razorsedge (66 page)

* * *

What the hell's she doing?
Rezac demanded of Kris.
Leaving with Taradain,
the Human sent.
She says she wants her things taken to his room. I can't reach her any more than you can! God knows what she's up to, but it appears she's going with him willingly.
Do something! Stop her!
Rezac raged.
There's nothing I
can
do! She'll be doing it for a reason, and if I interfere, it could cost us our lives!
If I were there...
Rezac began.
You'd do what? Just remember she's our leader, Rezac. She knows what she's doing, even if we don't.
I'll not have my...
Your what?
Kris' mental tone was incandescent.
She doesn't belong to you! Sleeping with the enemy is what she's trained to do!
Abruptly, Rezac's presence was gone.

* * *

Taradain's chamber was not unlike theirs. Untidier, the fire still burning even on a spring night, but the same in all important respects save one. It was on the first floor, and there was a window. Shivering, Jo waited for the young man to close the door then rounded on him. "This is despicable of you," she said. "To use my friend's life as a means of forcing me to sleep with you is utterly despicable."
Ignoring her, he walked over to the table and picked up the bottle of wine standing there. Two goblets stood side by side and into these he emptied the bottle.
Picking them up, he held one out to her. "Drink. It helps dull the senses."
She noticed his hand was shaking slightly. "I don't want your damned wine!"
"You humiliated me in front of my father that day!" he said, slamming her drink back down on the table. "There was no need for what you did!"
"
I
humiliated
you?
You forced yourself into our bedroom!"
Raising his goblet, he emptied it and set it back on the table. "So what? You led me to believe you were a lady when you're nothing better than one of the women who sell themselves in the taverns for the price of an ale!"
"I'm no prostitute!"
"You sleep with that..." He stopped, lost for a word to describe Rezac. "Animal!"
"He's no animal! I told you, we're bound together. We need each other!"
"And you need me!" he said, covering the distance between them in three strides. Grasping her by the shoulders, he shook her. "I'm going to be risking everything for you, you'd better be worth it," he snarled. "How difficult can it be to pretend you're enjoying it? At least I look like one of you!"

* * *

The next day at around noon, the door to their chambers opened, admitting Taradain and Jo. Kris felt and heard Rezac's building anger, and reached out to take hold of his arm warningly.
Hear what she has to say first,
he sent to the Sholan.
Her face looked strained as she came over to them.
"Well, hello," Kris drawled, standing up. "Wondered if you were going to join us." He reached for her mind but met only the barrier again.
"Listen to me," she said in Jalnian, her voice so low it was barely audible. "I only have a few minutes. Taradain has agreed to help us. Be ready to leave in two days' time. He'll see the guards are dealt with and lead us down to an old tunnel that'll bring us up outside the castle wall. Horses will be waiting. From then, it's up to us. He says the caravan arrives tonight. In two days it leaves. He suggests we should try to join it."
"Two days?" Kris repeated, catching her eye.
"Two," she repeated, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "Be ready." She looked at Rezac. "Cause no trouble, Rezac. Just have Zashou ready, you hear me?"
Rezac continued to growl, the sound low and menacing.
"Do you hear me?" she repeated.
"I hear." His voice was almost a snarl.
"I have to go," she said, turning away.
Rezac lunged out and caught hold of her. "Jo," he began.
She shook herself free. "Two days, Rezac," she said in Sholan. "Don't make this have been for nothing."
"With you gone, and cutting yourself off mentally, I feel it like a sickness! If he keeps you here..."
"He won't," she said. "Don't let the Jalnians see what it does to you. It'll be enough that he thinks it's harming me."
Taradain strode over to her, grasping her by the arm. "Don't use that outlandish tongue. I want to hear what you're saying!"
Rezac snarled, the noise rising as he opened his mouth to roar his anger. Kris stepped between them, grasping hold of Rezac as Davies ran to help.
"I don't know what deal you made with her, Taradain," said Kris, "but you harm her and..."
"And what?" he asked, pulling Jo back with him toward the door. "You're captives, remember?"
"We'll have nothing left to lose," snarled Rezac, struggling between the two Humans. "Return her within two days, or by Varza, I will shred you and nail what's left of your hide to my wall!"
"Brave words! You wouldn't make it past the guards," Tardain said, hand fumbling behind him for the latch.

* * *

When they'd gone, Kris released the enraged Sholan. "Violence won't help," he said sharply. "You go on the warpath now and you'll ruin any hopes we have of help from Taradain."
"He's using her!"
"And she agreed to it!" said Kris.
"She had no right to..."
"She had every right! Stop acting like a fool, Rezac! Zashou's getting worse, we have to take any opportunity we can to escape! The cost justifies saving lives, and only Jo could decide to pay the price, not us!"
"She's done it before, we told you, she told you," said Davies, releasing him.
Rezac let out a low sound of anguish, turning away from them. "She'd just begun to forget that life, to enjoy being loved! You think I didn't see the bruises on her wrists?"
Kris caught Davies' eye. He lifted his shoulders in a mute gesture. "She wasn't good when she came back from a tour at Geshader or Tashkerra," he said quietly. "She had to spend some time in our sick bay. The Valtegans weren't gentle with our women. She can cope."
"There's nothing we can do, Rezac, except not screw it up for her," said Kris, reaching out to touch the other comfortingly.
"When we escape, I will have that one," Rezac snarled, turning round. "I will kill him before we leave!"
"You'll leave him alone! For all we know, Jo asked
him
to help us! You have no proof of any coercion! We take what's offered and leave! If he fails to return Jo, that's another matter. Now let's get back to work. Killian could turn up at any time and we don't want him thinking we're not doing our best for him."

* * *

As Jo had said, the caravan arrived that evening. The courtyard was a hive of bustling activity as stalls were put up for the following day. That night, they ate up in their chambers, the noise from the caravans still drifting up to them.
Jo remained mentally unreachable by either of them, but, at the evening meal the following night, after Railin's stories, Kris had the opportunity to exchange a few words with her.
"How are you?" he asked. "Rezac saw bruises on you. We've been worried."
She frowned. "Bruises?"
"Your wrists." Kris indicated them.
"Oh, those," she said, looking at her wrist. "I got them the night we talked at the pillar. It's nothing."
"You sure? You don't look well. Don't cut us off, Jo. You're making both you and Rezac suffer Link deprivation. If you keep it up, neither of you will be in a fit state to do anything."
She raised her head to look him squarely in the face. "You think I want either of you there, inside my head, at this time?"
"I'll stay out, but let Rezac back. I honestly think you're making it worse for both of you. I've never seen him so worried."
She considered it for a moment. "Very well, I'll open the Link a fraction, enough for him to be aware of me, no more. Tell him not to force a greater contact."
"I'll speak to him. Railin says he'll not interfere in our plans and the caravan will wait for us ten miles outside the town. They'll organize trouble with one of the wagons and need to stop to fix it."
She nodded absently as she saw Taradain returning. "No more, please. Rezac should have a package for you. Our kit. Taradain got it back for us."
"How's he going to get away with this? Surely his father's going to know he's responsible."
"He's got it covered," she said, putting on a smile and beginning to get to her feet. "We'll come for you late tomorrow night," she murmured. "Be ready."

* * *

Morning saw the four of them sharing breakfast downstairs in the tap room. At this time of day, with only the spacers there, it was quiet. Their Sumaan crew was just leaving for the
Hkariyash
to work on the engines. A message from Assadou was handed to them by one of the servants: Carrie and Kusac were to meet with the Chemerian at the eleventh hour in the Port Hotel. Meanwhile, they were to discover which Lords currently had agents in the Port. They were usually to be found in the Meeting Point Tavern.
Kaid and T'Chebbi decided they would return to the ship. Ostensibly they'd help with repairs, but actually they'd use the opportunity to poke around the maintenance sheds, looking for spares in the hope of hearing some useful gossip.
Carrie and Kusac took the time to amble down the town's only street as tourists— spacers on leave for a few days with money in their pockets to burn. Most of the stalls were already doing a brisk trade and despite having just breakfasted, they found the smells of cooked food too good to ignore. They stopped at one selling meat rolls and continued on their way, munching contentedly.
"These are good," said Carrie, stopping to catch a handful of crumbs as a corner of flaking pastry fell.
"Popular, too," agreed Kusac, cramming the last piece into his mouth. "That's usually a sign of good food. We need to watch what we eat here, though. The last thing we need is to be laid low because of an infection from the local food."
She murmured an assent before letting out an "Oh!" of surprise and heading straight for a stall selling knives of all types from kitchen utensils to jeweled eating knives. Some ten minutes and a lot of spirited haggling later, Carrie had bought an eating knife. Six inches in length, narrow of blade, it ended in a lethal point. The tang had been encased within wood so black it resembled ebony, contrasting vividly with the polished steel quillons. The pommel was a single translucent milky-white stone with a heart of lilac-colored veining that spread in tendrils toward the surface.
As she ambled along fastening its plain black scabbard to her belt, Kusac took her by the arm, drawing her toward the buildings opposite the stalls.
"Meeting Point," he said, tilting his chin and flicking an ear in the direction of the sign overhead.
This tavern was obviously intended for business use. Wide rectangular tables with roomy padded benches and wooden armchairs were set in individually walled alcoves. It was a far cry from the scarred wooden dining tables and plain benches at their inn. Several of the alcoves, their tables covered with papers, were already occupied by Sumaan and U'Churian crews deep in conversation.
They made their way to the bar, ordered a couple of ales, then went to find somewhere to sit. Before they settled themselves, a shadow loomed over them. Looking up, Kusac saw Captain Tirak.
"I had not thought to see you again so soon," the captain said. "Join us. I presume you're here to locate the various agents."
"We are indeed," said Kusac, beginning to rise. "It would be a pleasure to join you."
Carrie looked up at him as she rose to her feet, noticing that as she did, the U'Churian gave a small start of surprise. As they headed over to where two of his crew sat, she probed gently at the edges of his mind. Once more she met the mental barrier. Switching her attention, as she smiled in greeting and sat down again beside Kusac, she touched the minds of the other two. Again the same barrier. It was uniform for the three of them.
Crude but effective,
sent Kusac.
You're right, though. It isn't a natural one. I'd say they've come across telepaths already.
More than that, his was the mind I touched when we landed here. There was no barrier then,
sent Carrie.
Curious and curiouser. We'd do well to be on our guard with them.
"Sheeowl and Manesh," Tirak said, indicating his two crew members. "If I remember, you're Carrie and Kusac."
Kusac nodded.
Their ales arrived and as they tasted them, Carrie pulled a face.
"Not to your liking?" asked Sheeowl, pushing her tankard forward. "Try this. It's a local hot beverage and more pleasant than the recycled dishwater they serve here."
Carrie tasted it gingerly, a smile of surprise crossing her face. "It's like chocolate!"
Sheeowl raised her brows. "Chocolate?" she asked. "A Solnian drink?"
"Similar. Ours needs sweetening as it's quite bitter. This is much more pleasant."
Sheeowl looked toward the bar and, raising her hand, indicated her drink and held up two digits. "Share one with me," she said.
Tirak turned back to Kusac. "Agents. What goods are you after this trip?"
"Not after. I'm to sound out the market available for Solnian crafts."
"Ah. New markets," he nodded. "Anything that might interest us?"
Kusac shrugged. "Tastes differ. Doubtless when Assadou's finished showing our samples to the Jalnian agents, he'll make them available to the interested captains."
Tirak sighed. "As usual, we'll get to see the tag ends that no one else wants. Nothing changes." He took a drink of his own ale. "Sound business practice, though, considering most of us have our cargoes already spoken for. Few of us have the money to buy extra goods. This damned backwater planet runs a cash only system, no credits."
"Sarak's and Haram's agents just came in, Captain," said Manesh.
Tirak looked over to where the two wealthily dressed Jalnians were standing by the alcove nearest the door. "They'll come over to us at some point," he said. "We have goods for them on board the
Profit.
I'll introduce you, if you wish."
"How many Lords does Bradogan allow to trade here?" asked Carrie.
Tirak turned to her in surprise. "Your command of our language is excellent," he said.
"I had plenty of time to learn it during the journey here," she replied, catching his eye in a long stare before blinking slowly.
"Ten," he replied, breaking the contact and blinking rapidly a couple of times.
They don't like sustained eye contact,
she sent to Kusac.
"They pay quite high taxes to Bradogan for the privilege of trading with us," Tirak continued. "The agents live and work in the town, coming here regularly to deal with us. Are you after someone specific?"
"Assadou wants us to meet with them all, give them our sales pitch and see who's interested. Then we'll set up a meeting for them with Assadou."
"Wait here long enough and they'll all turn up," said Sheeowl, taking the drinks from the servant and handing her a couple of coins. "They watch for the new arrivals and come here to meet them. They already know there's a new species wanting to trade." She pushed a tankard over to Carrie.
"The bulk of our cargo is cloth for Lord Turna and he's due to meet us at some point this morning. You're welcome to remain with us during our business meeting." He shot another glance across the table at Carrie. "Perhaps your companion will learn by listening to our bargaining."
"She's a pretty shrewd negotiator in her own right," said Kusac wryly. "But knowledge of the local agents and how they operate would be very useful. We'll accept your offer with thanks."
"Cloth," said Carrie thoughtfully, sipping her warm drink. "If I remember correctly, cloth is not something your world is known for; rather, it's a product you import in bulk."
"Ordinarily, you'd be correct," said Manesh, "but this is a cargo of open weave cloth suitable for using for preserved meats and such like. It's a trial order. Lord Turna wants to see if it's cheaper and better for the job than the local product he uses."
Trick question, I think,
sent Carrie.
I sensed their surprise in their body language when they realized I knew about the cloth. Watch them, they're definitely suspicious of us already.