Shades of Gray (112 page)

Military, J’korrash,
sent Kaid gently.
Concentrate. I know it’s late and you’re all tired.

I want to contact them,
interrupted Kusac. Y
ou know, they seem to be more like the Ch’almuthians. We may find allies there.

Make yourself secure first,
sent Kaid.

Got it!
interrupted J’korrash.
The ground troops are in the barracks near the main city right now, waiting further deployment orders from the Palace, and some of the naval ones are based there on leave for a few days because of the funeral. Where do you want them? Military or Naval?

Military,
sent Kusac.
That’ll explain their skills.
Then to Kaid on a private channel,
I am making us secure, I’m just looking ahead as well.

How many names do you want added to the roster?
J’korrash asked.
And what names shall I use? My brothers’ names seem to be common here, as they all appear on the lists somewhere.

Put down five. Find a name for Rezac,
Kusac replied.
Might as well make sure you’re on it for now to explain your presence here.

Rezac nodded in agreement.

Done,
she said, typing quickly.
Rezac is Rezikk. It’s as near as I can get. I’m adding retroactive orders, matching the time Nayash sent his guards, for them to report here tomorrow. Exiting now
.
Trick is not to stay on too long and draw attention to myself,
she sent, turning back to join them by the bed where they all sprawled or sat.

Can we get them to send out kit separately? Say it went missing in transit somewhere?
asked Rezac.
We need the extra bedding and stuff for the females.

You can just call them up normally for that,
sent Kushool.
If their bureaucracy is anything like ours was, the right hand won’t know what the left hand is doing.

Don’t they need paper orders or something?
asked Carrie.

“Your orders are being delivered by courier tomorrow first thing,” J’korrash whispered to her brothers. “If you leave just before dawn and hide out in the garden, you can arrive as soon as the courier has left.”

“Well done, J’korrash,” whispered Kusac, hearing Kaid echo him mentally. “For now, go settle down in the closets. It’ll be light in another six hours, so let’s get some sleep. I want one telepath on with one of us males . . .”

“I’ll sort that,” J’korrash whispered quietly. “You and Rezac get bedded down, you’ve expended the most energy. You too, Carrie. Cheelar and Kushool, you take the first two hours, M’yikku and I will go next, and Carrie and Rezac can take the last watch.”

Time we all slept,
Kaid sent as their group broke up silently to find comfortable spots to sleep.
Be safe, my kin.

You, too, Tallinu,
replied Carrie as Kusac reached out to pull her close.

Sleep well, Brother,
sent Kusac.

The day was beautiful, thought Conner. The sky was that deep summer blue bordering on cerulean, and the courtyard sparkled in the sunlight as it glinted off the newly repaired white marble buildings. A warm breeze sighed through the palm trees, keeping the temperature from climbing too high. Straightening up, he looked around to check on his charges. All were busily replanting flowering plants, raised in the Palace greenhouses, into the decorative containers that lined the fronts of the main buildings.

“Good day, Brother Conner,” said a lilting Sholan voice from behind him.

“Good day to you, Sister Kitra,” he said, turning with a smile to face her. “Have you come for Shaidan?”

“Yes. Dzaka and I are taking him to the market for second meal today,” she said, mouth dropping in a wide grin. “He’s gone ahead to order for us.”

“He’ll enjoy that,” said Conner as Kitra, seeing Shaidan at the other end of the courtyard, began waving enthusiastically to him.

“So will I. Dzaka has been promising to take me for weeks now.”

“It’s very good of you to share your treat with Shaidan.”

She laughed. “It’s twice the treat with him along,” she said as the cub ran over to her and skidded to a halt beside them.

“Hello Aunt Kitra,” he said. “Is it time to eat?” He was barely able to stand still, and his tail was twitching in suppressed excitement.

“Yes, kitling, it is,” she said, reaching out to hug him. “Give Brother Conner your trowel, then go and wash your hands and we’ll be off.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, almost dropping the trowel in his rush to get rid of it. “Are we going to the market?”

“Thank you, Shaidan,” said Conner, trying not to smile as he accepted the earth-covered garden implement.

“Yup, Dzaka’s there now. Shoo! Hurry up! I’ll wait for you at the fountain,” she said, flapping her hands at him as his face broke into a huge widemouthed Human grin and he ran off into the temple.

“He really looks forward to these outings,” said Conner, walking with her over to the central fountain. “I was worried he’d feel totally bereft with his parents going off on the M’zullian mission.”

“He did,” said Kitra, glancing up at him as she smoothed down her off-duty tunic before sitting on the edge of the fountain. “He was beside himself with grief when they left. We didn’t dare leave him alone all that day. Even took him to bed with us that night.”

“I had no idea,” murmured Conner. “He hid it very well.”

“He’s just like my brother,” she said wryly. “Torn apart inside, and you’d never know it. But a couple of days later, he changed, suddenly became more positive about everything.”

“I’m sure you and Dzaka were responsible for that.”

“Some,” she said. “Doctor Zayshul makes a point of seeing him every couple of days too, but it’s more than just what we’re doing. I have a feeling he can sense my brother somehow. They are very closely bonded, you know.”

“I hope that’s not a bad thing,” said Conner. “If anything should happen to him . . .”

“Nothing will happen to Kusac, or Carrie,” said Kitra fiercely. “It can’t. They’ve been through too much already.And if it did, he’d make sure none of it leaked out to Shaidan.”

“You’re right, I’m sure,” Conner agreed, seeing Shaidan in his slightly grubby white tunic emerging again from the temple. “Well, time for me to gather up the others for their lunch,” he said, getting up. “Enjoy your meal, Kitra. Whatever it is that you are doing, keep it up because Shaidan has finally become a normal ten-year-old cub.”

“Can we go now?” Shaidan asked breathlessly, reaching for Kitra’s hand as she got to her feet. “We shouldn’t keep Uncle Dzaka waiting, should we?”

“Absolutely not, Shaidan,” she laughed.

 

Shaidan had never been to the marketplace outside the Palace. Though still inside the City walls, it wasn’t considered a safe place for the cubs, or the Prime children, to go alone. With all the damage that had been done to the Palace recapturing it from K’hedduk, no one had had the time to take them there.

Shaidan’s ears were perked wide as they made their way down the slope toward the tented village that sprawled around one of the larger tree-lined wells. In the middle of the encampment was one large tent where much of the formal commerce was conducted. Around it were the living tents of the nomads, and in the outermost ring were the market stalls and food tents that the locals frequented.

The air was full of a fascinating array of scents, most of which Shaidan couldn’t identify. With almost every step, something caught his eye. A bright splash of material here, the glint of metalwork there, the scent of spiced, broiling meat, or the tang of ripe fruits cut open for sale. The nomads in their long robes and head wrappings were no less colorful as they called out their wares to the passersby.

“Ooh!” said Kitra, suddenly stopping and dragging Shaidan over to a stall displaying exotic beaded collars and pendants. “I have to see these! Have you ever seen anything like them, Shaidan?”

He stood dutifully beside her, eyeing the vibrantly colored broad collars that the stallholder was now showing to them, listening to him reel off their beauty and their value.

“Not those, Aunt Kitra,” he said, tugging on her hand. “Those are cheap ones that will break easily. You want one of those over there.” He pointed to a small stand at the back of the tent awning where more modest collars were displayed. “Those are better quality ones, ones the Court females wear. And they don’t even cost what he’s asking for the others.”

Kitra arched an eye ridge at the merchant, who began to exclaim that the child was mistaken, those were far inferior to what he was offering her.

Kitra, our meal is ready,
came Dzaka’s gentle thought to both of them.
We can go shopping after we eat.

“I’ll think about it,” said Kitra, interrupting the merchant’s flow of chatter and handing him back the collar she’d been looking at.

“He’s trying to sell you cheap necklaces,” said Shaidan as they left his stall and hurried down the tent alley to the restaurant where Dzaka was waiting for them. “I heard him, Aunt. You’d be better doing what Doctor Zayshul and the others do, buy from the merchants that come to the Palace to trade. You won’t get cheated then.”

“How did you get to be so wise?” she murmured, giving his hand a loving squeeze before letting him go to greet her mate.

Shaidan surveyed the mounds of cushions set around the low table where his uncle had been waiting. “We sit on them?” he asked, grinning. “No chairs?”

“Hello there, kitling,” said Dzaka, reaching out to ruffle his hair before helping Kitra to settle herself on the cushions. “No chairs. Is that a problem?”

Shaidan shook his head. “Nope,” he said, dropping to his knees, then squirming into a comfortable position. “This is fine by me. Wait till the others hear about this!”

Dzaka laughed and gestured to a waiter standing nearby. “We’re ready to eat.”

 

There had been a sweet white drink, made from fermented milk, Aunt Kitra had told him, and rice and spicy vegetables, but the best part had been when the waiter had brought out the meat on a stick that was on fire.

And it had tasted as good as it looked, too. It had been a bit spicy-hot at first, but the white drink had cooled his mouth down, and he’d quickly gotten used to the taste. Even the bread had been different. It was flat, and he could fork rice and meat into it, and vegetables, and even one of the sauces too, then fold it up to eat, almost like a sandwich. It had dribbled out the other end, but Aunt Kitra and Uncle Dzaka had only laughed as the same had happened to them. The waiter had kindly brought them all lots of paper napkins to make sure they didn’t get it on their clothes and faces. He hadn’t needed his, though—he’d just leaned over his plate while eating so it fell there.

Almost full to the brim, he leaned back on the cushions as the empty plates were taken away.

“That’s what I call a feast,” he said, satisfied.

“Oh, there’s more to come,” said Dzaka with a grin.

Kitra groaned, rubbing her belly. “I don’t think I could eat another morsel! What about you, Shaidan?”

“Dessert,” said Dzaka succinctly.

Shaidan screwed his face up in thought. “I could make room,” he offered. “For dessert. Be a shame to waste it.”

“It would,” agreed Dzaka solemnly. “It’s quite special. Something they call iced sherbet, with fruit.”

This surprised him. “They have ice here?”

“I’m told the dish was invented by the nomads,” said Dzaka. “They come down from the mountains, after all, where there is snow on the peaks in the winter, though I have no idea how they keep it frozen here.”

Shaidan sat up and waited impatiently for the desserts to arrive. When they did, he stared in disbelief at the three large dishes piled high with layers of colored ice, topped by bright red and yellow berries.

“Ooh . . .” he said, reaching out to touch the frosted side of the glass dish that was put in front of him. “It really is cold! How do you do it?” he demanded of the waiter before he could leave. “How do you make the ice and keep it cold when it’s so hot outside?”

The Prime flashed him a toothy grin. “Same way they do in the Palace, young sir. We have our own generators to provide us with the power.”

“Oh,” he said, slightly disappointed at the prosaic answer. He’d hoped it was something more exotic.

The waiter hesitated. “Actually, I tell a lie, may the good Goddess of the Fields forgive me,” he said. “But you must not tell anyone, young Sholan,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned closer. “It is magic, and a secret. In the large tent in the center of our village, we keep a great barrel of steel in which we place the fruit juices and fruit that make our sherbet.”

Shaidan’s eyes grew larger, and his ears pricked forward to better hear the low whisper.

“Each night we make a new batch, and our holy men say the special prayers and light the incense and candles. Then they dance around it, calling on the spirits of winter and snow to give their blessings to our confection. If the Gods will it, by morning, we have the magic of sherbet to serve to our most special customers.”