Swords of Waar (36 page)

I had a weird little deja-vu moment as we started down when I realized that this was almost exactly like when we had gone to rescue Wen-Jhai in Doshaan and Kedac-Zir had swung through the window and snatched her out from under our noses, only this time it was us doing Kedac-Zir’s rope ladder trick.

Unfortunately for us, the palace was a little better guarded than the house of the guy we’d rescued Wen-Jhai from, and we didn’t get halfway down the ladder before we heard guards shouting and lanterns started to swarm around in the courtyards below.

“Hurry, Mistress.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I gave up taking it one rung at a time and slid down like a pirate. Skinned the hell out of my hands and thighs, but what the fuck else were we going to do.

There wasn’t any time for sneaking around when we reached the balcony either. The fuckers already knew we were there. I kicked through the door into the Aldhanan’s suite and we looked around. The lights were on, but nobody was home.

“Fuck. Where are they? Check the side rooms.”

Lhan raised his voice as we crossed toward the doors. “Wen-Jhai? Sai-Far? Are you here?”

There was a shuffling noise behind the bedroom door and it opened. Wen-Jhai stepped out, dressed all in see-through white and looking like she’d been crying. Her top heavy maid, Shae-Vai, stood behind her, peeking over her shoulder.

“Sai, did you call? Have you returned to your senses at—” She stopped and gasped when she saw us, hand over her mouth, eyes wide, the whole thing. She looked like something out of a silent movie.

“You!”

Lhan stepped to her, bowing, as Shae-Vai kept her from falling. “My Aldhanshai, where is Sai-Far? We are here to save you from the priests.”

She backed into Shae-Vai’s arms, still doing her damsel in distress routine. “No! I cannot! And you must leave! The priests say you have killed my father!”

“They told you already?”

Fucking priests and their fucking teleporters. It didn’t matter how fast we flew. They were always gonna beat us home with the news. I felt like a Cherokee looking at a telegraph pole.

“We did not kill your father,” said Lhan. “Though I count our failure to prevent his death as great a crime. But it was the priests who assassinated him.”

“Think you I do not know it?” Wen-Jhai was pushing at us now, trying to get us to go back to the balcony. “You would never have betrayed him. But it matters not what I know. The priests will kill you for it just the same. You must go!”

“And you gotta come with us. Both of you.” I took her arm and beckoned to Shae-Vai. “Come on. Show us where Sai is.”

“You don’t understand! Sai will not go! And if he does not, I cannot!”

Lhan and I stopped and looked at her.

“Sai will not go?”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because he—”

The door to the Aldhanan’s study opened and Sai stepped out, looking around.

“Beloved? Who is it you speak to? You are interrupting my studies with—” He stopped dead when he saw us, and stared, then called back into the room behind him.

“The assassins! Master, the assassins are here!”

A guy in orange robes stepped out of the study and stood at his shoulder. It was Duru-Vau. He smiled a chinless smile.

“I wondered if they would arrive. Fear not, my Aldhanan. The guards are already on their way.”

***

I stared at Sai, gobsmacked. “Sai, what the fuck is the matter with you? Kick that sleezebag the junk and let’s go.”

Sai looked at me like he didn’t know me. “You killed the Aldhanan, my beloved father-in-law. You tricked him into rebelling against the Seven. You are heretics in the eyes of the church and traitors in the eyes of all loyal Orans.”

I blinked, stunned, then turned to Lhan. “What the fuck? What’s wrong with him?”

Wen-Jhai moaned behind us. “I told you. I told you.”

Lhan shook his head. “Sai, what is this? How can you believe that Mistress Jae-En, who helped return you to your beloved Wen-Jhai, and who saved the life of the Aldhanan not two moons ago, could wish to harm him or threaten Ora?”

I stepped forward. “Sai, the church kidnapped you, remember? They tortured you and threw you in a hole! How the fuck are you on their side now?”

“They drove your evil influence from my body. I am purified now. I—”

“Evil influence? What the fuck did I ever do to you except save your ass every five minutes? Who’s been feeding you this crap?”

Well, actually, that was pretty obvious. He was standing right there behind him, simpering him like a smug fish.

Beside me, Lhan choked. “By the One, it was Sai. The church’s replacement for the Aldhanan. It was Sai all along!”

I gaped at him. “Oh fuck!”

Sai just kept talking and pointing. “You are a demoness. A disruptive entity from a nether hell, sent here to overthrow all that is good and decent in this world. You corrupted my wife, making of her a harlot, and turned my father-in-law into a heretic before you—”

I spread my hands, pleading. “Sai. Come on, dude. You know that’s bullshit. I—”

“No. It has all been a ruse, from the beginning—befriending me, helping me. All just a trick to get close to the Aldhanan and win his confidence so that you could turn him from the church.”

Wen-Jhai balled her fists. “Sai! Stop!”

He ignored her. “And when he began to rebel against you, when the Aldhanan’s true nature began to reassert itself and he wanted to break from you, you killed him.”

I rolled my eyes. “What the fuck, Sai? You sound like that mouth-breathing pencil-neck has his hand up your ass and he’s movin’ your lips for you. You’re the one who needs to reassert yourself. Wake the fuck up!”

Lhan looked toward the stairs. “‘Ware, Mistress. They come.”

“I hear ’em.”

I turned to the door, hefting my sword. The sound of running boots boomed from behind it, then it exploded open and the room flooded with paladins, spears out. They surrounded us and started to close in as we turned this way and that, braced to fight.

“Call ’em off, Sai. You’re the Aldhanan now. Call ’em off!”

Sai didn’t say a word, but Duru-Vau stepped forward, slipping through the ring of guards. “No need, brothers. I have a clear shot.”

And before I could figure out what he was talking about, he thrust his hand at me and Lhan, just like he had the last time—only this time he was closer, and it was worse. We flew back like we’d been hit by a fire hose and crashed through the guards to slam against the far wall. I slumped to the ground like my bones had been turned to oatmeal. I could see Lhan twitching beside me out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t turn to look at him. I couldn’t move a muscle. My heart hurt like somebody was squeezing it in a trash compactor. I couldn’t breathe, and my vision was starting to get dark and fuzzy around the edges.

The guards moved in, raising their spears like they were gonna finish the job, but Duru-Vau waved them off.

“No. To the temple with them. They are to be questioned first.”

We couldn’t do a thing to stop ’em. They just grabbed our ankles and wrists and walked us toward the door like we were hog carcasses. I could still hear and see, though, and heard Wen-Jhai going to town on Sai.

“Stop them, husband! Do not let them take our friends into the temple! They will never be seen again! Have you no honor? Have you no courage?”

Sai turned on her, as cold and dead as before. “You would defend those that killed your father? It is you who have no honor.”

Wen-Jhai backed away from him, weeping. “Perhaps not, but at least I have courage.”

And with that she turned and ran for the balcony, reaching for the rope ladder to Ku-Rho’s warship, with Shae-Vai following right on her heels. That’s last thing I saw before they carried Lhan and me out the door, but I could hear Duru-Vau shouting all the way down the stairs.

“Stop her! Bring her down! Bring her back!”

***

I must have passed out completely at some point after that, ’cause the next thing I knew, I woke up butt naked in a closet-sized room with one glass wall. My head hurt so much that it took me a while to recognize the smooth white architecture and figure out where I must be—a jail cell somewhere inside the Temple of Ormolu.

This was so thrilling I threw up. Then I just sat there for a while, watching the little pool of puke spread out on the metal floor. My head throbbed. My heart throbbed. My everything throbbed. I felt like some miniature stereo freak had set up a boomin’ system deep down in my guts, and had turned the bass up to eleven. The pulse made all the cuts and bruises I’d got over the past few weeks hurt worse than they already did. I ached from head to foot.

Then I noticed I was pink again, and my hair was its natural red, and damp. The fucking priests musta washed all my purple off while I was knocked out. The thought of all those priest hands soaping me up was so creepy I threw up again. Then I panicked and felt for Lhan’s balurrah around my neck.

It was gone!

For some reason that was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, and I bawled like a baby until I ran out out of tears.

Sometime later a guard came by with a plate of food and a mug. I tensed, waiting for the doors to whoosh open so I could jump him, even though I knew I probably couldn’t even stand. The doors didn’t whoosh. Instead, they hissed and raised up together, less than three inches, and he slid the plate and mug under. Then they hissed down again and he went away. Didn’t offer to clean up the mess I’d made. Didn’t seem to notice I’d made it.

Watching him leave drew my attention to the outside of the cell for the first time, not that there was much to see. The hallway beyond the glass was blank and dark, and when I crawled to the door I couldn’t see another cell in either direction. So where had they put Lhan?

“Lhan! Lhan, are you here? Can you hear me?”

No answer. Of course, I don’t know how loud I shouted. It sounded plenty loud to me, but for all I know I coulda been whispering. Pretty soon I gave up and crawled back to the food.

It took me a while to remember how to sit up straight and pick things up with my hands, but eventually I got the hang of it, and ate what was in the bowl. I didn’t know what it was. It didn’t taste like anything I’d eaten on Waar before, but that’s ’cause it didn’t taste like anything, period. Still, I ate it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my many stays inside, it’s that you should eat every chance you get. You never know when you’re gonna get another meal, and you never know when you’re gonna need your strength.

I fell asleep again sometime after that, my aches and pains not quite enough to counter the sick, wiped-out feeling that was dragging me down, but I woke up again after what felt like only an hour or so to the sounds of bootheels clicking slowly down the hall.

I pulled myself up to a crouch and tested my arms and legs. The sleep hadn’t been much, but at least I felt like I could move a bit now, and my head wasn’t spinning. I wouldn’t fall over if I stood up—at least I hoped not. If it was the guard, asking for the plate and cup back, I’d see if he would open the door to clean up my puke. If not, I’d figure something else out. Maybe I could grab his hand and pull him under the three-inch gap. It’d sure be fun to try.

It wasn’t the guard.

The boots stopped in front of the cell and I looked up. The guy giving me the once-over from the other side of the glass was old, seriously old, with a mop of white hair, a stringy neck and blue veins as thick as licorice snaking under his skin. But for all that he didn’t look one bit frail or weak. He was more than six feet tall, and had probably been taller back before he started to stoop, and the harness and loincloth he wore showed me that he was as wiry and ripped as a greyhound. He looked like Clint Eastwood on his hundredth birthday.

It took me a full ten seconds to realize he wasn’t purple. His skin was a pinkish tan—just like mine.

He shook his head and sighed. “You have been a burr in my britches, missy. You surely have.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

THE WARGOD!

I
stared at the guy, and if my mouth was hanging open I wouldn’t be a damned bit surprised. Not only was he speaking English, he was talking in an accent I hadn’t heard since the last time me and Big Don had ridden our bikes through Alabama. It took me a couple of tries to get any words out—and they weren’t much when they came.

“You—I—how… Who the fuck are you?”

He gave me a disapproving look. “Language of that nature is not proper for young ladies. Particularly not southern young ladies like yourself. Show some decorum.”

Well, I was still shocked, but that pissed me off. Decorum woulda been not throwing me in a cell. I snorted. “Let me out of here and I’ll show you all the decorum you want. Otherwise, go fuck yourself.”

He looked like he was gonna get mad, but then he just sat down on a bench built into the wall opposite the cell. He took what looked like a Sherlock Holmes pipe outta a pouch at his belt and pointed it at me. “Duru-Vau was right. You got some fire in you. That’s good. Fire’s what’s needed.”

“You still haven’t told me who the fuck you are.”

He sighed like I was some potty-mouthed granddaughter, then looked at the pipe. “You know the worst thing about coming to this place? I never did find a good substitute for tobaccy. Couldn’t rid myself o’the habit of suckin’ on the stem though.”

I don’t know why that did it, but that did it. All of a sudden I knew who he was. “Wait a minute! You’re the guy from the book!
Savages of the Red Planet
! You’re Captain Jack Wainwright!”

He raised a shaggy white eyebrow. “So you read my nephew’s little piece of trash? Godawful thing, that book. Turns the hardest work a white man ever done into a cheap romance for pimply adolescents. Woulda sued him for slander if I’da stayed home.”

“But—but how are you even alive! You fought in the Civil War! You must be two hundred years old!”

“A hundred and seventy-two, thank you very much. And as to how, well the fellas that built this here rocket ship got a little rejuvenation machine upstairs that I been using since I took over. Kept me young and fit for nigh on fifty years. Now it just keeps me old.”