Only Human (24 page)

Upon Jelani's arrival on Shaddallam, Tharron
had brought Jelani before him and, lavishly, offered him control of Delphi once
the Tughan had driven the Union out of Trans-Targon.

Jelani had not even expected this boon, so
focused was he on the opportunity to meet the Tughan Wai. But Delphi was his
birthright! A birthright stolen from him when Phera disowned him for offering Kiran
to the Shantirate almost six years ago. Then, rubbing salt into Jelani's
wounds, Phera had made Kiran his heir, binding him to Delphi's court lest he be
tempted to leave the necessary protection of the Shantirate. It had been
Phera's mistake to allow Tychon to take the child from Delphi.

Jelani took a few steps into the room. “Kiran?"

"Shan Jelani!" The child jumped
up and raced toward his uncle. "Have you come to take me back to Feyd? Can
we leave now?"

His uncle awkwardly patted the boy's curls.
"Not yet, Kiran. I don't have a plane to go that far, you see? Your father
will come for you soon."

"Yes, Shanee, Ema said you need an
Eagle to come all that way. Only Dadda has an Eagle."

How easy this deception was! Too young to
understand space travel and well used to his father’s frequent absences, none
of this seemed troublesome to the child. He had simply gotten lost and Tychon
would soon come to take him home.

"Indeed he does," Jelani said. He
pulled up a chair. "He asked me to check up on you once in a while until
he can get here." He held out a hand. "May I?"

In answer, the boy stepped closer and Jelani
touched his forehead.

Tell me how you like it here. Are the
people nice?
he asked conversationally.
Is that
a midgie in that bottle?

Kiran began to relate his feelings about
Shaddallam, mentally prattling about his day, which revolved mostly around his
nurse, Ema, and a few of the diminutive Shaddallama children still living in
this town. Barely listening, Jelani closed his eyes and began to pry into Kiran's
complex levels of consciousness.

It was there!

It was all there, as planned. Lying dormant
within Kiran was the knowledge and the power to give life to the Tughan Wai. It
was infinite in its possibilities, waiting only for the key to put it all
together. Jelani sighed, tempted to search further.

No!
The khamal
slammed shut, expelling Jelani with enough force to cause physical pain. His
hands flew to his temples.

"I'm sorry, Shanee!" Kiran cried.
"I don't know why I did that. Did I hurt you?" The boy's lower lip
trembled.

Jelani blinked at him. "No, of course
not.” He forced a wan smile. “You can go back to your midgie now. I will see
you at breakfast.” He rose abruptly and staggered into the corridor, blindly
feeling his way along the hall while a murderous pain in his head nearly
brought him to his knees.

Of course! Certain safeguards had been
installed to protect the sleeping Tughan from hapless intruders. There was so
much to learn! He found his way into the room where the K'lar giant awaited his
analysis.

"Well?" Tharron growled. He had been
in an expansive, easy mood upon Jelani's arrival. Now his expression was sour.
His fist, as usual, was curled around a bottle of vile-smelling liquid.

In his excitement, the Shantir took no
notice of his host's foul temper and did not notice that those who constantly
hovered around the leader were now doing so at a safe distance. "It is
he," Jelani proclaimed. "You have the Tughan Wai!"

"Good," Tharron said. "Get
to work, Shantir. I want the Union destroyed! You hear me, Shantir? Their very bones
I want pulverized and scattered from one cursed end of this galaxy to
another!" He took a deep draught from his flask.

Jelani noticed the uncertain glances from
Comori and the carefully subdued, amused expression on Pe Khoja's streamlined
face. "Tharron…"

"You will address me as 'My Lord' or
you will see your precious Delphi burn!"

Jelani looked for help to Comori who merely
shrugged. "My Lord," he began again. "I must return to Delphi
for more information. A little more study. I know where to find it."

"Delays! You told me that you can do
what must be done to release this Tughan. Are you saying that you are incapable
of it?"

 "No, Lord, not at all. It is only a
small matter without which I cannot proceed. I will be gone no more than a few
days if I can prevail upon one of your pilots once again. Then the training may
begin." Jelani did not dare tell Tharron that, although he would indeed
return to Shaddallam within days, Kiran's conversion from child to Tughan could
take months, perhaps years. He would find out soon enough. Jelani looked
forward to the creation. Kiran would become his pupil, growing toward his
future under the Shantir's careful supervision. Many Shantirs had been trained
for this; only he, Jelani, would actually see the wonder unfold!

Tharron regarded him with red-rimmed eyes.
"Whatever. Be gone. But be certain, Shantir, that if you cross me, Delphi
will burn. And it will not take the Tughan to destroy your pitiful
cities!"

 "I guarantee that I will return
quickly," Jelani said, honestly surprised that anyone would doubt his
word. "Then we can go to work."

Tharron grunted, staring out of a window
overlooking the court yard as if to find something out there in the dark.
"First among the dead," he said, "will be that woman. I will
tear her limb from limb with my own hands!"

"Nova?" Jelani said. "But
she is dead!"

The horrible noise issuing from their
leader might have been laughter. "Through my fingers, once again! How many
times has she escaped? How many of my best men has she destroyed?" Tharron
shook his large head, slowly. "No more, Shantir, no more. No more sniping
from the shadows. Next time she will be brought to me alive. It will be Tharron
who will terminate her personally." He waved an arm in a broad gesture.
"Comori! Comori will see to it that she does not die quickly."

Dawn on Delphi was, at worst,
inspirational. Each of the short seasons here, north of the richly forested
equator, greeted the morning sun in a different, yet equally breathtaking way.
Just now, Delphi's star began to tint the Chaliss'Ya mountain range pink, revealing
the distant snow-covered peaks against a pale blue sky. Soon life-giving light
descended onto the valley floor to blot out the morning mist with its warmth
and energy. The brief dawn passed in minutes, turning night into day,
illuminating the cool, moist richness of Delphi's Chaliss valley.

On one of many balconies, Cylas stood
motionless in the face of such beauty, all that made up his mind and body open
to the sun, reaching out across the breathtaking vista. He wore only loose-fitting
blue trousers to feel the delicious chill of the fresh new day. His heart was
one with the flow of life. His mind was one with the tides of the universe. His
body was one with the power of nature. He was happy.

When the sun had climbed above Chaliss'ya's
peaks and begun its journey to the opposite range, Cylas returned indoors, this
morning's exercise complete, already anticipating tomorrow's. He slipped a
tunic over his slight body, twisted his hair into a neat blue braid and left
his rooms to begin his day's duties. The corridor was abuzz with blue-robed men
and women, equally pleased by the blessing of the dawn. Their sun had been
their first god; all of the Shantirs' bed chambers faced toward morning.

There were forty Shantirs currently living
in the sect's main enclave within the city of Chaib Psa. Here they taught
promising acolytes and dispensed the mind-healing to a people that would never
know a doctor or need a hospital. This house was neither church nor monastery.
Religion had very little to do with the daily activities of the Shantirs. No
prayers ever rang through these halls and abstinence among the Shantirs was
rare and purely by choice. The sect had learned to conduct their public
business amidst rites and mysterious symbolism simply because outsiders
preferred to believe in a superior being than in a superior mind.

He climbed a staircase to what was truly
the think-tank of all of Delphi. A broad corridor led to Chaib Psa's wealthiest
library. It contained ancient scrolls, skins and musty tomes doused liberally
in preservatives, and archives dating back thousands of years. It was Cylas’
duty to preserve and maintain this collection, making some of the priceless
items available as needed and to assemble lectures for the sect's teachers. But
this was also the site of an electronic information storage system that
contained more knowledge than could ever be shelved in a thousand of these
rooms. Some of the secrets stored here were of such importance that they were
shielded from any outside transmission.

He opened the door to the library, ready to
sift through the day's requests from teachers and scholars.

"Holy Gods!" he exclaimed.
"You gave me quite a start!"

Someone was hunched over one of the access
ports. He spun around when Cylas' words cut through the silent chamber.

The librarian stepped into the room.
"Shan Jelani, is it not?" He smiled and touched his palms together in
greeting when he recognized the elder Delphian who was not only a seasoned
Shantir but also of the house of Phera.

"It is," Jelani replied crisply.

Cylas saw another man to his right, bent
over a display case. He was dressed in the long robe of an acolyte and had not
as much as turned to see who had entered. A deep hood covered his face
completely.

 The young Shantir approached Jelani. He
had heard of this Shantir prince who traveled freely among Union stations on
diplomatic missions. Could he be engaged in a conversation? Cylas yearned to
learn about his work among the off-worlders. It was some moments before he saw
where Jelani was standing.

"Shan Jelani, that port is restricted!
How did you obtain the access code? Have you made recordings? Who authorized
this?" He stared in disbelief at the data on the screen. No one was
permitted to access that information. The consent of three Shantirs and the
Council was required before the file could be opened. It was quite possibly the
most dangerous information stored in this room and no one, including Cylas, its
keeper, had ever accessed it since it had been stored.

It described the mental block that held
back the Tughan Wai!

Cylas staggered backward, his eyes full of
fear and understanding. He groped for the door behind him, unable to force his
voice to call out for help.

Then a strong hand gripped his thin
scholar's shoulder. A lightning bolt of pain shot into his back, finding his
heart. He stared at the still immobile Shantir before him, knowing that he, Cylas,
would be spared from ever knowing the ungodly terror that was Delphi's most
ambitious creation. He died quickly.

Jelani broke out of his trance and rushed
to the lifeless librarian.

"He won't need your help,
Shantir," Pe Khoja said and threw his hood back. He inspected the long
needle in his hand, still dripping a clear poison. Gingerly, he returned it
into its sheath lashed to his forearm. "Did you get what you came
for?"

"You killed him!" Jelani accused.

"I noticed." Pe Khoja stepped
over the body to return to the display case. His expression had not changed.
The yellow eyes remained flat and lifeless as he mused over a work of intricate
poetry, his command of Delphi mainvoice flawless.

"You're a monster!"

Pe Khoja shifted to another scroll.
"And you are a monster maker. Mind if I keep this?" The butt of his
sidearm shattered the glass case. He brushed a few shards from the vellum and
rolled it carefully. "Finish what you were doing."

Jelani took a few minutes to bring himself
under control. "Cha'hab' dai vyella'na, na vyella sar sari," he
whispered, calming. "Monster maker?"

Pe Khoja regarded him coldly. "Isn't
that what you're doing? Do you think Lord Tharron is going to play Points with
him? Discuss the meaning of life, maybe?"

Jelani turned away to shut the access port
down. "Meaning of life," he said bitterly. "What meaning does
life hold for you?"

The Caspian strode to a small door set
unobtrusively between two of the far wall shelves.
About as much it does Tharron,
he thought, impatient to be gone from this sleepy little planet.

Pe Khoja was a ruthless, cruel being with
few emotions. His intelligence made him valuable, his absence of conscience or
pity made him even more so. He knew that he was incapable of joy or pleasure
and he struggled daily to keep his baser instincts in check. As a result, all
he ever felt was a complete lack of satisfaction. Forever the outsider, he
looked at this universe with detached interest, hoping for a glimpse at
something larger.

There had to be something larger. Pe Khoja
needed more than this. Things might have been different for him had the Union
discovered him before Tharron. But it had not and Pe Khoja had become a rebel,
rising quickly through the ranks until he was indispensably installed in Tharron's
inner circle. Neither side of this war interested him. He cared nothing for the
Union's civilian activities or their control over most of Trans-Targon. Tharron
had quickly ceased to awe him and the K'lar's cowardly rebellion against the
Union was becoming tiresome.