Rystani Warrior 02 - The Dare (29 page)

How like a Risorian to talk in circles. “You haven’t committed, either, and we are wasting time. L’Matti’s defenses are strong. Taking the boy will be a difficult task.”

“You know where L’Matti’s keeping the Oracle?” Deckar demanded.

“Yes.”

At least he had the good sense not to ask her to reveal her source of data. She wondered if he was recording this conversation, but had accepted the risk and that possibility when she’d sent her communication.

“Why come to me?”

“Why not? You believe the boy is Tirips’ Oracle. Do you not wish to save him?”

“And your own people?”

“If L’Matti can topple the Risorian faith, it matters not to him if he darkens the souls of all Selgrens by killing a small boy in the process. Too many others agree with him.”

Avanti didn’t believe that Kirek was the Oracle, and neither did L’Matti. The difference between them was that she wasn’t so insane that she’d let an innocent child die to prove the Risorians were wrong.

Deckar’s eyes narrowed. “Not all Selgrens agree?”

“Of course not. But there are spies everywhere. I do not know who among my people might carry back tales to L’Matti.”

“If I help, if we rescue the Oracle, you then expect me to just let him go?”

“I expect more than that from you, Risorian Deckar. I expect you to aid in the offworlders’ escape. No one can ever know that we aided the boy or our heads will not remain attached to our shoulders.”

“I see no profit in your idea.”

“Besides preventing the murder of your Oracle?” she taunted him, but her hopes plummeted. She’d known winning his help would be difficult. She must have been wrong that he had a heart beneath that cold facade.

“Perhaps it is Tirips’ wish that he die. Perhaps only his death will bring peace.”

His suggestion was outrageous. Even she who did not believe in Tirips couldn’t believe he’d said such terrible words. Since he wouldn’t help her on a religious basis, she tried to appeal to the Risorian’s fiscal interests on Kwadii. With the riots, their mines had shut down. They had to be losing a huge income stream. “If the Oracle escapes, tensions will return to normal. The riots will stop. Commerce will begin anew.”

“Maybe so. Maybe not.”

Avanti only had one more secret, one more argument to employ to convince him. She wielded the intelligence information from her spies like a weapon. Hoping it wasn’t a futile stab, she played her last gambit. “The Oracle has given L’Matti a message for us and all of Kwadii.”

“Which is?” Not one emotion flickered across Deckar’s face. He didn’t so much as blink or breathe, telling her that the message might be even more important than even she knew. Had she nudged Deckar in the right direction? Invoked his curiosity?

“The boy will share his message once he is freed and back in space.” This time, it was Avanti’s turn to hold her breath as she awaited his answer.

ZICAL COULD BE very imaginative, and after Dora had urged him to top his earlier sexual performance, he came up with a variation of a game children played on Rystan to learn computer code. But while Rystani kids employed their fingers to draw code on one another’s backs to communicate commands, he’d used his tongue on Dora’s most sensitive places. Using a combination of slow licks and long lingering tugs to spell out command codes that he insisted she decipher, he’d forced her to concentrate on the pleasure while at the same time distracting her, until she spasmed again and again and again, taking her further than she’d ever been.

Finally, she’d succeeded in not only contacting Ranth, but maintaining a permanent connection. Zical didn’t understand how such a link was possible, but he didn’t ask questions. After Dora had grown a body and transferred her personality into it, he figured she was capable of almost anything. He was proud of her ability to adapt, even as she pushed the limits of both her humanity and sexuality. Of course, once she’d established and maintained contact with Ranth, their sexual intimacy ended and new plans began.

Although the sub would dock in a terminal where they’d never been before, Ranth and Dora had used the sub’s computer system to map out the most direct route through the city to L’Matti’s fortress. Their research also led them to predictable areas where authorities would stop them at various checkpoints, but Dora and Ranth believed they could use their combined psi to alter the computers’ sensors to “see” them as ordinary travelers.

Meanwhile, just in case they were wrong, Zical had fashioned a sheath to strap to his thigh that would hold a knife beneath his loincloth. With no case or container where he could hide the bulky weapon he’d acquired when they’d escaped Deckar’s compound, he had no choice but to leave it behind.

However, he’d made good use of the drapery hardware, fashioning heavy rings to fit over his knuckles that would give him an advantage if it became necessary to use his fists. A search of the tiny kitchen produced a cleaning spray in a small cylinder which he also tucked into the waistband of his loincloth. Although he didn’t test it in his eyes, most cleaning agents stung the cornea upon contact, and a tiny taste on his tongue proved bitter enough to spit it out and then thoroughly rinse his mouth with water.

Dora looked up from the holovid, her gaze concerned. During their time together Zical had already learned that Dora didn’t allow her thoughts to bog down in small problems. But her usually upbeat mood was somber now, and he suspected she’d come up against a major problem in reaching Kirek.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“L’Matti guards his properties with many trained
Pirinjas
, those Selgrens who study the warrior arts.”

“I expected no less.”

Dora gestured for Zical to look at the holovid with her. “We can’t fight our way in.” She pointed to guard stations along a heavily fortified wall that surrounded the building’s perimeter. Around the edge, fast-running water flowed. Tall towers with armed guards could shoot down anyone attempting to climb the high walls.

Zical considered several ways to breach the exterior, tunneling, cannon fire, flying over in a skimmer, or bribing a guard to look the other way. He traced his finger on the projection, searching for weakness.

Dora pointed out the problems as if she’d read the Rystani book of military sieges, which she’d undoubtedly once had stored in her memory banks. “A tunnel will take too long to dig, and since we don’t have control of our ship and the cannon fire aboard, that is also impractical. A skimmer would be shot down, and we haven’t the time or the resources to bribe a guard. That leaves us less options.” She looked to him. “What do you recommend?”

“That we attempt to sneak in. A place so large must allow many deliveries a day to stock their supplies.”

So they came up with a plan, but the discussion was interrupted. Their holovid suddenly filled with Avanti’s somber face, and at the sight of her, Zical’s worries multiplied. How had she found them? How had she overridden their sub’s computer? Was she about to order them to surrender peacefully when they reached the terminal? Or was there unseen pursuit right nearby, hidden in the boiling lava?

As he considered signaling Dora to alter their course just minutes before their arrival to avoid recapture, Zical had to make a decision whether Avanti was trustworthy.

Avanti spoke in her usual blunt style. “You cannot rescue the boy by yourselves.”

“Turn off the transmission,” Zical ordered Dora, fearing it was being used to trace them.

“She already knows our location and has guessed our intentions,” Dora told him, understanding his concerns. “We might as well listen to what she has to say since she must have gone to considerable trouble to find us.”

“Fine.” Zical agreed, as if he had another good choice, but their options were sadly limited. Although Avanti had never lied to him, Zical didn’t trust her, especially since a Selgren held Kirek.

“Deckar Rogar Delari Hikai, heir to the Fifth House of Seemar, and I have made a pact to help you recover Kirek and escape Kwadii.”

It took a moment to take in her words; stunned, Zical figured it must be a trick. The obvious hatred between Avanti and Deckar, the loathing between Risorian and Selgren, went so deep that Zical could not imagine them talking amicably to one another, much less making a pact, but he attempted to mask his rearing suspicions.

“When the sub arrives, remain inside, and we will bring you Selgren clothing, weapons, and false identification.”

“Why would you help us?” Dora asked.

Avanti’s eyes glimmered with a fierce gleam of determination. “We don’t have much time, but the rioting is tearing our world apart. Even the Risorian Deckar agrees that it is better for Kwadii if the Oracle departs. I told you I would help you and I keep my word.”

“You and Deckar are going to help us rescue Kirek and to leave Kwadii?” Dora asked, clearly as skeptical as Zical was.

“Didn’t I just say so?”

The woman’s blunt arrogance gave Zical hope that she just might be speaking the truth. “We accept your help and will do as you say.”

Avanti immediately cut the connection. Dora instructed the sub to return the hull to its original heading, and the lava flows outside disappeared. Then she stood and stretched, and Zical appreciated that she didn’t question his judgment. He only hoped, for all their sakes, that he’d made the right decision.

As good as Dora and Ranth might be at fiddling with the Kwadii computer system, Zical preferred to have local allies. The right clothing, critical weapons, and, even more importantly, information might be crucial to their success. He couldn’t afford to refuse help from any quarter, even if he suspected that the Kwadii might deceive and betray them.

KIREK HAD USED every trick he knew to delay the use of violence against his person. He’d had no sleep, little food, and barely enough water to quench his thirst, and the deprivation made clear thinking difficult. He’d employed circuitous arguments, told long stories that had a moral that barely applied to the point he was trying to make, and did everything he could think of to make his questioner, Selgren L’Matti, believe he was cooperating.

But L’Matti was wearing him down both physically and emotionally. After the drugs and the questioning, Kirek was a full day past cranky, his yearning to sleep so strong that he was having difficulty holding up his head.

L’Matti had resorted to playing loud, horrible sounds to keep him awake in the too-bright room. All the while, L’Matti drilled him with questions, repeating them until Kirek thought he would go mad.

Kirek wanted to leave this horrible room, this awful world where different factions were attempting to use him to grab power. To stop L’Matti’s torture, he had to say he was a fraud, which would give the Selgrens power over the Risorians, but then he would also likely condemn the Federation people to another trial and execution. Kirek imagined he was back on Mystique, safe in his father’s arms. He wanted to eat his mother’s home-cooked food. He wanted his suit to cradle him as he slept. He was so tired of being hungry and dirty and among strangers.

His chin dropped to his chest, and he jerked awake. Surely he could hold out for another hour. But he’d told himself that three hours ago.

Kirek heard footsteps outside his door. Shouts. He should be curious. He should be wondering about a rescue or thinking about an opportunity to escape. But his muscles wouldn’t carry him to the door. Escape seemed impossible. He was so weak. He should go to the door and place his ear against it to listen better. But he couldn’t summon the energy. His eyelids fluttered closed.

Klaxons blared.

With a shriek of pain, he clamped his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes tightly shut, his little body quivering. He prayed that he would not say the wrong thing. He prayed that if he died, his death would be quick and painless. He prayed that Dora and Zical would find a way to complete the mission without his help. He prayed that his parents would forgive him for not being there to help them in their old age.