thefiremargins

by Lisanne Norman

  "The bones aren't modern," she continued. "Lijou has had them dated tentatively back to the days of the Cataclysm."

  "Did you know about this, Kaid?" asked Kusac. "Is this part of the reason why they sent you out to the Khalossa?"

  "This is news to me, Liege," said Kaid. "I've never picked up so much as a whisper concerning this."

  "Did any of you know about it?" demanded Garras, looking at Rulla and T'Chebbi who sat in the back on either side of Dzaka. They shook their heads. "Dzaka? What did you know about this?"

  "Nothing. I didn't even know the Brotherhood had been visiting ruins," he said.

  "What did they tell you?" Kusac asked Vanna.

  "They wanted me to identify the bones. All they knew was they were alien, not Sholan. They had no idea they were Valtegan."

  "I know the miners recover the refined metals from the ruins," said Kusac. "I also know that our Guild sends a priest to bless the sites and protect the miners from danger, but I had no idea they were finding remains there. I thought it was only rubble and metal. I think the Telepath Guild's activities at ruins need to be investigated thoroughly to see what else is being destroyed."

  "Liege, there are several important matters for us to discuss," said Kaid, turning his head toward them so his voice carried. "We're all tired. May I suggest that we get some sleep when we get back to Valsgarth and hold a full debriefing later in the day?"

  Kusac nodded. "We'll meet in the second-floor lounge at twelfth hour."

  * * *

  Kaid reached out and held Dzaka back as the others left the aircar. "You and I have some talking to do," he said grimly.

  Dzaka nodded and waited for him to complete the vehicle's power-down, then preceded him out into the garage area.

  Kaid pointed to the exit for the garden. "That way."

  Silently they walked across the greensward until they were out of sight of the house, then Kaid rounded on the younger male, grasping him by the throat and pinning him to the nearest tree.

  "You took one of the people I'm sworn to protect into the gravest danger. You put my Liege's life and that of his Leska at risk when he insisted on accompanying us." Kaid's voice was low with anger, his ears as stiff and vertical as the fur surrounding his neck and head. "You owe me an explanation."

  Half choking though he was, Dzaka didn't dare move. He could tell by the coldness in Kaid's eyes that if he made one false move, it would be his last.

  Kaid could feel the hunter-sight beginning to set in as his vision narrowed till all he could see clearly was Dzaka.

  "Can I help?" he heard Garras ask quietly.

  Kaid ignored him. "I'm waiting," he said, tightening his grip till his claws just pierced Dzaka's flesh.

  "Why should I justify my actions when you aren't prepared to trust me?" wheezed Dzaka.

  "Because if you don't, you won't live to regret it," said Kaid softly.

  "Answer him!" said Garras, coming forward to stand beside his friend.

  Kaid watched Dzaka's eyes flick to Garras then back to him. For the first time he saw stirrings of fear in them. Good. It was time Dzaka realized he couldn't presume upon their past relationship— his actions had taken him beyond that. He tightened his grip fractionally.

  Dzaka's hands made an involuntary movement as if to reach up to pull Kaid's hand away, then he froze.

  Kaid could feel the younger male's blood pounding under his hand, and the sharp smell of his fear.

  "I ..." Dzaka began to cough.

  Kaid relaxed his grip slightly, letting him catch his breath.

  "... was ordered to get Carrie or Vanna, preferably Vanna, to Stronghold," Dzaka said. "Knew she'd be safe." He broke off, unable to prevent himself from coughing again.

  Kaid felt Garras' hand touch the middle of his back in warning. It took all his self-control not to turn around and lash out at him, so close was he to the edge of the hunter/kill state.

  "They only wanted to talk, persuade her to join the Brotherhood. Knew they couldn't afford to kill her. Wouldn't have taken her otherwise."

  "He's telling the truth," said Garras.

  "Keep out of this," snapped Kaid. "It's my business."

  "Mine, too. He took my mate, Kaid," said Garras, his voice equally angry.

  Kaid watched Dzaka's eyes begin to glaze as he passed beyond fear into sheer terror.

  "First time you've been on the receiving end, isn't it, Dzaka?" Kaid said, his voice as quiet and cold as the earth in deep winter. "How d'you like it? You really think you can second-guess me? Play me at my own game? Ghezu wants you to think that. Oh, you're good, no two ways about it, but not that good."

  Kaid's mouth opened in a grin that never touched his eyes. "Ghezu forgot to tell you one thing, Dzaka. He and I have played this game before and each time it's cost him dearin lost Brothers. You want to be another statistic in his feud with me? Because if you step on my tail again, I will kill you!"

  Dzaka's eyes rolled back till only the whites showed. "Ask Vanna! I meant her no harm! Told her she'd be safe, that I wasn't kidnapping her!"

  Kaid took a deep breath, forcing back the darkness at the edges of his vision, forcing his fur to lie flat. As he released Dzaka, his free hand came up in a powerful open-handed blow to the other's head, sending him spinning across the grass to land in an ignominious heap at the foot of a nearby tree.

  He began to walk over to where Dzaka lay but Garras was there first, pulling the younger male to his feet and delivering an equal blow to the other side of his head.

  "You go near Vanna again, Dzaka, and you'd better hope Kaid gets to you before I do," snarled Garras, hauling him upright by the scruff of his neck before letting him go. "You understand me?"

  Staggering, Dzaka held onto the tree trunk, nodding as he wiped the blood off his face onto his shirtsleeve. As Kaid came over, he looked up at him, fear written in every line of his body.

  "You wanted to choose, Dzaka," Kaid growled, coming to a stop. "So choose now. If you're with us, it's all the way, no turning back. If you aren't, then get the hell out of my sight and off the estate."

  Dzaka wiped his face again, trying to stop shaking as he did so. "You'd trust me to stay?" he asked.

  "You're alive, aren't you? If you stay, then you earn my trust from here on in," said Kaid. "You could have come to me, told me what you planned to do, but you didn't. I told you, trust works both ways."

  Dzaka forced his ears upright and took a shuddering breath. "I'll stay," he said, looking Kaid straight in the eyes with an effort.

  Kaid nodded. "We'll see you at eleventh hour. You'll be given your assignment then." He turned abruptly away from him and began walking back to the house.

  Garras caught up with him. "Can we trust him?"

  "He'll be watched. One more slip and he's dead, and now he knows it."

  "I thought you were going to kill him back there, that's why I followed you," said Garras, matching his pace to Kaid's.

  "I came close. I needed his explanation first. Vanna wasn't harmed and she wasn't out after his blood for taking her to Stronghold. Had it been different ..."

  "Damn Ghezu!" swore Garras. "If it weren't for him, Dzaka wouldn't be involved with us! Why the hell has he got to keep playing his mind games with the two of you? What's he still got against you?"

  "Don't worry, Ghezu's tally is adding up. There'll be a reckoning between us before this is over," said Kaid as they reentered the garage on their way to the house.

  Kaid knew what Dzaka faced. He'd had over thirty years of training and indoctrination from the Brotherhood. Talk was easy, it cost nothing. But if Dzaka really wanted to leave and join them, he'd break free of that conditioning. He'd been trained to question, to rely on his own judgment— especially because he was a special operative like himself and Garras. They'd done it: Dzaka could. And if Dzaka succeeded, then he'd never need to doubt him again.

  * * *

  A chill wind swept across the spaceport, bringing with it the aroma of cooking from the stalls
in the spacers' shantytown. Jeran stirred, lifting his head clear of the straw till he could see. Around their pen, the night was coming alive. Lights and flickering torches illuminated the darkness, lighting up the traders' row so that visiting spacers could see the goods offered for sale.

  Nearby, the door to a local tavern was flung open, sending a gust of ale-scented warm air straight into his face. A burst of sound, the raucous voices calling out in languages he couldn't understand, then it was cut off as the door swung closed again. Nearby he could hear the sound of a ship taking off from the spaceport, going home with its cargo, while they were left marooned on an alien world. With a low moan of distress, he lay his head back down on the foul straw.

  The wooden bars of the pen began to vibrate as the keeper, yelling loudly, hammered at them with his club.

  Around him, Jeran heard the others begin to stir.

  "What is it?" mumbled Tesha, her voice thick with sleep.

  "Can you tell what he wants, Tallis?" Jeran asked as he pushed himself upright, blinking furiously to clear his eyes of the straw dust that Tesha had raised.

  "I'm not a high grade telepath, Jeran, I keep telling you!" Tallis' voice was a low snarl of anger. "We've only been here a few hours. It takes months even for the grade ones to understand an alien mind!"

  "Stow it, Tallis," said Tesha, hauling herself out of the straw. "We know your limitations; you never stop reminding us of them."

  "Miroshi's the expert," muttered Tallis. "Not me."

  Jeran turned and began feeling through the straw, trying to locate the last member of their group.

  "I'm here," she said, her voice hardly audible through the din the keeper was still making. Her hand closed round his as she began to sit up.

  She looked frail, worse than she had aboard the ship. Jeran helped her, remaining at her side, shielding her from the keeper.

  "This seems to be their world, Miroshi," he said, flicking an ear toward the keeper. "If you can read them, pick up their language, it would help us all." He hated himself for having to ask her but he had no option.

  "Tallis, give me your hand," she sighed, leaning against Jeran. "I need your energy if I'm going to try to read them."

  As Tallis shuffled over, Jeran turned to look out through the cage bars at their tormentor.

  It was the keeper, but this time there was someone else with him. A younger person, cleaner than the other— he could smell the perfume from here— with his hair hanging tidily to his shoulders. He wore less fur on his face than the other, and what he had was trimmed to match his mouth and jawline. The clothing was better quality, richer and brighter in hue. Everything about this one spoke of a male of importance and position on this world.

  He could feel Miroshi beginning to work now. Not a telepath himself, he had enough sensitivity to give him an inkling of the world Miroshi and her kind lived in. He felt her pull on his energy, too, then suddenly his mind was flooded with information and it was done. All three of them felt drained and weaker, but now they understood these strange, partly furred aliens.

  "Hey, what about me?" muttered Tesha, keeping a wary eye on the two people outside their cage.

  "Tallis, you can do that much," whispered Miroshi, closing her eyes.

  The unintelligible shouts from the keeper began to slowly resolve themselves into words as Jeran struggled to understand what was being said.

  "Not U'Churians?" the younger one was saying.

  "No, Lord Bradogan. None of them are black, they're all different in color. U'Churians come only in black, with longer fur than these ones," the keeper was saying.

  "They don't look worth the price I paid for them," said Bradogan disgustedly. "Half starved, beaten— and we don't even know for sure they're intelligent yet!"

  "Oh, they're intelligent," laughed the keeper. "There's two of each in there. The males knew enough of what was going on to try and protect their women! The two smaller ones are the women," he said helpfully.

  "Beasts will do that. They all look the same," said Bradogan, stepping closer to the bars. "Women should look like women, not flat-chested like them." He waved a derisory hand at the Sholans. "I suppose they're worth it to keep those damned Valtegans away. Thank God they don't come here often!"

  "What do you want done with them, Lord Bradogan? They won't sell in the state they're in."

  "Move them out of this flea-ridden cage to the prison. Feed them, get an animal doctor to see to them, and for God's sake, try and find out what they're good for! I want my money's worth out of those mangy carcasses!" he said, turning away.

  "They'd make good pets," offered the keeper. "They haven't got much fight in them just now, but if they have, I can tame them, see that they're docile. You could sell them as pets to those Northern Lords if they're no good for anything else."

  "I'll consider that when they look like a salable commodity," said Bradogan as he walked away.

  "Pets!" growled Tesha. "They'd make pets out of us!"

  "What's a pet?" asked Jeran.

  "A harmless beast with little intelligence. They keep them to look pretty and do clever tricks to amuse them," said Miroshi tiredly.

  "Talking to each other, are you?" said the keeper, lean-ing up against the bars. "Well, talk about this! You'd better find something that makes you worth your keep or Lord Bradogan will have your skins to decorate his floors! You play dumb with me and you'll make it worse for yourselves." He stopped and called his handlers over.

  "We're moving them to the port tower," he said. "Get them collared and ready to go."

  Miroshi began to whimper. "Don't let them touch me, Jeran," she said. "I can't bear their touch! So ugly and violent! Please don't let them touch me," she begged.

  "I'll do what I can," he promised, knowing that there was little he could do.

  The cage door opened and the first of the males came in. In one hand he held one of the chain collars that had been used on them when they'd been brought here from the landing pad. Vicious things that tightened round the throat if they didn't keep the leash slack. In the other, he held an electric prod.

  The male edged forward cautiously, reaching out with the prod and gesturing to Tallis.

  "You," he said. "I'll have you first."

  Making a decision, Jeran carefully put Miroshi aside and rose to his feet.

  "We'll come quietly," he said, stumbling over the alien words. It would take some time before their speech was fluent.

  "Jeran!" exclaimed Tallis. "What are you doing?"

  "Miroshi can't take any more of this treatment," he said. "They need to know not to touch her."

  "What the hell ... Hey, Neban!" the surprised handler yelled, not taking his eyes off them. "These damned cats can speak our language!"

  The keeper swung back to stare at them. "Bring him out first," he said, pointing to Jeran.

  Holding his hands up at chest level, palms facing outward to show he meant no harm, Jeran moved carefully toward the male with the prod.

  "D'you want him collared?"

  "Too right," said Neban. "They're even more dangerous now we know they're not animals."

  Jeran ducked his head down, folding his ears flat so the chain could be slipped over his head. As it settled round his neck over the sores caused by the Valtegan collars, he shuddered. It was cold and heavy. The male backed out of the cage before tightening his grip on the leash and pulling Jeran out.

  The collar tightened, choking him, making him cough. As he stumbled forward, he put his hands up to the noose, trying to loosen it so he could breathe.

  "Leave it," the handler snapped, about to touch him with the prod.

  Neban slapped his arm away. "No need," he said. "Not unless he gets violent. So you're the leader, are you?" he said to Jeran. "I'm glad you decided to cooperate. You see, the more you cooperate, the better the price I get for you, and the better price you fetch, the better owner you have. Understand?"

  Still holding onto the noose, Jeran nodded. "We've got skills," he said. "W
e're a space-going people ourselves. You could ransom us. Our people will pay to get us back."

  "That's not up to me," said Neban. "My job's to get you trained and fit to sell, that's all. You cooperate with me, and you'll get well treated. You don't, and ... Well, I reckon I don't need to tell you since you've experienced Valtegan hospitality." He grinned, mouth splitting sideways as he showed his teeth.

  Jeran stepped back in shock. Immediately the noose tightened again, choking him until he loosened it.

  "Right, get the others out," Neban said, turning back to the cage. "Unless you want to tell them to walk out?"