Heart's Lair (2 page)

Necator, a ferret-faced parody of a man, shot Liane one last, chilling look. "As you wish, my lord," he muttered.

Teran turned back to Liane. "You said you were sent here to study ways to more humanely control the inhabitants. Are your psychic powers utilized in this study?"

Liane nodded. "Of course, my lord. I reach into their minds and discover their innermost needs, their joys as well as fears. It is a most effective way to influence people."

He leaned forward. "Then tell me, Domina, why is it necessary to influence the Agricans? I've been informed all is well on Agrica, that the people appreciate Bellatorian assistance, that we have done much to improve and modernize this backward planet. Do you find such feelings when you examine Agrican minds?"

Liane shifted uneasily. To speak the truth now could be dangerous, yet she was sworn to it as strongly, as sacredly, as she was to obedience. And both were now being demanded by an authority higher than the Lord Commander.

She slowly shook her head, her gaze resolutely meeting Teran's. "No, my lord, the Agricans do not appreciate us. Quite the contrary. They fear and hate Bellator."

Her words seemed to hang in the dead silence, dancing tauntingly before the frozen faces of her Bellatorian compatriots. Her glance sought Necator's.

"My lord, forgive me, but the truth . . ." The man ignored her. "Well," Necator icily said, turning his attention to Teran, "if you choose to believe a Sententian over me I suppose she has damned us in your eyes. But as you know, their race is often emotionally unstable. A few have even been found traitors."

It was Liane's turn to gasp, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned back to Teran. He smiled at her, and his gray eyes briefly warmed.

"Casting aspersions upon each other will not further the pursuit of truth," he said, his gaze slowly spanning the faces at the table. "I care not for what has gone wrong in the past, only for the righting of those wrongs. That is the true purpose of my mission here. I"

A man burst into the room, pale and breathless. "Lord Ardane," he panted, "you are wanted in the transport chamber. A messenger has brought an urgent summons from Aranea. Your queen desires your immediate return."

Teran rose from the table in one lithe movement. He riveted his forceful gaze on the Lord Commander. "This issue is not resolved, only temporarily suspended. In the interim, I suggest you proceed with extreme caution."

Necator glared at him, then curtly nodded. His tight expression faded as Lord Ardane strode from the room, gradually transforming to a look of determined calculation.

An uneasy presentiment filled Liane. As if pulled by the invisible tendrils of her anxiety, the Lord Commander slowly turned to her. His flat, expressionless gaze filled her with a cold dread.

"Extreme caution indeed," he muttered, his voice deadly ominous. "Thanks to you, my lovely young Sententian, we may all live to rue this day." His eyes narrowed to glittering slits. "And you will true it most."

Shadows darkened the hall, the fading summer sun throwing dancing fingers of light through the tall arched windows. Necator tightened his grip on Liane's arm as he all but dragged her down the long corridor. The rapidity with which events had changed still left her reeling.

Had it been but an hora ago that Lord Ardane was here, the only Bellatorian on Agrica concerned about the plight of its inhabitants? And now he was gone, with no idea when he would return again. Once again there was no hope for Agrica and now, it seemed, little hope for her, either.

"Fool!" Necator hissed. "Did you think you'd escape unscathed by betraying me to Ardane? No matter what happened, I'd have found a way to repay you."

Liane struggled to free herself from her captor's vise-like grip "II but told the truth," she gasped. "I meant no betrayal!"

Necator halted and wrenched her to him. "Well, the time is fast approaching when all must choose one side or another, though both sides be Bellatorian." He cocked a thin brow. "And which side will you choose, my sweet little Liane?"

"Neither" She tried to ease away from his hot, smothering breath. "I wish only to do my duty, serve my people. I thought I was doing that in the assembly hall," she whispered, "but perhaps I was wrong."

"Yes, perhaps you were." Necator grinned. "You're such a lovely little femina for all your strange psychic powers. In time I had hoped to reward you with some special, most personal of favors, but now . . ."

He paused. "I'll give you one more chance to prove yourself."

Liane licked her dry lips, well aware of how close she was to losing her life. "And what might that be?"

"We've captured an Agrican, a very special one. Our new alarm system works beyond my wildest imaginings to catch one such as he. We finally have a live Cat Man to study." His grin widened into one of wolfish pleasure. "And you, my talented little Sententian, are going to read his mind."

Relief washed through Liane. "You ask but what I'm born to do, my lord. It will be as you wish."

"It may not be as easy as you think with this one."

"Not easy? But how is that possible? Few can resist a Sententian mind seek."

"And how many Cat Men have you had the opportunity of using it upon?"

Liane shrugged. "None. But they are of a humanoid species. Why should there be any problem?"

"Cat Men are only half-humanoid; their other half is pure animal. And they have purported psychic powers of their own. We know for certain they possess the ability to cloak their presence. That's why, up until now, we've been unable to capture one alive. But this sol our trackers were out with their search canus. When it became evident the Cat Man was headed for Primasedes, we had enough time to turn on our new alarm system. Though they can slip past our guards without them knowing, these Cat Men seem to have little effect on a machine. But then, thanks to the extreme secrecy of the project, this one didn't even know of its existence until it was too late." At the mention of the search canus, Liane involuntarily shuddered. She'd heard their baying this sol as she bathed in the forest. What if that Cat Man had been nearby? What would have happened to her then? She'd heard revolting tales of their uncontrollable sexual urges.

Necator's grip tightened as he led her down the hall. "Listen closely to my instructions. I care little for the usual information you obtain from your mind seeks. All I want are specific details on where the Cat Men's lair is. I have nearly succeeded in annihilating that odious race of Agricans. If you discover their lair, I can eliminate the final obstacle to complete dominance of this planet. The Cat Men are the last of the rebels."

"Will it bring peace to Agrica?"

The Lord Commander smiled at Liane's naivete "Of course, my little Sententian. Isn't that what we all want?"

He and Liane stopped in front of a door marked ANALYSIS. A strange light flared in his eyes. "He's a hard one, this Cat Man. So far even our most sophisticated tortures have failed to elicit the whereabouts of his lair. Unless you can get it from him I fear he'll die with the secret. And it goes without question that you'll try your best, doesn't it, my sweet femina?"

Liane forced a wan smile. "Of course, my lord. I am, after all, a loyal Bellatorian."

Though Necator had warned her the scene in the room might be gruesome, nothing he'd said had prepared Liane for what she saw. Until now her experience, both as psychic healer and research scientist, had been directed toward compassionate restoration, not cold objectivity and torture. It re- quired all her strength to follow the Lord Commander across the chilly, stone-tiled laboratory and up to the Cat Man.

He hung there in the middle of the room, stark naked, his wrists and ankles bound by beryllium manacles that electronically suspended him in a spread-eagled position. Two scientists worked on him, one drawing a blood specimen from a bulging forearm vein, the other endeavoring to obtain a sample of skin off the Cat Man's thigh for further microscopic study. And all, Liane thought, without any consideration of his dignity or comfort.

She was nearly overcome with the urge to turn and run from the room. If it hadn't been for her Bellatorian sense of duty, she'd have immediately recanted her earlier agreement to involve herself in this study.

Liane comforted herself with the realization that her part in the study was painless. In fact, she could easily leave the Cat Man with a temporary sense of anesthesia when she finished with the mind seek. At least for a few horas he would be free of pain, no matter what they did to him, and no one would be the wiser.

The thought motivated her to action. She turned to Necator. "I need total silence and the lights dimmed for the mind seek. And I must be alone with my subject."

Her companion's eyes narrowed. "Don't toy with me, femina."

She sighed in exasperation. "These requirements are not whim, my lord. The mind seek is a delicate art. Other thought patterns can distract from capturing those of my subject. You said this Cat Man might be difficult. Would you make my task all the harder?" "Just be sure you succeed," he growled. "My patience is wearing thin."

"Yes, my lord."

Liane watched as the room was cleared and the lights dimmed, except for the small circle of illumination around the Cat Man's suspended form. She stood there in the shadows for a short while, preparing herself and studying him.

He was not quite what she'd imagined a Cat Man to look like. He was young. Liane guessed him to be no more than or cycles. Built tall, his shoulders were massive, his body tough and athletically muscular. On his fingertips she noted the sites of retractable claws.

That much confirmed the few photo prints available of the elusive species. But he wasn't as hairy. Granted, there was crisp, dark gold fur on his well-formed frame, but no more so than most Bellatorian males. And his sexual organ, Liane noted with a scientist's detachment as her eyes slid down his body, was quite the norm, if a trifle large.

His face, set off by a thick, unruly mane of sun-streaked, tawny-brown hair that fell to his shoulders, was also a surprise. His sun-bronzed skin had little facial hair other than dark brows, lashes and the shadow of a beard. That aspect of his appearance was in direct contradiction to the prints, which had always depicted a copious amount of furring extending far out from the hairline on all sides.

Though his head was lowered in exhaustion, his eyes closed, Liane was still able to catch a glimpse of his rugged features. Though his nose was slightly flattened and his browline a little more pronounced, it did little to detract from his good looks. Exotic species though he was, the Cat Man was still a virilely handsome man.

Liane could admit that from a purely scientific viewpoint, trained as she was to make astute, totally objective observations. And she also knew, with the same keen sense of observation, that this was no pure-blooded Cat Man. More than the half-humanoid Cat blood ran in his veins. One of his parents had definitely been human.

But that wasn't surprising, either. Many were the tales of Cat Men abducting human females, ever since the successful massacre of most of the inhabitants of their forest lair over cycles ago. A large contingent of the males had been away hunting, so the story went, when an armed Bellatorian force fell on the hapless lair.

To a man, woman and child, nearly all the Cat Men were slaughtered. Only a few managed to escape and warn the returning hunters. It was the last time the Cat Men made their lair in their beloved forest, choosing instead the cold, barren safety of the distant Serratus Mountains. And, determined to ensure the propagation of their species to carry on the unending war against the Bellatorian invaders, the Cat Men turned to other breeding females.

Harsh times necessitate harsh measures, Liane thought, but to be forced to mate with someone against your will . . . With a small shudder, she directed her attention back to the subject at hand.

The Cat Man moved slightly in his shackles, as if trying to find some position to ease his discomfort. His bruised body glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. Bellatorian tortures, Liane knew, were highly effective in their ability to incite pain that went on for horas after the initial stimulus was applied, but even their power could be measurably eased during mind seek, Liane stepped forward. Perhaps she could do little for him, but what she could do, she would do. She moved until she was but a breath away from the Cat Man and gently took his drooping head in her hands.

His lids slowly opened, and Liane found herself impaled by an intense pair of green-gold eyes. They were defiant yet at the same time probing, as if he needed something of her. She felt her resolve melting.

Liane jerked back in surprise. Well, Necator had warned her of the Cat Man's powers.

A weak smile tipped the Cat Man's mouth. ''Do I frighten you?"

The rasp of his voice, harsh with pain, clawed down Liane's spine, setting her nerves on edge. Even now, without benefit of the mind seek, she felt herself merging with him, assuming his pain. There was a strong psychic link here which made her uneasy.

She shook her head, as much to discard the strange feelings as to deny his question. "No."

He cocked a dark brow. "I don't believe you."

Anger welled in her at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, bound, weak from torture, about to have his deepest secrets wrenched from him, and he had effectively taken control. Well, pity could only go so far.