The Novels of the Jaran (21 page)

A shadow obscured the light from below. “Wa-sen. You were ordered to eliminate intruders.” The voice was harsh but inflected as merchant to steward.

“Honorable. I beg to ask pardon, but—”

“Who is this?” The Chapalii halted three steps below Tess and stared.

“Who is this?” asked Tess, coldly formal.

“I beg a thousand pardons, Lady Terese. A thousand, thousand pardons. Your welfare alone precipitated my arrival. I beg you to allow me to escort you away before—”

“Garii? What is this commotion?”

Under his breath, Garii cursed.

“Move aside,” said the third Chapalii, who could only be Ishii. Tess laid a hand over her Chapalii knife and backed up, forcing the steward behind her to back up as well, until all four of them stood in the chill air of midnight. The stone closed behind them as soon as they were free of the threshold.

“My God. This is a transmitting station. How did this get here?”

No one replied. The steward kept his hand on her shoulder. His sweet-smelling breath tickled her cheek. In the distance, a bird shrieked, and a rodent’s squeal arced and cut off.

“Lady Terese,” said Ishii. “I solicit your permission to speak.”

“I want an explanation. When did you build this? Why is it here?”

“I regret that I am not at liberty to speak further on this matter, Lady Terese.”

“You are not at liberty? I command you, Cha Ishii.”

“I regret, Lady Terese, that I am commanded by a higher authority than your own on this matter.”

“If that is so, then why did this higher authority not request permission of the duke to travel on this planet?”

“I submit, Lady Terese, that such permission would have been denied.”

“If that is so, Cha Ishii, then why did this higher authority not command permission to travel?”

Another Chapalii appeared out of the dark. They surrounded her on all sides now. The hand gripping her shoulder relaxed and released her, but even standing without restraint, she knew they had her trapped.

“I regret, Lady Terese,” replied Ishii, his tone so well-modulated that she could detect no emotion in it at all, “that I am unable to unravel the thinking of those who station outranks my own. I beg you to leave now, and to believe that both your suspicion and your fear of us remain unfounded, and to recall that your own actions brought you to this pass, not any act of ours. Perhaps you will permit Hon Garii to escort you back to the camp.”

What could she do? Charge past them down the stairs? What if this confrontation had already attracted notice? Rhui’s interdiction was already breached. To draw the jahar’s attention now was to compromise the interdiction even further, and in a more fundamental way. And what had Garii said, “to eliminate intruders?” What if Fedya came looking for her? If Yuri was on watch?

“I will go, Ishii.” She dropped the honorific to let him know she was displeased. Lord, what choice did she have? His face was a pale shadow in front of her, the standing stone a huge blot behind him. All four Chapalii bore knives at their belts. Behind Ishii, the red light blinked on, and off, and on, and off—and did not come on again.

“Transmission has ceased,” said a faint, disembodied voice that emanated from the stone itself.

“Hon Garii.” Tess inclined her head, acknowledging him. The stewards retreated, and Ishii clasped his hands in front of himself in that arrangement known as Lord’s Obedience.

She let Garii escort her to the base of the hill. “I will go alone,” she said, not wanting to be seen with any Chapalii.

“Lady Terese.” Garii hesitated. “I beg of you to let me offer you my thanks. Cha Ishii—” Hearing his hesitation, again, Tess wondered what color his face was, what emotion his level voice hid. “You concealed the knife.”

“I did.”

“My gratitude is yours, Lady Terese, if you will accept it. More than that—”

“Garii.” From above, Ishii’s voice called, carrying on the breeze.

“I accept,” said Tess. Garii bowed and backed away up the hill. “I accept,” Tess murmured, and wondered what it was she had accepted. “You speak the language well enough,” she said to herself in Anglais, “but you don’t understand a damned thing about their culture, not really.”

A blue glow cast a faint nimbus of light around the stone, and then, like mist, dissipated into the cold darkness. Tess shivered. Would they really kill to protect their secrets? The knife felt warm against her fingers, storing energy within. The night was utterly still.

She skirted the hill, walked halfway around it, looking up, before she turned her steps back to camp. Darkness curled in around her, and she felt suddenly alone, isolated, lost beyond finding. It had stood before her, an illegal transmitter station built by the Chapalii on a planet on which they were prohibited from setting foot, a planet deeded to the human they could never trust. Some conspiracy against Charles—that must be their purpose here. But to what end? What did they hope to accomplish? And she had failed to investigate this transmitter, been caught at it like the merest amateur.

Why couldn’t Charles understand? Why couldn’t he adopt a new heir, someone suited to the task? The Chapalii recognized adoption; it was legal, it was binding. She would never shirk her duty. But surely there was some other way for her to serve the cause. Why couldn’t he see how unsuited she was? What if she was forced to take over from him? She would destroy everything he had accomplished so far.

Around the curve of the next hill, with the megalith hidden behind her, the distant glint of the campfire drew her eye. Her feet caught on some imperfection of ground, and she stumbled.

The watcher rose from where he had been crouched, an abrupt shadow blocking her path. Startled, rising, she lost her balance again and caught herself on one hand and one knee on the ground, frozen, staring up, unable to catch her breath.

“We are going to have a talk,” said Bakhtiian.

Chapter Ten

“The eagle has black bones.”

—
DEMOCRITUS OF ABDERA

A
CLOUD, TRAILING UP
from the horizon, hid the moon. She could not see his face, only the shadowed opacity of his form and a slash of darkness swinging out from his hip—his saber. Behind him, remote shapes moved by the far gleam of campfire. Tess sat down so precipitously that he almost dived for her, checking his movement just in time to make him seem high-strung and timorous.

“What do you want?” she demanded, too angry at herself, at the Chapalii, at him for startling her, for following her, to care how her words sounded now. Leave diplomacy to Charles.

He sank down beside her. “I don’t understand you,” he said, more conversational than accusing. “How can you claim that you are not a spy, and then be caught by the khepelli in the act of spying on them?”

The absurdity of the situation struck her suddenly, sitting here, brushed by the soft night breeze, being cross-examined by the light of the stars and the moon. She chuckled. He said nothing. “Oh, all right,” she said, tired of trying to play this game. “I was spying on them, but I’m not a
spy.
”

“I fail to see how you can make that distinction.”

“Intent. I really did get lost. I really was on my way to Jeds. I really was surprised to find the khepelli with you.”

“You were surprised that khepelli trade on these coasts, that we knew their name. I have reason to believe that you didn’t even know how far it was to Jeds, or how to get there, and I must admit that your real ignorance inclined me to believe your professed ignorance.”

“Thank you. May I go now?”

He shifted, slightly, but he did not rise. “You know very well that because you are a woman, you may go any time you like. But as leader of this jahar, I will simply find another time and another place to continue this conversation. I have men who are beholden to me, and whom I have put in danger because of their loyalty to myself and my plans. If you are a danger to the jaran, then I promise you that I will find out.”

“What danger could I be?”

“If your brother is a merchant powerful enough to be making treaties with the khepelli over lands so distant from his home and theirs, then I want to know what he intends.”

“What about what they intend? The khepelli?”

The clouds, drifting, let moonlight filter out into the night again. Bakhtiian had a slight smile on his face, but Tess did not find the expression reassuring.

“Be assured that I keep my eye on the khepelli as well. When this expedition was first offered me, I did not take it, because I had not yet peace enough within the jaran to risk such a long journey.”

“What do you mean, when the expedition was first offered you?”

“Five years past, it was offered.”

“Five years past! How long have the khepelli been trading on that coast?”

“You don’t know?”

“I—” She stopped and clamped her mouth shut, realizing that to say anything now would be to risk too much. The wind, shifting, brought the faint, bittersweet perfume of ulyan.

“Cousin, you know too much about some things, and too little about others. I find that puzzling.”

Tess wanted nothing more than to end this whole conversation now, because she knew that she was losing whatever skirmish was being fought here. But to go now was to acknowledge the rout. She would never do that. “Bakhtiian, you ought not to talk about people whose educations have been unusual.”

He laughed. “You’re trying to distract me. It’s a good technique. Very well, I’ll change the subject. I’ve heard stories that the khepelli control great powers, especially those like Ishii, who are priests. Do you believe they do?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Is it true?”

He had trapped her, and Tess cursed herself inwardly for letting him use language against her, of all people, who had been studying language all her life. But not studying war. And she knew she had no choice but to lie outright.

“Ah,” said Bakhtiian, for whom her silence had been answer enough. “The dawn.” He tilted his head, as if this new angle might allow him to understand her. “There are other stories, about a people who lived here long, long ago, who were driven away by war or by sickness or by drought, and fled under the hills, never to be seen again.
Zayinu,
the ancient ones. Why do the khepelli bow to you?”

Her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed her exclamation. He was a master at this game; she was far outmatched. “I must go.” She stood hastily, choosing rout over surrender.

But he had stood. Before she could move away, he closed one hand around her right wrist and held her, not too tightly but firmly. “Oh, no,” he said, the more powerful for his softness. “I will know this.”

“Damn you. My brother is the Prince of Jeds.”

Bakhtiian swore softly. “The Prince of Jeds. By the gods, I have seen him. You do not look alike. Why should I believe you?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped, “because it is true.”

“I rather think it is.” He let her go. “Forgive me, I do not mean this as an insult, but you are not very skilled at dissembling.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You can’t deceive me.”

“Can anyone deceive you, Bakhtiian?”

He smiled softly. “I can’t know that, can I?” In the distance, the campfire was doused suddenly, its broad glow shrinking to a few separate points of red.

“May I go now?” she asked sarcastically.

“Cousin, you don’t need to ask my permission. Now, if you will excuse me.” He gave her a curt, mocking bow and strode out into the darkness in the direction of the zhapolaya. For a vicious moment, Tess hoped one of the Chapalii would kill him as an intruder, but Bakhtiian would never be so clumsy as to let himself be seen, much less caught.

Unlike me.
She emptied her lungs in a long sigh. A cool wind sprang up, and she shivered and rubbed at her eyes. God, she was tired. How could the Chapalii have built a transmitter in the middle of this wilderness? Been trading here for at least five years, unnoticed, unseen? Yet on a primitive planet much could go undetected from what limited surveillance Charles could use, by his own regulations. Undoubtedly the unscheduled and illegal shuttle landing that had left her stranded had also been shielded from satellite surveillance. But if Charles was disseminating Newton and Aristotle, why should he shrink from breaking other regulations, as long as no one else knew about it? What if he knew the Chapalii were here, and was playing his own game with them in turn? What if Bakhtiian discovered too much?

“Lord, Tess,” she muttered to herself, “there’s nothing you can do about it now. Go to bed.”

On a windswept island in the archipelago that lies off the coast from Jeds, a technician sat at her console and monitored a conversation. She was deft. Filter here, delay there, a tweak in the right place, and no one could overhear, not even the Chapalii. Especially not the Chapalii. Luckily, those conversing had agreed with her to dispense with holo. She was not sure she could cover a holo transmission. Over such a vast distance, from a back room in the palace in Jeds to the wide chamber that Charles Soerensen used as his office on Odys, the technician had advised that a simple voice transmission, analog, with its delays and its static, might be so primitive that the Chapalii would not notice it at all. She watched three screens simultaneously, tweaked the volume, and let the conversation flow past her.

“No,” a woman was saying—that was Dr. Hierakis, “Tess is not here. I received no message. Nothing. The scheduled shuttle came as usual, though not all the equipment I expected arrived on that flight.”

They waited long minutes; then the reply: “Anything else?” That was Soerensen.

From the same pickup as the doctor came Marco Burckhardt’s voice. “There was one discrepancy. Karima?”

The technician clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, activating her voice pickup. With her left hand, she pulled up a new screen, data, and a graph. “I ran back every slightest bit of tape from the
Oshaki’s
visit, from the moment it came into orbit until it left again. We do have a trace of the cargo shuttle leaving the
Oshaki,
and the record of its landing on the island. Considerably more time elapsed from leaving the ship until landing than was necessary for the distance traveled, and there were no atmospheric conditions to warrant the delay.”