A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition) (36 page)

“A weapon isn’t necessary,” Rael snapped as she strode into the room, taking in the situation at a glance. She uttered a small cry at the sight of Morgan. “What has she done?”

“Come no closer, Clanswoman,” Huido warned, moving back warily, armor grating against the metal bulkhead, leaving dark streaks in the paint. “Where is Sira?” Eyestalks were bending in every direction as the Carasian attempted to find out for himself.

Barac found his tongue. “We should be asking you. Why do you expect to see her here? And what’s wrong with the Human?”

Huido shifted Morgan’s weight absently, but didn’t lower his weapon. “Sira must have sent us here by her power and remained behind to cover our escape. We were in Yihtor’s stronghold.”

Rael’s face grew ashen. The look she traded with her cousin was full of meaning. “Then Yihtor has her now?”

“I will go back,” Huido fixed all his eyes on Rael. “Send me while you care for Morgan. My blood brother retreated into himself to protect us.”

“How can we send you,” Rael said flatly, “when we don’t know where you’ve been? The locate is buried in that scrambled brain of yours. You must know we can’t read your thoughts.”

Huido clipped his weapon to a ring in his upper plate, then tenderly laid Morgan on the pilot’s couch. He used a shiny clawtip to push back a lock of hair from the Human’s pale face. “Then what you need is here, Clanswoman. Sira must have expected you to help him—if only in order to gain a chance to capture her yourselves.”

“We’ve never intended harm to her, you big fool.” Barac’s voice was tight. Faint stains of red tinged his high cheekbones. “Yihtor isn’t one of us. We’re here to bring him to justice—and to help Sira if we can.”

Huido removed Terk from the other seat with a multieyed glare, then made himself comfortable. “Help Morgan.”

“We indeed have no other choice.” Rael agreed, regarding the motionless Human with a remote compassion. “And perhaps Sira is only forcing us to do our rightful duty. This Human is as much a victim of Yihtor as any of our kin.”

“I don’t care about your kin,” the Carasian stated with a low growling note. “Nor do I care about justice. Aid my brother, and we will rescue Sira. But for the sake of my debt and his— not for you.”

“Understood,” Barac waved the confused Terk from the control room. “And the sooner we begin, the better.”

Chapter 25

THE tall, lean figure stood framed by the shattered door, frozen at first, staring at me. I remained equally still as the present merged with memory. “You’ve gotten older, Yihtor,” I said finally, in a conversational tone which quite impressed part of myself.

Yihtor bowed, his bright gray-green eyes never leaving my face. “You have not, Chooser,” a heavy satisfaction in his voice.

“No,” I said without discomfort.

Yihtor’s head tilted as he considered me with a closeness I knew couldn’t penetrate my shielding, yet which had a chilling effect. I had the sudden feeling that he was nonplussed by something about me—whether some oddness in my behavior or strangeness in my appearance, I couldn’t tell.

I studied him, too, disturbed to find him attractive. There was the same vivid life in his features I’d found so remarkable in Rael. His blond hair was thick, framing a high, broad forehead, accenting a dark tan. There was a tautness to his build which suggested fitness and strength. He was a handsome one, all right. But he still reminded me of a toad.

One long hand sketched an unfamiliar gesture, part salute, part beckoning. “Come with me, Chooser,” Yihtorsaid. “Acranam boasts far more beautiful and comfortable surroundings than these.”

I raised a brow and didn’t move. “You kept Morgan here.”

This time Yihtor’s discomfiture was obvious. “Why do you care about a Human?” His eyes darted around the room as if my presence had clouded his senses until now. “You’ve taken him. Why?”

“Why did you?” I countered. “Morgan had nothing to do with you—”

“Nothing? He interfered with me—stole my property— my ship!”

“Your property?” I picked up the word, challenged him with it. “Your ship? So you’re merely a pirate.”

I’d angered him, a frown smudged the handsome brow, but the Clansman’s voice was controlled and level. “My interests are far wider than you could imagine, Chooser. And they are none of your concern. Nor is a Human.” A slow step forward. “What occurs from this moment on is all that need interest you.”

I rechecked my mental barriers. There was danger in the Clansman’s deliberate advance; belatedly I remembered Gistries, and Rael’s fear. “Stay away from me,” I warned him, ready to launch myself through the M’hir. Yihtor stopped immediately.

“Just allow me your hand, daughter of Jarad. It is your purpose here. It is our destiny.” His eyes had taken on a luster, a glow. An awesome power throbbed against my shielding—a potential more than a threat.

“The Choice is mine,” I said, the words rising from nowhere, as I retreated a step without knowing why.

“The Choice is yours, Chooser,” Yihtor agreed instantly, bright eyes hooded and hard to read. He remained motionless for a moment, then slowly reached his right hand out to me. “Once, we were interrupted by fools. Since that day, I have learned other ways to control and use power, ways that increase my strength within the M’hir a thousandfold, ways our deluded Council thought to hide. Join with me, power to power. I, Yihtor di Caraat, offer you Choice, Sira di Sarc.”

Things were not going as I’d expected. I glanced from Yihtor’s compelling face to his outstretched hand and back again, my mind sundered into fragments, my thoughts in chaos. Gistries’ torment, Roraqk’s death, Morgan—all faded as if part of a dream. I needed . . . what? I was only part of what I was intended to be. I must find and Choose . . . I looked at Yihtor with a sudden understanding—knowing beyond doubt he was empty, too.

Yihtor, my completion? “No!” My rejection welled up, deep and utter.

Yihtor lunged forward, taking me completely by surprise, and grabbed my hand in a tight hold. “How dare you!” I hissed, at the same time bewildered that the simple touch of his hand offended me so deeply. The roiling darkness I’d felt twice before surged up, overwhelming my consciousness. This time I welcomed it. The heaving force struck outward, seeking my defiler, knocking Yihtor back against the wall. He leaned there for a moment— eyes wide with shock, pain, and something else.

“Who has touched you?” Yihtor demanded, breathing heavily. “You’re no Chooser!”

I seriously considered making an exit, but hesitated, curious despite my caution. “What do you mean?”

Yihtor sucked in a deep breath and held it, eyes narrowed in speculation. He raised his hand, fingers outstretched, and drew the outline of my face and shoulders in midair. Done, his hand clenched into a tight fist which he let fall to his side. There was disbelief on his face, quickly replaced by satisfaction.

“Sira, forgive me.” Yihtor smiled with incredible charm, stirring a traitorous warmth within me. “I don’t pretend to understand what’s happened to you. Somehow you’re still a Chooser—at least partly so. Forgive my impetuousness, please. The thought you might Commence for someone else—well, it drove me a little crazy.”

Impetuousness? Although I was cloudy on the details, one fact was clear. What Yihtor had attempted was against any code of behavior. He deserved nothing but my contempt.

Unfortunately, Yihtor must have been more experienced than Rael at reading expressions. Before I so much as sensed his intention, the Clansman vanished and, where he’d stood, another figure crouched. As I concentrated with desperate speed, my body shuddered under the impact of a bolt of stun and I crumpled.

I stared at the floor, fighting unconsciousness, refusing to give in to panic, continuing to strain mentally even as I saw the toe of a boot out the corner of my eye. With a sensation of bursting a barrier, I
pushed
and the floor beneath my cheek . . .

. . . roughened into hard, packed earth. I held back a sob, more than content to lie motionless in the safety of Huido’s hillside cave.

Morgan’s eyelids twitched, then opened slowly. He held himself still, acknowledging the anxious gaze of all of Huido’s black and shiny eyes with a glance. His blue eyes widened briefly as he recognized the Fox’s control room.

Rael’s hand hovered close to Morgan’s forehead for a second. She smiled with satisfaction. “A full recovery, Human. Retreat’s not a foolproof technique.”

Huido helped Morgan sit up. Morgan hesitated before trying his voice. When he spoke, the sound was reed-thin and husky. “Sira?”

Barac and Rael exchanged glances. Huido answered slowly: “Sira found me. She used her power to transport us to where you’d been imprisoned, in the renegade Clansman’s city.” A pause during which Huido twisted several of his eyes in order to watch the pair standing across from him. “There was some kind of mental attack—something which affected you and Sira. She stayed behind and sent us here.”

Barac glared down at Morgan as if the Human were the source of all his troubles. “Leaving me to wonder if Sira wanted us to help you or get rid of you. If she’s chosen to stay with a ghost—”

“Yihtor’s neither dead nor a ghost, Barac,” Rael snapped. “And Sira wouldn’t stay with him willingly.” Her eyes fastened upon Morgan’s. “Sira wanted us to help you.”

Morgan raised a brow. “Which bothers you,” he said.

“My opinion is irrelevant. I don’t question my sister, whether I understand her or not,” Rael said firmly, before Barac could speak, a warning flash of anger tightening her lips. “I’ve helped you, as she wished. Now we need something from you—a trade, let’s say, for your life, Human.”

“Sira.”

“You dare—” Rael stopped, gathered herself, and damped the swelling of her power. Her eyes were bright and hard. “My sister is not something to be traded by you or anyone else, Human. I’ll save her. And I’ll look after her until she’s healed. Away from you.”

“But you’ve admitted you need me,” Morgan said coolly. Huido’s eyes clumped to focus on his friend’s face. Lights winked to themselves in greens, yellows, and blues on the control panels, oblivious to the tension in the room. “Why? To help you find Sira? How do you expect me to accomplish that? I tried searching for her with my power on Acranam. I couldn’t find her.”

Barac seemed to shrink into himself at Morgan’s words. Rael spared him a quelling glance before answering. “We have no need for your pitiful abilities, Human.”

“Then what do you want?”

Barac answered. “We need a reference to lead us into Yihtor’s base. With that, we can travel there and rescue Sira, hopefully before Yihtor detects us.”

“We do not choose to reveal ourselves to Yihtor by scanning the M’hir,” Rael said, as if this should be obvious even to a Human.

“In other words, you can’t search for Sira without exposing yourselves,” Morgan said, easing back onto his elbow. “What makes you think I’ll help you?”

“You’ll help because Yihtor may have Sira. You can’t ignore Yihtor di Caraat, Morgan,” Rael said, leaning closer. “We are asking for your help. Much as I’d like to rip your thoughts apart to get what I want, I won’t. There are ethics involved.” She licked her lips. “And penalties for violating them. Yihtor chose to fake his own death, to disappear. This put him outside of our laws. He has rejected the self-control that protects our species,” Rael’s lips thinned. “A self-destructive trait. He must know too many Humans.”

Morgan’s face was smooth, calm; they might have discussed some technical aspect of his ship. His voice was perhaps too steady. “I promised Sira I’d never let Yihtor control her.”

“A promise you haven’t the power to keep,” Rael said. “Lower your shields, so I can read the locate. I’ll open my thoughts to you, if you don’t trust me.”

“It has nothing to do with trust, Clanswoman. If you need some remembered experience of the place, I’ve none to offer.” Morgan’s lips stretched in what was more snarl than smile. “Yihtor attacked me at our campsite. I’d been searching for Sira, trying to sense any thought or trace of her. Protecting myself happened to be rather far from my mind. He overwhelmed me before I realized I was being attacked. All I could do was retreat, hide my will, my memories.” A brief pause. “Until now, I didn’t know he’d moved me from the camp.”

“So much for helping you,” Barac began unwisely. “We’d be further ahead if we’d left you a vegetable.” Huido snapped his claws in quick, vicious motions as he advanced menacingly toward the Clansman. Morgan waved a weary hand to stop him.

“Barac’s right, Brother; Sira made a poor bargain.” The Carasian reluctantly subsided, contenting himself with rocking back and forth, eyes fixed on Barac. Barac was silent, but his fury was obvious. Rael’s gaze never left Morgan’s face.

“Part of Sira’s power has returned to her,” Rael said at last. “Perhaps enough to let her deal with Yihtor herself. I just hope—what?” This was addressed to Morgan as she noticed the brightening of his face.

“I’ve always maintained,” Morgan answered with a return of his former cool tone, “you Clan are blinded by your prejudice against machines.”

Barac tilted his head to one side, anger forgotten. “I recall a few lengthy discussions—or were they monologues—on that subject. I was a captive audience, if you remember.”

“Oh, I remember.” Morgan stood carefully, keeping one hand on the slick blackness of Huido’s arm, and moved over to examine the controls. “Who’s been flying her?”

“Me,” said a new voice. Morgan turned and actually beamed at the sight of Terk.

“Russ, my old friend! So Bowman has you chauffeuring civilians, eh?” As the out-of-uniform Enforcer turned dusky red, Morgan chuckled with a touch of malice. “Never mind. I’m actually glad to see you.”

Terk scowled. The events of the past few days had done nothing to improve his opinion of Morgan. “Your brain’s totally addled?”

“Come now, Russ. Don’t be modest. Aren’t you the best scan-tech in the quadrant?” The others had begun to show a glimmering of hope, although Rael, for one, was also looking perplexed.