Shades of Gray (63 page)

“What’s so special about this one, apart from her blood-line?” Zerdish asked, giving her a shake.

“Only that,” snapped the seraglio head. “Look at her! How I am supposed to turn her into a Queen for tomorrow, I have no idea!”

Zerdish pulled her close, lifting her chin to look at her face. “Might look half decent when the bruises and cuts are healed, but don’t worry too much, Keshti—our Emperor hasn’t been looking at her face!” He laughed coarsely, running a clawed thumb across her jawline until the drone hit his hand away.

“Uncouth peasant,” Keshti muttered.

“That I am,” he laughed. “I like my females with no brains and a bit of fight in them, not like this creature.”

The elevator came to a halt, and the door slid open. Guards, guns trained on them, were waiting. When they saw who it was, they saluted then stepped back and stood at attention, letting them pass.

The corridor on this level was far more elaborate, the walls incised with beautifully painted figures, again with a martial theme but this time depicting the Emperor in his glory in various poses of dominance over his enemies. Among them, Zhalmo’s befuddled senses thought she saw aliens unlike any she’d met before. At the back of her drugged mind, some memory of the slave races of the old Empire stirred, but she couldn’t concentrate her thoughts long enough to make sense of them.

She was led into the small room with a desk and more guards, who quickly passed them through into a larger room, empty this time. It was carpeted and lined with chairs. Tables ran down the center, and guards stood along its length and at the exit. When they left there, the vastness of the next room made her head swim. The ceiling seemed to disappear above her in the distance, and she could hear their footsteps echoing off the walls. Past the central fountain they went and into yet another corridor.

At the next doorway, they stopped. Keshti pulled a long chain with a key on it from around his neck and inserted it into the door, opening it. Immediately a large M’zullian, larger than any she’d seen so far and almost naked, stepped out.

“All yours, now, Keshti,” said Zerdish, pushing her at him. “Be careful not to lose her!” With another laugh, he gestured to the other two guards, and they left as she was firmly drawn into the room by the giant and the door closed and locked by Keshti on the inside.

“Luzash, take her to Resho and tell her to start trying to undo the damage our Emperor has done. She is to be married to him tomorrow, as his Queen. I need to go sit down and have a sweet drink of hot maush. This is all too much for my nerves, you know,” he said, leaning against the wall with one hand. “Oh, and have all those whom the last Emperor slept with removed from the seraglio.”

“Removed to where, Master Keshti?” asked Luzash, his voice as deep as he was large.

“To the common Palace harem, of course! Our new Emperor, may his name be praised, won’t have them in his seraglio.”

“As you command, Master,” said the giant, drawing Zhalmo firmly, but surprisingly gently, across the room and out yet another door.

So exhausted she could barely walk by this time, she stumbled against him, and he stopped to swing her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all.

“You will be better soon,” he said. “Resho will look after you.”

Despite herself, she rested her head against his broad chest, letting her eyes fall shut. Moments later it seemed, she was being shaken awake.

“Set her down, Luzash. I’ll see to her now,” said a female voice.

She staggered as her feet were set onto the floor and clutched at his arm for support. He held her steady for a moment, then withdrew his arm and left the room.

The female in front of her was simply but elegantly dressed in a long flowing robe of pure white. She stared intently at Zhalmo for a moment then began to walk around her. When she stopped in front of her again, she reached out and gently touched a half-healed cut on Zhalmo’s cheekbone.

“I heard you were taken in battle,” Resho said, “but till now, I didn’t believe it.”

“Word travels fast,” Zhalmo mumbled.

“Indeed it does. We have little to do here but gossip,” said Resho dryly.

“I’m a soldier,” Zhalmo began, but the other held up a slim hand to stop her.

“No, tell me nothing of yourself yet. Save it for when we can all hear it, all of us who remain, that is.” She took her by the arm and, turning her around, unfastened her bonds and threw them aside.

“Come, sit down,” she said, leading her over to the sofa against the far wall. “There are two ways you can go from this moment,” she said gently, helping Zhalmo sit. “I know you’re exhausted, physically and emotionally, and probably heavily drugged from the look of your eyes. Soldier or not, you must be terrified. The easy way is to cooperate with us, because, like it or not, none of us has any option but to obey our new Emperor. If you do, we drones can make your life much easier. Or,” she said, sitting down and locking eyes with her, “you can fight us all the way, a battle you cannot win, and earn our anger as well as the Emperor’s. So which way will you choose?”

“I want this nightmare to be over!” Zhalmo said, covering her face with her hands and beginning to weep. “I want to go home!”

“That cannot happen. All you can do is learn to survive here. Our new Emperor is . . . exacting in his demands. He may have been the younger son, but we knew him well before he left for your world. I can help you meet those demands, if you let me. First,” she said, her voice changing to a more brisk tone, “let’s get you bathed, your cuts and bruises dressed, and some hot food into you.”

“I couldn’t eat.”

“You will, because you must,” said Resho firmly, pulling Zhalmo’s hands away from her face.

“It’s like trying to find a specific jegget in an infested barn, Tirak,” said the quiet voice of Ghost, the male on the other end of the U’Churian’s comm link. “Granted I can move about more easily now there are so many Sholans on the surface . . .”

“That failed attempt was too close for comfort,” Tirak growled, settling himself at his desk.

“Agreed. There was another attempt last night. The assassin got so close I had to take him out myself. I can’t risk discovery like this. We need to find out who is behind these attacks.”

“Agreed. Any ID?”

“Only faked.”

“Where’s the body?”

“I hid it among the Valtegan dead left for the predators outside the city walls.”

“Should be safe there. Stay alert. You know what you have to do when you get the opportunity.”

“Aye.”

There was a quiet tap on his door as Tirak closed the connection. He swung away from his desk and the console. “Enter!”

“Mind if I have a few words with you, Captain?” asked Kusac, coming in and closing the door behind him.

“By all means,” said Tirak, suppressing a flicker of concern that the Sholan might have become aware of his carefully laid plans. Thankfully, he still had the mental barrier that the young Human Kate had put there when they were all on Jalna.

“I’ve no commitments for another hour or so yet,” the U’Churian added.

“Since you’re a member of the Brotherhood, I felt it was better to come to you with my questions,” Kusac said, sitting on the nearby sofa.

“Questions?” said the U’Churian, puzzled. “I’ll help you any way I can, of course.”

“I’m curious about the Cabbarans as a species. How long have you known Annuur and his sept?”

“More years than I care to remember,” said Tirak, wondering where this was leading. “Why?”

“Just curious. I’ve been rather isolated during the past few months. Time I got up to speed again on Alliance members and events. What’s their specialty?”

“They’re planet-shapers. They heal damaged worlds, work mentally with the soil if it has been contaminated, and can turn barren worlds into fertile ones. That’s how we met them, many generations ago. A freak solar flare caused genetic damage to us as a species, as well as to our planet; they came to our aid. Since then, our peoples have always gotten along well.”

“What’s the nature of their special navigational skills?”

“They experience jump space differently from us. I can’t exactly explain it, you’ll have to ask Annuur, but they can manipulate space and matter as jump points are formed.”

“They work closely with the TeLaxaudin, don’t they?”

“I believe some do, but not all by any means. The TeLaxaudin have never been to our world, but we’ve met them through the Cabbarans on some of our trade stops. Why all the questions about them, Kusac?”

“Curiosity. I’m with Alien Relations on Shola and would, in normal circumstances, have been fully briefed about them, but little has been normal in my life lately,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. “Where are Annuur and his sept now?”

“Down in the city, or outside it, rather, with a group of TeLaxaudin, helping set up some more permanent adobe buildings for the Ch’almuthians.”

Kusac rose to his feet. “I think I’ll go watch them for a bit. Thanks for the information.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you,” said Tirak, finding a sudden need to accompany him.

“I’ll see you down there,” said Kusac. “Something I need to do on the way.” With that, he was gone.

Muttering under his breath, Tirak hurried to the door and yanked it open, but there was no sign of the Sholan in the corridor. Slamming the door behind him, he took off for the nearest elevator, just missing it, and Kusac.

 

As Kusac rode the elevator down to the ground, he felt sure he’d finally found a clue to his newfound abilities. So the Cabbarans could manipulate matter, and one of them, a very important one, Annuur, had been involved in his cure. Were these changes an accident . . . or by design? Since he’d left Shola, he’d ceased to believe in coincidences, but if these abilities were by design, what was their purpose? Where was he being led, and why? He had to see the Cabbarans working and find out more.

 

As usual, the central courtyard was busy with an eclectic mix of workmen still shifting rubble, stone carvers on scaffolds repairing the damaged facades, and government workers taking their midday meal break at one of the open restaurants and bars opposite the Palace.

Ducking through the crowds, Kusac loped for the main exit then headed for the southern sally port that led out to where the new prefabricated village was being erected. He checked his wrist unit—still half an hour before he was due to meet up with Kaid at the shuttle garage.

The scene was one of organized chaos. Dust from the flocks of shaggy horned animals hung in the air as, lowing loudly, they were driven down toward the grazing by the nearby river. The clanging of their bells formed a low descant to the high, shrill voices of the Ch’almuthian children that were running everywhere, getting under everyone’s feet.

The center of the village was an oasis of relative calm by comparison, despite the constant coming and going of people and belongings. It didn’t take him long to find Annuur and his sept, or the TeLaxaudin. They were on the outskirts of the village, surrounded by a group of almost silent, awed observers. Excusing himself, he eased his way to the front of the crowd.

In front of a large puddle of claylike mud sat Naacha and Annuur, with Lweeu and Sokarr just behind them. On either side stood two of the bronze-limbed spindly TeLaxaudin. As he watched, the surface of the puddle began to shiver, causing slow ripples to spread outward from the center. As they reached the outer edges, they grew deeper, forming waves that rose higher and then began to coalesce into the beginnings of walls. Each successive ripple added to the height of the outer walls, which gradually rose higher and higher until at a height of about six inches, they stopped.

“More water,” said Annuur, rubbing his hoofed hand across his long, mobile snout. “Four buckets’ worth.”

Adults stepped forward to empty their leather buckets into the drying mud.

One of the TeLaxaudin, dressed in flowing draperies of deep purples and blues, looked around at Kusac and immediately turned to Annuur and began humming.

Annuur made a short, chopping gesture with his hand, and the TeLaxaudin fell silent.

So there was a hierarchy among them, and as on his estate on Shola, the Cabbarans seemed to be the senior partners.

More ripples in the refreshed puddle drew his attention, and he watched as the circle began to divide into sections that would form four interior walls.

It was obvious to him that the four Cabbarans were controlling the mud with the power of their minds, but did they operate on the same wavelengths as telepaths? He thought only Naacha was a telepath. Were the others just less Talented? Was their ability the same as his? He had to know.

Lowering his mental shields, he began filtering out the other minds around him, trying to passively absorb what Annuur, Naacha, Sokarr, and Lweeu were doing. He could sense them working, but not the details, and he needed those. Cautiously, he began to probe, searching for their wavelength. Suddenly contact flared in his mind. Naacha snarled and mentally flung him out of their Link, but not before he’d sensed something more. The Cabbarans’ Link to the TeLaxaudin wasn’t fully mental; it was enhanced somehow, perhaps by an artificial network, because he sensed many more minds than those physically present. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He’d felt that same network before, on Kij’ik, on his way to confront Kezule.