But expedient. The accident had served its painful purpose. Scentless, she’d gained admittance to the School of Alien Etiquette; scentless, she’d easily taken the identity of the D’Dsellan whose body now drifted in honorable, if anonymous, burial in space. The Iftsen, worthless clowns, hadn’t even noticed.
The Youngest had been the only risk. Physical contact might have exposed the truth; a suspicious mind might have seen—incongruities. As expected, N’Klet nodded to her image, the distraction provided had been adequate. Esen was still easily manipulated.
One of the young rezts left its littermates, rubbing its side sleepily against N’Klet’s lower limb. Absently, she picked it up with a midlimb and stroked it. Yes, she thought, Esen still followed the Old One’s Rules. Significant.
With a flash of blue, almost faster than the eye could follow, there was no longer a D’Dsellan holding a sleepy rezt, but someone—something—else.
The room was dark, lit only by an antique chandelier. Its circle of light fell partly across an inlaid table, revealing a pair of hands, five-fingered, long, supple, and strong. They toyed with a knife, its handle ornately etched, its blade catching the light in fierce, quick bursts. One of a priceless pair, now solitary.
Two Kraal officers stood within the light as well. “We are grateful for your return, Eminence,” said the first Kraal, touching the tattoos on each cheek, bowing deeply. “We regret to have no news.”
“The transmissions ceased, Eminence,” added the second, with an equally deep bow. “Sooner than predicted.”
“No matter,” answered a deep, rich voice from the shadows, a voice like velvet. There were other ways to watch a web-being, the owner of that voice knew. “Resume course.” There was no need to confirm the order. Discipline on a Kraal ship was absolute. The first Kraal left immediately.
“Was there success, Eminence?” this from the second Kraal. “We regret we were unable to confirm her ability to—fly. The test had seemed foolproof.”
“Partial success, Holt-ru,” replied the shadow. “The Feneden were bait she couldn’t resist. It was her response that was—unpredicted.”
“Will there be another opportunity, Eminence?”
The hands lifted the knife, turning it upright. One fingertip delicately met the point, anointing it with a single drop of bright, red blood.
“Oh, yes.” The Youngest of the Web of Ersh would share her secrets. It was only a matter of when.
Changing Vision Page 46