thought, bidding the mercenary commander a silent good-night. Tomorrow you and your Angels die.
26
Palatial Estates
City of Shervanis, Shervanis Caliphate
Astrokaszy
The Periphery
29 June 3058
Whoever they were, they took few chances.
Marcus heard the scuffle in the hall, where the guards assigned to him and Jericho had apparently been overcome. Grabbing weapons for them both, he woke her and they took up station behind an overturned table that might serve as a shield against anyone coming
through the door. Four shadowy figures entered, dressed in the usual flowing caftans but dark-colored instead of white or tan. Two of them carried submachine guns and moved immediately for the window. The third used a needler rifle to loosely cover Marcus and Jericho. The last figure stopped to fasten the doors behind them, but carried only a pair of falchion-style swords, curved and flaring out near the end in a wide tip.
Assassins don't stop to lock the door behind them, Marcus thought, holding Jericho in check while the figures busied themselves about the room.
The man with the swords approached. Only his eyes were visible above the cloth masking the lower half of his face, and they showed his surprise at finding the two of them together. Carrying both swords in his left hand, he gestured to them with his right. "Come. We get you out of here now." His accent was thick and he spoke much too fast. It took a few repeats before Marcus understood what he was trying to say.
One of the men used a special cutter to get through the room's single large window, which Marcus had noticed on earlier inspection couldn't be opened or easily smashed. Ropes gave them access to the ground, and then the six of them were sprinting for the walls, where other men with ropes waited to move them along faster. Marcus' concern at that time had been for the other three members of his unit, but the swords-carrier promised that other teams were getting the others safely away.
Obviously in charge of the team sent to retrieve Marcus, the swords-carrier introduced himself on the run as Nihail Sallahan and explained that he and his men were from Caliph Rashier, sent to rescue the Angels from the evil and unholy Shervanis. As widespread machine gun fire and several explosions ripped through the night stillness, he also assured them that it was all part of the diversion meant to cover their escape. If all went well, he would get the Angels to the Heaven Sent, which could carry them all to safety.
It wasn't until the small team reached the outskirts of Shervanis that the holes began appearing in their plan.
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