Double Solitaire w-10

by George R. R. Martin

  "Child, child, we should not be meeting like this." Bat'tam rolled an eye toward the bed. "It tempts me far too much."

  "I didn't meet you to fuck, I met you to talk." Something of Kelly's urgency must have communicated itself, because Bat'tam lost some of his prissy, precise attitude. A quick touch opaqued the walls with a blinding kaleidoscope of rainbow colors.

  "What are you doing here?" Kelly demanded.

  "It's Festival. Everyone attends Festival."

  "When you vanished last week, I thought you'd gotten smart and split..." Bat'tam was frowning in confusion. "You know, run away from Blaise," Kelly amplified. "He's gonna kill you."

  The urbane, cynical mask dropped back into place like a presidium curtain falling. "I had rather apprehended that. That's why I'm making a protracted stay in Vayam."

  "You've gotta go a lot farther than Vayam if you're going to be safe from Blaise!"

  "My sweet one, Zal'hma at' Irg do not transfer alliance from House to House. I am Vayawand."

  "Then you're dead, and that's really stupid. Go to Ilkazam. Maybe you can help them. Somebody's got to stop Blaise."

  He gnawed at his lower lip. "It's never been done."

  "A lot of shit is happening that's never happened before," Kelly countered. "Run goddamn it, run!"

  Bat'tam caught Kelly by the shoulders. "If I do, it will leave you without a friend in House Vayawand."

  "That's okay. I don't think he's going to kill me --" Kelly's mouth twisted in a rueful smile. "At least not yet. Your suggestion about my precious bodily fluids got him thinking, and he's got some big something planned."

  "Bravery sits oddly on you. From where did this sudden resolve arise?"

  Kelly shrugged. "You can't be scared all the time. After a while you just stop feeling anything. Besides, you're the only person who's ever been nice to me -- even if you are doing it for the boy you saw dancing sixty-five years ago, and not really for me. I could at least pretend it was for me. I'm pretty good at pretending ... But anyway, I don't want you dead, so please go."

  Bat'tam's hand closed on his sharply pointed chin, and Kelly could feel the nobleman rummaging about in his mind. The probe was withdrawn, and the old man ran his palms down the other man's smooth cheeks.

  You know, girl, for the first time I've actually seen you."

  There was nothing romantic in the kiss. Lips, a little dry and very wrinkled, pressing hard against his. Tongue forcing its way past the barrier of his teeth.

  Would Tachyon have minded? Analyzing that question and trying to unsnarl his tangled emotions kept Kelly motionless.

  Bat'tam paused at the door. Glanced back, grinned. "That doesn't quite make it all worth while... but it helps to ease the pain."

  She checked slightly on the threshold, and Zabb smiled to himself. Had he finally succeeded in impressing her? And it was an impressive display. Oh, not the numbers... a mere five Houses meeting with House Ilkazam... but the power represented by those Houses.

  Probably because they have the most to lose, came Tisianne's thought. Still, it was a diplomatic coup on Zabb's part. I didn't think he had it in him.

  Zabb leaned in close to her and whispered, "Thank you." He knew the ease with which he read her mind would rattle her. It did.

  Zabb added his telepathy to her feeble power so she could read the surface indigestion bubbling off the minds of the five Raiyises and their military commanders. Old Yimkin's was the worst, though some of his distress wasn't just worry over the Abomination. It was grief at seeing Tisianne in her current predicament.

  If one could be said to have friends of a rival, Raiyis Yimkin would qualify. The histories of House Ilkazam and House Tandeh were strewn with a series of brief but lucrative treaties. One of Tisianne's sisters had in fact been married into Tandeh. That the marriage ended tragically was no the fault of Yimkin. At Jadlan's funeral, the bluff, sunburned seaman had carried a grieving fourteen-year-old Tisianne away and wrapped the weeping boy in a tight embrace.

  "We are discussing the feasibility of an alliance," Zabb said.

  "I'm delighted to see it," Tis replied. "And though I'm honored by the confidence, I wonder at my inclusion. I'm not a soldier -- wasn't then, am certainly not now."

  But you know Blaise," Taj said. "His strengths and weaknesses."

  "So how do we minimize the first and exploit the second, cousin?" Zabb asked.

  "His strengths are rather evident -- several hundred Morakhs --"

  "Our wits have gone begging," Yimkin interrupted. He shook his head, setting the bells braided into his full beard to ringing. "Here, child, take a seat." He rose and offered his.

  Watching the flush blossom in her cheeks, Zabb knew how much the courtesy irritated her, but she took the proffered chair. Tisianne had always preferred comfort over principle.

  Until that last wild gesture, Zabb corrected himself. He had plucked small memories of Earth from her mind, and most were either sad or terrifying. No, fifty years in the mud had taught Tis to suffer.

  "The Morakhs aren't enough to ensure his safety. Burning Sky, what's the matter with the Zal'hma at' Irg?" Quar'ande exploded.

  "The same thing that would be wrong with any of us," Taj replied. "He has empowered young cadet lines within the House. He's promised them conquest, and he's delivered."

  "But he's an abomination," Gabru wailed.

  "He's successful," Tisianne broke in. "For the moment that is all that matters. Oh, they comfort themselves with the argument that once Takis is theirs, they'll remove him --"

  "But it won't happen," Zabb interrupted. "He commands the will and the loyalty of the Tarhiji."

  "But how?" Yimkin asked.

  Zabb smiled grimly. "I defer to my cousin. She seems to have a somewhat better grasp of this matter than I do."

  Zabb had heard much of this before, and he could request amplification once they were back home, so he paid only scant attention to the briefing.

  Instead he sat and watched Tisianne. The emotions darkening or sparkling in the wide gray eyes. The mobile little mouth with its absurdly short upper lip. The soft voice concisely and without elaboration detailing the personality of her tormentor. She was careful to touch on none of the horrors she had endured. Was that pride or fear? That she was desperately afraid of her grandson there was no doubt. Tisianne in male form was a volatile little man. He spoke almost as much with his hands as with his voice. Tisianne in female form kept her hands clasped lightly in her lap, but Zabb saw the delicate trembling. Once, only once, did she execute a sharp, punctuating gesture. There was a flicker of reaction from Yimkin and Gabru.

  She should have worn gloves, Zabb thought. Hide those scars. I wonder who stopped her. Or did this new, stronger Tisianne stop herself? I certainly can't ask her, and is it worth thought theft?

  "If you thwart Blaise, be certain you are ready for the reaction. He will lash out at whatever is convenient, and with a barbarity that will shock even us," Tis said.

  She fell silent. Zabb looked at the other men.

  "Questions? Comments?" Head shakes all around. "Thank you, cousin. Can you find your way back to your stirpes without escort?"

  "Yes." She stood and shook out her skirt. Walked to the door. Paused. Looked back at all of them. Desperation was etched in the tendons of her neck, the lines about her mouth. "Please... please, don't kill him. He is my only way home."

  Zabb just pushed her gently back through the door.

  After her abrupt ejection from the meeting, Tis felt very much at loose ends. She was afraid of running into Blaise. Mark seemed to have vanished. Her sisters were all celebrating with their husbands and children. No one wanted her fear or her unhappiness near them. There was only one person who shared them both.

  It took an hour, but once the contact was formed, there was never any doubt they would rendezvous. Illyana was the anchor, telepathy the chains, and Kelly and Tisianne were safe, for Blaise was brain deaf.

  For years after, Tisianne would remember the convers
ation as a series of sound bites or MTV pulses. Kelly had done an impressive job self-teaching himself mentatics but lacked control. Tisianne offered hurried pointers...

  And then they ended up back on Illyana. Delighting in her mind.

  Kelly warned Tisianne of his body's numerous drug allergies. Tis countered that natural childbirth is mandatory among the telepathic class. Survival of the fittest and all that...

  And then they ended up back on Illyana, wondering about her eye color.

  Kelly hesitantly and rather shyly told Tisianne about Bat'tam.

  I remember now. It was Crossing. He danced with me.

  Guys dance with each other?

  This is a guy's dance. Amusement at the groundling's shocked sensibilities. A very pretty, energetic dance called the Condala. You'll see it tonight. A cross between Russian and Middle Eastern styles. It's very intriguing. A beau who's nursed a crush for sixty-five years. Perhaps a suitor to make an honest woman of me.

  I think he's heading for Ilkala.

  Impossible, Tis demurred. No one abandons House.

  And they ended up back on Illyana, wondering how she would cope with her bizarre parentage -- assuming any of them ended up back where they belonged.

  Switching back to audible conversation, Tis warned, "I will not give her up."

  "I understand. Just so I can see her now and then."

  Before Tisianne would reply, Zabb screamed through her head like a five-alarm fire.

  TROUBLE!

  There was this swell hidden gallery running the entire circumference of the ballroom. The discovery had come quite by accident. Jay had seen clumps of psi lords cruising into this tiny cul de sac carrying candles and emerging minutes later sans candles. They sure as hell weren't leaving them in the hall, so Jay had snooped, watching as they opened a secret panel in one of the pillars.

  When there was a lull in the traffic, Jay tried it, and felt like a turd being flushed. Whatever it was, it wasn't an elevator -- more like one of the old pneumatic tubes that used to grace department stores in the twenties. The dizzying ascent slowed, and he found himself suspended in midair in front of a door.

  Stepping out (or did one step off thin air?) seemed the wisest thing to do, so he did, and found himself in the gallery. It was creepy at first. There were hundreds of little candles flickering at the foot of those crystal pillars. Only instead of lights embedded in the crystal, there were people. Jay wondered what you had to do to get buried at the pole? Fuck up big? Or score big?

  It made him nervous staring at those serene faces. As if they might wake up and start screaming impostor, burglar, thief, like in Alice in Wonderland. Resolutely Jay turned his back on the corpses and walked to the edge of the gallery. And that's when he realized it was swell because he had a view of the entire ballroom, and... there was Blaise.

  Jay carefully formed the forefinger of his right hand into a gun, and drew a bead on that powerful black-clad man.

  -- And had his hand twisted to point at the floor by an inexorable grip.

  "No!" said Mark Meadows.

  Kelly and Tisianne exchanged concerned glances.

  "I'll take you," Kelly said as he assisted the Takisian from her chair. Keeping a supporting arm lightly about her waist, he escorted her to Zabb.

  We're a behavioral psychologist's wet dream, Tis mused as she considered the roles they were falling into by virtue of their respective biologies.

  They were the center of attention as the crowd swept back to make way for their passage. Waiting in a cleared area in the center of the ballroom were Zabb and Taj. They were ranged on one side with Blaise and Durg on the other. Tis wondered if she and Kelly were supposed to have brought the ball for the tip-off?

  "You have disrupted this Crossing Festival on an obscure point of protocol. It had better be worth it," Taj was growling as they arrived.

  Blaise smiled slow and long, giving the impression of a killing beast stretching after a long sleep. "Oh, it will be." He raised his voice. "But before we address these troublesome matters, I wish to share a bit of joy." He gestured, and Durg held out a hand. A woman emerged from the crowd.

  She was beautiful in that way only creatures bred for beauty can possess. Jewels completely covered the bone beneath her brows and swept up and away toward her hairline like wings. With that weight of ice she was certainly of the highest born. Her hair had been cropped short and was just beginning to grow out, indicating she had recently rotated back from space-platform duty. Where it was red, it was so intensely dark, it would probably appear black in some lights. But it was also stippled with white streaks. The Ss'ang bred for that piebald look, so she was some kind of outcross. She was also one hell of a mentat, for as she passed, Tis read nothing. It was as if there were a blank space, a psychic black hole walking past.

  "Prince Tisianne, stop making time with that other woman and come meet your bride," said Blaise with hearty bonhomie.

  For an instant Tis was afraid that Kelly would faint. Tis gripped Kelly so tightly that she felt her nails puncture the fabric of his sleeve and hit flesh. Kelly shook it off, but his eyes were desperate.

  Tis forced rubbery legs to move and placed herself inches from Blaise. "Blaise, my child, never ride a scam past its useful life. Fully half the people in this room know my psi signature. They know that's not me."

  "It's enough you where it counts. Between the legs."

  "I won't! It's gross!" Passion throbbed in the words. Tis winced. The teenage girl's hysterical reaction delivered in a baritone voice was embarrassing.

  Blaise stepped around Tisianne. Squared off with Zabb. "It's the first step in the amalgamation of House Ilkazam into the new order."

  "The only one," Zabb said softly.

  "Are you fucking crazy!" Jay spluttered. "Look, I've got 'em all. Blaise, the body... even Tachy if we want to send her home fast too."

  The detective struggled fitfully, but Meadows had succeeded in locking both his hands behind his back. "You can't. It's Festival."

  "What is this crap? When did you become Takisian?"

  "Jay, there's, like, two of us, and probably a hundred thousand psi lords. Do you really want to piss them off by violating their customs and traditions this way?"

  Taj was shaking with anger, his hands opening and closing spasmodically. "You mudcrawler, you rotting abortion, this is Crossing. You denigrate our traditions --"

  "You want tradition?" Blaise snarled. He grabbed for Tisianne, but Zabb yanked her away so Blaise's fingertips only grazed the skin of her arm.

  Even that brief touch made the edges of the room, the people, vanish into a red haze. Only Blaise's face remained clear. Leering down at her. Peering up from between her legs. The pounding. The pain deep in her body.

  "This woman is carrying my child. That makes her mine. And on that point I believe your customs, traditions, and protocol agree."

  Ruek of Jeban stepped forward. "What custom decrees is that the child should die. It's an abomination ...just like you."

  Blaise's eyes widened. "You'll be next," he promised softly. So great was Blaise's power and the touch of his madness that Ruck took an involuntary step back. The watching families didn't miss it.

  Raising his voice, Blaise said, "No half-breed dies in my holdings."

  "So you use your new laws when it suits you, and the old when that works best," Taj said sarcastically.

  "Our Raiyis writes new laws and will build a new world," said Sekal, one of the Vayawand nobles who surrounded Blaise. Pride and adoration filled his words.

  "In other words, I use whatever works." Blaise added and smiled engagingly. It was horrifying.

  There are times in life when you know that doom is rolling toward you. Tisianne had felt it when he had waited for the decision of the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1950. She had felt it again as she had stood before the Ajayiz, and Zabb had banished her to Rarrana. She felt it now. Which is why Taj's passionate advocacy had no power to move her. He was going to fail.


  Taj tried. He raised every imaginable objection, and a few that made no sense at all. When he saw he was losing the battle, he switched to delaying tactics -- agreeing that Blaise could have her, but only after a genetic match was run to establish paternity. That didn't work either.

  The decision of the Families was clear, and it had nothing to do with custom and protocol, and a hell of a lot to do with the fact that the Vayawand and their young Raiyis were scaring the crap out of everyone.

  There never was anything so overt as a vote, but suddenly the crowd was dissipating like wind-torn smoke, and Blaise was walking toward her, his hand outstretched.

  "They're going to give her to him," Mark choked out, and Jay realized the gangling ace was crying.

  "Okay, that's it, party's over." Jay fashioned his gun.

  It wasn't conscious. It wasn't even a decision. It was instinct and survival. Tisianne snatched a knife from the buffet table and flung herself at Blaise.

  There was a whirlwind of motion, and Durg was between them. The knife cut through his finery and bit deep into the chest.

  A gasp like a thousand winds in a thousand pines swept the hall, and several nobles from House Vayawand bore their Raiyis to the floor. The music stuttered to a halt. Silence. And tension as everyone waited to see if the violence would escalate.

  Jay and Mark hung over the railing. Jay was cursing fluently and monotonously because he'd lost his bead on Blaise. Tisianne began backing slowly away from Durg. Blood was staining the front of the Morakh's shirt. Tis looked down at the knife in her hand as if surprised to find it there, dropped it. The sound of the blade hitting the floor was deafening in the unnatural silence.

  Zabb suddenly strode forward and dealt Tisianne a powerful backhand blow across the face, knocking her to the floor. Then a broad-shouldered Takisian with a chest-brushing beard made an intricate sign with his right hand, spit between his fingers, and deliberately turned his back on the fallen woman. By twos and threes, and then by the hundreds, the assembled lords and ladies did the same.