Dark Nadir Page 14

  His jaw was suddenly grasped, claws cutting into the soft underside.

  “The general is disposed to believe that the female taught you our language,” said the priest. “And that she and you came to rescue those on Jalna. But I do not.”

  He was caught with no other logical explanation to give him. How could he tell the priest he’d been trapped inside the stasis cube they’d worshiped as a holy object? That it was actually a device from their far past in which he and his Leska had been imprisoned? Anger replaced despair as he realized this priest enjoyed what he was doing. Nothing he could say would make any difference now that M’ezozakk had the answers he needed. He’d been sentenced to death.

  “May your God-King curse you for all eternity!” he snarled. “May he curse you till your very shadow shrinks from you in fear!”

  As the blows began to rain down on him again, he had the satisfaction of seeing the color drain from J’koshuk’s face. Then, as fresh agony exploded in his side, darkness finally claimed him.

  * * *

  Day 6

  “Clan Lord Aldatan!”

  Tired and hungry, Konis decided to keep walking. He’d missed second meal because of yet another “crisis” in his department, and was determined that nothing would stop him from going to the senior staff mess for the midafternoon break.

  “Clan Lord Aldatan!” The voice was louder, more insistent.

  Cursing under his breath, he stopped and waited. The young male halted beside him, still breathing heavily as he handed him a flimsy piece of paper. “Message just came through from Jalna. Knew you’d want it immediately.”

  Frowning, Konis took it from him.

  Another cry, its tone anxious and urgent, rang out through the busy corridor. “Shayza, no! It’s not for the Clan Lord!”

  Konis heard the sound of clawed feet skidding on the decorative tiled floor, then Hanaz, Governor Nesul’s aide, came to a stop beside him. His hand reached for the message, attempting to twitch it from Konis’ grasp before he could read it.

  “Your pardon, Master Konis, this is not an AlRel matter,” he said. “It’s intended for General Raiban and Masters Rhyaz and Lijou.”

  “Not for Master Konis?” said Shayza blankly. “But it concerns . . .”

  “I know what it concerns,” snapped Hanaz sharply. When Konis didn’t respond to him, he spoke again, this time his tone gentler. “Master Konis?”

  Konis finally looked up at him, releasing the document. Suddenly the high-ceilinged palace corridor seemed airless and cramped to him. As his surroundings began to darken, he felt Hanaz grasp him supportively round the waist.

  “Fetch Master Lijou. He’s with the Governor,” said Hanaz. “We’ll be in the Summer Office.”

  Konis felt the grip on him tighten as he was turned around.

  “Master Konis, I’m sorry you found out this way, but you cannot collapse here,” Hanaz said quietly. “The Summer Office is only a few yards away. I’ll help you.”

  Konis made a small noise of agreement, clutching Hanaz’s arm as they began to walk. It seemed an age before they stopped in front of a door flanked by two armed Warriors. At Hanaz’s gesture, one stepped forward to open it for them.

  “We’re expecting Father Lijou,” the Governor’s aide said as they entered. “Admit no one else without my permission.”

  As the door closed behind them, Konis found his strength again, and straightening up, turned on Hanaz. “Why was that message going to be withheld from me?” he asked.

  Hanaz urged him on toward the seats in the center of the room. “To prevent you reacting like this, Master Konis,” he said gently. “The message means nothing more than what it says: your son and his companions failed to contact Captain Kishasayzar as scheduled thirty-nine hours ago. It does not mean that anything has happened to them.”

  Feeling a chair against the back of his legs, Konis sat down abruptly. “When would I have been informed?” he demanded.

  “When they arrived at Tuushu Station, or when we knew for certain they were missing.”

  “Their transmission is over a day late and they aren’t replying to subsequent messages! I’d call that missing!”

  “I really couldn’t comment, Master Konis. It’s outside my field of expertise, that’s why I’ve sent for Master Lijou. The Brotherhood deals with such matters daily. Meanwhile, can I get you something? A glass of water perhaps?”

  “I don’t want any water,” Konis muttered. “I’m hungry, that’s all. I haven’t had time to turn around, let alone eat, since I left home this morning.”

  “Some food can be brought here for you. What would you like?”

  “Good news of my son and bond-daughter, Hanaz,” he said, leaning back exhaustedly and closing his eyes. “That’s all I want right now.”

  The door opened and he sensed Lijou entering. The faint noise of his footfalls and his long robes brushing the carpeted floor sounded unnaturally loud to Konis.

  “Is this just a routine message, Lijou?” he asked. “Don’t lie to me, I’d rather know the worst.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Konis,” said Lijou as the Head Priest sat on the chair next to his. “Yes, a report like this is standard procedure when a team misses a scheduled transmission or meeting by a six day. As to whether this message means more, no one could say right now. It’s honestly too early to tell.”

  Konis opened his eyes to look the other straight in the face. “When would you have told me?”

  Lijou reached out to touch Konis’ knee briefly. “When I knew what had happened. They’re not expected at Tuushu for two weeks. Until that deadline passed, or we received a message from them during jump, I’d have said nothing to alarm you.”

  “Two weeks,” said Konis in a hushed voice. “We’ll have to wait two weeks till we know what’s happened to them?”

  “That’s why we don’t tell the families at this point.” Lijou’s tone was sympathetic. “You mustn’t speak of this to anyone else, Konis. Not Rhyasha, nor Kaid’s son, Dzaka. No one must hear about this until we’re sure. It’s a U’Churian vessel that’s missing, not one of ours. That makes the situation more complex.”

  “What were they doing on a U’Churian ship? I thought they were with the Sumaan.” He was finding it difficult to keep his thoughts straight.

  “We don’t have word on that yet,” said Lijou. “Likely there’s some simple explanation.”

  “Like what? I know from the treaty negotiations that the U’Churians are not as advanced as we are. What would make them leave Jalna on their ship?”

  “Something as simple as a systems failure on the Hkariyash could account for it, Konis. The same for the lack of communication with the Profit,” said Lijou soothingly. “There’s no reason yet to assume the worst.”

  “What are you going to do about it? Are we looking for them yet?”

  “Rhyaz is talking to Raiban now. Believe me, we will be searching for them, Konis. If nothing else, we’re aware that how we conduct this matter will impact on the way both the U’Churians and the Cabbarans view us as allies.”

  “I must be kept informed, Lijou. I can cope if I know what I’m facing. It’s not knowing that’s frightening.”

  “I will keep you informed,” promised Lijou as the door opened again and Hanaz entered carrying a tray of sliced meats, bread and hot c’shar. “Hanaz told me you hadn’t eaten since this morning. Do you mind if I join you? Like you, I haven’t had time to stop for a meal.”

  “It would turn to dust in my mouth right now,” said Konis.

  “You must eat, my friend,” said Lijou as Hanaz put the tray down on the low table beside them. “Many people saw you nearly pass out from lack of food.”

  Konis stared at him. “For a telepath, you’ve become too good at lying, Lijou. I want your word that you’ll keep me informed. Dammit, it’s my son and bond-daughter that are missing out there!”

  “You have my word, Konis. As soon as we have any definite news, I will tell you. I care about you
r son and his Triad too, you know. Now please, my friend, you must try to eat something.”

  “I haven’t time,” he muttered, trying to get up. “The Governor’s waiting for me.”

  Lijou gently prevented him. “That can wait. The Governor has put your meeting off until tomorrow.”

  Konis looked up sharply at him. “If you want this to remain confidential, Lijou, that’s the worst thing you could do. My meeting with the Governor must go ahead as scheduled.”

  Lijou hesitated, obviously unsure how to counter his logic.

  Konis reached for the plate of food. “I’ll eat something, if it’ll make you happy, but my meeting will go ahead.”

  * * *

  “This is neither the time nor the place, Azkuu,” said Konis angrily as he gathered the papers for his meeting with Governor Nesul. He was annoyed. Azkuu had come from downwind and effectively trapped him in the AlRel office. “Clan matters aren’t pressing, these new treaties with the Free Traders are.”

  “You’re Clan Lord, too, Konis,” she growled. “If the duties are becoming too much for you, then you should pass them over to someone else.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Konis, looking up at the older female. “When have I ever neglected Clan duties?”

  “You want a list? I’ll give it to you, then. Over your son and the Human, and your daughter Taizia. Now you’re doing it with Kitra. It reeks of partisanship, Konis.”

  Anger surged through him. His son and Carrie were missing, perhaps dead, and here was this narrow-minded female complaining about their bonding! “You leave my son and bond-daughter out of this, Azkuu. As for Taizia and the other telepaths involved in the Brotherhood breeding program, those orders came from the highest level, nothing to do with me!”

  “Way I heard it, Konis, Taizia got herself pregnant by this Brother and forced your hand.”

  Konis straightened up, allowing his ears to rotate sideward and begin to fold down in a display of his anger. “You overstep the bounds of familiarity, Azkuu,” he said coldly. “My daughter was free to make a bonding contract of her choice at that time. That it was later endorsed by the military directive is their good fortune. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve pressing business to attend to.”

  “You’ll hear me out first, Konis. You know me well enough to know I’m not saying this out of malice, but others aren’t speaking so kindly. This latest crop of betrothals has the young ones demanding they be given a say in the choice of their future life-mates! And the older ones are muttering, too. We can’t afford a rebellion. Vartra knows you’re busy enough now without having to bring down that rhakla! You want my advice?”

  “No, frankly, I don’t, but doubtless I’m going to get it anyway.”

  Azkuu glowered back at him. “You’re right, you’re getting it. Get that last daughter of yours life-bonded as soon as possible, and I do mean bonded. If you’re seen to uphold our traditions with her, it’ll go a long way to quieting the other Clan Leaders, who in turn will see their offspring do as they’re told. It’s only the ceremony they want. No one expects her to bear cubs yet.”

  “She’s too young to be life-bonded, Azkuu. Next year is soon enough.”

  “You’re not listening to me, are you? Kitra is old enough, you know that as well as I. You’ve become too alien, Konis, too changed by the goings-on of your son and his En’Shallans for the majority of the Clan Leaders. If you don’t act now over Kitra, you’re going to have trouble, not only in the Clan Council but in the Guild!”

  “I told you my decision, Azkuu.”

  Azkuu sighed. “I tried the easy way, Konis, but your intractability has forced my hand. This is an official request from the Clan Council. Choose a life-mate for Kitra now, or face a vote of censure at the next meeting in three weeks’ time. I’m sorry, but you left me with no choice.”

  Konis was too stunned to answer as Azkuu turned and left. Then anger really took hold of him. How dare they question his judgment, Challenge him like this! Become too alien, had he? Raiban’s words echoed in his mind. Once you step outside the groundling’s rules, you can never go back.

  She was right, but it was the rules that needed changing, not him! With the inclusion of the Brotherhood, their genetic pool of Talented was much larger, there wasn’t the need for the stringent genetic checks to make sure each individual in a potential couple was from a different family tree. And that was only taking the Brothers currently based on Shola into account. How many more of them there were, only Lijou and Rhyaz as joint Guild Masters knew. Now he had an argument for relaxing the system of choosing life-mates for the most Talented telepaths. Change was easier to force from within an organization, but what could he do in three weeks?

  The door chime sounded, making him start, but it was only Hanaz, Nesul’s aide.

  “The Governor’s ready for you now, Master Konis,” he said quietly.

  Konis pulled his thoughts back to the more pressing business at hand and followed Hanaz out.

  * * *

  “Azkuu said what?” demanded Rhyasha that evening, disbelieving her own ears as she leaped up from her chair to pace round the lounge.

  “Kitra must be betrothed and life-bonded within the next three weeks,” repeated Konis, trying not to wince at his mate’s outraged tone.

  “And you told her what she could do, didn’t you?” When he didn’t answer, she rounded on him. “Didn’t you?”

  “Actually, I said nothing,” he replied, beating a retreat behind his desk. “She said the request was official, from the Council as a whole.”

  Rhyasha stopped pacing and regarded him silently.

  “Now that we have the Brothers, there’s no need for arranged bondings if the candidates are allowed to choose from a group of previously screened partners. We can change it, Rhyasha. We need to.”

  “But not in three weeks, not for Kitra.”

  “No,” he admitted, looking away as he sat down at his desk and activated his comm. “Not in time for Kitra. I’ve got a list of possible young males from among the Telepath Clans,” he added hurriedly. “Help me choose one for her, Rhyasha.” He hoped she’d hear the plea in his voice and not fight him over the inevitability of this.

  “You’re prepared to sacrifice our youngest daughter. Have you learned nothing over the past year, Konis?”

  “Of course I have, but in fairness, they have a valid point, Rhyasha. Two of our three children have made unconventional marriages. As Clan Lord, I should set an example. A vote of censure at this time could cost me my position as head of the Council,” he said, stung by her attack. “I can change things, force them to accept the Brothers as mates for their sons and daughters, if I stay in charge.”

  “Choose whom you want, it makes no difference to Kitra or me,” she said abruptly, turning her back on him and heading for the door. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. “But, Konis, you can tell Kitra and Dzaka yourself.”

  * * *

  When summoned to Konis’ office, Dzaka accepted the news as impassively as one would expect from one of the Brotherhood.

  “When?” was all he’d asked.

  “Within three weeks,” replied Konis, obviously relieved by the younger male’s response. “It’s politics, Dzaka, not personal. I wish for Kitra’s sake it could be otherwise. The Clans are demanding she have a traditional Telepath Clan life-mate.”

  “I understand, Clan Lord.” It came as no shock to him: he’d expected it for some time now. “We were together two nights ago. You’ll need to . . .”

  “There’s no need,” said Konis hastily. “I know you’re gene-altered. The betrothal is only a formality for now, but I will have to ask you not to be alone with her again. In a year or two, when she’s provided an heir for her new clan, it’s up to you . . .” He tailed off into silence. “I do wish it were otherwise. She’s going to take it badly.”

  Dzaka sensed Kitra approaching and turned toward the door as it was flung wide. She stalked in, tail swaying in a lazy arc, ear
s spread wide and forward, every line of her body ready for a fight.

  Ignoring her father, she looked only at him. “Well? What do you have to say about this?”

  “We must do as the Clan Lord asks,” he murmured. “It’s no more than I said would happen.”

  Her scorn washed round him as her ears began to fold in anger. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? What we feel for each other means nothing to you?”

  There was no reply he could give her. Nothing could change their circumstances.

  “I’d expected more from you,” she said scathingly. “I thought Brothers fought for their friends and what they believed in.”

  He shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “Your father is right. I tried to tell you.”

  “Kitra,” began Konis.

  She turned on him. “Leave it, Father, lest I say something you’ll regret,” she growled before spinning round and stalking out, tail rigid and fur extended.

  * * *

  There was nothing more to be said, so Dzaka left, heading back to the estate, to the house that Vanna and Garras shared. Though he’d been expecting this, it had still taken him by surprise and a part of his mind couldn’t believe it had finally happened—especially after their last night together.

  Vanna’s friendly voice called out to him as he stood on the doorstep, telling him she’d be with him in a moment, and to go in and wait for her in the kitchen. He pushed open the back door and sat down at the table. He couldn’t face going back to the villa yet—didn’t dare in case Kitra was there, collecting her things from his room. It had taken more strength than she’d ever know to say nothing to her father when everything he wanted in life was her.

  Sitting there, wrapped in his misery, he wasn’t aware of Vanna entering until her hand touched his shoulder.