razorsedge (41 page)

* * *

Pain was the first thing she was aware of when she came to. She tried to open her eyes, panicking until she remembered he'd hit her. Putting a hand experimentally up to her face, she gently probed the blood-encrusted cut on her forehead and the puffy eye beneath it. No wonder she couldn't open it. Licking her fingers, she gently eased the eyelashes apart and attempted to open her eyes again. Only a crack, but it was enough. She could still see, the Gods be praised!
She tried moving then, unable to stop a groan escaping her as she pulled herself free from the tangle of chairs. Landing on hands and knees, she collapsed to the floor, every muscle and joint a jangle of pain.
"Bring them here," a harsh, sibilant voice ordered her.
She froze, then lifting her head, looked toward the table where Kezule was finishing his last meal of the day.
"I've humored you long enough. It's over."
Getting stiffly to her feet, she picked up one of the utilitarian metal chairs and limped over to the table. Keeping her distance, she pushed it toward him then, as swiftly as she could, headed back for the other. When she'd done, she retreated to her corner, head throbbing, body aching.
She watched him eating, the smell of raw meat and fresh blood making her stomach growl with hunger. When he looked in her direction, she drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face against her knees. She did not want him noticing her.
Ignoring her completely, he finished his food, licked his hands clean, and got up. He was tired, but until he knew he could trust her not to try and murder him in his sleep, he couldn't afford the luxury of more than a series of naps.
He lay facing the room, head turned toward her corner, and shut his eyes. He'd purposely left the remains of his meal out as a temptation for her. If they wouldn't feed her, he'd have to, once she realized he was the master. They'd taught him that lesson, now he'd teach her; she would eat only at his pleasure.
He'd dozed and wakened several times before he sensed her moving. She'd done well to last this long, he thought grudgingly. He'd not have been so patient. Waiting till her hand was reaching out for his plate of scraps, he leaped from the bed, landing beside her. One hand flattened hers to the table, the other grasped her by the throat.
Her cry of terror was strangled before she'd made it. "A born thief," he said with contempt, tongue flicking toward her face till it almost touched her. "I told you next time you'd die."
Her free hand scrabbled at his as she squirmed, trying to break loose. Her mouth opened as she tried desperately to speak. He relaxed his hold a fraction, just enough for her to catch her breath.
"Please, I have to eat! I've had nothing for days!"
"The dead don't eat." He let her see his needle-sharp teeth. "Maybe I use you as food." He let his tongue flick out to touch her face this time. She tasted vile, but it was necessary.
"I'm not food," she wept. "You can't eat me! I'm a person, for Vartra's sake!"
"You're nothing. Your own people don't want you. They let you starve, not me," he said, releasing her other hand.
"Please, don't kill me." She was whimpering in earnest now, tears coursing down her face, mingling with the dried blood. "I'll do anything, anything you want, only don't kill me."
With a noise of disgust, he let her go, watching as she collapsed in a small, sobbing heap on the floor. "You aren't worth killing, certainly not worth eating." He turned his back on her, returning to sit on his bed. "Clean yourself up," he ordered. "Your stench is offensive."
He watched her push herself upright and make her way painfully to the basin. Filling it with water, she splashed it over her face, trying to rinse the blood from her pelt. Finished, she turned and looked around for something to dry herself on. Seeing the towel, she looked over to him. He stared unblinkingly at her. She hesitated, then lifted the hem of her tunic, patting her face dry on that.
Stretching out on his bed, he ignored her, waiting to see what she'd do next. It was a good fifteen minutes before she spoke.
"I need to eat," she said in a small voice.
"No. Your feeding is not my concern."
She began to weep. "Please, your scraps... If you don't want them... I'm so hungry!"
He considered it for a moment. She was desperate now. If he didn't let her have them, she might do something reckless. After all, she had nothing to lose.
"Bring them to me."
With pathetic eagerness, she scurried over to the table, retrieved the plate, and approached him, holding it out at arm's length.
He took it from her, picking over the scraps, watching her as he did so. Her ears, which had risen, began to fall backward till he could no longer see them amid her hair. Picking up a morsel, he put it in his mouth. A tiny whimper escaped her.
Abruptly he handed the plate back to her. "You eat when I say you can eat," he said. "Take it and go back to your corner."
Clutching the plate tightly to her chest, she limped back to her barren sanctuary, hunkered down on her heels and waited.
Disgusted, he snarled, "Eat it!" and shut his eyes. He couldn't stand to see her eagerness to eat what he considered carrion. He'd owned a pet before, all leading members of the military had a pet telepath, but he'd treated him well, for a slave. This went against the grain. Even inferior species deserved some dignity, but his captors had placed him in this position. The score was mounting, and one day, he'd exact a proper price for the indignities and injuries to his person. Meanwhile, he had to make sure this female didn't dare pose a threat to him.

* * *

"Thank Vartra!" Mito sighed. "I thought he'd let her starve to death."
"I didn't think that," said Rhyaz, "but I think it was close. I was depending on his sense of what was right and proper to save her. He considers it our dereliction of duty that she's starving, but we've made it his responsibility, and he isn't one to shirk those, however unpleasant. How is she coping?" he asked Zhyaf. "How much of that was acting on Keeza's part?"
"None," said the telepath shortly. "She made use of what she'd learned with the Consortias, but that was real."
"In a day or two, I think Myak will pay him a visit. A few goodies now would go down well."
"What about the food?" asked Anders. "Does he get more to account for feeding her?"
"Not yet. She can survive for a couple of days on the scraps that Kezule will let her have."
"What reason are you going to give him for leaving Keeza there?" asked Mito.
"Whim. Remember, I'm the one who enjoys inflicting pain and humiliation on both of them," he said with a wry smile. "I don't need reasons. You needn't stay any longer. We've seen what we needed to for tonight. The next shift's been waiting for the last hour. Go and get some rest."
"Don't you find it difficult to play a part like this?" asked Mito, gathering her personal belongings.
Rhyaz afforded her a curious look. "You get used to it. Reminding myself what's at stake makes it easier."

* * *

When breakfast arrived, Kezule strolled over to the cage, taking the first chiddoe out and releasing it.
"You want to eat, you catch it," he said. "Kill it and bring it to me, then you can have some."
She looked at him in horror. "I can't kill it!"
The blow was light by Valtegan standards, but it still sent her reeling across into the table. The chiddoe squeaked and dashed under the bed.
"Address me as General," he hissed, "and don't ever tell me what you can't do! You will obey me in everything, instantly, and without argument. Understood?"
"Yes, General," she mumbled, regaining her balance.
His hand grasped her by the throat again, and squeezed. This time, he let her feel the sharpness of his claws. "Maybe I eat you after all, for being so clumsy." His face was almost touching hers, and he made sure she got a close look at his teeth.
"Yes, General," she said, her good eye wide with terror.
He released her. "Now catch it!"
Her chase did afford him some small amount of amusement as he sat and prepared the other chiddoe. Her bruises and hunger had slowed her down, and she was hard pushed to corner the little rodent. Finally she trapped it under one of the blankets he'd given her permission to use. Had he not, she'd still have been chasing it by the time his last meal of the day arrived.
She stood with the squirming creature held in front of her for him to see.
"Now kill it," he said.
She tried to strangle it, but only got herself bitten in the process.
"Surely you know how to kill!" he said in exasperation.
She shook her head.
He showed her, then demonstrated how to skin and gut it. Slicing off a haunch, he threw it to her. Snatching it up, she retreated to her corner and sat waiting. For a moment he was baffled, knowing how hungry she was, then he remembered. "You may eat," he said.

* * *

Over the next couple of days, he found tasks for her to perform, simple ones that he could well have done himself, but he'd decided she should earn her right to eat. When there was nothing to do, he made her sit in her corner.
For each meal, he made her fetch a chiddoe and watched as she killed and prepared it, dealing her a blow each time she didn't do it the way he'd shown her. Then he'd eat it before getting the second one himself. Sometimes he left her only the scraps, others, a piece of raw meat.
On the third day, shortly before the last meal was due, the door slid open, admitting two troopers who immediately took up positions covering him with their rifles.
"General Kezule. It's nice to see you again," said Sub-Lieutenant Myak, strolling in behind them. "I've been authorized to let you have another item or two." He gestured toward the still open door through which two more troopers entered. Going straight to the bed, they lifted it up. Staggering slightly under its weight, they carried it from the room, tilting it on its side to get it through the doorway.
Kezule was extremely curious, but he kept his gaze on Myak. He saw the female raise her head and move slightly as if to get up, then, as she caught sight of his eyes flicking in her direction, she subsided again.
A few minutes later, the males reentered, carrying a different bed, one that began look more familiar as it was righted to carry it across the room.
"I think you'll find this more suited to you than the beds we use," Myak said. "The rewards of cooperation. Have you had any thoughts on items you would like us to find for you?"
"I need little," Kezule replied shortly.
"Very well. Remember, cooperation will make your life more comfortable." He turned to leave, then stopped to look over his shoulder. "We have more books, and more of that herb. I hope I have the opportunity to give them to you soon."
"Take her," said Kezule abruptly. "Take the female with you. Her presence offends me."
Again Myak stopped. "I'm afraid I can't do that." His tone was regretful. "It's not in my authority to remove her. I can have them bring a blanket for her, though."
"She's your responsibility, not mine. Do as you wish," said Kezule dismissively.
Before the door closed, a trooper returned with a blanket which he threw at the female. She reached out to pick it up, then froze.
"Leave it," Kezule snapped, getting up and going over to the new bed. Pulling back the covers, he felt the mattress. It gave beneath his hand. He tugged it free of the retaining frame to examine it more closely. It was filled with some type of yielding substance that gave slightly when pressed, yet when released, sprang back into shape. He let it fall back into its frame. Like the books and the reader, similar yet just different enough.
He strode over to the female, catching hold of her by the hair and yanking her to her feet. "Where did they get this?" he demanded. "This wasn't left behind from the past, was it? Where did it come from?"
"I don't know," she said, hands grasping hold of his arm as she tried to find her footing. "What past? I know nothing about the past!"
He shook her like a small animal, her weight meaning nothing to him. "Don't lie! You know where it came from! Tell me!"
"I don't," she wailed, tears of pain beginning to spill from her eyes. "How should I know? I'm not one of them! I don't work for them!"
"My people, where are they?" he demanded, shaking her again. "Here, or on another world?"
"They were on the Humans' world, but we drove them off!"
He dropped her, striding back to the table. Sitting down, he began to think furiously. His people had returned but had been driven off— by these misbegotten fur-covered mammals! He began to hiss, a low sound of anger and rage. This distorted the natural order of things! They'd never been defeated before! How had this species gotten to the level where they could drive them off so easily? Could the events on Shola have been repeated throughout their Empire?
He had only a vague notion of where the home worlds of his people were in relation to Shola, though he knew the distances involved were immense. But whatever had happened, if they could get to the Humans' world, why hadn't they returned here? Was there something he'd missed by remaining on Shola during the fall of the meteorite— by being taken captive? Whatever it was, the answer was devastating for his kind, and he was sure it lay in the past, not here. If he could only return to his own time, then none of this need happen! The appearance of the items this Myak brought now made sense. They came from the Human world. He had to escape, and soon. No, he corrected himself, not soon. He had all the time he needed, if he could find those who'd brought him here and force them to return him to his own time.
The Human female had been pregnant. She'd have birthed her young by now. All to the good. The child could be the lever he needed to force them to take him back. From now on, he'd watch for any opportunities to escape, for any clue as to what went on outside those opaque doors and walls. They wanted him to request items they could find, did they? The tech level of his modern counterparts might be different, but he knew from what they'd given him already that there were strong similarities between what they had then and now. There were one or two things that might just give him the edge, items whose purpose might not be easily divined by these Sholans.
He got to his feet and went over to the bed. Carefully he lowered himself to its surface, feeling it give slowly beneath him. There had been improvements. In his time, they hadn't developed such a versatile filling. Stretching out full length, he allowed himself to experience the pleasure of feeling the mattress adjust itself to his shape, supporting yet relaxing his back at the same time. Even the riser for his head was made of the same substance. He closed his eyes, enjoying the comfort.
He came awake with a shock, quickly realizing that several hours had passed. Sitting up, he immediately looked over at the female. She was lying slumped on the floor, obviously asleep, the blanket still lying where it had been left. A glance at the table told him she hadn't touched the leavings of his meal either.
Either this was a very subtle move on their part to place a spy with him, or she was actually of no value to them. Information was what they wanted, and now he knew exactly why. His people might have been driven off, but they wouldn't have led the Sholans to their home worlds!
Did they really think he'd talk to this pitiful wretch? He, a General, one of the Chosen of the God-King—
May His memory be revered for all time
— would he be likely to befriend one of their females, one of breeding age who was allowed to run free? Worse, one who had been thrown into his prison, obviously for him to use? They didn't know him! And if they did, they could gauge the rest of his people accordingly, he realized. Had they been unable to secure captives, then? The Sholan telepaths wouldn't have been forgotten, they would have their place in his people's racial memory. When next they came across the Sholans, they'd recognize their species immediately. But what response would be programmed in with the memory?
He began to think it through logically. The telepaths had been trusted, taken by the highest of his people as pets, their talents used to help control the other slave races, let their masters know when they were thinking forbidden thoughts, planning escape. And they had betrayed those who'd shown them trust and favor. The natural response would be fear, and a desire to destroy them. What if they had managed to touch their masters' minds after all? His pet couldn't; he said the Valtegan mind was too different for him to read. He wasn't lying, of that Kezule was sure. But what if some of them
were
able to touch his people's minds? Highly talented ones? He seemed to remember that they sometimes formed pairs. Yes, pairs of them might prove powerful enough to reach a mind so superior to theirs. Then the response would be to keep away from such people, to kill them on sight lest they touch their minds. And if these Sholan pairs had had such abilities, the first to be affected would be the highest within the Empire, those who had the highly prized pairs... perhaps the God-King Himself!
He shivered, his blood running cold as he grasped the enormity of what might have happened the day that the Sholans had struck back. Their mental attack could have been repeated throughout the colonized worlds, causing the same devastation that Shola had suffered, completely wiping out the top layers of Valtegan society in one blow. No wonder they had never returned to this world! No wonder they had been driven off the Human planet! So much suddenly became clear. This was why they were so desperate for information! Then he remembered the Human female again. She'd touched his mind, stolen his unspoken words. He began to sweat, smelled his own rising fear. Why hadn't they used her again? Taken from him that which they wanted? She'd been breeding, though. Maybe only the pregnant females could do it. It would explain why they'd needed Sholan help to defeat his species. Whatever the reason, they hadn't used her against him... yet. He had to get out before they loosed another pregnant Human on him.
He heard a sound from the corner where the female slept. Looking in her direction, he saw her stirring. Perhaps her presence was not such an imposition after all. Perhaps he could turn it to his advantage.