Shadow (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #4): Bridge & Sword World

by JC Andrijeski

  “Balidor! Think about it. We have thousands of seers out there, newly released from camps with nowhere to go. We have the Lao Hu holding Rebels hostage, and probably looking to take over the seer trade in Asia. We have the Rebels themselves, including Wreg… and Salinse. We have a disease that kills humans, that no one seems to be able to find. Seertown is still rubble. We haven’t found half the seer children who were supposedly hidden in the mountains. The Pamir is a disorganized mess with most of the Adhipan gone. We’ve got Black Arrow and the traders getting ready to strike back at us, and America is a quasi-military zone with more than half of its seers in concentration camps. Hell. There are probably a dozen more things I’m not even aware of! Are you seriously going to look at me right now, and tell me we don’t need him?”

  “He is a walking time bomb, Allie,” Balidor said. “He always will be.”

  “He won’t always be! Damn it, ‘Dori. Have a little faith in him! And a little respect. He’s been through more than most seers could even survive. And that’s the guy we need, Balidor.”

  Balidor just looked at me.

  For once, though, I saw past the shield I normally couldn’t see much past, the near-armor he habitually wore around his light. I saw the seer who was nearly 500 years old, who had watched history unfold in a number of different ways throughout that time, and learned brutal lessons in the process. I saw the military man in him, the one who tracked Revik all over Germany and Eastern Europe, the one who still saw him as quarry, as something to be eliminated. I saw the defender of the Council, who saw his charge as fighting the Dreng from the light of his fellow seers, even if that meant killing them––or dying himself.

  I also saw the man I’d known briefly in those tunnels under Seertown, the one who’d given me back to Revik for a chance at taking down the Rebellion, and hated himself for it. The one who blamed himself for everything that had happened between us since––the one who was still trying to protect me, even now.

  I saw all of this in his light, and when he spoke, I almost heard it in his voice.

  “Do you seriously want to risk thinking along these lines?”

  “I can’t afford not to!”

  “Alyson––” he began, clicking tiredly.

  “Balidor.” I clasped his arm, and he looked up, meeting my gaze directly. Swallowing at the expression in his eyes, I relaxed my hold on him, stepping back.

  “Look,” I said. “I know why you feel this way, I really do. But I’m telling you, we need him. And he can beat this. I know he can. We just have to give him more time.”

  He continued to hold my gaze, his gray eyes holding more now, a kind of frustrated empathy along with a more personal reaction I could almost feel.

  “I know you want to believe it, Allie,” he said. “I know how badly you want to believe it. Unfortunately, this is the very part that worries me.”

  “Dori’––” I began, frustrated.

  Another voice broke in.

  “Hey, guys?”

  Jon was looking over his shoulder at us when I turned, his hazel eyes faintly worried above the hard line of his mouth. He stood by Dorje over the security console, one arm folded over his chest while his other hand pointed down at something on one of the organic screens.

  “I hate to break up the weekly ‘fight about Revik’ ritual,” he said. “But maybe the two of you could come over here, take a look at this.”

  After a faint pause where I bit my lip, I gave Balidor another glance, then walked over to where Jon stood.

  “What?” I said.

  “That,” he said simply, pointing. A transcript was scrolling down the screen in black script over a pale gray background.

  Leaning over him, Balidor and I read the words, Balidor voicing them aloud.

  “…in addition to inviting them to stay as guests, as a sign of my continued goodwill towards the Esteemed Bridge, as well as my fealty to her and her husband, Syrimne d’Gaos, I have allowed them to remain in the Imperial Suites until such time that I can hear the substance of the Esteemed Bridge’s request for transfer of the Rebel traitors, and following my obligation to apologize to my lords and intermediaries in person…”

  Balidor looked up at Jon, his eyes holding puzzlement. “Is this from the Chinese?”

  Jon nodded, his mouth grim. “Voi Pai’s emissary. Keep reading.”

  Balidor picked up where he had left off.

  “…I also greatly desire to know more of the work occurring in the West, particularly in regard to a highly problematic and illegal weapon I had heretofore been told was only under development by the American warlords and their servants. I have since been apprised that operatives, working under your name, have taken it upon themselves to destroy the main stores of this weapon, after procuring samples with which to threaten our human hosts.

  “As all of our people were privy to a demonstration of the power of this abomination in Hong Kong, I wish to know what your intention is with this sample of the disease, and what your intended response to the American warlords will be. We would like assurances that past treaties still hold, in regard to our mutual interests as a race in maintaining a strict stance of noninterference with the larger population of the world’s humans…”

  I looked up at the two of them in bewilderment.

  When Balidor resumed reading, my eyes returned to the screen.

  “I am told you lost a brother during this operation in the Americas, due to a betrayal by human scum from the West. For that, you have my genuine condolences. It is possible I can help your people exact revenge for this brutal transgression, particularly if I were to receive adequate assurance that my host families are not the intended targets for this weapon you now are in sole possession of.

  “I would further like assurances that you only procured these samples as a means of insurance against threat from personal harm and to further the goal of peace among all of our peoples––not as a potential weapon of aggression to force some advantage in your dealings with other races and peoples, including the ancient people of China.

  “Although I recognize that the Bridge does not concern herself naturally with regional or factional differences among our brethren, much less our cousins, I would expect some concessions in this matter, as it clearly transcends a simple dispute over borders or economic rights to individual states. Truly, the Esteemed Bridge must realize that such a weapon could, either by design or by accident, bring about an untimely start to the war that all of us are intent on guiding to its highest evolutionary potential since Her arrival among us––”

  “What in the holy hell…” I muttered.

  I looked up, frowning between Balidor and Jon.

  “Do either of you have any idea what she’s talking about?”

  Balidor shook his head, gesturing no in seer.

  Still, I saw something in his eyes that made me pause.

  “‘Dori?” I said. “Do you know anything about the op she’s talking about?”

  “No.” Meeting my gaze, then Jon’s, he frowned, pursing his lips. “Well. Not exactly. I did have an operative looking for the disease in the States. It’s possible she found it. I didn’t authorize destruction of the disease… but I would have, most certainly. Perhaps she saw an opening and could not get word to me for some reason.”

  “Would this operative have taken a sample of the disease for some reason?” I said, sharper.

  He hesitated, then shrugged with one hand. “Possibly. Again, I didn’t authorize it, but I can see the sense in it.” He met my gaze. “An antidote could be developed, for one.”

  I felt something in my shoulders relax. “So Voi Pai might be right. We might have the only sample of this disease.”

  “Possibly.”

  I nodded, my fingers gripping my bare arms as I fought to think through the potential ramifications of this. “Do you trust them? This operative?”

  He met my gaze, his eyes holding a faint guilt. “It’s Chandre.”

  It took another few seconds
for this information to penetrate. “What?”

  Balidor shrugged with one hand. “She’s been working for me. For us. I couldn’t tell you before.”

  Jon burst out into a laugh.

  Staring at Balidor, I shook my head, unsure if I should laugh like Jon, or hit Balidor in the face. “She’s been with you? This whole time?”

  “Well…” Balidor glanced at Jon, then at Dorje, before looking back at me. His expression remained uncomfortable. “…Yes.”

  “And she might have a sample of this disease?”

  “I will try to contact her.” Balidor’s eyes were scanning the text again, running over it with his eyes. “I don’t have any other operative on this, however,” he added. “And she is specific that it is a ‘brother’ of ours who was killed.”

  “Who do you think it is?”

  He exhaled, his brow furrowed. “Possibly someone Chandre aligned with. Someone she was working with, to look for the disease?”

  “Uh, guys?” Jon broke in, pointing at the top of the message. “Did you miss this part? Not only has refused your request for negotiation on the Rebels without an in-person audience, but it certainly sounds like she’s holding Cass and Baguen captive.”

  “I did catch that,” Balidor said, his mouth grim.

  I frowned, re-reading the transcript. “She’s holding Cass prisoner? Are you sure?”

  Balidor also pointed to the relevant lines of text. “She is careful to say they were ‘invited,’ and ‘allowed’ to stay… but you don’t imagine Cass begging for either thing, do you? I find myself skeptical that she would remain there deliberately.”

  My frown deepened. “Jeez,” I muttered. “I must be tired. How long have they been there?”

  “You have to get Cass out of there, Al,” Jon said, looking at me.

  Before I could answer, Balidor shook his head, gesturing strongly in the negative.

  “Out of the question,” he said. “For multiple reasons. There are about a hundred bounty hunters out there looking for you, for one.”

  Jon gave him a disbelieving look. “It’s Cass, Balidor.”

  “I don't care who it is.” Turning from Jon, Balidor looked at me, a complete lack of compromise in his gray eyes. “You’re not going anywhere, Alyson. Not until we’ve stabilized your mate.”

  I looked at him, sighing. “I’ll have to go there, sooner or later.”

  “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But we’ve discussed this, Allie. The bounties on you are astronomical right now. There’s also the question of Wreg––and the rest of the Rebels. Once we’ve stabilized Dehgoies, fine, we’ll go. In fact, we can all go. But, Allie…”

  His eyes flickered up, meeting mine grimly.

  “…You can’t leave here and expect to come back. You can’t. The second you pop up on the grid anywhere, you will definitely be tracked. That means no more tank. Which means no longer will we be able to shield Dehgoies from the Dreng. That will bring the Rebels here––in days, I would imagine, if not hours––as well as anyone out there looking to collect on those bounties. This message went out through our main channels. That means there’s a good chance that anyone watching the Adhipan, anyone looking for you, might also have picked it up.”

  “She can’t just leave Cass there, Balidor,” Jon said, exasperated. “We have no idea how long it will take for this thing with Revik to play out.”

  “No,” I said, giving them both warning looks. “I can’t leave her there, not for that long.” I turned my eyes to Jon. “But Balidor is right, too. I can’t just show up there, wearing my ‘I am the Bridge’ T-shirt. We need to negotiate a safe way to settle this. If Voi Pai won’t do that for some reason––”

  Balidor finished the thought for me.

  “––Then we can assume Voi Pai is colluding with one or more of the bounty hunters,” he said. “Or worse, that she has no intention of giving up the Rebels, and intends to declare war on us once they are trained as members of the Lao Hu.”

  “So what about Cass?” Jon repeated, looking between us.

  I sighed, folding my arms.

  Exhaling, I glanced into the tank, looking at Revik. He was asleep, lying on his back on the pallet I’d had set up for him in the past week. His bare feet faced towards the window. One of his arms lay on his stomach while he cushioned his head with the other. I watched his chest rise and fall, his face taut as he slept.

  “She wouldn’t mess with him,” I mused, barely aware I’d spoken aloud. “She’d never admit it, but she’s afraid of him. I saw it when he came to get me that time.”

  “No, Allie,” Balidor said.

  When I turned to look at him, his eyes were flat.

  “Allie,” he said. “Even you must admit––it is too soon for that. He’s not ready. Not for something like that. You are talking about a military exercise.”

  Jon spoke up from next to him. “He’s right, Al. That’s not a good plan. Not now.”

  Sighing, I looked back at the tank, refolding my arms.

  “Yeah.” I sighed again, suddenly feeling more tired than I had in weeks. “Yeah. I know. Just wishful thinking.”

  Pulling out of where my head wanted to go, I forced myself to snap back, to level out my light. Once I had, I looked at Balidor.

  “Get the Adhipan on it,” I said. “I want scenarios. At least two, preferably in the next twenty-four hours. And get ahold of Chan. Find out if she’s really got a sample of that disease, and where she is, if so. If what Voi Pai claims is true, I want her in a safe location as soon as remotely possible. Send some people over there. Get her out of the country, if you can. We might be able to use the disease as a bargaining chip with the rebels, assuming Voi Pai intends to let them go at all."

  I hesitated, then added, "And see if you can find out who got killed. Voi Pai seems to think I knew him, whoever it was. We’ll regroup after my next session, come up with a response.”

  “Allie,” Jon said. “Aren’t you going to get some sleep first?” He glanced at Revik, then back at me. “You just got out of there.”

  “I’ll sleep in a few hours,” I told him. “It’s easier to go in when he’s asleep. He fights me when he’s awake. He doesn’t mean to a lot of the time, not anymore, but he can’t help himself. I don’t want to miss an opportunity.”

  “You’re exhausted,” Balidor said.

  I turned to look at him, hearing the seriousness in his tone. I found him appraising me with narrow eyes, scanning my light. A pulse of worry left him in the same instant, even as I felt him kicking himself for not having noticed before.

  “Allie,” he said. “You cannot continue at this pace. You will break yourself, before you break him.”

  “I’m all right,” I told him, waving it off dismissively.

  At Balidor and Jon’s exchanged glances, I clicked at them a little.

  “I’m all right,” I said, sharper. “I mean it. I’ll sleep tonight.”

  “It is three a.m. now,” Balidor said.

  “Then I’ll sleep in the morning.”

  They were still looking at one another when I turned back towards the door, walking up to it and keying in the combination that lived in the security side of the construct, where it changed at random intervals from every five seconds to every thirty minutes.

  Neither of them spoke again as I unlocked the hatch, stepping through the door and closing it behind me. But I heard the seal catch as one of them must have swung the wheel shut on the other side, re-locking the mechanism that kept the Barrier seal in place.

  I did my best not to make a sound as I crossed the organic-paneled room, and when I laid down on the pallet next to his, I didn’t touch him. He didn’t move where he lay, but I felt his light envelop mine in a pale cloud, exuding that same, faint pulse of relief it always did when I rejoined him inside the tank’s construct.

  Even so, I felt a twinge of… something… as I settled on my back.

  I didn’t dwell on it.

  I just closed my eyes, willing the Bar
rier to pull me back to that other place.

  Whatever that misgiving was, it didn’t slow my fall.

  39

  POOR JUDGMENT

  THE SKY SHIMMERS, bright to dark overhead. Time has passed. Not a lot, but some. Stars grow visible, and again, I see him outside, but in a different part of the world, a quieter part, outside the immediate path of war.

  The war is not gone altogether, though. I feel its presence; it lingers around him like a strong scent, coloring his light, the tenor of his thoughts.

  He is home again.

  There is a familiarity in where he steps, even in the dark, a purpose as he thinks about where he might go before he heads for his bed. It crosses his mind to practice, while everyone else is drinking or asleep, when he can use the fields and no one will notice him.

  He has the cloak as back-up. He can use that to disguise his appearance if required, to keep the curious whispering only of the confusing and shifting appearances of their intermediary, Syrimne––but his uncle warns him of the danger of relying on this.

  And he is tired. More tired than he wants to admit.

  He ran field exercises most of the day, with his uncle, Wreg and the others.

  After, he spent more time with Menlim alone, working on manipulation, as well as some of the more subtle work in strategy for which he needs the higher structures in his light. He cannot do that around the others, either; such things require structures he cannot let the other seers see him access, even for something other than telekinesis.

  He finished the second round of work well after dinner, only to end his evening with a fight in the long cowshed belonging to the Rutghers.

  He did the last solely for the money, since he knows they will be moving again soon.

  He still feels safer with his own stash of coin, despite how unnecessary his uncle tells him it is. His uncle says he will not need for anything for much longer, but Nenzi only nods and continues to fight and earn money, without arguing with his uncle outright.

  He is climbing down a path, a shortcut over a small hill that separates the fields. His face is cut on one side, and he wears a new bruise that will bloom into a black eye. The monster they put with him got in one lucky punch with a ring.