Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine (20 page)

Brandoff pulled her knife as she rose. “Sister or not, I will cut you wide if you ever do that again.” She then leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on her Autlach-disguised double. “You want the girl because she reminds you of Chandrey. All of Langus heard you cry her name downstairs. She’s not a trophy to you. Your first life mate renounced you so you want another. Face it, Cancelynn Creiloff, you’re not fucking guardian enough to hold on to one.”

LaRenna craned her trembling head at Chandrey’s mention, only to be pushed back prone by Bane’s steady hand. “Don’t,” he whispered. “This isn’t the time.”

“Never mention that name! Its beauty is wasted in your stinking mouth.” Cance thrust the second crystal at Bane and hovered over LaRenna, her downward stare as longing as it was vexed. “Yes, girl, I know her. I was her life mate once upon a time. She’d still be mine if it hadn’t been for Belsas. Who knows, I might have been your guardian raiser if things had turned out differently.” Cance watched Bane fill his empty water glass with wine and hold it to LaRenna’s lips. “You act so much like her that it brought back memories. You’re very much her daughter. There is the same spark of disobedience in you both. I’ll simply have to remove it from you as well.” Bane drew LaRenna away from Cance’s gaze and encouraged her to drink deeply of the wine.

Brandoff sheathed her blade and turned toward the stairs. “Since you insist on giving the last of my wine to the whore, I’m going down for more.” Brandoff waited for Cance to answer, but Cance’s attention was still fixated on LaRenna. “Cance?”

“Yeah, whatever.” She dismissed Brandoff with a wave then knelt by LaRenna’s side to hold the glass. Cance’s seasoned face had softened with memory. “How is Chandrey? Does she still have that beautiful silver mane I fell in love with?”

So this was the reason Chandrey refused to speak of the Taelach civil war. “Belsas says she looks better than ever.” LaRenna stared at Cance, challenging her with the words.

Cance merely sniffed. “I’m sure she does.” She turned the glass up, forcing LaRenna to gulp. “Ease the pain before we set your ankle.” Her tone was quite tender, trying to love that which she could only rule over. “Is your hair the same color as Chandrey’s? Are the curls natural?” Cance delicately fingered LaRenna’s spirals until she jerked away in disgust. “In time, precious, you’ll learn to appreciate me just as Chandrey once did. I had her very well trained. You’ll be the same picture of obedience after a few lessons.”

“Cance!” Brandoff had gotten no farther than the stair head. “She’s not Chandrey!”

“I know that,” said Cance. “But she will serve me just as well, if not better. I believe I’ll keep her for myself. What of it, woman? Are you oathed to that Krell you called out for downstairs?”

“No.” LaRenna spoke as loudly as her pained ribs would allow. “But I would never—” Bane placed his hand over her mouth. He stared pleadingly at her and shook his head.

“No matter.” Cance passed the glass back to Bane. “I won’t oath with you until I see you in your true Taelach form. I’ll strip the dye from both our heads as soon as we leave Langus. By then, I’m sure you’ll be more considerate of me.” Cance glanced back at Brandoff. “You getting more wine or not? I’m thirsty.”

“I’m going. I’m going!” Brandoff flew down the stairs and stepped behind the bar, where she vented her frustration by throwing several empty crystals against a nearby wall.

Upstairs, Bane helped LaRenna drain a second and third glass in rapid succession. The wine absorbed quickly in her empty stomach, making her visibly lightheaded as it interacted with the remaining drug in her system. “I think she’s had enough,” said Bane when she had choked down most of a fourth. “Let’s set it.”

Cance positioned at the twisted ankle and held it firm. “You got her?”

“I may not be able to hold her still if she struggles.”

“Starnes!” Cance bellowed. “Get your ass over here and lay across her legs. That’ll keep her down.” She snickered. “Stars, that’d keep me down.” Starnes made his way slowly across the floor, cutting himself several times on shards of broken crystal. He reached his father’s side and drew his considerable girth across LaRenna’s upper thighs. “Brace yourselves,” Cance warned and pulled the joint back into position. LaRenna screamed as bone scraped bone. The cry was audible physically and mentally, broadcasting over the immediate area to produce ringing pain in Cance’s fine-tuned Kimshee mind.

“She’s shocky.” Bane wiped the cold sweat streaking LaRenna’s face and grabbed her wrist to check her pulse. “Hurry this before it stops her heart. She’s still not completely down from the prock.”

“Again then.” The joint slid into place with a resounding pop that forced an even louder mental shriek. Cance had to shake off the call’s effect and Brandoff could be heard below, cursing for the sound to stop. Cance bellowed for silence then turned to Bane with a face drawn by the sound’s complexity. “How the fuck did she get this finely tuned at her age? I’ve killed centenarian sisters with less of a mind.”

LaRenna spasmed in Bane’s arms, ending the cry. He checked her pulse again and sighed.

“She’s in shock. Put something under her legs before you splint the foot.” Cance took the pillows from the bedding platform and placed them under LaRenna’s feet.

“The joint moved, but it still doesn’t look right.” Cance’s mind burned to the point where she drew from her inhaler to relieve the fire.

“There’s too much damage.” Bane drew a blanket from his bed. “She needs a Healer’s touch.” He tapped Starnes’s shoulder and motioned him to move from LaRenna’s legs, lest she lose what little circulation remained to the injured one. His dark face was pasty gray and a chilling sweat dripped from his temples as he rolled to the side. Bane smoothed the blanket over LaRenna then reached two fingers to his son’s neck. “Not you too, boy.”

Trazar circled the Waterlead in the long cast of the evening shadows. The rear entrance was almost in his grasp when movement caught the corner of his eye. He retreated, flattening against the building. The shadow failed to notice him and continued its twisting lope to the door. In the dull reflection Saria Proper cast on its moon, Trazar managed a fleeting glimpse of the suspicious individual’s legs. The feet were unshod, heavy-clawed, and four-toed. They could be nothing other than Iralian.

Dreams are the mind’s gateway to reality.

—Taelach wisdom

“What the—?” Krell pushed back the blanket to grab her ankle. Various aches had awakened her during the night but none as severe as what she felt now. Her sides throbbed, her jaw stung, and her abdomen—Krell wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them to her stomach. The entirety of her lower abdomen felt raw. Clutching her belly, she stumbled to the bathing chamber, barely making it before the pain overwhelmed her. She laid her forehead against the smooth stone of the toilet, gasping for breath between retchings. How unlike her to ache for no reason. How unlike her to be so nauseous. How unlike her to be—Krell swallowed hard. How unlike her to be so worried, but she couldn’t help it. “LaRenna.” Krell sank to the floor, afraid to move farther. She stayed in this position, sweating against the cool floor tile until first dawn approached, forcing her into motion.

On the far side of the Commons, Trazar scaled the Waterlead’s external supports, inching his way across a horizontal crosspiece until he could see into the second level. The same man who’d turned him away was bent over one of two prone figures. An elderly man sat beside the other.

Cance knotted the final loop stitched into LaRenna’s chin, clipped the thread, and leaned back to examine her handiwork. “Think it’ll scar?” she asked Bane. “I’ll scar Brandoff if she left one.”

“Your stitches are clean and her nose set well.” Bane tempered his approval. “The scar won’t show to any extent as long as infection doesn’t set in.” He returned his attention to the remains of his son’s shoulder. “There.” Bane drooped against the wall behind his pallet.

“Hey, Cance!” Brandoff stumbled into the living area, her hand wrapping a near empty crystal. “Look who finally showed.” She stepped aside and Talmshone loped to where Cance stooped. The trio of fingers on his left hand looped a crystal of Starnes’s finest.

“My my, what a pitiful collection you have accumulated, Cance.” His smile revealed row upon row of razor-tipped teeth, which he flashed at the wide-eyed Autlach men. “Why are they still breathing?”

“The older one’s been nursing our backup plan.” Cance kissed LaRenna’s hand, placed it by her side, then rose to Talmshone’s level and returned his crooked smile. “The girl here is—”

“Your sibling has provided a sufficient update,” interrupted Talmshone. “So this is the Taelach of All’s only child.” He lifted the edge of LaRenna’s blanket and shook his head. “You two definitely know how to amuse yourselves.” Then puzzlement creased the Iralian’s eye ridges. “She is Taelach, is she not? Her size is rather disconcerting.”

“Military brat of a military bitch.” Cance glowered suspiciously at the Iralian. “And don’t get any bright ideas. You haven’t paid me enough for that privilege. She’s mine so leave her alone.” Cance jerked the blanket from his hand and smoothed it back in place. LaRenna stirred when she was touched, opening her eyes to see who was tending her.

“Iralian,” she whispered. “I should have known.”

“Seems your lady has regained her senses.” Talmshone’s animalistic grin softened with his laugh. “Since her condition has stabilized, shall we return to the lower level and discuss business over more Sarian finery?”

“I suppose it’s safe.” Cance eyed her captives, casting each a separate but equally threatening glare.

“After you, then.” Talmshone spoke with the grand eloquence all Iralians possessed, an effective ruse for the savagery they were capable of. He held the door open for Cance and Brandoff then followed them down the stairs, looking back briefly to bare his teeth again at Starnes and Bane.

Trazar waited until things were quiet then rattled the window casing. The noise caught Starnes’s attention, drawing him toward the sound. Seeing Trazar, he sighed, mouthed a brief prayer to one of the lesser Autlach deities then shook his father. “Dah, the window! Quick!”

“By stars,” Bane declared when he woke. “Help has arrived.” He crawled to the window, held fast to the ledge, and unfastened the lock.

The window groaned when Trazar slid it open. Once inside, he rushed to LaRenna’s side. “Hey, you,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you. Your employer said you ran off with one of my sentries, but I thought better.” LaRenna peered up at him, her delicate blue eyes standing out against the dark bruises on her face. Trazar’s mouth opened and closed in dumbfounded surprise. “Taelach!” he whispered. “You’re Taelach!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” she began.

“Family helps family,” he replied deftly, making a quick check of her physical condition as he shushed her objections. “We’re related,” he assured her. “I’ll explain how later. Right now, we need to get you and the others out of here.” He turned to Starnes. “Sentry Commander Trazar Laiman of Vartoch at your service.”

“Great,” sighed Starnes. “Another one for the slaughter.”

“My son’s pain has clouded his manners, Commander Laiman.” Bane frowned at his offspring. “I’m Asabane Tackwell and this is my youngest boy, Starnes. We’re grateful for any assistance you can offer.” His keen eye immediately recognized the resemblance in LaRenna’s and Trazar’s faces and he smiled, warmed by the commitment of family. “Brother and sister, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are,” Trazar replied, half to Bane and half to his disbelieving sibling. “Trust me.” He looked about the room, trying to determine the best escape route. “Any suggestions?”

“There are no other exits besides the ones downstairs,” supplied Bane. “But sometimes,” he added, “the best course of action is simply to wait. You could drop them individually as they come upstairs.”

“They may not come up that way.” Starnes proved as pessimistic as usual.

“I’ll take the chance,” snapped Trazar. “We have the element of surprise on our side.” He slid his arms under LaRenna’s shoulders and knees. “I need to move you out of harm’s way.” Trazar carried her into the adjoining room, placing her on Starnes’s sleeping platform. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said between gritted teeth. “You did what was necessary.”

“Hang on, little sister.” Trazar patted her head. “You’ll be safe soon.”

Starnes came next. Trazar assisted him into a chair despite his vocal preference for the padded lounger by the door. “I want you all as far back as possible.” Last, he assisted Bane to a spot on the floor next to LaRenna, placing his hand on top of hers. “Watch her, please. She’s in a lot of pain.”

“She’ll be fine.” Bane pulled a small dagger from beneath Starnes’s bed. “I’d been saving this for just such an occasion, but I hadn’t had the strength to get to it until now.” He offered it to Trazar, who refused the gesture by brandishing a double-edged serrated blade from his boot sheath.

“Already got one.” He used the knife to free Starnes, carefully removing the barman’s leg tie in a solid piece he could reuse.

“Give the knife to me.” LaRenna held out her free hand.

“You’re in no condition,” said Trazar and nodded to Bane, who placed the blade in his back waistband.

“Neither is he,” she began, but Trazar placed a finger to his mouth. There were footsteps on the stairwell. He slid into the front room and shut off the light, exerting enough force to shear the switch.