Once having started to kiss her, he did not want to stop, and he traced the contours of her face. He paused only when she let out a soft moan.
“What is it?”
She hugged him tight again, burying her face in the curve of his neck where it met his shoulders. That was all the answer he needed.
The pile of pillows shifted, covering the floor near the window, as they lay back. Jack fought for control, to move slowly, his hands finding, then holding the curves of her body. She answered, biting his lip gently, then moving away so that she could open his shirt and trace her fingers along his chest. “You’re hurt.”
“From this morning.” She salved the assassin’s bruise with the coolness of her fingertips. She opened up the curled hairs on his chest as though they were buds, and found his own nipples, and caressed, then kissed them.
They pressed close again.
Jack said then, “I love you,” his voice thickening.
“You damn well better,” she said, and took her caftan off, flesh like silk offered up to the touch of his hands. She quivered under his stroke then reached for the fastening of his pants.
Bare skin touching bare skin. The port wine dark sky without sheltered them in privacy. A house lizard skimmed the curtain without drawing their attention. Nothing and no one might have existed in this or any other world but the two of them.
Jack hesitated. “I can’t hold off much longer.”
“Now, then.”
He moved over her. She tangled her fingers in his hair and drew his face close to her so she could see the expression in his eyes when he entered her. She felt a brief moment of pity for the Bythians who had no concept of what it was to make love, to merge with another being. The night perfume from the gardens made her light-headed and passion drummed her pulse faster. His eyes grew large and luminous, taking her in, even as she opened up to take him in. His eyes…
His eyes opened wide in startlement. A convulsive ripple went through him. He gasped, as if in pain, and then slumped down upon her.
Amber froze. She blinked, then shrugged out from beneath his limp body. “Jack?” she whispered. “Jack!”
She touched him. All the fire was gone. Fear and nausea rose in her gorge. She bit it back and, with all of her strength, pushed his body over.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and a tiny rivulet of blood trickled from one nostril. There was nothing in his blank sight. She saw Colin’s near-death mirrored in his slack form.
A rush of hot saltiness blinded her sight. Amber patted his face gently, then desperately. “Don’t do this to me! God, don’t do this to me! It’s not funny, Jack!”
Then she rocked back on her heels. He hadn’t done it to her. She’d done it to him.
She had killed him without a second thought.
Amber assailed the east-side wall, fingernails raking the stone, pulling herself up. She panted, blinked, squeezing a heated blurriness out of her eyes that would not dry away. She made the wall top and crouched there, an animal among others in the port wine darkness.
She’d dressed. She could not remember dressing herself, although she did remember pulling Jack’s clothes back on.
Why did she bother with herself?
Amber wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Her chin was wet as though she’d been drooling or frothing. She caught her breath and looked down.
Glowing yellow eyes met hers. She started a moment, gasping, then realized it wasn’t the High Priest, but something on all fours that paced below her.
A surfa.
She feared for a moment. Amber took that fear and tore it out of her, physically, and threw it down.
The beast reared and snapped at the fringe of cloth torn from her overjacket. It growled and shredded the fabric, and its frenzy drew other beasts until she looked down into a boiling pack. They began to throw themselves at the wall.
She was not sane any longer.
If she had been, she would never have snarled back and leaped into their midst, her fingers curling like talons and foam dripping from her open mouth.
Chapter Twenty Three
Winton stood over the blood-splattered body with distaste written on his face. Distaste and a feeling of having been inconvenienced. The WP guard hesitated to approach him, but did, with surveillance record in hand.
“Have you played it back?”
“No, sir.”
“Good work bringing it to me.” Winton looked past the guard to the hallway, where the ambassador was beginning to lumber toward them.
“What is it?” he began officiously.
“Messy business, sir. I suggest you go back to bed. I’ll have the grounds secured.” Winton palmed the tape.
“Yes. Well. Of course you will. G’night, then.” The bulky man turned and lumbered back the way he had come, leaving behind a faint scent of good bourbon. Winston aimed his handgun and shot, and the ambassador collapsed. He was dead before he hit the flooring.
The guard’s eyes bugged out and he paled as Winton turned to him. “Put through a call to Emperor Pepys. Tell him an assassin got into the embassy and took out a guard and the ambassador before he was downed. Tell Pepys we need a new ambassador and that I suggest he appoint St. Colin of the Blue Wheel.”
The WP guard gulped. “Yes, sir.”
Winston made a noise of satisfaction. That little appointment would solve several of his immediate problems. He replaced his handgun in the hollow of his back.
“Get them out and get the stairs cleaned. And I don’t want to find out about this on the grapevine.”
“Yessir.”
Winton watched the body being towed past him. He didn’t like losing assassins. He waited until the detail was busy cleaning bloodstains off the rugs and then went to his office.
His eyes narrowed as he played the tape.
He could not identify the killer. There was a certain grace to the being—it could even be a Bythian. “Shit,” he said. He would have to take Storm out himself. He considered that his quarry might be one of the other Knights, but he was not worried about taking them out. The Thraks, the Bythians, and the berserker infestation he’d introduced into the armor would do that for him.
“Jack never came back to the barracks last night.” Colin stood there barefoot, his open robe thrown over what passed for pajamas this far from home. He ran the palm of his hand over his face as though the gesture might awaken him more fully. “Storm,” he mumbled, “has his own sense of time.”
Kavin pulled himself up straighter. He did not have the friendship that Jack had with this man, and he was a little uncertain of how to tread here. But tread past that doorway he would, knowing as he did where Jack was going after the embassy dinner. “Sir,” he said while listening to Lassaday and Rawlins grumble at his back, “you and I both know the two of them have little privacy to protect. It’s important. We’ve got problems at Black Piss River and the Knights are going out.”
“Again? You haven’t even had time to set up a shop.”
Lassaday returned from the too bright street outside, “Damn right, sar, if you don’t mind my saying so. But the buckos around here seemed to be enjoyin’ a fight.”
“I’ve got a field team out there.”
“Right. And we’re going out to protect them.”
Colin cleared his throat and let the three in through the door of his residence. As he did so, he glanced across the street and saw a figure ducking surreptitiously inside a threshold out of sight. Less sophisticated methods than he would figure, but the Walker villa was definitely being watched. He dropped the door tapestry down, turning his thoughts to matters at hand. “May I suggest a meeting with Dr. Quaddah, commander? The people here are fractioned… you’re going to find armies as thick as the brush on the hillsides. It might help to know who had what in mind when they attacked.”
Kavin paused. The sun through the windows glinted off his silver-blue hair. He smiled slowly. “Then I’d just have to be bothered figuring out who was right, w
ouldn’t I? That’s a moral dilemma I don’t want to have to be in. No, I plan to just keep knocking them over their heads until they decide not to fight, period.”
Lassaday shouldered in after his commander. Colin glanced at the younger one, Rawlins, who looked to be a couple of years younger than his captain, but then Storm had always had a certain amount of age in his eyes that had never shown on his face. The Walker shrugged.
“Amber’s rooms are in that wing. The tapestry depicts a mountain scene with a sunrise.”
Lassaday had already begun walking in that direction. The bandy-legged sergeant yelled back, “It looks like a sunset to me, sar, but I reckon this is it.”
He paused outside the tapestry. Kavin joined him. He cleared his throat and called out, “Jack… Jack, we’ve got orders.”
No sound from inside. In fact, this wing of the corridor was still in purple shadows, from the angle of the rising sun, and cool in its quietude. With another clearing of his throat, Kavin pulled back the edge of the tapestry.
His face blanched. “Oh my god.”
Lassaday drummed his heel on the tiled flooring of the Bythian kitchen and looked about sharply as he munched.
Rawlins, however, sat pale and slumped. “It had to be the girl,” the second lieutenant said.
“No signs of a struggle except one of passion—you’re probably right, sar,” the veteran said. “But I doubt it. I saw the two of them through basic training. A feisty little piece, she was, but she’d have died for Jack. No, I bet my nuts we’ll be a time putting this one together. It’s good the captain has the thick skull he has, or we’da lost him.”
“Then you think she’s been taken hostage?”
“Maybe. Wouldn’t put it past these snakeskins.” Lassaday swallowed. “Good food, though.” He shivered. “Heard you had those damn beetles eating with you at the table last night.”
“Yeah. They put up a one-way privacy screen, though. It seems that’s part of their etiquette. Gave me the shivers—they could have been sitting there flipping us off for all I could see. But we could hear them. Crackle, slurp, gulp.” Rawlins’ face paled even more at the thought. To save himself, he clutched at the glass in front of him. “Here’s to Captain Storm.”
“To Storm,” Lassaday echoed.
“Isn’t that premature,” a weak voice at the doorway countered.
They shot to their feet. “Sir!”
“Sar!”
Kavin helped Jack into a chair. “Since you two have had refreshments, why don’t you go back across town and get the transport loaded. I’ll be along presently.”
Rawlins held himself very erect, his white-blond hair spiking straight up. “Will you be going out with us, captain?”
“In a moment. Get my field pack ready.”
“Yes, sir!” With a snap, the cadet turned and left them.
Kavin poured a cool glass of fruit juice and pushed it in front of his friend.
Jack allowed himself to slump over the table, now that his subordinates were gone. He pushed the glass away.
“Drink it,” Kavin said gruffly.
“I don’t want it.”
“I didn’t ask if you wanted it.”
Jack took a sip. The reddish pulp darkened his lips which had been little more than a purplish slash in his face. “Where is she?”
“We don’t know.”
“Then what happened?”
“We don’t know that, either. I’m hoping you can tell us.”
“No sign of a struggle in the room? What about outside, in the garden? Anything?”
Kavin shook his head. He sat down heavily opposite Jack, all humor gone from his face. His dark eyes were grim. “I think she attacked you. Fled in terror at what she’d done.”
“She’s not like that.”
“I don’t know what the hell she’s like! But every time somebody drops dead mysteriously at the palace, she’s within earshot. You brought her out of under-Malthen, you tell me. My dossier says she was just a pickpocket and ran minor scams. You tell me if she’s a trained assassin or not… and if she is, what the hell is her method?”
“If she is,” Jack said quietly over his glass, unable to meet his friend’s eye, “if she is, she uses psychic energy.”
“Psychic—what the hell are you talking about?”
“Her mind. She can use her mind.”
The commander rocked back in his chair. “To kill?”
“We think so. But she’s under neurolinguistic programming and we don’t know what her trigger is or who her targets are. She’s like a weapon that’s suddenly decided to begin discharging and wiping people out.” And he hadn’t had the time to tell her she was innocent of the other murders. “If she’s not here, and she hasn’t been taken, then she’s run. She thinks she’s killed me.”
“I wonder why.”
Jack winced at the sarcastic tone, but their gazes met. “Give me leave to go find her.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to leave a small detail here to finish assembling the shop, and the embassy’s hollering—there was some kind of trouble there last night—” Kavin overlooked the expression on Jack’s face at that last. “I’ve got someone out on a hoverscout now, seeing if anyone went over the walls.” He deliberately did not tell Jack that the night sentry had reported a skirmish at the East wall where at least one surfa was dead and forensics was examining other remains to determine if there’d been another victim. He added, “Colin said the house is being watched. If we’re lucky enough to pick up that agent, we might find out more.”
Kavin bared his teeth slightly. “I think we could convince him to tell, don’t you? But leave I can’t give you.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
“You’re a soldier. This is your post. I can’t make it any plainer for you than that.”
Jack never dropped his gaze, but Kavin finally looked away as Jack said, “I’d go through hell for Amber.”
They both heard the silvery ring of bells at the front of the villa. Kavin ignored it as he said, “You may have to. In the meantime, let our scouts do what they can to find her, you’re in no condition.” Kavin pushed himself abruptly to his feet. “I can’t do any more for you than that. This is an ugly little world right now. For some reason I don’t understand, these people seem intent on tearing themselves to pieces in suicidal frenzy. Amber’s at their mercy, Jack.” He paused at the doorway.
Colin came in. His skin tone had grayed and he suddenly looked much older than his years. He looked up wordlessly at Kavin as the commander took his elbow and sat him down.
“What is it?”
“Word from the embassy. There—there’s been an assassination. The ambassador’s dead.”
Jack, who’d been on the verge of telling Kavin about his late-night foray into the embassy domain, clamped his lips shut tight and felt his own face drain of color. “What happened?”
“A guard died. The assassin was stopped, but not before… before he succeeded. I’ve been sent word from Pepys. I’ve been asked to step in.” He looked at his hands, which he had been twisting together. “It’s an honor, of course, but it—it changes everything I do here. All my plans, my investigations, my field work…”
Jack watched Colin become an empty shell, and then, just as palpably, fill again.
Colin straightened up. “I’ll accept, of course. I’ll have to temporarily.” He looked from Jack to Kavin. “Any news of Amber?”
“Not yet.”
Colin nodded. He got back to his feet and stripped off his blue robe. He looked down at Jack. “He’s got me, my dear boy. Watch out or he’ll have you, too.”
Jack watched the saint leave the kitchen and prepare to make an announcement. Kavin’s mouth worked but no sound came out. Then… “Amber,” and the word was laced with suspicion.
“No!”
“How do you know what she did when she left you here?”
Jack launched himself to his feet. His head throbbed as if it would swell and
burst. “No, she had nothing to do with it.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can, because I’m the one who went in. I didn’t kill the ambassador, but the others… owed me.”
The commander considered him, and though he said nothing, in the depths of his eyes Jack saw that he was not believed. Kavin hesitated another moment, then said, “Because of our friendship, I won’t do anything.”
Jack let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding.
Kavin shoved his hand out to take him by the shoulder. “We have a different kind of war to fight, one that you and I are better suited for.”
Jack nodded and let his companion lead him out.
Chapter Twenty Four
Quaddah wasn’t kidding. For every wind-worn hill out there, there’s a platoon standin’ behind it.” Lassaday spat into his empty cup even as he glared out the transport windows. The hovercraft skimmed the terrain and the black, oily surface of the river system known as Black Piss River dominated the forward viewscreen. “I’d give my balls to know where these hissers come from.”
Simultaneously, from all over the transport, soldiers yelled, “Who’d want your balls!”
The old sergeant flushed, clenched his jaw and said not another word.
Jack leaned close, eyeing the terrain intensely, looking not only for the field camp they’d come to rescue but for possible sign of Amber, though he knew it was impossible she’d come this far.
A crackle came in over the com lines, and Kavin sat up straight and homed it in. “Got ‘em, finally,” he said with grim satisfaction.
“Walker One, is that you?”
“Help someone, anyone… oh, my god. There’s somebody there! They heard us!” Transmission broke up into a ragged cheering.
Kavin shook his head at Jack. “Amateurs,” he mouthed. Jack found it in him to give a slight smile.
“Walker One, we’re on a tight schedule. Bundle up so we can get you out of there.”
“Ah… hello? Who is this?”
“This is Commander Kavin, of the Dominion Knights. St. Colin sends his regards and suggests you boys come home.”
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