WARP world (31 page)

“Always,” he answered, looking suddenly tired and small beneath his robes.

“I don’t understand…” she pulled off the veil and shawl covering her, as if doing so might give her thoughts clarity.

“By Nen!” Stevan gasped, “What happened to you? Did that Damiar…?”

She had grown so used to the sensation of the welt that she had forgotten how alarming it would appear to her brother. Calling forth her best ‘Are you kidding?’ expression, she waved off Stevan’s concern. “A small tussle, nothing to worry about. You know how things can get in the Port House.”

He did know. She had counted on that and thanked her wild ways for the cover.

“Tell me about…everything,” Ama continued, out of genuine concern for her brother but also to give Seg as much time as she could.

In hushed tones and with frequent looks to the door, Stevan told her his hidden history. The resistance had never died; it had been broken, scattered and pushed into far corners but remnants survived. Lacking numbers and Shasir magic, they had used their intellect; devised plans to span generations. A gradual infiltration of the Shasir, the acquisition of their magic and secrets, the formation of a complex network of communications and transportation, all leading to the eventual overthrow of the Shasir ruling class.

Stevan’s sharp mind and sober nature had caught the attention of the Lesson House instructor, himself a member of the resistance. From there, it was only a matter of moving the boy up the chain. No Kenda had yet made Shasir’threa. Stevan was their great hope.

“I didn’t lecture you all those times because I disapproved of your life,” Stevan said, taking Ama’s hand in his. “We need my ascension. I couldn’t risk expulsion because my sister likes to get into…” he rubbed one of the bruises on her forearm, “
tussles
.”

Lectures, yes. Stevan had given her a fair share of those, as had her father lately.

“Fa!” Ama’s knees weakened and she nearly fell backwards as she sat against the edge of a table, “Oh Stevan, did Fa know?”

“Not until recently. I arranged for Brin to pass a message for me. It was necessary; there were discussions of my family among my superiors. Your name was mentioned. Repeatedly.” He knelt down in front of her, taking up her hands again, “I’m sorry Ama, I’m sure he was hard on you but it was for a higher cause.”

“And our brothers? Did they know?”

“Only Geras. And telling him and Fa was risk enough,” Stevan answered.

She bit down on her lower lip. “If I didn’t marry, I was told I had to sell my
Naida
and move home. Fa threatened to cut me from the family if I didn’t obey him. And Geras…” she let out a sharp gust of air, “I think he may never speak to me again.”

“Tell me you’re not marrying this Lord Eraranat out of desperation?” Stevan asked, squeezing Ama’s hands.

“No, it’s my choice to be with him,” she said, tempted to explain she wasn’t marrying him at all.

Stevan didn’t answer, merely hung his head.

“I’ve been so selfish,” Ama said, placing her hands on either side of Stevan’s head and tilting it back up to face her. “Stevan…” What could she tell him? That all his years of struggle and sacrifice were now for naught? That there was a greater threat out there, one not even he could conceive of? “The Shasir will fall, I believe that.”

“As did I, once,” he answered, standing again. “They’ve started sniffing us out, though. And now, since this Shasir’threa has gone missing…”

“Leave with me,” she blurted out. “Seg and I will get you out of here.”

“Leave?” The word was uttered with disbelief but followed by an affectionate laugh. “Of course. My sister, who charges headlong into everything, of course that is what you would do. I’ve always envied that about you.” He sighed. “A Shasir’dua, privy to the secrets of the order, can’t just walk out the door.”

Ama grabbed him by both wrists and squeezed, her eyes locked with his, “Seg isn’t a Damiar. His people have magic that make the Shasir look as backward as the Welf. There’s no time to explain, but if you stay here you’ll die, along with the rest of the spooks. The Shasir will fall. Not in some far away future.
Soon
. You have to leave. Now.”

Her eyes repeated the warning, her hands refused to let him pull away. A metallic chime came from somewhere outside the walls, the vibration added to the electricity in the room.

“You’re serious.” His voice was hushed. “There’s…” he dipped his chin in thought, “there’s a passage, it’s on the other side of the grounds, beneath the meditation chambers. I can go through but you…”

The chime sounded again and Stevan tugged away from Ama to peer out the small window overlooking the grounds.

“What is it?” Ama asked.

“A warning,” he answered. “The chime is an order for all Dua to stay in their sanctuary. It means—”

“Bad trouble,” Ama said, now at the window, next to her brother. One hand absently gripped his robe as she watched a squadron of constables piling through the gates. “I have to get you out of here.”

Stevan shook his head, “No, no. They wouldn’t send constables for me. The Order has their own methods, their own enforcers. They must be after someone—” He turned his face slowly to Ama.

Her hand dropped from his robe.

Seg had made a good circuit of what he could access readily. Deeper penetration at this point would risk compromising the data he had already acquired. The target plan could be revised, while keeping the Sky Temple in it. With the lower than expected vita readings, the temple wouldn’t be assigned the same priority as before but he could incorporate it as a bluff because most of the items that required lifting were man-portable, and he could easily arrange a heavy coverage raid that would lure whatever constituted the Shasir ready defense. Then they would make the real hauls elsewhere.

Visions
whirled in his mind, as his planned strike grew more ornate and complex.

He knew well that the House would likely try to cut back or not implement the totality of his vision. If it went wrong, madness. House Haffset would be broken and swept away.

He had to hope they had enough gamblers’ impulse to pursue this.

Shoes off, dress hauled up, Ama ran through the empty corridor beside her brother. Muted footballs from behind spurred them forward.

“The skyship platform, the offering hall, the room of communing…” Stevan breathlessly rattled off areas of worship or importance within the temple grounds as he ran. “There are dozens, your Seg could be anywhere.”

The distant footfalls were getting louder.

“You get to the passage,” Stevan huffed, “it’s at the far east corner, beneath the fourth chamber. Look for…” he paused for air, “two diagonal scratches on the floor, that board lifts up and there’s a handle beneath.”

“I’m not leaving Seg behind.”

“And I’m not leaving you to the authorities. I’ll find him, I’ll get him out.”

They skidded around a corner, into a wide, round atrium, both stopping at once. Before them, Dagga stood, flanked by four armed constables. Ama looked behind her but two more constables moved together to block their only exit.

“Rats always run. Lucky I know how to herd ‘em.” Dagga said, with a smirk that possessed no good humour. He pointed his blade at Ama, “Murdering a Lord, that’s bold, even for a Kalder.”

Stevan raised his hands and reassumed his stately air, even though his face was beaded with sweat, “Constable, I assure you, my sister is no criminal. Whatever you believe she has—”

“Where’s your partner?” Dagga ignored Stevan. He strode forward until he stood less than an arm’s length from Ama.

She snapped her mouth closed, forcing her gasping breaths through her nose.

“Don’t matter, I’ll find out soon enough,” Dagga said, then raised his arm and drove the heavy knife into Stevan’s shoulder.

“Stevan!” Ama reached for her brother as he staggered backward, a long scream tearing from his throat. Stevan clutched at the protruding hilt while blood darkened his robes. Ama’s fingers pressed uselessly against the wound, in seconds they were slick and red.

“Where’s your partner?” Dagga repeated.

“I don’t know!” Ama wailed.

Dagga, his face unmoved by the spectacle, studied Ama dispassionately then nodded. “Not lying, are you?” He turned sharply and marched back to the constables. “Bring them both. Leave the Dua with his own, tie the water rat up somewhere this Eraranat can hear her screams.”

A guttural cry sounded from Stevan as he lunged at Dagga’s back.

The moment unfolded for Ama in a series of sounds: the sharp retort of the banger, Stevan’s body thudding to the stone floor, the clatter of the boots that rushed to where she stood, and her own primal scream as she pulled her knife from its sheath and slashed at the first body in her path.

“NO!” she yelled, as she ran to her brother’s side. A second banger shot cracked open the air. She felt a hard, hot blow to her shoulder and her feet slid out from under her.

Only her rage kept her conscious.

As Seg was about to round a corner and re-enter the building that housed Stevan’s sanctuary, a loud BANG ruptured the silence of the temple. He knew the sound. Weapons familiarization included primitive Outer weapons, such as burning-powder projectile implements. Around the corner, he spied two men in the blue and white uniforms of the local enforcers. Then he heard Ama scream.

This was different from the night with Uval and his goons, when he was tired, half-worn out and in a stimulant-induced stupor. His blood iced as he considered his options.

Retreat? He could. His equipment, left aboard Ama’s boat, was the only complication.

This was why Theorists weren’t supposed to infiltrate without support. It would have been nice to have Kerbin and her squad of cutthroats ready to rain the Storm down upon these Outers. A Theorist was too valuable to risk in a foolhardy venture. This was a job for an expendable trooper, such as Manatu.

As he produced the micro-chack from his coat pocket, he decided he would just have to not die. One of the enforcers saw him coming and opened his mouth for some pompous proclamation, likely an order for him to halt or surrender.

The fool should have simply shot him, or at least covered him with a weapon.

The micro-chack was near silent, its electromagnetic impeller inducing a slight whir as thousands of small venom-laced huchack slivers tore into and through the man’s body.

The gurgling screams were not so quiet. Seg turned and unleashed another stream, cutting down a second enforcer before the man could raise his weapon.

The outside presence was eliminated. He dipped his hand into the pocket again and pulled out two micro-grenades. Now to see what waited for him behind the door.

If they’ve killed her, I’ll burn every last hole on this planet.

T
he pain, spreading from her shoulder outward, was like none Ama imagined possible. Smoke choked her and the infernal dress allowed her no freedom to maneuver. The sight of her brother, lying in a quickly spreading pool of crimson, kept her moving as she shuffled across the slippery floor to escape her attackers.

One of the constables grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. With her good arm, Ama swung her knife up into the man’s groin. She twisted the blade, felt the resistance of his flesh before yanking it back out, and savored the man’s scream and the hot blood that sprayed her hand.