Chapter Forty
“Tis, you have a comment?”
Tisianne stirred from where she sat curled like a kitten in the corner of the sofa in the Raiyis’s office. Truth was, her mind had been wandering. Back home on Earth it was Christmas time. What would Illyana make of a Christmas tree? Or Santa Claus? Would she ever see them, or had her mother condemned her to death? They were two days past Blaise’s deadline. And Tisianne felt a flash of grief and guilt that she had placed her world above her child. But Blaise had promised pieces, and so far no pieces had arrived. Maybe the threat had been no more than a bluff.
She couldn’t bear this fruitless line of thought. Tis uncoiled and stood. The men sprawled about the office looked at her with bemused curiosity and respect.
“Well, I’m not a military person. It all sounds terribly splendid how you’re going to isolate Blaise, and cut the Vayawand supply lines, and assault their ground forces.”
“But? I hear a very large ‘but’ in all of this praise,” Taj said.
“We could very easily win the victory and lose the war. Those numbers — potential casualties — which you are so blithely throwing about translate into people.”
“Tarhiji,” Zujj, the military commander of House Alaa said contemptuously.
“Yes, but there are a lot more of them than there are of us. And Blaise has empowered them. We’re the reactionaries coming to take away the freedoms they have gained. A man who stands to lose everything is likely to fight like a cornered badger… zanjabiil,” she amended to a Takisian creature of like disposition.
“Well, what else can we do? We have to restore the proper order.”
Yimkin was the only Raiyis with the balls to have actually entered the territory of House Ilkazam. He shook his head, the bells braided into his lush, full beard ringing softly.
“We can’t. Whether we like it or not, Blaise has forever altered this society. Unless we kill every Tarhiji above the age of five, they’re not going to forget.”
“Without them we have no economy,” grunted Quar’ande of House Ss’ang.
“Selective mind wipe?” suggested Zujj.
It just solidified Tisianne’s belief that most military men were basically very stupid. She didn’t even have to respond. Zabb took it for her.
“There are roughly seven hundred million people on this planet. Are you going to volunteer to head this project?” Zujj flushed at the delicate lash of sarcasm wrapping each word.
“So what do we do?” Yimkin asked.
Tis yanked the jeweled combs from her hair and raked it back nervously with one hand. Zabb winced as the careful coiffure provided by her maid was harrowed.
“Somehow we must take the moral high ground from Blaise. We must offer the same franchise to the Tarhiji which he is offering, but preserve those elements of our culture which are dear to the Tarhiji as well as to us.”
“That’s lovely, Tis,” Zabb said. “But social engineering will have to wait until the war’s over.”
“You don’t like to hunt, do you Jay?”
Blaise sighted down the barrel of the overly long rifle and squeezed off a shot. The beautiful little creature grazing fifty yards away jerked straight into the air as the laser struck, collapsed. Jay realized the creature had been tethered. His breakfast gave an unquiet roll.
“No, I don’t like guns.”
“This is a very pretty gun.”
Blaise offered it to the detective. Jay glanced with disinterest at the scrimshawed bone inlaid in the butt, jewels forming the eyes of fanciful carved Takisian critters.
“Make a great walking stick.” Jay pushed it away clumsily with his fingerless hands. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought the point of hunting was giving the animal a sporting chance.”
“No, the point of hunting is killing. If you’re honest, you admit it. If you’re not, you talk about the thrill of the chase, and all that other horseshit. But I’m not a hypocrite. I know I like to kill things.”
“I like an honest psychopath.” Even as the words fled past his teeth, his brain was screaming stupid.
Jay cringed as he saw the barrel of the rifle swinging around to bear on him.
“Jay, Jay, Jay,” Blaise tsked. “What a funny fellow you are, but a little more of that, and I’ll start thinking that you prefer my grandfather over me. You don’t, do you Jay? We’re such friends.” So soft, so sweet, so crazy.
Jay cleared his throat. “Yeah, real pals.”
Blaise frowned and drew his hand up and down the barrel of the rifle like a man masturbating. “I was probably hasty when I cut off your fingers. If you had them, I could send you back to House Ilkazam, and you could pop my grandfather to me. Tachyon’s made a lot of problems for me. She’s the one who wrecked my alliance.”
“I thought you did that all by your little self. You’re the one who called in the Network.”
“Jay, don’t make me doubt your loyalty.”
“There’s not going to be much left of this planet after you and the Network get finished fighting over it.”
Blaise flashed him a happy smile. “Yes, that’s right. And sooner or later Granddaddy will come. The brat will draw her.”
“Glad you realized the kid was useful to you.”
“For the moment. I decided it would be a lot more satisfying to kill her in front of Tachyon.”
Blaise nuzzled his cheek against the rifle’s stock and took aim. Jay turned and walked back toward the House. Behind him the rifle fired, and another animal died.
“You Ilkazam will ultimately conquer.”
Tis stopped dead, stared at Bat’tam. “What?”
The noble gestured. “Look around you. This was Rarrana. Now it’s a military hospital. Most Houses are so rigid. They would rather die than give up their traditions. You and your cousin have turned tradition on its head. So you’ll survive — and you’ll ultimately win.”
Tisianne surveyed the large sun room. Wounded soldiers representing the cream of man and neutered womanhood of nine rival Houses played with Ilkazam children, talked, and were cared for by Ilkazam women.
“Tri’ava says it’s all a cunning plot for House Ilkazam to raid the gene pool of the other Houses. But she always was a jokester.”
“It may come to pass. I just hope it is not necessary to breed with the blind,” Bat’tam said.
“That’s a more difficult prejudice to overcome — I feel it myself, but overcome it I suspect we must. And it could be beneficial. If our entire populace were mentats instead of a tiny percentage, we would be formidable rivals to the Network. Assuming the Network gives us time.”
“Tisianne, forgive me, but I am too old to become a shopkeeper. I think I will continue to be an idle ornament.”
They left Rarrana and continued to the medical facilities. Bat’tam had to stretch to keep up with her double quicksteps.
“You have missed your human very much.’
“Yes.”
“Have I been no help?” Bat’tam asked.
“You’ve tried, but you place too much pressure on me. You want too much from me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.”
Mark had been housed in Shaklan’s old room as befitted a hero of the House. Tis lowered the bubble to the table and tried not to think about the last time she’d done this. Roxalana arrived as the last of the nutrient fluid was draining from the bubble.
Tis pulled back the clear material and gently removed the breathing apparatus, wiped Mark’s face dry with a soft towel. The blue eyes opened, blinked in confusion. Tis smiled and slid the glasses back on Mark’s nose.
“Welcome back, Mark, I’ve missed you.”
“We have all missed you,” Roxalana said as she helped him to sit up.
The ace’s mouth opened, and a grating sound emerged. He stretched wider, and out fell a series of nonsense sounds. Mark stared, terrified, at Tisianne. She wasn’t in much better shape. She looked wildly to Roxalana.
Tis rushed to the monitors and began a medical check. The sounds Mark made were becoming more panicky by the moment.
“No sign of brain damage. No physical cause in the vocal cords. What is wrong with him?”
Roxalana cupped Mark’s face between her hands and began a mental scan. He was calmer when she released him, but there was a wealth of pain and loss in the blue eyes. Mark glanced down and realized he was naked. Blood flared in his cheeks, and Bat’tam quickly covered Mark’s privates with a towel.
“It’s very puzzling. It’s as if he has somehow lost control of his speech centers. There’s no physical damage, but he can’t string sounds into coherent words.”
“Starshine was a poet. A man of words,” Tis said slowly. “Perhaps the trauma of the death —”
“But what died?” asked Bat’tam. “Who are these individuals?”
“I’m not certain. I have suspected that Mark’s wild card allows him to make various aspects of his personality manifest, but I’ve had no empirical evidence,”
“Until now,” Roxalana said.
Her hands played through his long hair and tickled down his chest. She had very long nails, and they were inset with tiny jewels in a matching pattern to the ones on her face.
“I am glad you are coming to me now, my lord.”
Kelly sighed, stretched. He was, he realized, finally accustomed to not only the weight but the idea of a penis. Flaccid now, it flopped across his thigh.
“A sex drive is a terrible thing. It’s much greater for men, I think, than women — or at any rate for this man.” Kelly tapped his chest. “I didn’t want to sleep with you, but you made sure I did, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Mon’aella reached down and stroked his cock. “With which head? The girl head or the boy head?”
Kelly rolled onto his side and stared into his wife’s beautiful face. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m really a woman?”
“Why? If it would gain me anything, I would sleep with you whatever your plumbing.”
“You Takisians are weird.”
“Practical.” She sat up and threw back her red-and-white hair. She reached over to the side table and snagged a clip. “Braid it, please. And besides, mating is very enjoyable whatever the sex of the partners.”
“Mon’aella, I can’t.” He held out the prosthetic right hand.
“I keep forgetting. We must get that regrown.” She began plaiting with quick, easy movements.
“I don’t think Blaise has any intention of making my life any easier.”
A small smile from his bride. “Blaise may not always be Raiyis of House Vayawand.”
Kelly glanced about, alarmed. “Jesus, watch it!”
“Blaise doesn’t play the Takisian game very well. He doesn’t realize that spies are power, and now that his Morakh pet is out of favor, he lacks an adviser of subtlety.”
Kelly chewed on his lower lip. “Durg was always saying that Blaise had no subtlety.”
“He doesn’t.” The woman clipped the end of the braid and, smiling, laid a hand against Kelly’s cheek. “This human —”
“Jay?”
“Yes. Is he your friend?”
“He’s become one.”
“Then I would take him, and his Tarhiji, and the child on some pleasant outing. I have noticed that our revered Raiyis lashes out at that which is in sight.”
Kelly swallowed the knot in his throat and felt it hit the pit of his stomach like a lead weight. “Is… is he likely to be lashing out anytime soon?”
“I’d say in the morning.”
“Why are you warning me? Why do you care?”
“Because I am of House Vayawand, and for seven thousand years my line can be traced. This mongrel, this abortion, is destroying our unique way of life.”
Before she’d dropped out of high school and run away to New York, Kelly had remembered his American history teacher saying that was how the Southerners had justified slavery. He didn’t think it was politic to bring this up to Mon’aella just now when she was being so nice to him.
“But I’m not Takisian.”
“I don’t care about your mind, darling. It’s your body that matters. The genes you carry, that you’ll pass to our children. We’re going to rule Vayawand. Maybe even a bit more if we’re cunning.”
“This is the sight and sound and smell of victory Wonderful, isn’t it?” Yimkin hawked and spat.
Looking at that quivering white glob of phlegm, combining it with the acrid scent of smoke and the cloying odor of burnt flesh was almost too much for Tisianne’s stomach. She tasted the morning’s breakfast before she forced it back down.
“This was not our fault.” The words sounded weak.
“I’m not saying it is. It is just ironic that we had to destroy Lirat’s capital city to save her.”
It had taken a few weeks, but they were finally on the move. Tis kept calling it D day, and there were similarities — it was the first time the Alliance had sought to penetrate the buffer of conquered Houses that protected Vayawand. Tisianne was a little depressed that her squabbling race could seem to pull together only in the face of outside threats — the Network, Blaise — but at least they were united. And maybe something good would come of all the destruction. The Alliance High Command had managed to put aside House pride, rivalries, and jealousies, and operate by consensus. They were also mobilizing to help other Takisians. A big change on a world in which it was every House for itself.
Unfortunately the first House to receive this “help” had been destroyed by Blaise’s retreating army. As a result the liberating Alliance was feeling pretty lousy.
Zabb dragged the toe of his boot through the scorched grass. “Blaise was here. It was by his personal command that the city was razed.” It was the desperate plaint of a man desperately trying to excuse himself.
“Still so sure we should not take the fight directly to Vayawand?” Tis asked in a low tone. Zabb spun on his heel and walked away.
“Ongoing disagreement?” Yimkin asked.
Bat’tam answered when it became apparent Tisianne wasn’t going to. “Lady Tisianne feels we must strike at the head. Raiyis Zabb…” He shrugged.
“Lady Tisianne is right. There are a great many cities, and the Abyss’s own armies between us and Vayawand. If Blaise is going to scorch Takis behind him, we must stop going head to head with him and try encircling.”
“Convince Zabb. I can’t —” She was interrupted by a cry from the ships, Incoming enemy!
She and Bat’tam went running for cover. A panicked madness seemed to have fallen over the conquerors of Lira. People ran in all directions. Ships leapt into the sky. And Tis wondered where by the Ideal her medical team had gone to. “Incoming enemy” proved to be two Vayawand ships. The ships of the alliance fired warning shots, and the two newcomers hovered and drew in their ghost lances. Everyone relaxed and returned sheepishly to what they were doing.
Tis and Bat’tam exchanged glances. Languidly the elderly man said, “Relatives from home. How marvelous. Perhaps they’ll have a letter for me.”
Zabb, Taj, and Yimkin were already deep in conversation with the five Vayawand nobles. The bridge of Zabb’s new flagship was crammed with people. Tis ruthlessly applied elbows and hips until she had forced her way to the front.
The spokesman — Sekal, Bat’tam provided telepathically, he was one of the first to swear loyalty to Blaise — was weeping.
Bat’tam leaned down to whisper to Tisianne, “Looks like the sparkle is most definitely off that pearl.”
My wife, daughters, sisters, all gone, all dead.
Sekal broadcast his distress to the assembled officers. There was an audible reaction. A rising murmur like a wind in tall pines as the Most Bred pulled the images of death and devastation from Sekal’s mind.
The story came out in sharp, painful pictures. How Blaise had returned home from House Lirat, already angry because he’d been forced to retreat, and even the destruction of the House hadn’t been enough to slake his bloodlust. Then had come the discovery that his wives had been poisoned. A death feast had raged in Rarrana. A few children had been saved.
ILLYANA!
Sekal looked at Tis for the first time, switched to the audible mode. “Your child is safe. The groundling and his woman were warned. They were away from the House when the killing started. But the wives…” The nobleman’s voice began to crack. “All the wives… my wife… killed.”
Mine too? thought Tis, giddy with relief at the news that Illyana was still safe. She blushed as she realized her imperfect shields had yet again sent the thought bleeding through the assemblage.
Taj stared at her from beneath his brows. “No, you’re still married.”
“Oh, grand,” Tis said.
“There’s some evidence it was the Lady Mon’aella who poisoned Blaise’s women,” Sekal said.
“Maybe she will make a decent addition to House Ilkazam,” Taj mused.
Zabb pulled the discussion back to reality. “So what do you want from us?” he asked. He was seated on an extruded desk, negligently swinging one booted foot.
“Return our House. Free us from this monster, this abortion,” Sekal replied in a voice gone ragged with hate.
“A monster of your own choosing,” Zabb said softly.
Tis stepped forward. She was out of line, she didn’t care. “Years ago you attacked my House, left my father in a living death. I think you deserve Blaise.”
“Cousin,” Zabb said placatingly.
“Now they want our help. I say it should cost them.”
“If we do you this little favor,” Zabb said, “House Vayawand becomes a cadet House to Ilkazam.”
They almost refused. Then they looked back out the doors of the ship at the burned devastation of what had once been a proud city. Sekal shuddered, and nodded.