TALLINU!
He needs to be focused on us.
He’s not listening! Tallinu! Tallinu!
He calls himself Kaid now.
Kaid, dammit! Kaid!
Confused, Kaid’s chanting faltered as he tried to sense who was calling him.
He’s not responding. We can’t keep this up much longer.
Get the doctor to do it. He’s supposed to be the god, after all. Maybe he’ll listen to him.
God? What was this talk of gods?
I can’t! The voice woke more memories.
You’d better, because we can’t bring him back otherwise!
Kaid heard the implicit threat, and he began to mentally back away. This didn’t feel right. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to know. Then his mind was grasped and held. Powerless, he now heard a voice he recognized only too well.
Kaid, we’re not finished yet. There’s work still to do.
No! I’ve done enough for you! No more, Vartra, no more!
You will return once more. You’re at the heart of matters both here and in the future. You have to return!
NO!
As if from a great height, he saw his body slump forward onto the floor. A white rime of frost began to form over his robe, then, as panic began to take hold, the image vanished as he swept into a maelstrom of sound and heat and pain… .
DAW BOOKS
is proud to present
LISANNE NORMAN’S
SHOLAN ALLIANCE Series!
TURNING POINT
FORTUNE’S WHEEL
FIRE MARGINS
RAZOR’S EDGE
DARK NADIR
STRONGHOLD RISING
BETWEEN DARKNESS AND LIGHT
SHADES OF GRAY
RAZOR’S
EDGE
Lisanne Norman
Copyright © 1997 by Lisanne Norman.
All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-101-66369-1
Cover art by Romas Kukalis.
Maps by Michael Gilbert.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1073.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
First Printing, December 1997
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
Version_1
This book is dedicated to you, Ken, as my tribute to your 50th year in British SF Fandom.
I’d also like to thank all at DAW Books, and Marsha Jones and Ira Stoller, for their support and help. Without it you would not be reading this!
A few Guild personnel need a mention, too. So many thanks to:
Sholan Research and Development -Merlin aka James Charlton
Sholan Communications -Judith Faul
Sholan Medical Guild Research -Helen Lofting
Alien Relations -Pauline Dungate
-Chris Morgan
Brotherhood of Vartra -Sherrie Powell
Sholan Sciences -Andrew Stephenson
-Miavir
Sholan Archeology -Ruth Blake
A further mention of Ken is, I think in order, because Ken Slater and I go back a long time, to the days when first I discovered Science Fiction Fandom and Conventions. His belief in me made me continue to chase my dreams of being a published writer. I’m not the only fan turned writer he’s helped and inspired. The list of names is long and would surprise you. This year marks his fiftieth since starting Operation Fantast, a service not only to bring Science Fiction books and magazines to fans, but a fanzine to keep them in touch with each other. Happy fiftieth, Ken.
Prologue
Rezac lunged past the alien for the floor of the stasis cube base unit, trying to reach a pistol that lay there. The alien reached out and stopped him.
No, don’t. He’ll have us killed before you reach it. You’re weak from being inside that cube. You both nearly died. Wait for now.
Shocked not only by the sending from the stranger, but by his sudden weakness, Rezac let himself be pulled back till he sat on the ground by his Leska.
“Search, then bind them. Bring them up to the Lesser Hall,” ordered the one in charge.
One at a time, Kris and Davies were taken from the small chamber, searched for weapons, then bound. There were cries of delight when a gun was found on the latter. Then Jo’s turn came.
“Hey, this one’s a woman!” yelled the guard searching her.
Jo struggled in the grasp of her captor as he began to search her again, an ugly leer on his face.
“What’s a woman doing with a bunch of thieves? One of them your master, eh?”
“Leave me alone!” said Jo, pulling frantically away from his grasping hands.
Help came from an unexpected quarter—Zashou. With a rumble of anger that quickly rose to a growl, she pushed aside their guard and leaped into the corridor. Her lips pulled back from her teeth revealing large canines as she loomed protectively over the smaller Human female.
Jo felt a stab of pain as her mental shields were ruthlessly penetrated by Rezac and her mind quickly read. Then he was gone, leaving her confused and even more terrified.
“Leave her! Or lose your life!” said Zashou in halting Jalnian. Her claws were extended, the deadly talons curved toward the guard.
Jo was suddenly released as the man stepped back in fear, fumbling for the crossbow slung on his shoulder.
The two holding Kris and Davies instantly came forward, quarrels pointed directly at Zashou and Jo.
“Enough! Turn around with your hands behind your backs,” ordered the lead one.
We must comply. They will kill us otherwise, came the quick mental command from Zashou. The two females did as they were ordered.
Rezac was another matter. Realizing his Leska was being bound was enough for him. With an ear-splitting roar, he emerged from the room at full tilt, looking for someone to attack. What would have been a bloodbath ended abruptly as the lead guard stepped to one side, allowing the enraged Sholan to run past before hitting him soundly on the back of the head with his crossbow stock. Rezac fell like a stone.
By the time they’d been dragged through the great hall and up the stone steps to the Lord’s private hall, Rezac, held securely by two burly guardsmen, was beginning to come round.
“Untie our guests,” ordered Lord Killian, lifting his arm to allow his attendant to continue stripping off his padded body armor.
“Excuse the harsh welcome, but I didn’t want you leaving before we’d time to get better acquainted.”
At the sound of the voice, Rezac raised his head just enough to peer at the speaker through the hair that fell over his face. A growl began to build low in his throat as he tugged at his bonds.
“May I suggest you reassure your large friends they’re in no danger. I’d prefer not to have to shoot them to preserve the lives of myself and my men.” As the protective jacket was slipped from his chest, he indicated the half-dozen crossbowmen ranged at the top of the stairwell down to the main hall.
“I understand you,” growled Rezac, lifting his head fully and shaking it till his mane of hair was cleared from his face. It settled like a dark cloud around his shoulders. “Release me, then we will listen to you.”
Killian gestured to the guards, and Rezac’s bonds were cut. Pulling his arms forward, he ripped the remaining ropes free and massaged his
wrists.
“I’m Lord Killian. Please, be seated,” the burly man said, gesturing to the large wooden table that dominated the center of the room.
As Rezac moved toward the far end of the table, he glanced around the room, quickly assessing its windows and exits.
Opposite the opening for the stairs was a fireplace in which burned a generous log fire. There were two large windows, paned with small rectangles of thick glass. The other four, spaced along the outer wall, were mere narrow arrow slits covered by wooden shutters. Two doors flanked by tied-back curtains led off from either side of the fireplace. Against the third wall, the one with the arrow slits, a similar curtain was closed. Even as he looked at it, the lower edge flared outward. Probably a third door, Rezac surmised. One to the outside.
Facing the stairwell, its back to the fire, was a large, ornately carved highbacked chair. Obviously Killian’s seat.
As Rezac sat down, he saw the Human female begin to move as well, the others following her. She was their leader, then. Strange that it wasn’t one of the males. Quickly he searched through the information he’d taken from her downstairs. There was more than he’d realized at the time—too much to make sense of yet.
Later, sent Zashou. Let’s focus on now.
Rezac turned to look more closely at their three Human companions. The differences between them and the Jalnians were subtle. He only noticed them because he’d touched the female’s mind. They were newly into space, these Humans, and by their own endeavors: far more advanced than the Jalnians. Their skin had a slightly different cast to it, and their bodies moved differently, hinting at a dissimilar musculature and possibly skeleton beneath the flesh.
Movement by Lord Killian drew his attention away from them, and he watched the large male as he circled the table to take his seat. Placing hands almost as big as Rezac’s own on the table, Killian looked at them all in turn.
“Time for you to introduce yourselves,” he said, his voice deceptively mild. “Perhaps even to tell me why you’re here.”
Jo tried not to glance at her two male companions before she began to speak. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake, Lord Killian. We’re nothing more than thieves… .” Her voice trailed off into silence as the guard Killian gestured to approached the table and spilled onto it the bundle of possessions taken from them during the search.
“I think not,” said Killian, picking up the energy pistol lying in the midst of the pile. “This doesn’t belong to Jalna.”
He fiddled with the weapon for a moment or two, then pointed it at Davies who was sitting opposite him.
“Don’t point it at me, it’s got a hair trigger!” he exclaimed, visibly blanching. “It’ll discharge at the slightest pressure!”
Killian turned the gun on its side and studied it again before replacing it on the table. “Indeed. Then let’s hope I don’t have to use it on any of you. We were discussing your names and why you’d come to my castle.”
Jo had let out an angry exclamation at the sight of the pistol. Now that it was no longer threatening him, Davies glanced over at her.
“Sorry, Jo,” he muttered. “I know I shouldn’t have brought it.”
“So you’re called Jo, and you’re the leader. Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Killian, sitting back in his chair and clasping his hands across his stomach. “Please continue.”
Rezac could sense his satisfaction.
Jo indicated them each in turn. “Davies, Kris, Zashou, and Rezac.” She hesitated before continuing and Rezac could feel her uncertainty, then her acceptance that there was nothing to be gained from lying when the truth was obvious. “We aren’t from Jalna. We came to find out what was on the crashed scouter.”
“Not to rescue these furred ones?”
“Sholans,” Jo corrected him. “We didn’t know they were in the stasis cube.”
“What is stasis cube?” Killian copied the Human words carefully.
“The cube you brought here. Inside it, time was frozen for our friends. In stasis.”
“Frozen?”
In his mind, Rezac echoed the word. So that was what had happened to them! The last thing he remembered was them running from the Valtegan palace guards.
The lab! We ran into a laboratory! sent Zashou. The cube must have been there!
Later, replied Rezac, refocusing on the audible conversation. It’s difficult enough to follow them without getting sidetracked.
“A person is a stasis cube has no idea of the passing of time,” said Kris, looking to Rezac and Zashou for confirmation.
Rezac flicked an ear in assent.
“For them, when they’re released, it’s as if nothing has happened. Rezac and Zashou have also been moved. They’re no longer where they were when they were imprisoned in the cube.”
Killian scratched at his beard. “How long were they in this cube?”
Rezac was suddenly aware of Jo’s compassion for them and her reluctance to say more. She looked at them before answering. “We think one thousand and five hundred years,” she said quietly.
Rezac’s ears flattened in shock and briefly the room began to fade around him. How long? He could barely comprehend what she’d said.
“A long time,” said Killian, his voice slightly faint at the concept of that many years. “I presume your enemies placed you there. You must be formidable warriors indeed if that was the only way to remove you. Who were you fighting?”
“A species called the Valtegans,” Jo replied. “They trade at the Spaceport occasionally.”
Zashou’s sudden despair swept through Rezac. It was all for nothing! We failed!
Enough! Rezac’s mental tone was harsh.
Killian shook his head. “Never heard of them. No matter. What were you hoping to find on this crashed vehicle? Weapons?”
“Information,” said Jo. “Information about the Valtegans—where they come from, what they left behind on Jalna, where they were going.”
“And did you find this information?”
“Ah.” Again Jo looked over at Rezac. “Partly.”
“Obviously you found out what they left,” said Killian, gesturing toward the two Sholans. “But the rest?”
“No,” said Kris. “We found nothing. The craft was too badly damaged.”
“There were no bodies. How can such a vehicle move with no one to drive it?”
“Remotes,” said Rezac. “From a distance,” he added, realizing how inadequate the Jalnian language was to explain technical matters.
Thoughtfully, Killian sat back in his chair and began stroking his beard while his gaze flicked from one to the other of them. “Now, I presume, you wish to return to the Spaceport and leave Jalna for your own worlds.”
“That was the general idea,” said Davies, speaking for the first time.
“Unfortunately that won’t be possible,” said Killian, his tone regretful. “Another blizzard is due tonight and the pass will be blocked by morning. I’m afraid you’ll have to accept my hospitality until the weather improves.”
He’s lying, Kris sent to Jo.
We can’t prove it, Rezac replied.
The only outward sign of both Kris’ and Jo’s surprise at Rezac joining the conversation was a slight tensing of their bodies.
Good, thought Rezac to himself. At least they’re skilled in concealment.
Jo’s reply, when it came, was slower and fainter. What do we do, then?
Go along with him for now. We have no other options yet, Rezac replied while sending a private thought to Kris.
Later, the Human replied.
“In return for my hospitality, perhaps you can help me,” said Killian, oblivious to their mental exchange.
“In what way?” asked Kris.
“Bradogan, who rules the Spaceport and its surrounding lands, is hungry for power. Those Lords he can’t ally to himself with bribes of off-world goods, he wages war on. It’s only a matter of time till his eyes fall on Kaladar. I want an edge, something to keep him a
way from my lands. Something like this weapon here.” He indicated the pistol. “You could help me by making more of them.”
“Those weapons are highly sophisticated, Lord Killian,” said Kris. “They require manufacturing methods not available on Jalna. We couldn’t make them for you, even if we knew how.”
Killian raised an eyebrow quizzically.
“We know how to use them, but we don’t know how to make them,” said Jo.
“You know how they work, you can make them.” Killian’s voice had grown cold.
“You misunderstand us, Lord,” said Kris. He pointed to one of the guardsmen behind them. “They can use their crossbows, but could they make one?”
“You misunderstand me. You will provide me with off-world weapons,” said Killian uncompromisingly. “If not that one, then others that fulfill a similar purpose.”
He pushed himself to his feet. “Escort my guests to their chambers,” he ordered his guards. “Think about it overnight. I’m sure you’ll see the wisdom of mutual cooperation. We’ll talk again in the morning.”
They were escorted through the curtained doorway out onto an external balcony. The air was bitter as it blew fresh flurries of snow into their faces. Dressed as they were, Rezac could feel the cold hit Zashou and he moved closer to her, holding an arm out in invitation to her to share his warmth.
He felt her mental retreat as she shied physically back from him. Only a step, but it was enough. Their long sleep hadn’t changed anything then, he thought with a sigh.
Are they going to lock us in some dungeon? asked Jo, trying to control the chattering of her teeth. Maybe he wasn’t lying about the blizzard after all!
I don’t think he’ll put us in a dungeon tonight, sent Kris. Likely it’ll be somewhere comfortable. He’s reminding us how cold it is to persuade us that cooperation is worthwhile. If we don’t, then tomorrow it’ll be the dungeons.
I agree, sent Rezac.
The two males proved to be right. The rooms they were shown to were in a small tower set near the center of the castle. A suite for visiting dignitaries, or noble prisoners.
The main chamber boasted a fire almost as large as that in Killian’s private quarters. Opening off it were two smaller bedrooms, both of which had beds hung with heavy drapes and fires burning in the grates. There was also a small closet that served as a privy. In the larger, a pile of blankets and three pallets lay next to the fire.
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