Conquerors' Legacy (49 page)

A quiet surge of relief flooded over Thrr't-rokik as the truth suddenly hit him. These Human-Conquerors weren't a prelude to attack, nor were they evidence of Mrach treachery. On the contrary, they were Mrach prisoners.
One of the two seated Human-Conquerors was speaking. Easing a little closer to the lightworld, Thrr't-rokik focused his attention and his freshly obtained knowledge of the Human-Conqueror language and listened.
"I'm surprised they haven't killed us," the alien was saying. "I'd have thought keeping us alive would be dangerous."
The other seated alien moved his head back and forth to the side. "Don't worry, Cavanagh, they'll kill us soon enough," he said. "But not before they use us against the Zhirrzh."
"How?" the first asked.
"No idea," the second answered. "Some way that helps (something) their position here. Maybe they'll tell the Zhirrzh we came to attack them. Maybe even stage a real attack. Kill a couple of them and blame us."
"And our side of the story won't be mentioned?" the first Human-Conqueror said.
"I'm sure we'll be dead before anyone asks us," the second said.
The first made a rude-sounding noise and the conversation ceased.
For perhaps a hunbeat Thrr't-rokik continued to watch, running the words he'd heard through his mind and wondering if he could have misinterpreted them. The warriors on theWilling Servant had spoken of the Mrachanis as allies of the Zhirrzh. They wouldn't deliberately attack the study group. Surely these Human-Conquerors were lying.
But if they weren't...
He found Searcher Nzz-oonaz asleep in one of the rooms of the study group's quarters. "Searcher Nzz-oonaz?" he said softly, trying to watch in all directions at once for other Elders. If he was caught waking up the group's speaker without orders, theywould take the effort to check up on him. "Searcher?"
Nzz-oonaz's eyes fluttered open, the lowlight pupils widening a little as the others stayed narrowed to slits. "Um?" he murmured. He focused on Thrr't-rokik's face and frowned-
"I'm not one of your usual Elders," Thrr't-rokik told him. "My name is Thrr't-rokik; Kee'rr. I'm Thrr-gilag's father-I think you and I met once a few cyclics ago."
"Um," Nzz-oonaz murmured again, nodding this time in recognition. He gestured toward the ceiling, flicking his tongue in the universal signal for caution.
Thrr't-rokik nodded back; they'd been warned aboard ship that the Mrachanis were probably monitoring all conversations. While the Elders themselves couldn't be heard, the physicals still had to be careful what they said aloud. "I'm actually not supposed to be here at all," he told Nzz-oonaz, "so I'll ask this quickly. Are you aware that the Mrachanis have taken three Human-Conqueror prisoners and are holding them about four thoustrides north of here?"
Nzz-oonaz's lowlight pupils narrowed, and he flicked his tongue in a negative. "You're sure they haven't told you about them?" Thrr't-rokik persisted. "Because they're there. I saw them, not two hunbeats ago." He hesitated. "And this might not mean anything, but they were speculating that the Mrachanis were planning to raise some Zhirrzh to Eldership and blame it on them. I don't know why-it doesn't make much sense to me."
Nzz-oonaz's expression was suddenly fully awake. Sliding off his couch, he snagged his jumpsuit and put it on. Gesturing Thrr't-rokik to follow, he left the room and headed down the corridor toward the hangar area.
The corridor was bustling with Zhirrzh and Mrachanis-and hidden Elders-as more of the supplies brought from theWilling Servant were shifted around. Nzz-oonaz kept going, not stopping to talk, until they'd reached theClosed Mouth. Still silently, he led the way inside and back to the rearmost section of the ship, ending up finally in a small room nestled in among the softly humming engines.
"All right," he said after he'd sealed the door behind him. "The technics believe this room should be impossible for the Mrachanis to monitor. Tell me again what you saw and heard."
"I saw three Human-Conqueror prisoners," Thrr't-rokik said. "They're locked in a small room in a part of the fortress that seems to be otherwise deserted. They were talking among themselves about the possibility that the Mrachanis planned to use them against us, and then kill them."
"Any idea how long they'd been there?"
"Long enough for one of them to start trying to damage the door lock," Thrr't-rokik said. "Not long enough for him to make any progress."
"You're sure the door was locked, then?" Nzz-oonaz asked.
"Actually, I didn't check," Thrr't-rokik admitted. "The mechanism was metal-"
"Go check now," Nzz-oonaz ordered. "And while you're there, see if you can find out whether the Human-Conquerors are armed."
"I obey," Thrr't-rokik said automatically, and flicked back along his anchorline. One of the Human-Conquerors was still sitting on the couch, while the other was still working on the door. The third, though, was now walking slowly along one wall, hands and eyes systematically examining a horizontal crack that ran around the entire room. As unobtrusively as possible, Thrr't-rokik completed the checks Nzz-oonaz had asked for, then flicked back to the ship.
Another Elder was in the room with Nzz-oonaz when he returned, and a second was just leaving. "I've ordered the warriors put on full alert," Nzz-oonaz told Thrr't-rokik. "What did you find?"
"It does appear to be a lock," Thrr't-rokik said, "The Human-Conquerors also don't seem to be armed, though two of them are wearing what seem to be holsters that would accommodate small hand weapons."
"That would fit if they were Mrach prisoners," the Elder rumbled thoughtfully. "Warriors merely playing a role, on the other side, would more likely retain their weapons."
"Unless their warriors behave differently than ours would," Nzz-oonaz said. "No, that's wrong. Pheylan Cavanagh was a warrior, and he was carrying a small hand weapon when he was captured."
"Pheylan Cavanagh?" Thrr't-rokik murmured, half to himself, as the name jogged his memory.
"You have something?" Nzz-oonaz asked.
"It may mean nothing," Thrr't-rokik said slowly, "but I heard one of the Human-Conqueror prisoners call one of the others Cavanagh. Could he be related to Pheylan Cavanagh?"
"It's possible," Nzz-oonaz said, frowning. "Cavanagh would be the family name, and they frequently use those alone as identification." He gestured to the other Elder. "Open a pathway to Thrr-gilag on Dorcas. Maybe he knows more about Pheylan Cavanagh's family."
"I obey," the Elder said, and vanished.
"I didn't mean for you to go to this much trouble," Thrr't-rokik said, feeling more than a little awkward.
"It's no trouble," Nzz-oonaz assured him. "Actually, you've got me curious now, too."
Thrr't-rokik grimaced. "I suppose I should also say that I'm not trying to damage any of the diplomatic work you've been doing here. There may be some completely innocent explanation for why the Mrachanis haven't told you about those prisoners."
"Trust me, Thrr't-rokik," Nzz-oonaz said grimly. "To some of us the Mrachanis are looking less and less innocent all the time."
The Elder flicked back. "I'm sorry, Searcher Nzz-oonaz, but normal communications with the ground-warrior beachhead on Dorcas have been suspended. Only pathways going through specifically designated Elders are being allowed."
"What designated Elders?" Nzz-oonaz demanded. "Who ordered this?"
"I don't know," the Elder said. "But I noticed that both of the allowed Elders carry Dhaa'rr-clan names. And the Elder I talked with hinted the order had come down from the Speaker for Dhaa'rr himself."
Thrr't-rokik looked at Nzz-oonaz, found the other looking back at him. "I don't like this, Thrr't-rokik," the young searcher said quietly. "Not at all."
"Perhaps you should speak to the Overclan Prime," Thrr't-rokik suggested, trying to suppress his own apprehension. "He'll know what's going on."
"Maybe," Nzz-oonaz countered. "The problem is that all our direct communication pathways to Warrior Command and the Overclan Prime are under the accuracy-control monitoring of Dhaa'rr Elders."
"I object to your inferences, Searcher Nzz-oonaz," the other Elder said stiffly. "My communicators are all former warriors themselves, completely professional in the performance of their duties. They would not allow clan politics to interfere."
"I'm sure that under most circumstances that would be true," Nzz-oonaz said. "But I'm beginning to wonder whether the circumstances here are normal anymore. Can you guarantee-really and thoroughly guarantee-that none of the Dhaa'rr Elders aboard theClosed Mouth would pass the content of a private conversation to Speaker Cvv-panav? Especially if the Speaker was the target of that conversation?"
The Elder flicked his tongue. "No," he conceded. "I cannot positively guarantee that."
Nzz-oonaz looked at Thrr't-rokik, the frustration in his expression suddenly turned to something else. "Wait a beat. Thrr't-rokik, where's yourfsss?"
"You mean my cutting?" Thrr't-rokik asked cautiously.
"No, your mainfsss. Is it anywhere near Unity City?"
"Not really," Thrr't-rokik said. "It's at the Thrr-family shrine near Cliffside Dales, about forty-three hundred thoustrides away."
Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue. "No more than a couple of tentharcs' flight away, though. This could work. Is there anyone there you can trust? I meanreally trust."
"Yes," Thrr't-rokik said. "Thrr-tulkoj. He was chief protector for the shrine, and a close personal friend of Thrr-gilag's. I've already trusted him with my family's honor, and he hasn't failed me."
Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue again. "We'll have to risk it. Go tell him to get to somewhere where he can't be easily overheard. As soon as he's in position, come back so I can talk to him. Have you ever done communicator work before?"
"Not really," Thrr't-rokik said.
"You'll pick it up," Nzz-oonaz assured him. "Get going."
"It's really quite simple," the taller of the two Zhirrzh said, his voice quiet and almost courteous. "We've been authorized by the Overclan Seating to search for evidence of criminal activity here. Until that search has been completed, we're in command on Dorcas. You can either accept that and cooperate, or you can join Commander Thrr-mezaz in detention inside the Human-Conqueror transport."
"Most considerate of them to provide it for us," the second Zhirrzh added. He was over in the corner, contemplating the thick-walled metal safe where Prr't-zevisti'sfsss cutting had been hidden barely a tentharc ago. "A solid metal aircraft means we can isolate him from the Elders, too."
"Your authorization makes no mention of locking him away," Thrr-gilag argued, trying hard to keep his tail calm and knowing full well he wasn't succeeding.
"Our authorization allows us to do our job any way we see fit," the taller Zhirrzh said, his voice hardening. "We see Commander Thrr-mezaz as a troublemaker, and he'll remain out of communication until we've found what we're looking for."
Notif they found it;when they found it. They knew about the cutting, all right. "But it's dangerous," Thrr-gilag protested. "He's also isolated from hisfsss in there. If the Humans launch another attack, he could die."
"That's a danger, all right," the taller Zhirrzh nodded. "Let's hope we find what we're looking for quickly."
An Elder appeared. "We've finished searching the transport," he reported. "They haven't found"-he glanced at Thrr-gilag-"anything unusual."
"As expected," the taller Zhirrzh said equably. "Shift those Elders to a search of the ground beneath the route the transport came in on. They may have thrown it outside when they saw our ship."
The Elder grimaced-highly offended, no doubt, by the suggestion that afsss cutting might have been treated with such horrendous disrespect. "I obey," he growled, and vanished.
"Or are we wasting our time?" the second Zhirrzh suggested, eyeing Thrr-gilag. "Have you hidden it somewhere out of the Elders' range?"
"At the Human-Conqueror stronghold, for instance?" the other put in. "Was that the real reason you went there?"
"I went there because the new prisoner needs a healer," Thrr-gilag said, forcing some firmness into his voice. They were drifting uncomfortably close to the truth here. "He needs treatment, and I need him alive if I'm to complete my studies. You've searched the healer; can't you now let her treat him?"
The taller Zhirrzh shrugged. "I don't see why not," he said. "Communicator?"
"I'll need to go with her," Thrr-gilag added as an Elder appeared. "She'll need a translator."
The two Zhirrzh looked at each other, and the shorter shrugged slightly. "Again, why not?" the taller said. "The two Human-Conqueror prisoners are still together. You may take the healer and her equipment across to them."
Pheylan Cavanagh was sleeping when Thrr-gilag and Melinda Cavanagh arrived, his breathing making unpleasant rasping noises. "Glad you're here, Doc," Sergeant Janovetz said as Melinda Cavanagh set her share of equipment down and opened one of the containers. "I've given him a unit of glavamorphine from his survival pack, but he's not doing too good."
"No, he's not," Melinda Cavanagh agreed, feeling gingerly around the discolored flesh. "But I think I can fix him up."
Casually, Thrr-gilag looked around. Hovering above and behind both Humans, keeping back out of their sight, were a pair of watchful Elders. He looked back at Melinda Cavanagh, found her looking sideways at him, and shook his head back and forth in the Human gesture for no. Her head tilted slightly in understanding, and she turned her attention back to her work.
For now Prr't-zevisti and hisfsss cutting would have to stay hidden in the box.
"Overclan Prime?"
The Prime started awake, jostling his reader onto the floor beside his couch. The last thing he remembered was settling onto the couch to read more of the warrior reports.... "Yes, what is it?" he asked, focusing on the Elder hovering in front of him.
It was the Twentieth, his pale face set in unusually grim lines. "There's a pathway just opened up for you from a protector in the Kee'rr town of Cliffside Dales," he said. "I think you should speak with him."
"Now?" the Prime said, glancing at his armwatch. It wasn't a particularly civilized tentharc out in the Kee'rr homeland, either. "What's so important that he has to talk to me personally?"
"I don't know," the Twentieth said. "He won't give his message to anyone but you. But he has one of the private recognition codes you arranged with Searcher Nzz-oonaz."
The Prime frowned. What was Nzz-oonaz doing, calling out of the mission's carefully established Elder pathways? Or was this merely a case of some Elder leaking the recognition code? "All right," he sighed. "I suppose I ought to talk with him. Open the pathway."