WARP world (52 page)

“I didn’t want to send that girl here. I did so to spare her a worse fate,” Seg explained.

“And now you own her,” Ama leaned back against the door and looked to one side. “This is my own fault. I got swept up in being with you and I forgot who you are. I thought—” she shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. Dagga is probably torturing my father. Right now. And I’m stuck here. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“We will go back to rescue him,” Seg said. He took a step closer to her and lowered his voice, “I promised you that, and I carry out my promises. And no, your people will not be using the retyel.” At her confused look, he gestured toward the door. “The posture of caj. Brin’s men are not to be caj.”

“Caj.” She looked into his eyes, searching, or so it seemed to him. “You have a slave, Seg. How can I believe in a man who treats a person like property?”

At her words, his face hardened, “All worlds, all cultures, have their own customs. Every society finds its own way. This is ours. Whether I agree with it or—”

“It’s barbaric.”

“On your world, are women allowed to hold positions of power? Are they considered equals to men? Were you encouraged to seek out independence and freedom?”

“No, but—”

“The People of my World consider that barbaric. And yet your kind consider this both normal and necessary.”

“Not all of us.”

“And not all of us keep caj,” he gave a significant glance at Jarin’s residence. “There are outliers in every social group, on every world. This does not alter the facts of the matter.”

“So…you’re going to keep her? Your caj?”

“She’s been registered,” Seg answered, then added, “which means she must stay on my World, forever.”

“I’m not…registered, am I?”

“Only with the Guild. Not formally, not as property of the World and the People, no.”

“I can leave.”

Seg’s jaw tensed slightly, “It will be difficult, but not impossible, yes.”

“Good.”

As if a cord had been cut, Seg backed away from her, a cold mask of indifference dropped over his face. “Yes, as you should,” he said, straightening his coat. “You don’t belong here. I must return to my work, Jarin will see to your needs until it is time to return to your world.”

With that, he took a few more backward steps, then whirled around and walked away.

Ama walked a few paces after Seg then halted, watching until he turned a corner and vanished. She lingered there long after he was out of sight. Eventually the door slid open and Jarin stood silhouetted in the entrance.

“Come in, Amadahy,” Jarin said. “He won’t be coming back.” He placed a hand on her elbow and pulled her inside.

She raised her head and caught a glimpse of movement from inside. Dark hair, disappearing behind a corner. Lissil, watching and listening. Spying.

“Thank you,” Ama said, and pried her elbow away from Jarin, “but I can look after myself.”

“Not here. It is not possible,” he said. “Here, the People will kill you if you do not present the public appearance of compliance.”

Ama saw in his eyes that this was no threat, merely a statement of fact. She nodded, “I’ll do what I need to do.” She paused, still seeing Seg walking away from her. “It will happen though, won’t it? The raid?”

Jarin hesitated. “We will do everything we can to make it happen, yes. And I will do everything I can to see you returned to your world safely. You have my word on this.”

“I hope so,” she said, eyes on the closed door. “I hope so.”

On a thin mat, back to the Welf, Ama stared at a bare wall. Jarin had apologized for the sleeping arrangements. He kept no caj himself and had only recently cleared out a small storage room for Lissil, and now Ama, to call a bedroom. Behind her, she heard the rasp of the brush Lissil pulled through her long, silken hair in methodical strokes.

“Lord Eraranat’s very handsome,” Lissil mused in a singsong voice.

Ama didn’t bother to answer.

“He’s only just starting in his career, too,” she continued. “Master Svestil says he is poised to become a great man. And, when that happens, I will be at his side.”

“As his property,” Ama muttered.

Lissil let out a throaty laugh. “And you believe that is so terrible?”

“Don’t you?” Ama asked, turning to face Lissil.

“I consider it an honor.”

“To be a slave?”

“To be claimed by a man of such power.”

The old antipathy she felt toward the Welf surfaced. Had they not rolled over so easily for the Shasir, the spooks wouldn’t be sitting in power today, and her people would be free. “I’d rather die than live as a slave.”

“Then you’re a fool and he’s better off without you.” Lissil tilted her head to one side, but paused the brush mid-stroke as she scrutinized Ama’s face. “Ah, now I understand.” Her full lips split into a smile. “You’re in love with him.” She nodded and resumed her grooming.

“I am not. I…you don’t know anything.” Ama turned her face away so that Lissil couldn’t read it any longer, though she suspected she was too late.

“I know men,” Lissil purred. “Who knows, he might have some feelings for you, though certainly not because of your looks. Maybe you thought he might ask you to be his mate? Let me spare you the heartache because it can never happen, not on this world. You aren’t one of the People and they would never accept you. You’re caj or nothing here.”

“Not to Seg,” Ama’s fingers dug into the mat beneath her. She didn’t know why she bothered to argue but something about Lissil’s taunts dug at a tender spot.

Lissil lowered the brush and leaned forward, both palms flat on her mat. “Does it matter? No matter how much affection he may feel for you, he can’t take you out among his people as an equal. Outside of these walls, he can’t take your hand and talk with you; you can’t look him in the eyes or call him by his name. He’d grow tired of the hiding, you’d become frustrated and anger him. One day he would simply put you aside.”

Ama turned her head away from Lissil. “It doesn’t matter what you think would happen. Once I return to our world, I won’t come back here.”

Lissil gasped dramatically, “But he’ll be heartbroken!” She laughed again. “So much better for me,” she continued, collecting herself. “He’ll be easier to guide without the distraction of some ill mannered Kenda demanding his attention.”

“
Guide
?”

“You really are the stupidest woman I’ve ever met,” Lissil said, shaking her head. “Yes, guide. What? You think all slaves are powerless? On our world, Damiar and Shasir did my bidding, brought me gifts, moved me into a position of power among my people. This world is no different; Seg is no different. I’ll figure out what he needs, I always do. Give a man everything he wants and needs, surrender yourself completely, and you’d be surprised what he’ll do to keep you. Of course, that would be below you, wouldn’t it? You Kenda, so noble, so proud,” she glanced at Ama’s exposed dathe, “so secretive. You think the only way to get what you want is to fight, even when the fight isn’t winnable.”

“And you wouldn’t leave here if you had the chance?”

Lissil looked at Ama as if she had sprouted a second head. “And return to the dirt?”

“You’d be free,” Ama said, spreading her hands to indicate the world outside their tiny prison.

“Free?” She set the brush down and gave Ama her full attention. “Here, the crops never fail. If I get sick or injured, they wrap a magic sleeve on my arm and I’m cured. There’s no wood to cut because there’s no fire to burn. No freezing winters, no scalding summers, no animals to slaughter or milk, no insects lurking in the grass or buzzing around my head, no river to overflow the bank, and for that matter, no water to collect–it comes from a tap at the press of a button. Every night I sleep in safety, warm and dry. I hope I never see our backward world again. I don’t think you know what ‘free’ means.”

Ama turned her back on Lissil again, this time lying on her side and wrapping the thin blanket around her. “I don’t care what you think or what you do. Just let me sleep.”

“But you do care.” She felt Lissil’s breath on her ear. “It’s going to kill you, handing me the keys to your pathetic little kingdom, knowing your man’s hands will be on my flesh, his lips calling my name. Good. Go home Kenda. You don’t belong here.”

She pressed her lips to Ama’s ear, then rolled away and shut off the lights.
You don’t belong here
, just what Seg had said. Ama let out her breath, though she knew sleep would be slow to come. Behind her she could hear Lissil stretching on her mat, and couldn’t help wondering what she would do once she had Seg in her clutches.

It’s not your problem. Let it go.

“Sleep well, sister,” Lissil whispered, her voice the hiss of a serpent.

Once the women were tucked away in their room, Jarin left his quarters and returned to the intrans facility to consult with his peers. In the matter of the mission, he had expected Seg to be brash, arrogant and unortho—as his behavior over the meal had proved—but this business with the CWA was troubling, as was whatever was going on between him and Amadahy.

Ansin and Maryel were livid when he passed along the news that Segkel was overlooking Kenda targets and personally financing military strikes unconnected to the raid.

“This is insanity. He has to have worked out some sort of arrangement with the Outers, which means the entire operation is potentially compromised. The House could be shattered in this, and we would have to step up our quota by thirty-eight percent in order to compensate for the losses. And I mean quota overall!” Ansin slapped a hand on the table. His slight frame was rigid.

Maryel paced the meeting room, hands clasped behind her back. Her grey hair swayed as she walked. “We can forcibly alter the parameters of the raid. We supported him at your instigation,” she said as she gestured to Shyl and Jarin, “if he goes down, he takes us with him. This will be worse than Lannit.”

Shyl tapped her stylus against the table. “We could redesignate, draw down the force parameters, and bankrupt the House by forcing default on their assembled contracts. The singular target option, at best, delivers a break-even if they scoop every last dram of vita out, and if the creditors are forgiving with the defaults.” Her tone was light and hinted of sarcasm, which belied the blunt seriousness of her words.

Jarin sat silent. He had worked hard over the years to assemble this small contingent of the Guild Council and arrange for their secret meetings. Together, this bloc had proved a powerful force within the Council and he had gradually used his influence to steer them in the direction he knew was necessary. But his guidance had been subtle and slow, so much so that he could not reasonably be accused of any guidance at all. This was the key, ensuring that his agenda, beliefs and personal feelings were left out of his dealings with the bloc. If he bent them to his will here, it would demonstrate blatant favoritism for his star pupil. This would shatter their trust. Maryel, though, would have nothing of his silence.

“Speak, Jarin. Justify this madness.You’ve always been the talker,” she urged.

Jarin took a sip of water, the classic gambit to give time to assemble and order unspoken priorities. He considered his odd discussion with Amadahy. Truth? A dangerous proposition. But perhaps the time had come for danger. “None of us want to admit this,” he said, finally, “but our world is doomed.”

“Clarify,” Ansin demanded.

“What was the increase in the vita tithe after the last assessment?” Jarin asked, as he set his cup on the table.

“Seven percent,” Ansin answered.

“And that was actually a low increase. We’ve had to progressively step up operations for over a century now. The Storm hungers,” Jarin said, “and it will consume us all.”

Shyl nodded. Her face always projected a somber air but tonight her voice aligned with her features. “This is true,” she said.

Again she surprised him. Jarin raised an eyebrow at her, then looked at Maryel, who shook her head. “You are my colleagues because you represent the broad cross-section of the Guild,” he said, “and I knew that eventually we must all face this, and I would need your help to lay the groundwork.”