Dark Nadir Page 4

  The Guardian stirred in his seat. “I thought matters had improved since Esken’s power had been broken.”

  “They have, and even more so since he retired three weeks ago, but we need to evolve, Dhaika! As a society, we’ve been stagnant for too long. Growth and change are what we need, even if that change cuts us like a polar wind! But it’s not just that that concerns me. We’ve still got the threat of the Valtegans hanging over our heads.”

  Dhaika sighed, reaching for his drink. “Fear has always been an unpleasant bedfellow. No news of the escaped Valtegan?”

  “Kezule? None. A sustained search of the Taykui Forest margins has turned up nothing, now they’re spreading the net farther. General Raiban would like to hold us at Stronghold responsible, but her people were on duty that night.” He didn’t want to get drawn deeper into this discussion. The media weren’t aware of the escape of Kezule and Keeza Lassah, the Sholan female incarcerated with him as a spy. That there were two psychopaths loose in their continent’s major game forest was a circumstance that deeply humiliated both the Brotherhood and the Forces. He made an effort to return to the original discussion.

  “About Brynne Stevens,” he began.

  “I have said that if he comes to either of us of his own free will, with no prompting, then I will train him as our Order dictates,” interrupted Dhaika.

  “Even in dream-walking?” He pushed his point home.

  “Yes, even that—if I believe Ghyakulla has called him!”

  Lijou let his breath out in a gentle huff. “Thank you, Dhaika. All I’m asking is that we don’t close our eyes to what could be in front of us.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” said Dhaika. “My position here as Guardian is to ensure that those called to the Brotherhood by Vartra or His Companion, Ghyakulla, receive the proper religious instruction in our mysteries. It’s time Ghyakulla was allowed to call those She chooses, regardless of our esteemed matriarchs’ personal wishes and their perceived political implications.”

  Lijou could hear a touch of enthusiasm creeping into Dhaika’s voice. At last! It had been an uphill struggle convincing the older male. Though he could see to the normal instruction of their Order, the advanced religious studies were Dhaika’s provenance, and that included dream-walking. He was only just beginning to realize how much more he had to learn about that psychic art.

  He inclined his head in agreement, as much to hide the small smile as to show respect for the other. “You’re absolutely right, Guardian Dhaika. It’s time for us to listen to the deities once more.”

  * * *

  Like a silent shadow, Ashay padded alongside Quin as they made their way through the spaceport gates toward the hotel. Though the heavy fighting was over, it was still not safe for any of the four Humans on Jalna to walk alone through the spaceport area. Ashay was the perfect escort. No one in their right mind would argue with a Sumaan. Six feet tall to the shoulder, plus another foot for the mobile neck and its attached head, the reptilian Sumaan were formidable mercenaries. Heavily muscled hind legs and a tail almost as thick as his torso gave Ashay a bulkiness that belied his agility, speed and immense strength. As they passed through the checkpoint, the young Sumaan’s neck curved downward, bringing his head on a level with the guard’s. Lips pulled back from the tombstone teeth as he smiled his greeting.

  Catching the guard’s shudder as the youngster passed through, Quin smiled to himself. He could understand the Jalnian’s reaction. He’d felt the same until he’d gotten to know Captain Kishasayzar and his crew.

  There had been a lot of rapid changes, he noted as he approached the inner fenced area where the hotel and the tower that had been Lord Bradogan’s stood. The guards waved them through without challenging them: the crew of the Hkariyash were well known to Tarolyn’s men by now.

  Port workers were still piling rubbish from the deceased Lord’s dwelling onto the smoldering bonfire in front of the tower. Its acrid smoke coiled lazily up into the heat-blanched sky. Everyone had known what kind of man Bradogan was, but the new Port Lord hadn’t been prepared for the sight that met his eyes in the basement cells. Treating several of Bradogan’s prisoners had been beyond Jalna’s primitive medical skills, and Tarolyn had needed to ask for help from those species still berthed in the port. He’d then refused to enter the keep again until it had been gutted and all trace of its former owner erased.

  It was the Humans who’d been able to offer the most aid, as they were physiologically closest to the Jalnians. Quin had just come from checking on their patients at the makeshift infirmary that had been set up in one of the warehouses. As well as those who had been subjected to Bradogan’s idea of hospitality, several Jalnians were being treated for energy weapon burns and a variety of sword and knife wounds sustained during the pitched battle in the port the day before.

  Tarolyn, flanked by his faithful bodyguards, was holding court in the main foyer of the hotel. Seeing Quin enter, he dismissed the assorted crowd of alien traders and their Jalnian agents that had been clamoring for his attention, and gestured at him to approach. As the traders and agents moved aside, Quin could see Conrad sitting at the end of Tarolyn’s table. Like himself, he’d reverted to using the black fatigues that were the Humans’ Warrior Guild uniform.

  “Get him a seat,” the Lord ordered one of his guards as the Human approached. “And a drink for them both,” he added to Conrad. “The heat outside is enough to scorch even the Sumaan’s hide. How are your patients today, Quin?”

  “Improving,” Quin said, taking off the black baseball-like cap that protected his balding head from the sun. Gratefully, he accepted the glasses of water that his colleague slid across the table to him. He handed one to Ashay, who then ambled off to sit with the guards, and drained the second himself. “Another couple of days and all but five of them will be able to go home. I’d like the physician on the Rhijissoh to examine three of those, though. Their medics have more sophisticated equipment than us and will be able to analyze your species so we know exactly what drugs we can use. All I can do at the moment is make them as comfortable as possible.” He’d already decided not to mention that at least one was unlikely to survive the day.

  Railin Tarolyn narrowed his eyes as he listened to Quin. “So why didn’t your Sholan friends wait for this ship?”

  “Carrie was too badly injured, Lord Tarolyn,” began Conrad.

  “I asked him,” Railin interrupted, continuing to look at Quin as he took the proffered chair and sat down opposite the Lord.

  “It’s exactly as he said. Her injuries were so severe that the Rhijissoh couldn’t have dealt with her properly. They scanned her on the Profit and we now know the bullet is lodged against her spine. On its way in, it hit one of her ribs and splinters of bone have caused tissue and organ damage. The Rhijissoh simply doesn’t have the specialized surgical facilities necessary for operating on a Human so badly injured. If she’d been Sholan,” he shrugged. “Far better to stabilize her in the Profit cryo facilities, then get her to the rendezvous ship as quickly as possible.”

  Railin grunted. “Let me know how she fares. What of the Sholan woman who lost her child?”

  “Zashou’s comfortable. They’re building her strength up with Sholan protein drinks until they’re sure the poison from the Jalnian food is out of her system,” said Quin, refilling his glass from a jug on the table.

  “A tragedy,” said Railin. “But the child was better dead than living so malformed. I had not thought it possible that the poison in our soil could do that. But she’s young, there’s plenty of time for more children. I’ve decided to leave security matters at the port as they are for now. People know where they are, know what to expect. Better to make my changes gradually, there’ll be chaos otherwise. How long before this ship of yours arrives?”

  “Another three days,” said Conrad. “When they do, they’ll be sending down a Contact team in a shuttle. I’ve been asked to request quarters for them close by your own.”

  “They can stay
in a suite of rooms here,” said Railin, pulling his pipe and smoking herb from his belt pouch. He glanced up at Conrad. “Who are they coming to talk to? Us, or our alien customers?”

  “All those species who want to talk to them,” said Quin. “Including yourselves.”

  Railin tamped the smoking herb down in the pipe bowl with the end of his small belt knife. As he reached for his flint box, Conrad pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it, letting it burn for a moment before handing it to Railin.

  “Please keep it,” he said as the Lord turned the object thoughtfully over in his hand before igniting his smoking herb with it.

  So begins their throwaway society, sent Quin.

  No need to be so cynical, replied Conrad.

  “Thank you,” Railin said, placing it on the table beside his pouch. “An interesting little toy.”

  “We’ve many more like this in the Alliance,” said Conrad quietly. And before you jump down my throat, I’ve been authorized to give him a few . . . inducements.

  “Yesterday, you and Quin offered to bring me some supplies from Galrayn in your scouter. I think we’d all eat more easily if we know the food is uncontaminated. I’ve had a list prepared for you.” Railin slid the piece of parchment across the table toward Quin. “It may mean two trips, but I think you’d agree fresh meat and vegetables are worth the time it’ll take. And if you could also bring my cook,” his genial face lit up at the thought, “then I can promise you a meal second to none.”

  Conrad looked across at Quin. “Sounds fine to me.” Turning back to Railin, he said, “I’ve been authorized to let you have a communications device for your estate, to enable you to speak instantly with your steward from anywhere on Jalna. The Alliance negotiators know it’s vital that you remain in touch with your people for the duration of their visit, and are prepared to do what they can to facilitate this.”

  Railin puffed gently on his pipe, releasing a small cloud of aromatic smoke. “Very good of them, considering they need me more than I need them. What makes this Alliance of yours so sure that the other species will want them here?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t comment on that, Lord Tarolyn,” said Conrad. “We’re not actually part of the negotiating team. We’ve merely been asked to remain here to act as envoys for them. But I will say that two of the Alliance species already trade here—the Chemerians and the Sumaan.”

  “You have everyone at a disadvantage for the time being, Lord Tarolyn,” said Quin, picking his words carefully. “But may I respectfully suggest that you tread carefully and don’t overplay your hand? If you make demands that could be considered unreasonable, then there is nothing to stop the traders from combining to build a space station.”

  The new Port Lord raised a bushy eyebrow. “I think not. I may be just a dirt-sider to you, but I’ve some idea of the cost of such an undertaking, in people and time if not money.”

  He’s sharp, no doubt about that, sent Quin. Nobody’s fool. “With three more species to divide the cost among them, I don’t think that’s going to be a major consideration. What you really want is help with the environment, isn’t it? You want your people free of this madness that comes from the land. Bradogan played on it, used it to his advantage to control the goods coming onto Jalna.”

  Railin narrowed his eyes. “I want it understood that Jalnians are not violent by nature. The cause of it is our poisoned soil and not all of us are tainted by it. With help, those who are can be freed. We could then take our rightful place in space with the rest of you.”

  “You have one major point in your favor,” said Conrad. “The Sholans, who are the senior partner in the Alliance, have no love for the Chemerians, and it was the Chemerians who branded you as an unstable species. The Sholan government may well be prepared to back your request for aid with both the Free Traders and the Alliance to pay back the Chemerians for withholding information concerning the existence of the Free Traders.”

  “And the Chemerians?” asked Railin.

  “Will say nothing, having been exposed as untrustworthy to both the Free Traders and the Alliance by having kept silent about the existence of both groups.”

  “I only want what is right and fair for my people. The technology you all possess would help us rise above what we are and become more. It isn’t as if we have nothing to offer in return.”

  “You have your location for one,” murmured Quin.

  “Location?”

  “Jump points are rare,” explained Conrad. “That’s why Jalna is so important to the Free Traders. It’s a point where they can most easily converge for trade. It’s a little farther for the Alliance, but still economically viable, I would think.”

  “For people not concerned with negotiating, your words are very much to the point, and in our favor,” murmured Railin. “Why?”

  “You’re not so dissimilar from us,” said Quin, shifting in his chair. “Our friends’ time as Killian’s guests reminded us of the basics of life—a safe place to live, good food, and our health.” If the Jalnians are accepted, he sent to Conrad, it advances Earth’s arguments to become full Alliance members rather than associates.

  “Talking of which,” said Railin, looking toward the foyer desk. “I see that damned manager is standing around doing nothing. It’s past midday, time we had something substantial to eat and drink. You can tell me about this communications device of yours before you leave for Galrayn.”

  * * *

  Naira and Zsyzoi were on the inland detail, working their way outward toward the margins of the Taykui Forest where they’d meet up with their opposite members. The cold wind ruffled Naira’s hair, making him shiver.

  “We’re not going to find him,” he muttered to his sword-sister. “He’s long gone by now—and he knows our world.”

  “Only the desert area near Chezy and the Kysubi plains, and they’ve changed a hell of a lot since his day,” said Zsyzoi quietly, edging forward slowly as she scanned her surroundings through the IR visor. “We have to keep looking. Now shut up, I can hear you complain anytime.”

  “How’d he get out anyway? You manage to pick up any gossip yet?”

  “Naira, be quiet! At this rate, they’ll hear us long before we hear them,” she hissed angrily before coming to an abrupt stop and rounding on him. “Or is that the point of all your chatter?”

  “Of course not!” he replied, stung by her accusation. “How could you . . .”

  A dark shape launched itself toward them from the branch of a nearby tree. They separated, one to either side, diving for cover as the creature leaped beyond them, landing deep in the undergrowth.

  Zsyzoi was already on her feet, tracking its passage as it headed deeper into the forest. She let out a string of expletives as she relaxed and began to brush the debris from the forest floor off her clothing and pelt. “Another four-legger,” she said with disgust.

  “Are you sure?” Naira asked, scrambling to his feet and peering in the direction of the still swaying vegetation.

  “Sure,” she confirmed. “Only the ferals move like that, we can’t. Come on, we’ve still got another four hours before we’re through for the night.”

  * * *

  She suppressed her elation as she crashed through the ground cover, heading deeper into the night. She might have escaped the hunters this time, but they’d surprised her, cut her off from her den and forced her to move on before she was ready. Speed was what she needed now, to put distance between them and her. Running till she could go no farther, she collapsed to the ground, sides heaving, gasping for air.

  Gradually her breathing slowed and the ache in her lungs eased. In its wake came the dull, dragging pain of her injuries. Whimpering, she curled up, hugging her belly and straining to lick at the still-weeping slashes on her flank.

  They were deep, and the fluid they wept was bitter, making her feel sick and light-headed again. Only hunger had driven her from the safety of her den in the first place. It was a miracle she’d managed to escape the h
unters at all in her weakened condition.

  She had to keep moving, find shelter and food before morning left her exposed to the light. Still whimpering softly, she uncurled and staggered to her feet.

  * * *

  On board the Rryuk’s Profit, a level on one of the cryo units fluctuated. The computer registered it, initiating a first-level diagnostic check on the system.

  * * *

  On Shola, Brynne stirred in his sleep, muttering incoherently before settling again to dream of moonlit forests.

  * * *

  In Vartra’s temple at Stronghold, Lijou crumbled the incense into the brazier on the God’s right. His mind was wandering, and not, for once, fully on his task. He was thinking of Kaid, what it must have been like for him to go back in time and meet the God, Vartra, in the flesh.

  “Disbelief,” said a voice in his ear as a strong grip closed on his forearm. “The first time is always the worst,” it continued conversationally.

  Around him, the temple seemed to darken and swirl. Lijou made a mewling noise and tried to pull back.

  “So you’re the new Guardian. And Tallinu’s mentor.”

  Lijou was suddenly very afraid. The hand grasping his arm was real; the claws were sharp and beginning to prick into his flesh. It was none of the Brothers, he knew the smell of each one and all he could smell now was the scent of the nung tree. He peered through the dim, flickering light at the figure beside him but the face was hidden in deep shadow.

  “Who are you?” he asked, hearing the tremor in his voice.

  A gentle laugh. “You shouldn’t need to ask,” the voice chided. “How could I neglect you, the head of the En’Shalla Order? I have work for you, Father Lijou. I see your esteemed matriarchs neglected to tell you that participating in the ritual of dream-walking made it possible for me to reach you easily.”