Desert World Allegiances

by Lyn Gala

  Shan sighed heavily and then spoke in a whisper. “I need to untie you.”

  “Hand me a knife and I’ll manage,” Temar suggested.

  “If I had a knife, I would.” Shan held up his empty hands. “The Lord provides, but he didn’t provide a knife.” Shan tried to laugh, but he strangled on the sound and cradled his head in his hands. “God, my head hurts.”

  “You need more water and food,” Temar said. If he had a choice, he’d rather just stay tied up than lift his nightshirt and let Shan see more of the damage Ben had done.

  Shan nodded and pulled up the leg of his pants. He had a canteen strapped to his leg, but it was yellowed with pipe juice, and when Shan opened the top, Temar could smell the sour.

  “You’re going to drink pipe juice?” he demanded.

  “God almighty, no. I rinsed the container the best I could, but I carried pure pipe juice in here, so this was the best I could do.” Shan took a deep drink. Temar frowned at the implication. Sure, when he was a kid, his favorite vid character had walked off the desert by drinking water evaporated out of pipe juice, but no one would be stupid enough to try that in real life. No one would survive if they tried doing that long enough to walk from Red Plain to the Valley. That was too far, and the desert was too full of sandrats to survive something like that.

  “You drank water evaporated out of pipe juice?” Temar’s voice squeaked with incredulity.

  “It worked,” Shan said with a shrug as he bit off part of a rhubarb stalk. He made a terrible face, but he kept chewing until he swallowed. “There weren’t a lot of choices.” He held out a stalk to Temar, but Temar turned it down with a shake of his head. He wasn’t that hungry.

  “You could have killed yourself,” Temar pointed out.

  Shan laughed again, but this time, it was a weak, thin laugh. “I just about died more times than I can count. I now understand why the people of Israel thought Moses was insane for wanting to cross the desert. I’m not sure I would follow him after this experience.”

  “But… why didn’t you use the emergency beacon?”

  Shan looked up with bloodshot eyes. “Because someone was shooting at me. I had to crash the cycle into a canyon, and I lost the equipment. Given a choice between walking off the desert or lying down and dying, I decided that even a stupid plan was better than nothing.”

  Temar couldn’t even come up with an answer to that. Fear curled around his stomach, fear that Shan would blame him, fear that Ben’s friends would put Cyla in that situation, fear that he was going to end up walking the desert when he got exiled because, right now, he was technically a runaway slave. “I’m sorry,” Temar whispered.

  Shan lifted his head off his knees so fast that he hissed with pain. “Why should you be sorry?”

  “I made that comment about water. I sent you over to Red Plain. I just….” Temar stopped. His mouth had gotten too dry for him to confess that he wanted to be rescued so much that he put other people right into Ben Gratu’s path.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. Ben Gratu is going to pay for what he did, but you aren’t to blame for anything,” Shan hurried to say.

  “I’m not blaming myself for the abuse. I’m blaming myself for giving you enough information to get you involved without telling you the whole truth.”

  “Then tell me the truth now.”

  Temar frowned. He’d been willing to share everything with Ben… right before Ben had burned all the evidence, but now Temar could feel the fear, like a sandrat he’d swallowed alive. The men and women on the farm looked at him with pity, and he knew they’d never believe him, even if he tried to convince them the sky was blue. While he thought Shan would give him a little more respect, he wasn’t totally sure.

  “Please,” Shan said. He reached out and rested his palm on Temar’s ankle.

  Looking at that dark, sun-roughened hand resting against his ankle, Temar blinked to clear his blurring vision. Ben had ordered him to shy away from any touch other than Ben’s own, and the weight and warmth of a comforting hand wasn’t familiar anymore. “It was Ben who was stealing water,” Temar said, expecting to be interrupted. Instead, Shan watched him. “I had taken readings, and when Ben and I got to the valley that first day, I told him I had evidence.”

  “Why not bring it to the council?” Shan asked. At least he didn’t openly doubt the story.

  Temar shrugged. Looking back, that had been where the problem had started. “Cyla asked Naite for an emergency meeting of the council, and when he told her to wait for season-end….” He stopped and shrugged again, unwilling to blame his sister for their problem, not when Ben was the person behind it. “I told Ben I had months of daily moisture readings. I thought he’d help me with a case against George Young. Instead, he looked at them and then he….” Temar stopped again, his arms tingling with the memory of Ben’s hands on him, holding him down on the bed Temar had slept in as a child. With Ben looking down at him, with Ben’s heavy weight holding him down, he’d felt as helpless as a child again. A dark laugh slipped out before Temar could stop it. “I used to be better at telling stories.”

  “I’m a priest,” Shan said, “I hear stories from people overwhelmed by their own emotions for a living. You’re doing fine.”

  “He tied me up and called some friend in Red Plain—told them to come and get Cyla’s contract and that if I did anything to speak out against them, they would kill her.”

  “His farm never showed signs of having extra water. If anything—”

  “He was short of water,” Temar interrupted. “I know. He mentioned that he was shorting his own water too, and then he was blaming it on my father. But all the missing water from my place and from his and from who knows who else’s… it’s Ben.”

  Shan pressed his lips tightly together and reared back. Even though Temar missed the warm touch on his ankle, he used the chance to pull his legs closer. “I’m going to kill him. I know that’s not a priestly thing to say, but I really am going to kill him. He used that water theft to get his hands on you and…. What he did….” Shan stood up in the narrow cave and turned his back to Temar. With his hands braced on the gray rock, he looked like he was trying to hold up the cliff. His fingers curled, the tips pressed to the stone, and his back arched. Shan might be a priest, but he was a strong man. Temar had watched him climb roofs and carry heavy parts as often as he’d seen him at the front of the church. Now that strength frightened him.

  Temar scooted back toward the mouth of the small cave, uncomfortable around the gathering emotion. For the first time since the “rescue,” Temar was aware of just how much taller and stronger Shan was. However, when Shan spoke, his voice was small.

  “Ista Songwind didn’t like me. I thought it was because I had interrupted her work, but she was trying to keep me away from her hostage.” Shan slapped a hand against the rock, hard enough that Temar flinched. “She’s in on this, and I’m willing to bet that Ben is the man the two shooters mentioned. They said their contact here would find out if I turned up alive, and Ben is the center of gossip for the whole valley.”

  “Everyone trusts him,” Temar agreed.

  “We’ll go to the council, and then Ben is going to regret all of this. He’ll regret ever touching you. I promise you that.”

  The laughter that slipped out of Temar was wild and dark.

  Shan turned around to look at him. Whatever he saw worried him enough that he crouched down. “Temar?”

  “We can’t go to them.”

  “I won’t let Ben get away with—”

  “Don’t I get a say in this?” Temar demanded, cutting Shan off. “Are you going to tell me what to do? Maybe you like having me tied up so I can’t disagree with you.”

  Shan flinched back, and Temar froze, all his anger draining as he watched Shan rear back like he’d reached for heated glass and had only now noticed he wasn’t wearing a glove. The look on his face… Temar could see the horror, but he ignored the other emotions. He couldn’t deal with Shan’s
feelings, not now. Cyla was in danger, and Ben…. Temar took a deep breath and tried to push the panic away.

  “I should go.” Temar kept his voice calm, even though the thought of going back to Ben made him want to throw himself off the nearest cliff. Actually, if he could get up high enough, that might be a solution.

  “Go?”

  “I should get out there before Ben has to look too hard. You have to get to Cyla. Ben is….” Temar had no words to describe how everyone looked at Ben like they wished he was their father, their brother, their son. They loved him. Temar started edging toward the opening of the cave, but Shan reached out and caught his arm. Shying away from the touch, Temar slammed his head into the side of the cave and then recoiled, nearly into Shan. Temar flinched away, half blinded by the pain as his head throbbed. He wanted to curl up and not think at all, and he couldn’t even reach up to hold his own throbbing head.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m not touching you.” Shan was on his knees, his hands held up in surrender. “I’m not touching you, and I won’t touch you. I promise I won’t.”

  “Promise.” Temar snorted his disgust at that word.

  “I just… Temar, I’m a priest, so whatever you tell me, I promise that it will remain between us. I won’t even tell the council, if you order me not to. That’s what the confessional means, that’s what it means when you trust a priest and ask for spiritual help. I just don’t understand. You have to help me understand, because right now, I don’t understand why you have to go back to him.”

  Temar got one leg under him and pushed himself back up to his knees. His head pounded in time with his heart, but he ignored that. “You’d hide information from the council?”

  Shan answered slowly. “I wouldn’t like it, but as a priest, it’s my job to listen to confession and to offer advice to people who need it. What happens between a person and the priest can’t go anywhere else. People have confessed all types of crimes, and I’ve never taken them to the council.”

  A thought crossed his mind. “If Ben Gratu had come to the church and confessed this, would you have kept that secret?”

  Even with his face in shadow, Temar could see Shan’s mouth come open and then close again a couple of times before he managed to find any words. “I would tell him that God knows we’re weak and he will forgive, but only if confession comes with a change in behavior. I would tell him he had to stop hurting you and turn custody back to the council.”

  Temar laughed, but it turned into a sob, and for a second, he had to concentrate on controlling his breathing before his emotions overwhelmed him. “If he gave up custody, if I knew Cyla was safe, I’d turn him in.”

  “And he’d have to face the consequences of his behavior,” Shan agreed.

  “I’ve heard you speak, so I know you’re an intelligent man. You can’t really believe he’d do that.”

  “No, I don’t. I’d tell him that was the only way to save his soul, though. I’d remind him that this life lasts a very short period of time, but that eternity is a long time to suffer, just because you refuse to face your own evil. I’d remind him that everyone makes a mistake eventually, and that he would be caught, so it would go easier on him if he came forward on his own.”

  “And when that failed?”

  Shan leaned back and seemed to think on that for some time. “I’d shoot him,” he finally answered.

  Temar didn’t have an immediate response to that.

  “Before I’d allow an innocent person to suffer, I would shoot him and deal with the damage I’d done to my own soul.”

  “That’s not a very priestly answer.”

  “I’m not always a very good priest, but I try to be a good man. Right now, I’m feeling like a stupid man because I don’t understand why you would suddenly decide to go back to Ben. If you wanted to kill Ben, that, I could understand. I would tell you that justice would be better left to the council or God, but I would understand.”

  Temar swallowed, hope and an overwhelming urge to run sticking in his throat, but he had to do what was right, not only for him but for Cyla. It wasn’t like Ben could hurt him more than he already had. There was a limit to how much pain a body could take without it showing in the morning, and Temar knew Ben wouldn’t cross that line. “I’m trusting you to get to Cyla, to protect her and find some evidence. But if I go with you, by the time you have evidence, by the time you convince anyone that the almighty Ben Gratu is a monster, my sister will be dead. I can’t buy my freedom with her death.”

  “Ah.” Shan sighed the word as he leaned back. For long minutes, there was silence. Temar didn’t know why he continued to sit near the entrance of the cave. He should leave. He should do what he knew he had to. At least now he could lie next to Ben and wait for the coming rescue. That would make it much easier to endure.

  “Temar,” Shan said slowly, “you know Ben’s smart. He’s an immoral man, and while it’s not very priestly of me to say this, I suspect he’s condemned his soul to hell, but you have to admit he’s smart. He’s not going to do anything suspicious.” Shan leaned forward and looked Temar right in the eye.

  “I know that, but he said he’d kill her.” Temar remembered Ben’s joyful expression as he held him down and called to arrange Cyla’s slavery… called to arrange her death, if Temar tried to fight.

  “He probably will, but not yet. You’re alone, you have no shoes and no equipment. He knows you aren’t a threat unless you go to the council.”

  “And I could be doing that right now. He’ll kill her before I have a chance to talk to them.”

  “If he had her killed, it would make the council suspicious. The thing he used to threaten you came true. Temar, stop and think. What would be the smarter play?”

  Temar gasped as the reality came together like hot glass merging. “He’ll keep her alive. If they ask her if Ben ever threatened her, she’ll say ‘no’. Her words will condemn me.”

  “You’ll look twice as crazy,” Shan agreed. “I made a promise, and I’ll keep it, but we can’t just sit here. We have to make a move. Now Div could get us food, water, and clothes, and given some time, he could get us some transportation over to Red Plain. We could make sure Cyla is safely back in council custody, and then we can start questioning people. We might even go to the communication relay station. If Ben is doing something with water, he has to move it. That means he has to be using the terraforming pipes, and the station will have the blueprints.”

  “What proof do we have? I’ll end up looking crazy, and they’ll just say you drank a little too much pipe juice, trying to get off the desert.”

  “I did drink a little too much pipe juice.” Shan got a crooked grin on his face, and the expression made him look like a kid stealing cookies from a jar. “But Cyla can confirm that Ista had entire boards of computer chips, including mother chips. There are very few of those down here, and every single one is accounted for. If we start questioning people, I get the feeling that we’re going to find out that no one pulled their mother chip for cleaning the day I was in Red Plain, so that’s a lead. God Almighty, that’s probably why she tried to have me killed, because Ben is not the sort to panic and order me killed when I don’t know enough to even bother looking twice at those computer chips.”

  “We can’t go to the council,” Temar said firmly.

  “They have all the resources to investigate this.”

  “Can you really tell me for sure that Lilian Freeland isn’t involved? She and Ben Gratu have known each other for decades. And if they’re willing to kill you, what will stop them from killing Div? I had to live with thinking that you died because I had some stupid plan to tip you off about Ben. I sent you out there searching for answers, and they tried to kill you.” Temar could feel the memory of that cold guilt claw at him. “I thought they had killed you. How would you feel, finding Div at the bottom of the stairs with his neck broken because we went to him for help?” Temar knew he’d won, just from the expression on Shan’s face. They’d both e
scaped one trap, but they could still feel the edges of the larger trap all around, and one wrong move and people would die.

  “We still need help,” Shan said firmly, but he didn’t look happy about it. Maybe that meant that he was finally understanding the reality that Temar had already grasped—Ben Gratu was a man whose power reached farther than any of them had ever suspected. “We need to go to Naite.”

  “Naite Polli?” Temar could hear his own voice squeak with disbelief. Naite was a man who loved his rules above all, so he was the last on the list of names Temar would try.

  “I know he’s not involved. The stick he has up his—” Shan cut himself off. “I clearly need to stay away from pipe trap juice. It makes me uncharitable. However, my brother would cut off his own arm before he would be involved with murder, and that is not an exaggeration. Besides, as an unskilled worker, Naite wasn’t valuable enough to bother trying to manipulate until recently, and he’s only been on the council for one season. Besides, manipulating Naite is like trying to convince a boar to pull a plow. There’s every reason to trust him, and more importantly, we won’t be able to do this alone.”

  Temar chewed on his lip, uncomfortable with telling more people because every new person was a new threat, and he did not want to know how Ben would react to being threatened. Finally, he nodded his head. They’d tell Naite.

  Chapter 14

  THE Kelligan farm had long rows of verdant corn, rising from the ground, like wisps of grass in the shade of the darker amaranth, with their broad leaves. The cliff face offered very little shelter here, and there was a long strip of gravel where the rock met the fields. A few tiny pipe trap plants had thrown up pale leaves through the gravel and sand, but otherwise the strip was as barren as a moon. They had to run from one boulder to another as they tried to get closer to the farm where Naite was working… hopefully. Temar still thought this was a bad idea, but he didn’t have a better one.