by Jaine Fenn
‘Not every legend about the Sidhe is true,’ said Marua shortly. ‘There’s no such thing as zepgen.’
‘Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong.’ He sounded delighted to have caught her out.
‘Am I?’
Puffing his chest out, he said, ‘Despite my problems with my late employer I still had my ear to the ground. When Tawhira-ngai caught that Angel it was so they could investigate his power source - which is zepgen.’ When Marua said nothing he couldn’t resist planting a last barb. ‘Odd that they’d give it to assassins and not to their supposed friends.’
‘You’ll be wanting to see your new laboratory now,’ said Marua tightly.
He half-bowed and left without another word.
Once she heard the door downstairs close, Marua called her security chief. ‘Any progress on decrypting the files from the island run?’ she asked.
‘Not yet. I’ll let you know as soon as we have anything.’
Pershalek could be lying, but she doubted it. He had nothing to gain by such a lie. Of course she should not expect the Sidhe to share everything; this was a business arrangement, after all, quite aside from their essentially secretive nature. But she could do so much with zepgen, even if the Sidhe forbade her from making the knowledge public! If they did have this technology then it would be in their interests to share it with her, given the massive power requirements of the transit-kernel encoding process.
Pershalek’s dig reminded her that even if she liked to think of them as her associates, the Sidhe were actually her mistresses.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Though Nual tried to contact Taro again, she had no success. He’d woken up at exactly the wrong moment. But at least she knew he was still alive, and, from the momentary touch she had felt, no longer in serious trouble - the wisp of his consciousness she had connected with had been unclouded, and not in any pain or distress.
She experimented with the trance state in an attempt to force another prescient incident, but she was not surprised when she failed; foresight was apparently less an ability that could be honed than an unexpected visitation of knowledge.
The next morning - she had decided to designate the time she woke up as morning until proven otherwise - Lyrian was there again. This time she’d brought food as well as water. It was the recycled paste that had been a staple aboard the mothership where Nual had grown up: tasteless, pappy stuff, yet redolent of her past. Not that Nual savoured it; she was too hungry.
‘Don’t eat so fast, you’ll be sick!’ advised Lyrian.
Nual looked up, her lips smeared with paste. Lyrian was smiling, and for a moment Nual almost smiled back. The other Sidhe really was very good.
When Nual had finished eating Lyrian said, ‘So, what shall we talk about?’
While Lyrian was giving her the chance to ask questions, she might as well take it. ‘How about what the Sidhe were up to on Khathryn?’ she asked. ‘I assume you got to Elarn’s lawyer there.’
‘No, not him, we knew you’d read him. We had a word with one of his aides after we visited Elarn. When you turned up, the young woman sent us your new ID and, as instructed, hired a team to capture you - or failing that, to kill you. Then she went and had a nice long lie-down, poor thing.’
So it looked like the ship that had spooked them into leaving the Khathryn system early had been Sidhe, coming to pick her up if the thugs had succeeded. ‘Whereas on Vellern you just wanted to kill me,’ she said with forced levity. She had a good idea why that had been, but she wanted confirmation.
‘Ah yes, Vellern. How long did it take for you to make contact? ’
Nual decided she might as well answer that one, as it was hardly relevant to her current situation. ‘I discovered the truth about Khesh City within two hours of arriving. One of the City avatars found me and we had a little talk. Didn’t you feel it was overkill, attempting to bring down the whole City just in case I passed on my “taint” to him?’
‘“It”,’ said Lyrian coldly, ‘would be a more suitable pronoun. And no: we didn’t wish to take any chances.’ She smiled. ‘Thank you for that.’
‘For what?’ asked Nual uneasily.
‘You’ve just put one of our fears to rest.’
Nual said nothing, though behind her shields, her mind was racing.
Lyrian said, ‘We were wondering if the males were up to their old tricks, and had somehow recruited you to their cause and then offered you sanctuary. However, it now appears you had no idea they were even still around until you met one by accident. From that I would conclude that whatever happened seven years ago might not have been their doing after all.’
Nual cursed her carelessness. Given how little they knew about the attack on the mothership, of course her sisters would suspect their old enemies first. Rather than give anything else away, she decided to go on the offensive.
‘Just as a matter of interest,’ she asked, ‘why are we still in the Kama Nui system?’
Just as Nual had hoped, Lyrian was thrown by the question - she would have no idea how Nual could know they hadn’t left yet. Not that Nual was sure of it; all she knew for certain was that she was in the same system as Taro.
Lyrian sat up straighter. ‘My, my, your powers have certainly come along since you left us,’ she said, her voice like poisoned honey. ‘I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me how you know that?’
‘No,’ said Nual, ‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Hmm. Then I don’t see why I should tell you what we’re doing here.’ Lyrian waved a hand dismissively. ‘It wouldn’t mean much to you anyway.’
‘Try me.’
Lyrian was silent for a while. ‘All right,’ she said finally, ‘we’re waiting for the consorts.’
Of course! The boys from Serenein. That made sense, now she thought about it.
‘You know,’ said Lyrian, ‘your mind might be impenetrable but your face betrays you sometimes. You know who I mean, don’t you?’
Damn! Nual had been caught out again.
When Nual didn’t respond to her initial question, Lyrian asked, ‘Did you know you were sired by a consort?’
Nual tried to think of something to say that would put her back in control of the conversation. She failed.
Lyrian, confident she had the upper hand again, was beginning to enjoy herself. ‘Well, you always knew you were special, didn’t you? Your sort often question and probe before you settle down.’
‘My sort?’ she said. ‘You mean naturals? I assumed you were natural-born too.’
‘I am. Like you I was conceived in the act of love. Well, love of a sort. No, I’m talking about those whose genetics are the very best, the most likely to breed true.’ Though Lyrian was as tightly shielded as ever her voice betrayed envy, even contempt.
The consorts were Sidhe, of course, albeit mentally constrained ones; these days they were the only full-blooded males around - on the motherships, any boy-child showing Sidhe abilities was put down before he could become the enemy. It was logical that before the consorts went to their final fate powering shiftships they would contribute their potent genes to the Sidhe bloodlines. That Nual came from such a union made sense: she had always felt different from her sisters, even other naturals. But Lyrian’s comment raised further questions. ‘You say “conceived in the act of love”. That implies it isn’t just a case of using male genetic material.’
‘Quite so. We’ve found that using males as, aha, nature intended gives the best results.’
‘I see. No wonder you’re so tetchy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m guessing the consorts must be late, if we’re still here.’ Nual knew this was indeed the case, thanks to Jarek’s actions on
Serenein.
‘They’ll be here soon enough.’ Lyrian’s tone was confident, but Nual imagined she must be getting worried.
Despite herself, Nual grinned. ‘But until then, we have a ship full of eager Sidhe getting more and more frustrated.’
Lyrian’s face showed brief irritation at the jibe. Then she pursed her lips and said, ‘Of whom you would most likely have been one, had you not turned your back on your heritage.’
Which also made sense. They would want to strengthen already strong bloodlines. Lyrian was waiting for her to speak, so Nual asked, ‘And my mother, was she of the Court?’
Lyrian smiled nastily. ‘The concept of mother is such a human one. The unity was your mother, the true parent that nurtured and protected you.’
‘She was, wasn’t she?’
Again that fleeting gesture of irritation: Lyrian expressed the emotion with a tiny asymmetrical straightening of her lips, no more than a quick twitch. Then she was back in control. ‘It isn’t relevant. Though it’s interesting that you mention the Court. None of those august personages are currently on board. Which is why we’ve had to request their presence.’
Nual felt a chill creep up the nape of her neck.
Lyrian continued, ‘When I passed news of your capture on to our wise and powerful sisters, they were eager to send in someone to interrogate you. A specialist. She’ll be arriving within a day or so.’ Lyrian sat back, her body-language all comfort and control. ‘We’ve found no taint in you so far, but even if we’ve missed it, I’m sure she’ll be able to deal with anything unexpected that still lurks within you.’ She leaned forward again. ‘With one of the Court leading our probe, those secrets you are guarding so closely will soon be exposed.’
Nual remained silent, working hard not to let her dismay show.
Lyrian added, ‘I strongly suspect the questions she’ll ask you will be the same ones I’ve already put to you, so perhaps you might want to reconsider while you still can? Truthful answers now may save you considerable pain later.’
And anything she revealed would reflect well on Lyrian, who would want to be able to please her powerful visitor by having made headway with their prisoner. Nual said nothing.
Lyrian stood up. ‘As you wish. I have a lot to attend to before our guest arrives. I’ll return later today, when you’ve had time to think over your options.’ She swept out.
For the first time despair began to gnaw at Nual’s spirit. She already felt ground down by her incarceration and to find the Court had taken an interest in her was the worst possible news.
It took her a while to calm herself enough to evoke the dreaming trance. At first she got no inkling of contact, then she felt the echo of Taro’s mind: he was asleep, but too deeply for her to impinge on his consciousness. She wondered if she could somehow bring his mind into a receptive state, but she was concerned that she might risk damaging him if she failed, so instead she waited, enforcing patience and concentrating on maintaining their tenuous contact until he began to dream.
He was in the Exquisite Corpse. The detail was perfect, right down to the smells of burnt mash, roasting meat and the odd mustiness of the place’s alien barkeep. It was dark, so he was spared the ball-shrivelling view through the clear floor to Vellern’s surface far below. The place was empty. That was bad, because he was here to find someone. Even as he thought that, Taro realised he was dreaming. And as soon as he did, he was no longer alone.
Nual sat at the table where they’d once shared a meal.
He took a careful step, knowing the floor would be slippery under his rag-bound feet. ‘Is it really you?’ he asked.
Nual stood up. ‘It is. I am in your dream.’
He felt himself smile. ‘I knew it had to be you before, but that were just your voice, and the sense of you. This is . . . so real. It’s amazing.’
They’d closed the distance now, though he wasn’t sure how. He reached for her. She returned the embrace. Suddenly the dream went off in a whole new direction; he was desperate to kiss her, to feel her touch on him.
‘We can’t—’ she breathed.
He made himself pull back. ‘We’ve been here before, ain’t we?’ he said wryly.
‘Not exactly. But—Listen, I don’t know how long I have, and I must keep control.’ Nual stroked his shoulders lightly where she held him. ‘But it is so good to see you, and know you are safe! Are you hurt?’
‘I’m fine now. Jarek rescued me. But where’re you?’ An odd question, when all his senses told him she was here with him.
‘I’m not sure. Still in-system, on a Sidhe ship; I think it might be parked up somewhere. The ship is waiting for the consorts; as they haven’t arrived I think it’s safe to assume that Serenein has not fallen.’
‘I’ll let Jarek know that. We’re still in—’
‘No!’ Nual grasped him hard. ‘Please, you must not tell me anything! ’
‘Why not?’
She looked away for a moment. ‘Because although I have managed to keep myself safe so far, my captors have summoned a member of the Court – a very powerful Sidhe. She might be here within a day, and she will almost certainly be strong enough to find out everything I know. Please, tell me nothing about where you are, or what your plans are!’
The true horror of the situation began to dawn on Taro. ‘Shit, Nual, that’s—We gotta get you out of there before she arrives! There must be some way—’
‘You’ll die. There are dozens of Sidhe here, maybe more.’
‘I can’t just leave you!’
‘I’ll prolong this contact for as long as possible. And I will try to find you again, if I can. Our sleep-cycles are different - for me it is late morning now. I can try for contact any time I am alone and not in deep sleep, but I do not think I can access your waking mind - while your consciousness is processing the real world it leaves me no opening. Ideally you need to be somewhere between sleep and waking - in a waking dream.’
‘There’s drugs in the med-bay, we used them for the transit; when I wake up I’ll take some of those. That way I’ll be ready for you. But we’ve got a while now, ain’t we? A while together—’
‘I’m not sure we do.’ Her expression was becoming oddly vacant.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
He could feel her growing insubstantial in his embrace. Her voice suddenly seemed to come from far away. ‘Something is happening, back at the ship. I have to—’
‘Don’t go—!’ he cried.
His arms closed on mist. She was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Marua’s databreakers finished decrypting Tawhira-ngai’s files a couple of hours after Pershalek had gone down to the encoding lab. The data confirmed his claim that the Angel had been kidnapped because they believed that Angel implants included zepgen generators. Their tests had supported this hypothesis, even if there was no way to get the valuable technology out without destroying it.
And Marua, friend to the Sidhe, hadn’t even known that zepgen really existed.
This afternoon the Ariki-Marae had issued a motion of censure against her ngai, formally reprimanding them for their actions against Tawhira-ngai. She had stretched the rules of honourable engagement to their limits, and the combined representatives of the other ngais had declared her actions tapu. Considerable fines were levied, and less tangible gestures of reconciliation would be required in order for honour to be restored. She would be paying the price for recruiting Pershalek for months, if not years. The consensus amongst ngai-watchers - and, she suspected, some of her own people - was that she’d made an uncharacteristically bad judgement call.
Finally, as she was sitting down to the evening meal, a time of the day she made an effort to share with her family whenever she could, good news arrived, from an aide in Stonetown who managed her less formal contacts there. It was nearly midnight in the city, but she’d impressed upon her man the importance of getting full and accurate information on ‘Sais’ as quickly as possible. All they’d had to go on was a picture taken by a hidden camera in the aircar on the run against Tawhira-ngai and the high-level trace on his original com-call which confirmed that it had originated from Stonetown, but the aide had done well, following all relevant leads before bringing what he had to her. H
e had discovered ‘Sais’ was actually a freetrader called Jarek Reen, and he was still in Stonetown, on his ship in the starport. Given he was an offworlder and not a frequent visitor to Kama Nui, he would likely have only a few options for the dissemination of his blackmail material, and that meant the ‘certain independent party’ allegedly in possession of the incriminating data-package had to be one of the standard data-services.
With her ngai’s power and influence, it should not take long to find out which one.
The cobbled streets of the City of Light were hot and foetid. Overhead, the perfection of the summer sky was marred by a twist of dark smoke from the pyres. Trash and sewerage clogged the open drains, and somewhere nearby a street-seller was crying his wares, fresh incense to honour the Mothers. He knew he shouldn’t be here - he was an impostor - but he’d decided to take the easy way out and try to fit in. He’d be fine, provided he never looked up. When he saw the boy standing with the painted strumpets at the side of the street he knew it was Taro, and that this was someone from his other life, the one he’d left behind. As though reminding him of that, he heard an artificial-sounding chirp. He ignored it. It’d been too long since he’d got laid, and now the opportunity presented itself, he wasn’t going to be distracted. His wife understood him, she wouldn’t mind if he just—