Between Darkness and Light (25 page)

As Shaidan reached him, his son held out his hand. Surprised, Kusac took it—Shaidan had never shown a desire for physical contact before, it had been he who'd always had to initiate it.

The small fingers fluttered briefly in his as his son moved to stand by his side. Round his own neck, his torc tingled, drawing him back to some sense of reality as he hurriedly allowed his features to blur. Shaidan tensed, reminding him that despite the psi damping collar he wore, his son could still receive telepathically—and they were touching.

Swearing silently, he knew he was caught between giving their relationship away and betraying himself to his son, but Shaidan remained silent.

Shezhul, acting as a priestess, droned on, but he heard none of it as he stared across to the other side of the altar where Zayshul now stood with Kezule, their daughter between them. His mind was filled with the buzz of those in the room, distracting him as he studied the Prime child.

Like Shaidan, round her neck she wore a beaded collar that reached midway down her chest. Unlike his, hers was shaped like an upright ovoid—an egg. He'd seen the same design tattooed on Prince Zsurtul's chest. Like the Prince's, flames came from the two halves. Suddenly, with relief, he realized the two children wore royal fertility symbols, not the costumes of slaves. Even so, he was as displeased as his crew to see Shaidan openly dressed like the Prime child.

Finally it was over, and Shaidan's hand began to pull free of his. He tightened his grip fractionally.

“Wait a moment,” he said. “I hadn't realized their hatchlings grew so fast. What's she called? You never did tell me.”

“Mayza,” Shaidan said, letting his hand relax again in his father's grasp.

“And is she replacing you in importance to the General?”

“Not yet,” the cub admitted. “She's too young and small to help him.”

“She's almost as big as you. When you're with the General, where is she?”

“In the nursery, with the other children bred like me. And the guards,” he added.

“There're nine of them,” said Kezule as he strolled over. “Though strictly speaking, they're young adults of nearly five years. My people began breeding several weeks ago. We need the children if we're to survive. Shaidan, go with Zhalmo and get changed into your tunic.”

Shaidan tugged his hand free and left with Zhalmo. Beyond him, he was aware of Zayshul leading her daughter over.

“Don't even think of it,” said Kezule harshly, turning round to watch them. “My daughter stays with us on the Command level. She has three guards on her quarters at all times.”

“I couldn't hold a child hostage, Kezule,” he said softly. “Unlike you.”

“Maybe that's the difference between us, though Shaidan isn't exactly a hostage.”

“Let us go, Kezule,” he said abruptly. “You've got what you want. Your people are forming a community. It's working, and so is the training. There's not much more we can teach them.”

“Soon, Kusac. Soon. No more of this talk in front of my wife, if you please.”

Mayza was Zayshul in miniature, right down to the iridescent skin tones. She looked, unlike Kezule's other offspring, a purebred Prime. Kezule bent down and picked her up, settling her so she was sitting on his arm while supported against his chest. There was no extra fat on her, as Sholan cubs had; she was as lean as her parents. Her large green eyes regarded Kusac thoughtfully for a moment then she leaned against her father's chest, losing interest in him.

“Purebred and in line to the throne,” Kusac murmured, wondering how he knew. “A true Warrior Intellectual like you. That's why you married Zayshul.”

“Yes,” said Kezule. “Though I intend my daughter's royal heritage to be forgotten. There's no place for Emperors here. Food is waiting on the tables, Kusac. You and your crew are invited to join us. Afterward, I'd like a few words in private with you.”

 

“He's wearing an earring,” Kezule hissed in a low voice to Zayshul, handing Mayza to M'kou to be taken to change out of her finery.

“And you used me in a bet yesterday with Kusac!” she retorted, picking up some spiced vegetable protein balls and putting them on a plate for her daughter.

“I did no such thing!”

“Don't lie to me, Kezule. I know you did,” she said coldly.

“I expected him to ask for extra time with Shaidan; instead he wanted to speak to you. You had no cause to go putting one of your earrings in his ear! You've drawn attention to the two of you!”

She turned her head to look at him. “You keep calling him my Sholan, and everyone can smell my scent marker on him, so why shouldn't I? Your two palace females are no secret, so why shouldn't I give my supposed lover a token of affection?”

He clamped his hand over her wrist as she reached for more food. “If he wins the bet, you'll stick to what I told you to tell him, do you understand? If I find out he's learned the truth from you, you'll regret it, and so will he.”

“What will you do, Kezule?” she asked, shaking herself free. “You need him, and me, too much!”

“For a start, his chances of taking Shaidan home will diminish rapidly,” he hissed. “You'll play the part of the dutiful wife or
your
Sholan may find himself spending longer on this Outpost than either of you can imagine—and you won't be allowed near him.”

She stared at him, eyes blazing briefly before she forced herself to relax. “You're preventing me from speaking to him anyway.”

“Just play the part we agreed on, Zayshul. This isn't about him or the cub, it's about our people, recreating what was best in our kind before we lost our way and became an evolutionary dead end,” he said tiredly. “When Kusac's done what I've asked, I'll deprogram Shaidan and they can go home. Meanwhile, I have Giyarishis looking for a way to turn off the scent marker.”

“You swear?” she asked in a low voice.

“I swear.”

“Teach them Brotherhood skills? Are you out of your mind?” demanded Banner later that evening when they were alone in Kusac's quarters. “We've done enough. He should give us Shaidan and let us go.”

“Kezule has insisted on it. That's why I wanted to talk to you. I know there're some things we can safely teach them.”

“Like what? If we do, we lose our advantage over them,” exclaimed his Second, flinging himself down on the sofa and glowering across at Kusac.

“Survival skills for one. Kezule knows a fair bit since he managed to survive on Shola,” he said dryly. “We'd be teaching little that he can't teach them himself. And it's only the best of them we'd be teaching.”

“I suppose so,” Banner said grudgingly. “But how much longer does he intend to hold us here? He has his community and the training program now.”

Kusac examined his claw tips. “He'll let us leave when we've turned the best of them into a team capable of doing covert missions, like landing on Ch'almuth and infiltrating the local population. He wants to take their measure then recruit some of those with the missing genetic makeup of their Worker caste to bring back here.”

“Anything else?” Banner asked sardonically.

“Yes. Tomorrow we start teaching his officers how to train the new children.”

Banner stared at him for almost a full minute before replying. “The longer we stay here, the more of them there are and the fewer our options become. I can't see that teaching them these skills, helping this nascent colony survive, is in Shola's best interests,” he said slowly.

“What threat to Shola is Kezule? If he'd wanted to move against us, why stop the attempted assassination and coup? With his one hundred warriors, he could have easily taken control of the Prime world. Instead, he's out here, in the middle of nowhere, rebuilding his people.”

“They nearly destroyed us in his time, Kusac. They did reduce us to slavery. And here we are, 1500 years later, facing the same threat again. By helping Kezule, who knows what we're storing up for future generations? There're three planets of aggressive Valtegans out there!”

“We only face the M'zullians, not the J'kirtikkians or Ch'almuthians,” he countered. “Kezule's had enough fighting, he wants more out of life now that he's seen what it can hold.”

“I think it's you who's changed,” his Second said quietly, getting to his feet. “You who's given up fighting. I'll tell the others, but they won't like it, and neither do I.”

“Tell them they'll follow orders, or be put on charges,” he said, avoiding Banner's gaze. “There's a brig here, and plenty of manual labour to be done.” He looked up, eyes and voice suddenly cold. “Or they can Challenge me.”

Banner nodded slowly. “Be careful, Kusac, or one day someone will take you up on that.”

After Banner left, he leaned back in the chair, sighing and closing his eyes, hands clenching on the arm rests. He knew he was pushing them too hard, but what option did he have? He needed more time to work on the M'zullians with the subliminals he was using. All he'd managed to achieve was their own probable survival if the worst came to the worst and they rebelled against Kezule. Maybe this hunt planetside tomorrow, followed by their own midwinter gathering, would help release the tension they were all experiencing.

In his pocket, something hard dug into his hip. Easing himself to one side, he reached in to draw it out. It was the gift from the festival—a small statuette of La'shol.

Crouched, belly flat to the grass, hands clenched into paws, he lay still, watching the small herd of grazing beasts upwind of him. He could feel their total lack of awareness of his presence as they chewed contentedly on the lush grass at the edge of the river. The sun on his bare back and shoulders was warm, and beneath his feet, the soil felt slightly moist. He breathed deeply, savoring the smells of damp soil and sun-warmed grass a moment longer before beginning to move forward, emitting the three high-pitched yips that were his signal to the others.

He wanted the buck, the leader of the herd—not to kill, but to take back to the Outpost. It was stronger and larger than the other two already in the cages at their base camp, caught by Kezule's people. He edged forward, pausing every few paces to be sure he'd not been spotted, his sensitive nose separating out the buck's scent from among the others. As he drew closer still, and the scent filled his nostrils, he felt his heart begin to race and his breathing become rapid and more shallow. Peripheral vision disappeared as he began to enter the hunter/kill trance, all his senses focusing only on his prey. It was good for once to consciously let go of everything, including his telepathic senses, and become only an instinctive hunter.

The rest of his crew were waiting for him to move first, cutting the buck off from the herd before they came in for the kill on their own chosen targets. They had scored more than enough live captures of does over the last two days—all but one achieved cleanly, unlike Kezule's people, and even then the injury had been slight. For the remainder of today and tomorrow, they hunted for meat.

Closer and closer he inched, stopping once for as long as five minutes when something startled the herd, until he was only twenty feet from them. He waited, muscles bunched until the moment was right and he felt the buck settle down to graze again.

Springing forward, he launched himself into the open grassland, paws barely touching the ground as he closed on his prey. Suddenly, the stag lifted its head, brayed a warning, and sprang for the safety of its herd.

Noise and dust surrounded him, penetrating his trance, telling him something was very wrong. A dark shape loomed toward him, braking too late to avoid crashing into him. The herd was stampeding. Panic and fear filled his mind as they collided, pulling him back to the here and now.