Sorli knocked on Lijou’s office door, waiting till the Head Priest answered before opening it.
Lijou looked up at him. “You’ve come about the letter, haven’t you?”
Sorli nodded affirmatively as he took the proffered seat in front of the desk. “You had one, too?”
“I did.”
“Master Esken?”
“All senior officials, Tutor Sorli. You, I presume, were included because you’re to be the next Telepath Guild Leader.”
“I don’t think so, Father Lijou,” said Sorli with a sigh. “I’m considering tending my resignation as Senior Tutor to the Telepath Guild.”
“May I ask why?”
Sorli looked at him calmly. “I’d prefer to say no more than that I have a serious difference of opinion with Master Esken regarding the course our Guild is presently taking. One that precludes my having any further involvement with him.”
“Are you sure that matters between you are that serious?”
“I didn’t make my decision to come to Stronghold on retreat lightly, Father.”
Lijou could hear the note of reproach in the tutor’s voice. If matters really were that bad, he had to do something now to prevent Sorli leaving the Telepath Guild. With him gone, their one hope for moderate leadership in the future was lost.
“Sorli, the World Council needs you at Valsgarth Guildhouse. Without you there, Esken will do what he likes. You’ve been able to influence him in the past—we need you to continue to do that.”
“I’m tired, Father. Tired of fighting against the hurricane that’s Esken,” he said.
As Lijou watched, he seemed to slump down in the chair, looking worn and exhausted. “We’re all fighting him, Sorli. He makes it so difficult for the rest of us, for Shola. He stifles change, has become so inflexible. We need to grow and evolve if we’re not to be overtaken by these Terrans with their multiplicity of psychic Talents. They learn and innovate so quickly that in a matter of a decade or so, they could leave us standing.”
“I know, but what can I do? I’m only one person. Since the arrival of the Humans, Esken listens more to Physician Khafsa than me. That’s why there was the incident involving Physician Kyjishi and her Human Leska. I tried, Father Lijou, Vartra knows I tried!”
“And you succeeded, Sorli. They only used a hypnotic on them, nothing stronger, thanks to your intervention.”
Sorli raised his head, a spark of interest coming into his eyes. “You’re well informed.”
Lijou reached for a piece of paper on his desk and pushed it across to him. “Read this.”
Sorli took it and began to read. After a moment or two he handed it back. “All of this, the bondings, the priests, is because of Esken, isn’t it?”
Lijou nodded. “You know as well as I that over the last few years Esken’s assumed powers he has no right to, and misused some of those that were traditionally his. You might not be aware of how wide ranging an influence he’s tried to have because you’ve not been in a position to see the larger picture. Did you know that he had half the members of the World Council intimidated to the point that they voted the way he wanted them to vote? That they were afraid all senior telepaths were in his claws?” Lijou sensed the shock the tutor felt at this disclosure.
“You can’t be serious,” said Sorli, his face creasing in concern.
“He even had Governor Nesul similarly intimidated. He refused him a mental transfer of knowledge concerning the state of affairs off-world in order to prevent him interfering in his plans for the mixed Leskas. He also intended that those Leskas would be in his palm, his private army to intimidate other guild masters and councillors by their very existence! We had to do something, Sorli!” He took a breath and lowered his voice, realizing that getting agitated wouldn’t help him convince the other.
“We still need to stop him. He refuses to integrate the Terran telepaths and educate them properly, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that. His way will fuel misunderstanding and prejudice between our species. We cannot treat Humans as secondary to us. If we do, they will become an even greater potential threat.”
“He only reached an agreement over the mixed Leskas because of fear of the prophecy we found,” said Sorli.
“He did it because you persuaded him,” corrected Lijou. “For some time now, the Aldatans, AlRel, myself, and Governor Nesul have been working toward somehow curbing Esken yet still leaving him in charge of the Guild. We can’t afford a scandal, Sorli, and if Esken’s allowed to go unchecked any longer, we’ll have no option but to act. You have to go back and help us. You’re the best hope the telepaths have now, and in the future, as their Guild Master.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” said Lijou. “To leave as you did was taking a stand, showing Esken how seriously you disagreed with him, but you must return.”
“If went back, I’d need a good reason. To just return now would be to lose any vestiges of influence I have over him. You realize that, don’t you?”
“I predict he’ll contact you concerning this bonding. In fact, that’s where we really could do with your help.” He felt Sorli’s surge of interest. He needed to fuel it, give the tutor a reason to go back to Esken.
“What makes you so sure? And what kind of help are you wanting?”
“The Clan Lord’s suggested a bride for him, a certain Challa Kayal.”
“I remember her. Intelligent female. Widowed now. She worked in the judiciary, didn’t she?”
“I couldn’t tell you, I’m afraid. Rhyasha Aldatan suggested her. What I think Esken will do is go to the Consortias for an arranged marriage. We want him to choose Challa.”
Sorli looked puzzled. “I fail to see how he thinks a marriage with a nontelepathic Consortia could fulfill the instructions in that letter. The whole point of it is to produce more telepathic offspring.”
“The Guild law states that if you are over a certain age, and not heir to a clan, you can marry outside the telepath clans. I assume Esken will then try to claim he can’t have children or some such ploy to avoid making any other kind of arrangement.”
“Why Challa?”
“Apparently she’s his match. She’s also got two kitlings of her own that she’ll want to stay close to, so she won’t allow him to send her away to his clan estate. As Rhyasha put it, he’ll be too busy dealing with his domestic life to have time for plotting!”
Sorli’s mouth twitched slightly. “It could be amusing,” he admitted. “Unless a similar female has been chosen for me?”
“On that, I can reassure you, Sorli. You are highly thought of by everyone involved. The Clan Lord will have taken his usual care to suggest someone to suit you. If you have a preference, you could approach him. I’m sure he’d be amenable.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, who has he suggested for you?”
Lijou hesitated. Should he tell him? If he did, Sorli would realize it was a measure of their trust in him. It might just tip the balance. “Kha’Qwa. She’s one of the Sisters here.”
Sorli raised an eye ridge. “One of the Brotherhood? You were a contender for Clan Lord, weren’t you? I’m surprised that a telepath wasn’t insisted upon for you.”
“It would have been but for one consideration,” said Lijou. “This must not go beyond these walls, Sorli. Virtually since it was set up, Stronghold has been gathering those with lesser psychic talents. The Brothers are what they are because of their gifts—gifts that the Humans also have. It’s been decided therefore to include certain Brothers and Sisters in the breeding program. It’s a trial, to run until the cubs are old enough to be tested, then the matter will be reassessed. If it works, it may well bring back into the telepath gene pool all the talents that have been ignored for so long.”
“I knew there would be changes the like of which we couldn’t imagine,” said Sorli, getting to his feet. “I tried to warn Esken, but he wouldn’t listen. As you said, he feared it weakening his power ba
se. Very well, Father Lijou, I will find a reason to return if one does not arrive, but may I point out that if I’m to help you, I need to be kept informed as to what’s going on.”
Lijou rose and came out from behind his desk to escort Sorli to the door. “I will see to it personally, Tutor Sorli.”
Sorli stopped by the door. “So Kaid’s a telepath, is he? Bit of an anomaly, wouldn’t you say? No wonder their Triad was able to return safely to the Margins.”
Lijou’s mouth opened in a slight smile. “That’s not commonly known, Tutor, and I’d appreciate it staying that way. Kaid’s a remarkable person in many ways.”
“I’m sure he is.”
Chapter 5
Master Rhyaz stood with General Raiban in front of the main viewing screen watching their prisoner. He was still lying motionless on the bed where he’d been deposited after his recent interrogation session.
“Is he all right?” Raiban demanded abruptly. “His eyes are open, but he looks like he’s unconscious.”
“Of course, General,” Rhyaz answered. “He’s resting, that’s all—his way. He’s constantly monitored, believe me.”
Raiban nodded. “What have you managed to find out from him?”
“Very little,” Rhyaz admitted. “Mainly a confirmation of what the Keissians working in Geshader and Tashkerra had already reported. That despite being warm-blooded, the Valtegans need a higher temperature than us or they become sluggish, and that they prefer lower light levels. They despise females of any species, and this particular Valtegan has shown no fear of us. Physiologically, the modern ones are only slightly different from Kezule.”
“How about telepaths? Have you got one to read his mind yet?”
“We’re moving slowly on that, General,” said Rhyaz. “When a Sholan mind touched theirs, our modern captives went catatonic, then died. We don’t want to risk that happening until we’ve got as much information as we can from him. I’ve had our resident telepath use his Talent in the same room as Kezule and he wasn’t aware of it, but that’s as far as I’m prepared to go at present.”
Raiban flicked her ears in annoyance. “I’ve never known sleep deprivation not to reveal some information,” she grumbled. “The resultant disorientation and exhaustion usually breaks down their resistance.”
“Unless you’re a Valtegan,” Rhyaz said, trying not to sound irritated himself. He’d already discussed this with the General several times before. He understood why she found it difficult to believe, he had himself. “Or at least, unless you’re General Kezule,” he amended. “The sensors we implanted in him confirmed he was awake, as did our viewers, but somehow he managed to get enough rest to combat that technique. And,” he added, mindful of the state Kezule was currently in, “we did keep physically disturbing him, too.”
“I know, I know. I read the report,” she said testily. “I’ve got the High Command breathing down my neck for results. I need to have something positive to tell them at our next meeting in a fortnight, and you don’t seem to be getting anywhere! What about drugs?”
“The medics don’t understand his system well enough yet. Computer simulations are one thing, our only specimen is another.”
“Your more physical persuasion didn’t seem to do much good.” She indicated the still form of Kezule.
“In these circumstances, it rarely does,” Rhyaz agreed, “but it’s less dangerous than drugs. We really need his cooperation more than anything.”
“So what’s next?” Raiban faced away from the viewing window. “More persuasion?”
“For a few days, combined with a more conciliatory approach and one or two luxuries added to his environment. That’s why I requested those items from Keiss.”
“When are they due?”
“They’re here now, General, being unloaded into our depository area ready for use.” As he turned from the window, a movement from his prisoner caught his eye. “He’s coming round,” he said.
“Another time, Rhyaz. I’ve no wish to watch him lick his wounds.”
Her voice was gruff, and Rhyaz knew she disliked using violence for questioning as much as he did. It was barbaric, but when coupled with a softer approach, it occasionally yielded results where other means had failed. Personally, he didn’t hold out much hope. If he’d read him right, Kezule was a line officer, as he had been. The General had been out there in the mud, under fire with his troops—not sitting dry and warm in the rear like some. This officer wouldn’t break easily.
Kezule stirred, feeling the energy coursing round his system, wakening his body now his mind was alert. Checking heart rate and breathing, he made sure they stayed at the slow, steady rhythm he wanted them to believe was normal. If the opportunity came to escape, he didn’t want them to know how fast he could move, nor how much control he had over his body functions.
He needed to keep his breathing shallow anyway—his ribs were somewhat bruised after his latest session with his tormentors. Surreptitiously he slid his hand between himself and the wall and felt cautiously along his left side, trying not to register pain when he touched the lower ones. He knew they were watching him, and was sure there was nowhere in this sparsely furnished room that he wasn’t under full surveillance.
Sitting up slowly, he had to admit to himself that these modern Sholans had gradually gone up in his esteem. They were very different from their ancestors. It seemed his people had had a lasting effect on them after all. Theirs was no technologically backward world now. He regretted they hadn’t met during the subduing of their planet: they’d have been an enemy worth fighting. He’d hated waging war on worlds of shocked and docile inhabitants. Oh, a few had stood up to them, with their primitive weapons, but not many—and not for long.
He eased himself off the hard, narrow bed and got carefully to his feet. As he moved he became aware of the swelling and bruising around his right arm and shoulder and the left side of his face. It would pass. Physical pain and privation he could tolerate, he was used to it. Granted, it had been a few years since he had been exposed to them, prior to the Emperor, Praise be to Him, promoting him to guarding the royal hatchery on Shola. Thank the gods he hadn’t gone native and soft like some of the officers he knew!
The sound of a hatch opening and shutting, combined with a loud squeal drew his attention to the cage set in the opposite wall. So they’d decided to feed him, had they? It had been a long time since his last meal, two days at least. A small hiss of amusement escaped him. Depriving him of sleep hadn’t worked. How were they to know he had a sense of time to beat that of any manufactured device? Yes, he’d eat, but he needed water first.
A few concessions had been made to his different physiology. One of them was the wide-topped bowl he needed to drink from. The other was the one-piece coverall he wore. Despite it having been laundered several times, he could still smell the stench of the Humans on it, but like everything else in this room that was now his world, he’d grown accustomed to it.
He strolled over to the cage trying to gauge how bored he was. At his approach, the inhabitant, a medium sized brown mammal, set up a high-pitched screeching and tried desperately to claw its way through the back corner of its enclosure. Releasing it and chasing it round the room was out of the question today, but once he’d removed it from the cage, he could turn away and pretend to rip it limb from limb, devouring it a piece at a time while it still lived. It wasn’t something he’d ever actually done, but he’d seen it used to intimidate Sholan prisoners in his time, and it was extremely effective. He hoped when he simulated it that it would have the same effect on his captors. However, he was too hungry for that.
Unlatching the cage door, he thrust his hand in, grasping the terrified rodent and hauling it out. It squirmed and shrieked frantically, trying to find a part of him into which to fasten its long incisors. Grasping its head in his other hand, with a sharp tug and twist, he dispatched it cleanly. There were some animals that tasted better after a chase, but these Sholan ones weren’t in that categor
y. Let them get too terrified and it soured their blood and the flesh.
He took the carcass to the table and, putting it down, proceeded to dismember it using the edges of his claws as surrogate knives. He wasn’t allowed such luxuries, so it was as well he had his natural ones.
The smell of the still warm blood was making him even hungrier. Licking his claws clean first, he’d just sat down to eat when the door slid open. Two armed troopers came into the room, guns trained on him. In their wake followed an officer, one he hadn’t seen before.
The Sholan approached the opposite edge of the table before stopping. “We haven’t met, General Kezule. I’m Sub-Lieutenant Myak from Alien Relations. I’m here to see you’re being treated appropriately for a prisoner of your rank.”
Kezule eyed him over the top of the piece of meat in his hands. He grunted in reply and began to eat.
“I see I’m interrupting your meal. I must apologize for that, but my schedule is tight today, and this was the only time I could spare. I’ve brought one or two home comforts for you.”
The Sholan turned away so sharply that Kezule grinned to himself. Yes, it still affected them to see a Valtegan eat. But what he’d said had caught his attention. Home comforts? What did he mean by that? Continuing to eat, he watched with interest as another trooper, carrying a medium-sized box, was gestured in.
He brought the box to the lieutenant and stood there while Myak reached inside. Bringing out a small cuboid object, he placed it on the table a good arm’s length away from him.
“I believe it’s some kind of puzzle belonging to your people,” said the officer, still keeping his eyes averted. He reached in again, this time bringing out a small pile of flat plastic squares covered in script, and a slim rectangular object with a viewing window on the front.
Razor's Edge Page 20