strongholdrising

by Lisanne Norman

  “You win, Dzinae,” he purred, lifting his head to kiss her. “I’ll call Garras.”

  Shola, Zhal-Vartra (month of the Consort), 3rd day (July)

  Dzaka followed Kitra down the stairs from Master Sorli’s office. They’d spent a pleasant hour chatting with him and his wife Mayoi before being shown their quarters at the Telepath Guild for the next month. Now they were on their way to the refectory for second meal.

  “Well, look who’s back,” he heard a young female voice say. “I’m surprised you’ve the nerve to show your nose here after getting expelled in the spring! And I hear the Chazouns dumped you too!”

  “I wasn’t expelled, Ghaysa,” said Kitra quietly. “And it was my father who canceled the betrothal, not the Chazouns.”

  Dzaka stayed where he was, just out of sight. As she’d be the first to tell him, Kitra had to fight her own battles.

  “That’s not what everyone here was saying.”

  “Everyone was wrong.”

  Almost as if he was seeing through her eyes, Dzaka saw the other female shrug. “No matter. You missed the exams, by the way. They’ll be keeping you back a year.”

  “No, they won’t. Don’t be so spiteful, Ghaysa,” said a new voice. “Kitra’s been through a lot recently, what with her brother and bond-sister going missing like that. ‘Lo, Kitra. Heard you’d arrived with one of the Brothers. Are you back with Dzaka?”

  T’Chya gave a tiny yowl of shock as Dzaka suddenly materialized beside them.

  “Good day,” he said, draping an arm around Kitra’s shoulder and handing her his key card. “You’d better have your key, Kitra. You might need access to our quarters when I’m not around.”

  It was his key, and Kitra knew it as she accepted it from him, but it was a neat way of letting them know he was there to stay.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking it from him and pocketing it.

  “A bonding bracelet!” exclaimed T’Chya. “You’re not married, are you? To a Brother?”

  “Of course she isn’t!” said Ghaysa. “He’s just playing a part for her!”

  “Yes, kitling,” said Dzaka, reaching out to flick her nose as one would a cub’s, “We’re life-bonded. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to eat before attending Master Sorli’s first class in an hour.”

  “Master Sorli only takes the Leska pairs,” began T’Chya, then she noticed the small bronze stud Dzaka wore on the neck of his Brotherhood jacket. She looked at Kitra, then reached out to touch a twin stud on her black tunic. “You are Leskas,” she said, a gentle purr of humor audible in her voice. “And those aren’t your family colors, are they, Kitra? You’re Brotherhood now! Congratulations!”

  “They can’t be life-bonded,” said Ghaysa. “There have been no weddings at the temple. We’d have known if there had been.”

  “As a priest of Vartra, I’m entitled to be life-bonded in the temple at Stronghold,” said Dzaka. “Which is what we did.”

  “Stronghold!” said T’Chya, her voice almost a whisper of awe. “You have to tell me about it! Can I sit with you during second meal? Please?”

  “You’re not falling for…”

  “Shut up, Ghaysa! Please say I can come with you!”

  “Of course you can,” said Kitra as Dzaka began to urge her gently away from the stairs toward the refectory. “Dzaka’s still got his comp pad with the holos of our wedding. We were showing them to Master Sorli and his wife. We’ve just come back from a cruise round the Western Isles.”

  *

  Dzaka’s wrist comm buzzed discreetly, rousing him from sleep: it was a Brotherhood signal. Beside him, Kitra stirred briefly. He answered it, reading the coded message on the screen then turning it off. No reply was necessary. As he carefully untangled himself from the sheet and Kitra, she began to stir again. Leaning over her, he gently stroked her forehead and nose, following the lie of her pelt. It worked with Kashini, it just might with Kitra. “Go back to sleep, kitling,” he whispered. “I have to go out for a little while. I’ll be back soon.”

  She mumbled a few half words, then soothed by the rhythmic strokes, drifted off again.

  Getting up, Dzaka went to the drawer unit, pulling out a civilian tunic. Picking up his belt from the top, he took his gun and knife and slipped from the bedroom into the small lounge. He dressed hastily, stowing both knife and pistol into holsters on the back of his belt. Grabbing a jacket from a peg by the door, he quietly let himself out.

  *

  The club was one that had adapted to suit a mainly Human clientele, but was equally popular among some of the younger Sholans. Music with a heavy drumbeat could be heard from the street as he approached the door. Pushing it open, he stepped in and was instantly engulfed by the sound.

  As he looked around, he felt a gentle touch at the edges of his mind, drawing his attention to a booth at the back of the inn. Pushing through the mixed crowd of revelers, he made his way across the room. There, in a tiny booth, sat his father, though he had to look twice to recognize him physically.

  Kaid pushed a large drink toward him as Dzaka sat down beside him. “Try this,” he said quietly. “Terran drink. Pleasant and mildly intoxicating for us.”

  Dzaka picked the glass up, eyeing the dark liquid with the creamy froth on top before tasting it. “Why the meeting?” he asked, taking a larger drink.

  “Some time ago you asked why I refused to let you leave the Brotherhood when I was expelled. I couldn’t tell you then because I was oath-bound, but with Ghezu’s death, that’s no longer the case.”

  Dzaka glanced at him. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.”

  “I know, and your patience hasn’t gone unnoticed,” said Kaid, canines gleaming white against the darkened pelt of his face as he smiled. “I needed to be sure of the facts myself before telling you, and taking further action.”

  Dzaka waited, aware of his increased heart rate. He’d waited so long to hear his father’s explanation for what at the time had seemed a betrayal of all the trust there had been between them. Now, finally, that moment had come.

  “It began two years earlier,” said Kaid, sitting back against the padded booth seat. “During the Leadership trials. I was able to shield you from most of what happened by leaving you with Noni, but you never quite forgave me for coming after you on your first mission.”

  “I couldn’t understand why you did,” said Dzaka.

  “No missions should have been authorized that last day of the trials,” said Kaid. “But there was a rogue telepath who needed to be dealt with. Ghezu used his gift of Glamour to persuade Senior Tutor Tanjo to send you along as an observer with Jebousa and Vikkul.”

  “An observer? But Ghezu said to deal with him alone,” Dzaka said slowly.

  “I know. It gets worse,” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “The telepath was Faezou Arrazo, blood-kin of yours. If you’d succeeded in killing him, you’d have been branded as a kin-slayer and been driven from the Brotherhood, outcast by all Guilds and Clans. And if you hadn’t, you’d be dead. Rogue telepaths aren’t dealt with by Brothers as young as you were, Dzaka; they’re dealt with by a special operative team. Even now you wouldn’t be aware of that as special ops are kept very quiet. Ghezu had set us both up very nicely.”

  “How did you find out?” Dzaka asked, unable to keep the suppressed anger from his voice.

  “Ghezu made no secret of it with me, he told me himself. He, Jebousa, and Vikkul came to my room that day just after dawn. They gave me a simple choice,” said Kaid, catching his son’s eyes. “Save you and lose the Leadership trials, or let you die and win.” He looked back at his own drink, picking it up. “It was an easy choice— I never wanted to be Leader anyway.”

  “Why did you leave me at Noni’s? I would have stood with you, told them what had happened!” When he’d returned to Stronghold four weeks later to take up his new post with Father Jyarti, it had all been over— the hearing, his father’s humiliation— but not the comments from others in
his year. His anger now wasn’t directed at the father who wouldn’t tell him why he’d thrown away the Leadership to be with him, it was for Ghezu, Jebousa, and Vikkul.

  “I couldn’t,” said Kaid simply. “I had to swear to not even admit I was oath-bound or they wouldn’t release me. When Faezou had been dealt with, I took you to Noni for safety. I assumed Acting Leader Tanjo had been in on it. He knew there was no love lost between me and Ghezu yet he’d put you in danger by sending you on that mission. You’re my son, Dzaka. I had to protect you at all costs. Ghezu was going to be the new Leader, and he’d just tried to kill you. I could no longer protect you. Noni used her influence to contact Father Jyarti and have you transferred to his protection before Ghezu was inducted as Leader. At my request, she kept you with her until it was all over because if the full story had come out, make no mistake, Ghezu would have had you killed.”

  “Noni knew about this?”

  He shook his head. “No, but she knew me,” he said quietly. “And she knew you. I had only to ask for her help and tell her your life was in danger from Ghezu for her to do what she did.”

  “All this because Ghezu wanted my mother,” he said, trying to suppress the surge of anger. When Kaid put a hand on his arm, he jumped in shock.

  “Let it go, Dzakayini,” he said, using his son’s cub-name with a lopsided Human grin. “Ghezu paid, and paid dearly, I made sure of that,” he said, his voice now grim. “In our Challenge, I broke his neck, left him paralyzed and choking on his own blood.”

  “The Liege of Hell has him now,” murmured Dzaka with satisfaction.

  “Yes. And He’ll soon have the others,” said Kaid, lifting his drink again. “The next two years under Ghezu weren’t easy. Father Jyarti never believed I’d willingly lost the trials but there was no way for him to ask me what had happened. He tried to protect me in the the priesthood, too, but Ghezu refused. Ghezu made life a misery for me, sending me on the most dangerous missions he could find, then giving me mind-numbingly repetitive tasks. I tried to force the issue, to have him Challenge me or throw me out. Either would have relieved the situation for you. At least it did focus his attention on me rather than you because he didn’t know what I’d do next.” Kaid smiled. “I found creative ways to do every task he gave me, ways that showed as openly as I dared my contempt for him. I was a permanent thorn in his foot. With me dead or gone, there’d be no need to turn his hate on you.”

  “That’s why he expelled you,” said Dzaka, reaching into his pocket for a pack of stim twigs. All along, his father had been protecting him, not betraying him, and his own resentment and anger during that time had only added to the burden.

  Kaid nodded, setting his glass down on the table. “He did something I hadn’t anticipated, though. He told me that you had to remain in the Brotherhood as good faith for my behavior. Relations between you and me hadn’t been good,” he said, looking at Dzaka. “It never occurred to me that you’d want to leave with me.”

  “Kaid, I’d spent two years defending you,” said Dzaka, taking a twig from the pack then handing it to his father to cover his feelings. “You don’t know what it was like for me. I’d been the foster son of one of the most respected Brothers, then suddenly that was all destroyed, apparently by your own actions. I stood by you against them, even when you were publicly humiliated for the second time and thrown out!” He stopped abruptly, aware his voice had cracked as he’d relived that dark time at Stronghold.

  “Surely you could have given me some explanation,” Dzaka said more quietly.

  “I know you did,” said Kaid softly, putting a twig in the corner of his mouth. “Ghezu knew it too. It was the price I had to pay to take the heat off you. That day, he drove a wedge between us that lasted ten years. And it hastened the death of Father Jyarti.” Kaid sat silently for a moment, then smiled gently. “But that’s behind us now. Even after the worst Ghezu could do, I got my son back.” He handed the pack back to Dzaka.

  As he took it from him, Dzaka held onto his father’s hand for a moment longer than was necessary, letting his feelings flow to him, surprised when his father echoed them. Embarrassed, he said, “You said soon L’Shoh will have the others in Hell.”

  “Yes. Vikkul is here with Jebousa. Ghezu sent them to Anchorage just after he was invested. He wanted to be sure no one found out what he’d done. I thought you and I should settle this matter together, decide what to do about them.”

  Dzaka nodded. “What have you in mind?”

  “A two-part poison, colored so they know they’ve been given it.”

  “With no rush to give them the second part,” murmured Dzaka. “I remember those lessons. They’ll live in total fear that everything they touch, eat, or drink, could contain the second part. It could even be put safely on their lover’s pelt.”

  “More, they’ll come to the point where they’ll go mad or take their own lives. I’ve seen it happen.”

  “Do it,” he said abruptly, lifting his drink to take a sip. “What about Tanjo?”

  “Tanjo was used, Dzaka. He honestly thought you were going along only to observe,” said Kaid. “I’ve seen him, and read him. After Ghezu expelled me, he told Tanjo the truth, and he’s been paying a penance ever since.”

  “I hope it’s a good one,” growled Dzaka.

  “That’s a matter for him and Vartra,” said Kaid, passing him a small tablet no bigger than the tip of his smallest claw. “It’s activated by alcohol.” He smiled, showing all his teeth. “It’ll turn their piss red so they’ll know what’s been done.”

  “Where are they?”

  Kaid flicked an ear toward a group of two Sholans sitting in a booth with two Human females. The four were talking animatedly.

  “They haven’t taken long to get in with our Humans,” murmured Dzaka. “I know them. They’re attending the Telepath Guild.”

  “Do they know you?” asked Kaid.

  He shook his head. “No. Won’t Jebousa and Vikkul recognize me?”

  “You’ve changed a lot in twelve years, Dzaka. Are you up for a fight?” Kaid asked, raising an eye ridge.

  “Sure, but…”

  “You object to their familiarity with the telepaths. And they’re out after curfew.”

  “Ah. Right.” Dzaka pushed the tiny pill beneath his claw tip and finger pad, took a deep breath, and got to his feet. Around his face, his hair began to rise slightly, and as he walked across to the table, his whole demeanor changed. The quiet Brother was gone, now he was a belligerent youth.

  Remember to use your gift to change their mood.

  “What d’you think you’re doing here with them?” demanded Dzaka, stopping beside the nearest of the Humans, a plumpish brown-haired female with a pleasant round face. “You should be back at the Guild by this time of night!”

  “We’ve got a late pass,” she began but one of the Sholan males interrupted.

  “What business is it of yours? You heard her,” said Vikkul. “She’s got a late pass. Now leave us alone.”

  “You keep out of this,” said Dzaka, pointing at him. “Late passes run out at twentieth hour, Djana, you know that. And you want to stick to your own kind, telepaths, not lowlifes like these. Best you head back to the Guild now.”

  “Who you calling lowlifes?” demanded Jebousa. “We’re not causing any harm. The Djanas chose to sit with us. Why don’t you just keep your nose out of what doesn’t concern you?”

  Heads were beginning to turn in their direction.

  “We better go, Pat,” said the other female, getting to her feet. “He’s right, we don’t want trouble from the Guild.”

  “You just stay put,” said Vikkul, reaching out to pull her back down to her seat. “He’s got no right to come over here like that and order you around.”

  Dzaka’s hand lashed out across Vikkul’s arm, swiping it aside as the female let out a small shriek of shock. “You know the law for laying hands on a telepath,” growled Dzaka. “Want me to call a Protector?”

  “Leav
e it, youngling,” said Kaid’s voice from behind him. “The Djanas are old enough to look out for themselves.”

  Dzaka swung round belligerently on him. “I don’t like the way those males are treating them,” he said loudly. “Telepaths shouldn’t be handled like they were goods in a store, they’re protected by law whether they’re Human or Sholan!”

  “They chose to be here with these two,” Kaid pointed out reasonably. “Their business if they get taken advantage of, or lose their passes for the next month by being back late.”

  “We should watch out for them. They’re guests on our world. I won’t have them thinking all Sholan males are only after one thing,” said Dzaka, turning back to the table so suddenly he collided with it, making the drinks slop over the tops of the glasses.

  Jebousa and Vikkul leaped to their feet with exclamations of annoyance, brushing ale off their damp tunics and pelts.

  “Come on, Pat,” urged the dark-haired Human, tugging at her friend as they got up. “Let’s leave now.”

  Kaid grabbed hold of Dzaka as his son clutched wildly at the table. “Apologies,” he said. “He’s had a little too much to drink. I’ll take care of my friend.”

  I’m done, sent Dzaka as Vikkul took a step toward him, raising his hand threateningly. “It was an accident,” he said. “You want to make more of it, fine.”

  Jebousa swore roundly as the tables beside them began to empty. “Leave it, Vikkul,” he growled. “It isn’t worth getting the Protectors involved. These Human Telepaths aren’t worth it. There’s plenty more females where they came from.”

  Dzaka let out a snarl and surged forward, wrenching himself free of Kaid so his father went sprawling against the nearest chair, once more jarring the table. Hearing his yowl of pain and seemingly diverted, Dzaka turned back to him.

  Kaid righted himself, grabbing hold of Dzaka again as one of the large male bar staff loomed over them all.

  “Is there a problem?” the male asked.

  “No,” said Kaid hurriedly. “My friend just got overprotective of the two Human Telepaths, that’s all. They’re out after hours. We’re going back to our seats now.”