At The Edge Of Space (Hanan Rebellion) (63 page)

I think I can walk,
she said, and wistfully:
if it were only a question of moving at night, I could probably—

No. No. You’re safer with him. Come, we’ll never get these amaut closer to those ships. Besides,
arastiethe
won’t permit Khasif to argue with us with them to witness it. If we want that ship to open to us, we had better be alone.

You are learning the iduve,
Isande agreed.
But he will take us inside before he asks why. Then—

The
idoikkhei
burned, jolted, whited out their minds. When Aiela knew that he was still alive and that Isande was, he found himself fallen partially on her, his head aching from an impact with the pavement, his right arm completely paralyzed to the shoulder. He touched Isande’s face with his left hand, cold and sick as he saw a line of blood between her lips; and this was the iduve’s doing, a punishment for their presumption. He hated.
Ikas
as it was to hate, he did so with a strength that made Isande cringe in terror.

“They will kill you,” she cried. And then the
idoikkhei
began to pulse again.

It was different, not pain, but an irregular surge of energy that made one anticipate pain, and it had its own variety of torment.

Two minds,
Aiela realized suddenly, remembering the sensation:
two opposing minds,
and his anger became bewilderment. Isande tried to rise with his help, found she could not, and then through her vision came a view of the other ship, hatch opening, a tall slim figure in black descending.

An iduve, onworld, among outsiders.

Even Tejef had maintained his privacy; that a
nasul
so exposed itself was unthinkable. Even in the midst of their private terror it occurred to the asuthi simultaneously that Priamos might die for seeing what it was seeing, an iduve among them. Had it happened on Kartos there would have been panic and mass suicides.

Mejakh!
Isande recognized the person, and her thoughts became a babble of terror. The iduve was coming toward them. The
idoikkhei
were beginning to cause pain as Mejakh’s nearness overcame Khasif’s interference.

Aiela hauled Isande to her feet and tried to run with her. The pain became too much. They stumbled again, trying to rise.

The hatch of the base ship opened and another iduve descended, careless of witnesses. Aiela forgot to struggle, transfixed by the sight. It was incredible how fast the iduve could move when they chose to run. Khasif crossed the intervening space and came to an abrupt halt still yards distant from Mejakh.

Sound exploded about them all, light: the ground heaved and a wall of air flung Aiela down, dust and cement chips showering about him as he tried to shield Isande. Choking black smoke confounded itself with the darkness: lights on the field had gone out. Amaut poured this way and that, gabbling alarm, human shapes among them. Powerful lights from off the field were sweeping the clouds of smoke, more obscuring than aiding.

Isande!
he cried; but his effort to reach her mind plunged him into darkness and pitched him off balance: he felt her body loose, slack-limbed. His hand came away wet from hers, and he wiped the moisture on his jacket, sick with panic.

Hands seized him, hauled him up, attempted to restrain him: humans. He fired and dropped at least one, blind in the dark and smoke.

But when he was free again and sought Isande, he could not find her. Where she should have been there was no one, the pavement littered with stone and powder.

And close at hand an airship thundered upward, its twin lights glaring barefully through the roiling smoke.

Don’t let it go,
Aiela implored the silent form of the base ship; but both his asuthi were dark and helpless, and the base ship made no effort to intervene. Weaponsfire laced the dark. More shadows, human-tall, raced toward him. Of the hovercraft there was no sign at all. It had deserted them.

A projectile kicked up the pavement near him. The chips stung his leg.

He ran, falling often, until the pounding in his skull and the pain in his side made him seek the shelter of the ruins and wait the strength to run again.

10

Tejef came infrequently to the outside of his ship. Considering the proximity of
Ashanome
he did not think it wise to put too great a distance between himself and controls at any moment. But the burden this aircraft brought was a special one. First off the ramp was Gordon, a thin, wiry human with part of two fingers missing. He was not a handsome being, but he had been even less so when he arrived. He was senior among the kamethi, and of authority second only to Margaret.

“Toshi has a report to give,” Gordon said, gesturing toward the little amaut who was supervising the unloading of three stretchers. “She can tell it better than I can. We took casualties: Brown, Ling, Stavros, all unrecovered.”

“Dead, you say. Dead.”

“Yes.”

“A sadness,” Tejef said. The three had been devoted and earnest in their service. But his attention was for the three being unloaded.

“A male and female of your kind,” said Gordon. “And another—something different. Toshi says she’s kallia.”

The litters neared them, and Khasif was the first: Tejef looked into the face that was so nearly the mirror image of his own, felt the impact of
takkhenes
as Khasif’s eyes partially opened. They must have poured considerable amounts of drug into his veins. It would have been the only way to transport him, else he would seize control of the aircraft and wreck them all. Even now the force of him was very tangible.

“Mainlevel compartment twelve is proof against him,” Tejef told the bearers. “Put a reliable guard there to warn the humans clear of that area. I think you understand the danger of confronting him once the drug has worn off.”

“Yes, sir. We will be careful.”

And there was Isande. The kallia and he were of old acquaintance. He was glad to see that she was breathing, for she was of great
chanokhia.

“She must go to the lab,” he told the amaut. “Dlechish will see to her.”

And the third one was shrouded in a blanket, darkish blood seeping through it. So the humans treated the dead, concealing them.

This would be the female of his kind. He reached for the blanket, unknowing and uneasy. Chimele it would not be: the Orithain of
Ashanome
would not die by such a sorry mischance, or so shamefully. But for others, for gentle Chaikhe, for fierce old Nophres or Tahjekh, he would feel a certain regret.

The ruined face that stared back at him struck him with a
harachia
that drained the blood from his face and wrung from him a hiss of dismay. Mejakh. Quickly he let fall the blanket.

“Are there rites you do, sir?” asked Gordon.

“How you say?” Tejef asked, not knowing the word.

“Ceremonies. Burial. What do you do with the dead?”

She was
sra
of his. It was not
chanokhia
to let her be bundled into the disintegration chamber by the hands of
m’metanei.
He must dispose of her, he. He conceded Mejakh that final
vaikka
upon him, to force him to do her that honor. There was no other iduve able to do so.

“I see to her. Put her down. Put down!”

He had raised his voice,
e-chanokhia,
disgracing himself before the shocked faces of the
m’metanei.
He walked away from the litter to take himself from the
harachia
of the situation, to compose himself.

“Sir.” Toshi came up at his elbow and bowed many times, so that he was forewarned he might not have reason to be pleased with her. “Have I done wrong or right?”

“How was this done?”

“I urged the authorities in Weissmouth to remember their loyalty to you, my lord, and they heard me, although it needed utmost persuasion. There were delays and delays: transportation must be arranged; human mercenaries must be engaged; it must not be done in the headquarters itself. All was prepared. We aimed only for the kamethi, who were accessible; but when the great ships opened and presented us such a chance—my lord, your orders did direct us to seize any opportunity against such personnel—”

“It was most properly done,” said Tejef, and Toshi gave a sigh of utmost relief and bowed almost double, long hands folded on her breast.

“But sir—the other nas kame—I confess fault: we lost him in the dark. Our agents are scouring Weissmouth for him at this moment. We felt pressed to lift off before the great lords your enemies could resolve to stop us. I think it was our good fortune we escaped even so.”

“Few things are random where Chimele is concerned. This kallia that escaped: his name?”

“Aiela.”

“Aiela.” Tejef searched his memory and found no such name. “Go back to Weissmouth and make good your omission, Toshi. You acted wisely. If you had waited, you would surely have been taken. Now see if you can manage this thing more discreetly.”

“Yes, sir.” Toshi gave a deep breath of relief and bowed, then backed a pace and turned, hurried off shouting orders at the crew of her aircraft. Tejef dismissed the matter into her capable hands.

There was still the unpleasant necessity of Mejakh. Harshly he ordered the kamethi to stand aside, and he knelt and gathered the shattered body into his arms.

Tejef washed meticulously and changed his clothes before he entered the
paredre
again. The remembrance of Mejakh’s face, the knowledge of Khasif a prisoner in the room down the corridor, worked at his nerves and his temper with the corrosive effect of
takkhenes
out of agreement. It grew stronger. Khasif must be coming out from under the effect of the drug.

Tejef mind-touched the projection apparatus where he stood and connected it to the unit in Khasif’s cell.

The
nasith
was a sorry sight. He had gained his feet, and he was dusty and bruised and bleeding, but he attempted a show of hostility.

Tejef was amazed to find that he did have the advantage of his proud
iq-sra.
Perhaps it was the drug still dulling Khasif’s mind, or perhaps it was the knowledge that Mejakh was dead and that he had fallen to
m’metanei
and amaut. Undoubtedly Khasif had already attempted the door with his mind, and found its mechanism proof against an iduve’s peculiar kind of tampering—the lock primitive and manual. Now Khasif simply withdrew to the farthest corner, stumbled awkwardly into the wall he could not see in his vision of the
paredre.
He leaned there as if it were difficult to hold his feet.

“I have sent Mejakh hence,” Tejef said softly, “but she had nothing for
serach
but what she wore and the blanket they wrapped her in, and I vented the residue world-bound. Hail Mejakh, who was
sra
to us both.”

Khasif ought to have reacted to that pretty
vaikka.
He did not move. Tejef felt his own strength coursing along his nerves, felt Khasif’s weakness and his fear.

“You could be free,” Tejef assured him, “if you declared yourself
arrhei-nasul
and made submission to me. I would take it.”

Khasif made a small sound of anger. That was all. It was a beaten sound.

“Sir.” Gordon’s voice sounded beyond the walls of Khasif’s room, and Tejef ceased the projection and stood in the
paredre
once more, facing Gordon and the man Daniel.

“Let him go,” said Tejef. “The restraint is not necessary.”

Gordon released his prisoner, who showed a disheveled appearance that had no reasonable connection with his having been aroused from sleep. There was blood on his mouth. The human wiped at it at his first opportunity, but he seemed indisposed to quarrel with an iduve. Tejef dismissed Gordon with a nod.

“I assume you are in contact with your asuthe,” said Tejef.

“Is Isande on this ship?” the human demanded, and Tejef would have corrected his belligerence instantly had the man worn the
idoikkhe.
He did not, and risked a chastisement of more damaging nature if his insolence persisted.

“Isande is here; but I would surmise that the man who asked that question is named Aiela.”

“I thought
arastiethe
forbade guesswork.”

“Hardly an unreasonable assumption. And I am not wrong, am I? It was Aiela who asked.”

“Yes,” Daniel admitted.

“Tell this Aiela that should he wish to surrender himself, I will appoint him the place and the person.”

“Arle—the little girl.” Daniel ignored the barb to make that broken-voiced plea. “Where is she? Is she alive?”

Vaikka
was practically meaningless against such a vulnerable creature as this, one so lacking in pride. Tejef had allowed himself to be vexed; now he dismissed his anger in disgust, made a gesture of inconsequence. He dealt with humans—it was all that could be expected.

“Chimele sent you to Priamos with asuthi to guide you, but without the
idoikkhe
—without its danger and its protection. Was it in order to kill me—to draw near to me, and to seem only human?”

“Yes,” said Daniel, so plainly that Tejef laughed in surprise and pleasure. And at once the human’s face changed, anger flaring ; unprepared for the creature’s maniacal lunge, Tejef slapped the human in startled reaction—open-handed, not to kill. The blow was still hard enough to put the fragile being to the floor, and Tejef waited patiently until the human began to stir, and bent and seized his arm, dragging him to his feet.

“Probably you are recently kameth, for I cannot believe that Chimele would have chosen a stupid being to serve her. I could have broken your neck,
m’metane.
I simply did not choose to.”

And he let the human go, steadying him a moment until he had his balance; the
m’metane
seemed more defensive now than hostile; he stumbled backward and nearly tripped over a chair.