by James Palmer
Rebani Kalba’s mind reeled. Kos Sideran had a daughter! This thought echoed in the Sabour’s mind, playing over and over – until finally, he realized that something was wrong. In addition to the haze that filled his brain, he found his body slow to respond.
“That’s right, Rebani Kalba,” said Nidri. “You have been drugged. It’s a neurotoxin ... odorless, tasteless. But easily blocked by the proper chemical ... which I applied to my lips before putting on the toxin.”
Rebani felt his limbs freeze up. Fighting to move, he crashed to the floor. “Nidri ….”
Kneeling over him, the girl whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, the toxin won’t kill you. I’m going to do that.
“And you should call me by my true name – Eriskaye Sideran.”
“Your ... father …,” Rebani gasped, each word a struggle, “murdered ... his ... sister ... went red ... slaughtered dozens ….”
“You murdered him,” the second Eriskaye Sideran accused as she got to her feet. She went to her bag and began rummaging in it. Rebani, now unable to speak, thought he heard metal against metal.
Rebani Kalba closed his eyes and focused his thoughts. This was easier now, now that he no longer fought for control of his body. He called up a mental image of his mentor, Vagram Ysdrene, even as he felt a sharp blade pierce his flesh.
“Your death will not be quick,” Eriskaye assured the Sabour.
The young woman who called herself Nidri had outsmarted herself, Rebani Kalba thought to himself as he cast himself into a deep meditative trance. In addition to paralyzing the body, the neurotoxin dulled the pain of mutilation enough for the Udehe to enter the desired state of meditation. Of course, this was only possible because he was a Sabour. For anyone unskilled in the mental arts, such concentration would have been impossible. The pain was crippling.
There, in the deep recesses of his mind, Rebani demanded that his body speed up its metabolic process. This was thankfully unaffected by the neurotoxin. At his body’s increased metabolic rate, the deadly poison ran its course in a fraction of its normal duration.
Without warning, Rebani Kalba’s eyes came open. An instant later, his arm shot up. His hand gripped Eriskaye Sideran by the throat. She did not have time to speak before she dropped the stylized knife in her hand – designed to maim rather than kill.
Eriskaye’s small fists beat helplessly against Rebani as she began to black out. The Udehe shut his eyes and strangled her until she was dead.
Rebani Kalba spent days in a hospital on Paradan, during which he gave the second Eriskaye much thought. He had been forced, he told himself, to kill her. He did not know how extensive the damage she’d done to him was; he had no way of knowing how long he could maintain consciousness, and, in fact, he had passed out almost as soon as Eriskaye had died, and was lucky enough to have been found by hotel staff before he bled to death.
The Sabour forced himself not to ponder the possibility that he might have proved the truth to the girl, thereby redeeming the loss of the first Eriskaye Sideran.
When he was released from the hospital, Rebani Kalba boarded the first ship leaving Paradan. This was headed for Jabareen, an even more backwater planet than Paradan.
21 In Which Two and Two Means Significantly More Than Four
It would not have been unreasonable to refer to the world known as Covenant as a paradise. It was a planet of lush greenness, clear, shallow oceans and pale amber sky. Due to vast bodies of water, a somewhat short rotation period and small axial tilt, there was little temperature variation across the surface – the planet was uniformly warm. In addition to possessing almost exact Standard gravity, there were no known toxins in the environment, and, prior to the arrival of the space ark christened “Covenant”, the planet harbored no form of native animal life.
The Earth refugees took all this as a sign that God had delivered them to His chosen home for them in the universe, when they had arrived there thousands of years ago.
Of course, that they had traveled beyond the known limits of space in that era probably had something to do with the fact that the planet had not previously been settled. The situation was something like the homesteaders of Oklahoma going all the way to California before stopping.
This allowed the theocracy of Covenant to develop a sovereignty that was unshakeable by the time the growing galactic government had expanded to the religious colonists’ area of space. So Covenant, like any other sovereign world, had its own representatives in the Grand Galactate, the ruling body of the Union, and its own laws, which had to be observed the same as galactic laws agreed upon by members of the Union.
Bal Tabarin studied these laws in preparation for his upcoming visit to the planet. One of these laws, it turned out, was that no weapons of any kind were allowed on the planet. By visitors, that is. The planetary defense forces, of course, were well-armed.
While inconvenient, Bal didn’t find this particularly incongruous. Most religions had different sets of rules for “the faithful” and “the heathens”. Of course, Bal hoped that he wouldn’t need a weapon while planetside. He also felt that this was probably a vain hope, but hoped it nonetheless.
Accordingly, Bal secreted a small weapon that was immune to scanalyzer detection in his clothing, hope, after all, having nothing to do with necessity. It fired a needle-thin beam of energy that wasn’t fatal unless a vital organ, such as the brain or heart, was struck. It was, therefore, an emergency-only weapon.
The Vagabond Lady received its recognition call from the Covenant spaceport, and descended to the lush surface of the planet.
Bal and Rebani Kalba the Sabour disembarked the space vessel.
The spaceport was filled with armed men. It was as secure a spaceport as Bal, who had visited many in his travels across the Milky Way, had ever seen.
The pair was stopped by a group of armed guards upon leaving their landing area. One carried a small scanalyzer, and another carried his weapon – not a blazer, but another rifle-type gun of an abbreviated sort. The third carried something else, a small box-like device that Bal did not immediately recognize. Then suddenly, sickeningly, it hit him – the machine was a verifier.
A holotronic lie detector.
Bal Tabarin smiled cordially as the guards approached. “Routine check,” said one, sweeping the scanalyzer over Bal’s form.
It detected nothing, as Bal had planned. Now came the hard part.
The soldier holding the verifier asked Bal, “Are you carrying any weapons?”
“No,” answered Bal calmly.
“Do you intend on harming any member of the Covenant?”
“No,” Bal responded.
Rebani Kalba was next. As the Sabour was put through the examination, Bal breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief. Beating the verifier was simple, but not easy. You just had to be a really good liar. Lie detectors such as the verifier which monitored bodily regulatory functions such as breathing or pulse actually registered the stress of the being in question. It was a rare individual who showed no stress when telling a lie. Bal Tabarin was one such individual.
The guards finished with Rebani Kalba.
Bal and Rebani walked across the tarmac to the concourse, where they were met by a portly fellow. Built like a bear, he possessed jet-black hair that farmed his face; his hair fell to his shoulders, while he had a full beard. He was Human, as were all members of the Covenant colony. Apparently, few Sentients immigrated to the religious world.
“I am Brother John-843852,” the portly man introduced himself, extending a pudgy hand in greeting. Bal followed suit, and John grasped his forearm, and gently squeezed it.
“Bal Tabarin,” Bal said, returning the squeeze.
Brother John turned to Rebani, who remained withdrawn into his large cloak. He did not extend a hand in greeting. “I am Sabour Monitor Rebani Kalba of Udehle.”
Rebani gazed at the brother. “You have had time to verify my credentials,” he added.
After an awkward moment, Brother
John withdrew his hand, and gestured to the terminal. He began walking in that direction, and after pausing to make sure the pair were following, entered the building.
The terminal, like all of the predominant architecture of the planet, was medieval in appearance. Eschewing technology whenever possible, the members of the Covenant relied on primitive tools to do their work.
Bal, knowing that colony members took their names from the Bible, their sacred book, said in a friendly tone, “John must be a popular name.” He referred to the fact that a high “surname” followed the brother’s name; it indicated that he was the 843852nd John born in the community since the ark had left Old Earth, all those thousands of years ago.
Portly Brother John smiled that at least one of his visitors showed some knowledge of the local customs. “The names of the Apostles are always popular,” John said. “Although Old Testament names have been making a comeback these past few cycles. Did you know Hezekiah is only up to 10938?”
“I didn’t know,” Bal answered honestly. That meant there was one Hezekiah for every 800 Johns, roughly. That sounded about right to Bal, who liked neither name. Unlike every other culture, names hadn’t evolved on Covenant as they had every place else in the Milky Way. Or, they hadn’t evolved like names in every other place in the Milky Way, Bal amended. Changing a digit in a name every generation constituted evolution on some scale, he conceded.
The trio exited the concourse, and found themselves in a wide lane paved with small, round river stones. Brother John led the small group toward a town visible ahead. Behind the town, which was less than a mile away, stood a foreboding mount with a castle perched atop it.
Bal Tabarin glanced at Rebani, made a face at him encouraging the Sabour to show some interest in John’s discourse. Bal saw Rebani’s lips move, and in his ear, heard the words, “I care as little about his beliefs as he does about mine.”
Bal had already known that the Sabour looked condescendingly down upon religion in general as an opiate for the masses, something, at best, to give hope to the hopeless. At its worst, religion was used by those in power to make people conform, to keep them from becoming too disgruntled, and overthrowing the despicable establishment. Bal couldn’t disagree with this last part. He’d seen it himself, first-hand, on too many worlds.
Brother John, sensing something going on during the lull of the conversation, turned and glanced briefly at Bal, who managed to maintain a straight face. Rebani’s face was stern, as usual. The Corruban silently reflected that the Sabour had the ultimate poker-face.
The words of their portly guide interrupted this brief reverie. Brother John continued, “We eschew technology, but are not Luddites”, referring to a philosophical movement that believed that technology was inherently evil, no matter the use to which it was put. John waved a pudgy arm about, gesturing to the medieval-looking buildings.
“We use technology when we have to,” Brother John explained. “When it’s a necessity, not a luxury.” He glanced at Bal. “An easy life is bad for the soul,” John told the Corruban.
Memories of hardships flooded through Bal. You don’t know how easy you’ve had it, Brother John, he reflected, then shrugged, and put the memories out of his mind.
“At any rate,” John continued, “we have your request to meet with the Hierophant, and I regret to inform you that his schedule is quite full.”
Rebani Kalba stopped in the street. John, noticing he had lost a charge, turned to look at the Sabour. The Monitor spoke, “I am a Sabour. You cannot turn me aside so easily.” The Brotherhood of Sabours had been given police power by the Galactic Union, and in effect acted as government representatives when they so chose.
Brother John colored slightly. “As I was about to say, we are making every effort to grant your request, and the Hierophant would be honored to have you as his guests until he can see you.”
Rebani resumed movement. “That would be acceptable.”
The trio continued toward the large cathedral-like castle on the hill overlooking the town.
Bal Tabarin and Rebani Kalba were taken to chambers that retained their medieval flavor despite their technological amenities. What religious people saw in primitive surroundings, Bal didn’t understand. It wasn’t true only of the physical environment – the architecture and general lack of technology – but the naming custom was indicative of this mind-set, as well. This type of belief system and behavior was typical of religious groups throughout history, not just those of Covenant – or Old Earth. He also knew the people of Covenant preferred bound-paper books to holotexts.
Bal lay down on the bed in the room to rest briefly. The Covenant day didn’t match the standard cycle that he kept about The Vagabond Lady, and his internal clock had been thrown off. He quickly fell asleep.
Bal Tabarin was awakened – a very short period of time later, it seemed to him – by a soft rapping at the wooden door to the chamber. He hauled himself up out of the bed, and opened the door. Brother John eight-something-or-other stood there, smiling broadly. Bal shook off his slumber, and asked the portly brother into the room.
“I have some good news for you and your friend,” Brother John said excitedly. “The Hierophant has invited the two of you to dinner, as a gesture of good will. It won’t be a private audience, but perhaps this will suffice for your friend.”
Bal, anxious to keep the good will flowing in his direction, said, “He’s not really a friend. More of an associate.”
“Say no more,” Brother John said in a confidential tone. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to tell him yourself?”
Bal Tabarin smiled widely, in as friendly and understanding a manner as he could summon. “Not at all. I understand completely. Thanks for your help.”
Brother John bowed briefly before leaving, shutting the door behind him.
Things were looking up, Bal decided. He went to inform his companion of the news.
Bal Tabarin found the Sabour meditating.
Rebani glanced up at Bal abruptly. “There is danger here,” he said. He rose to his feet in one graceful movement.
“Do you figure they’re going to convert us?” Bal asked in a serious tone, then broke out into a smile.
The humor was lost on the Sabour. “It is vague, almost as if it is being hidden,” Rebani said slowly, as if repeating words being said to him. “I do not believe it represents a threat to our lives, but more than that, I cannot say.”
Bal Tabarin told the Sabour the news that had come from portly Brother John.
“That is good news,” Rebani said simply.
Bal frowned at his dour companion. “Why can’t you just accept good news for what it is?”
“I have found that things are rarely what they seem,” answered Rebani. “And when they are, it is usually when they seem bad to begin with.”
Bal guessed that this was what passed for Udehle humor, but let it pass. He returned to his chamber, and began preparing for dinner.
At the appropriate time, Brother John came for Bal Tabarin and Rebani Kalba. He led them through the stone corridors of the castle to a large, exquisitely decorated dining room that reminded no one of a vow of poverty. The Hierophant, dressed in his full, holy regalia – white linen robes and colorful scarves – stood at the near end of the long, dark-wooded table. An aged man, he resembled a toad in human form – Human form, for he, like all of the members of Covenant, was an Earth descendant. Covenant’s conditions being so similar to Earth’s had preserved the Earth phenotype better than more diverse planets, where, even without genetic modification, mankind had continued to evolve. This toad’s warts were age spots, and if they were anything to go by, the Hierophants age had reached three digits. Silvery hair grew sparsely atop the covered head of the leader. The flesh of his face sagged in such a way that his eyes appeared large, but clear, almost predatory as he looked over his guests.
At the far end of the table stood a young woman, dressed regally herself in a manner that tantalized Bal’s eye
s with hints of her form beneath the garment. A being in heavy robes stood at her side, his face masked by the cowl of the robes and the shadows cast by the dim candlelight that illuminated the chamber. Bal recognized the woman a moment before the Hierophant spoke. “These two are also my guests, Princess Virga, formerly of Verlantica, and her escort, Count Xiten.”
Bal Tabarin glanced at his companion. Rebani Kalba’s face was hard. He, too, recognized the pair as Arga Cilus’ confederates.
22 In Which Cats Play with Mice
but the Mice Don’t Know It
Princess Virga and her companion, the mysterious Count Xiten, gave no indication that they were concerned by the sudden appearance of Bal Tabarin and Rebani Kalba. Then it struck Bal – neither of them had ever seen him or the Sabour before, and, in fact, would have no inkling that the pair was also after the Hierophant’s jewel.
Bal heard Rebani’s voice in his ear. “We have the advantage; they do not know who we are or why we are here, while we are aware of their purpose here.”
And that’s about all, Bal said to himself as he vaguely heard the Hierophant introduce him and his companion to Virga and Xiten.
It was of some comfort to Bal that Omar Batrachian – wherever he was – had been telling the truth; it was too large a coincidence to believe that two he had named as part of Arga Cilus’ group which was searching for pieces of the gem had turned up here – together.