Bringer of Light (54 page)

‘And we’re having a party in the medbay to celebrate?’

‘Not quite. Kerin is patching Damaru up after he took a glancing shot and had a close encounter with hard vacuum.’

‘Ouch. He all right?’

‘He’ll be fine. We have also been getting ourselves checked out, to make sure no one’s going to pass on any pathogens to Kerin’s people.’

‘And are we?’

‘Not according to the medbay readouts.’

‘Top prime.’

‘Can you sit up?’

‘Think so.’ He could probably have managed by himself, but he was happy to have Nual give him a hand. ‘So what’d I miss?’ he asked as he settled back against the cushions.

‘Once I knew you were out of danger, I went after the shuttle – which was just as well, for the Sidhe on board had found Jarek. We dealt with her – she was not that powerful, but she had some training in mental combat. In the end I had to use a mute against her.’

‘Another mute to add to the body-count, eh?’ He was half-joking, though he knew it wasn’t funny.

‘This one is still alive, though not entirely sane. We put her to sleep, after I read her. I discovered the reason we did not spot the Sidhe ship: it was already here. It had been waiting at the edge of the system, and when we arrived they moved in slowly, presumably waiting for us to prove the defence grid was down – something they suspected, but were not about to risk confirming the hard way. Once they knew they would not get shot at, they sent a scout ahead, and she put down two mutes outside – I presume as insurance in case Jarek had managed to access the
Setting Sun
’s computer and find out about the cold-start console.’

‘Which of course he had,’ said Taro. ‘So they knew Jarek was here – or was that only when they saw the
Heart of Glass
?’

‘I think they already suspected Jarek was behind their loss of contact with Serenein. They wanted him alive, to find out what he knew. The Sidhe on the shuttle was hoping to get some useful information from him. The main ship had already turned, and was powering up to leave the system, so the lone Sidhe may have planned to land on Serenein and lie low until the others returned.’

‘So they’ll definitely be back?’

‘Serenein is too valuable to them. They will not give it up.’

Jarek returned with a bulb of caf which he presented to Taro with a flourish. ‘My round,’ he said magnanimously, ruining the moment by adding, ‘actually, I’ve got an ulterior motive. We need you up and about as soon as possible. We’ve still got to fix the point-defences. You’re with Damaru.’

‘Oh yeah. I’d almost forgotten about them.’ Taro groaned.

They went back to work on the capacitors in the transfer-station. When Damaru didn’t need him Taro swept his light around, checking for bloodstains. He thought he saw some near the door, but there was no sign of any bodies. He knew enough about shipboard waste reclamation to work out where the dead mutes had most likely ended up. He decided not to think about it.

Once Damaru had worked out what was needed, Taro helped him go through the
Setting Sun
’s engineering locker to find the right bits, after which Damaru set to work building what looked to Taro’s uneducated eye like a box of cables decorated with lumps of useless crud.

They stopped for a meal of ship’s mush – Taro tried
really
hard not to think about the mutes as he ate it – after which he took a quick catnap while Damaru was busy tinkering.

When he woke up Jarek was there, muttering over the doodad box with Damaru. Taro checked his com. He’d been asleep for
six
hours; it was nearly fourteen hours since they’d seen off the Sidhe.

‘Need any help there?’ he asked.

‘Actually we’re nearly done.’

‘Right. I’ll just go and—’

‘She’s asleep in your cabin, Taro. Don’t wake her.’

‘Oh. Guess I’m back to being caf-boy, then.’

‘Thought you’d never ask.’

Taro got back with the drinks to find Jarek and Damaru just heading back to the
Setting Sun
’s bridge. ‘We need to look up a few things on the ship’s comp before Damaru goes home,’ Jarek said.

Taro asked Damaru, ‘You finished your box of tricks then?’

‘Aye.’

‘Prime. So, what’s the hurry?’ he asked Jarek.

‘Things are bit volatile down on the planet. Kerin and Damaru need to get back.’

Whatever his feelings about the late pilot, Taro had to admit that the bridge of the
Setting Sun
was his idea of travelling in style. Only one corner of the room had any actual ship controls in; the rest was a luxurious cabin complete with ents units, luxury gaming rigs, a top-of-the-range multi-gym and a massive bed. There was even a massage chair and a small bar area. ‘Er, is that Kerin?’ Taro pointed to the figure sleeping in the massage chair.

‘Yeah – do you mind waking her up and seeing if she needs a drink or food? Oh, and tell her we’ll be done in time to get her back under the cover of night.’

Taro sighed in a put-upon way and went over to wake the woman.

When Kerin wandered off to find some food, Taro asked Jarek, ‘Shall I wake Nual too?’

‘Go on, then – but can you both come straight back afterwards?’

Taro did his best not to sound offended. ‘What’re you trying to say?’

When he got back with Nual, Damaru was still at the console, and Kerin and Jarek were deep in conversation.

‘I cannot make a decision yet,’ Kerin was saying. ‘Not until I know how things stand in the Tyr.’

‘Fair enough.’ Jarek hesitated, then said, ‘And what about the Consorts?’

‘Sais, I believe you will take one of the sleepers with you, regardless of my wishes.’

‘I’m sorry, Kerin, but their abilities are just too useful to leave untapped in our war against the Sidhe. I will take only one, though.’

‘And you will leave the rest of the boys to sleep in peace, and do everything in your power to keep the one who goes with you safe?’

‘I promise I’ll keep him out of danger, if I can.’

In the awkward silence that followed that qualified remark, Taro found himself thinking about the sleeping boys. He hadn’t realised Jarek would want to take one, but it made sense. As he said: they were too useful. But if Damaru was anything to go by, they could also be a right royal pain in the arse – and the boy they chose wouldn’t even have a ‘maman’ to keep him in line. Taro hoped Jarek had some sort of plan to make the boy behave.

Damaru looked up, and Kerin asked, ‘Are you nearly done, my lovely boy?’

At Damaru’s nod, Jarek said, ‘Guess it’s time to get you back. Then Taro and I have some cables to finish rerouting.’

Taro turned to Nual. ‘How come you get off engineering duty then?’

‘I’m going to Serenein.’ Seeing the look on his face, she added, ‘Don’t worry Taro, it is only for a while. We have some unfinished business down there.’

As they descended the stairways of the Tyr Nual was grateful for her shimmer-cloak. Fortunately it was still early, and there were not many people around. Pressing herself against the wall and pulling the cloak tight was usually sufficient, although one servant did stop dead and stare in confusion. Fortunately Kerin was far enough ahead not to notice Nual briefly grasp the man’s hand and look into his eyes; he would have a bit of a headache when he recovered his senses, but no memory of Nual at all.

Kerin’s room was large and, by the standards of what Nual had seen so far, relatively opulent. However, it also smelled awful, possibly due to the presence of two dead bodies, both male. In addition there were two live but deeply unhappy ones: a man, gagged and trussed up in a torn sheet, and, in the other corner, an adolescent girl, bound in another sheet. The man was awake; the girl semiconscious. Nual, curious, dipped into her mind, then recoiled from what she found there.

She hung back as Kerin rushed over to the only live, unbound occupant, an elderly man whose bald head was covered in tattooed writing. His face was pale, except for two spots of colour high on his cheeks, and he had a crossbow bolt sticking out of one shoulder. As Kerin bent over to examine the wound the man looked past her.

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘you . . . must be Nual.’

Though his voice was feeble and feverish, she sensed his mixture of curiosity and apprehension. She gave him a respectful nod. ‘That’s right. And you must be Urien.’

‘Maman, I want to sleep now!’ Damaru was standing by the smaller of the two beds, which had had its covers stripped off.

‘Use my bed, Damaru,’ said Kerin.

Damaru made a
harrumph
of irritation deep in his throat, shot Nual one last hostile look, then thumped down on the larger bed and rolled himself up in the covers.

‘Urien,’ said Kerin in a businesslike tone, ‘I must draw the bolt immediately.’

‘I imagine that will hurt,’ he commented tightly.

‘Not as much as you think. I have a spray here to numb the pain.’ Kerin began to rummage in the bag she had brought from the
Setting Sun.
Nual cast an eye over the two dead bodies. One was a guard, like the bound man; he was lying in a dried pool of what was presumably his own blood. The other wore robes like Urien’s, though less ornate. They were coloured red, rather than Urien’s green. He had a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest.

Nual realised Urien was still watching her, both out of curiosity, and to distract himself from what Kerin was doing. ‘The guard is my work,’ he said, ‘it took him . . . a while to die. The other . . . she shot herself.’ More quietly he added, ‘She had not known . . . he was her father.’

That explained the girl’s deep well of self-loathing. ‘Is she drugged?’ Nual asked softly.

Urien addressed Kerin. ‘I hope you do not mind . . . I gave her one of your sleeping draughts. Although she showed little inclination to stir, even without . . . the draught.’

Kerin said, ‘A sensible precaution, Urien. I think we should keep her sedated for the moment.’ She looked around, then said, ‘Urien, you must lie down on Damaru’s bed. When I remove the bolt, you may not be in a state to converse for a while, even with the sky-medicine. So, before we go any further, I need to ask you who you think was behind the attempted coup.’

‘Escori Garnon, almost certainly.’

‘And if it was Garnon, what do you think he will do now that nearly a full day has passed and there has been no sign of life from within these chambers?’

‘I cannot . . . be sure.’

‘I can,’ said Nual quietly, looking meaningfully at the trussed-up guard who was staring, wide-eyed, over his gag at her. When the other two turned their attention to her she added, ‘If nobody objects.’

‘That would be . . . most useful,’ said Urien. ‘Kerin?’

The other woman hesitated, then agreed as well.

Nual bent down next to the man and dived into his mind. He put up little resistance and it did not take long.

As Kerin laid out what she needed to treat Urien on the table next to the bed, Nual said, ‘Your suspicions are correct: the man Garnon is behind this. He intended to wait to see how things turned out.’

‘Always was brazen,’ commented Urien, who had got himself up onto the bed.

‘We must deal with him quickly, then,’ said Kerin.

‘Absolutely. At this hour he should . . . still be in his chambers.’

Nual said carefully, ‘And is this a problem you are happy to leave me to solve?’

Urien gestured vaguely to indicate it was Kerin’s choice.

She said, ‘I am, aye. Do what you must.’

Urien whispered, ‘We need to . . . make an example of him.’

‘I understand,’ said Nual. ‘What about this man?’ She pointed to the guard. ‘I will need him to guide me to Garnon’s room. After that—’

‘If you can avoid taking any more lives,’ said Kerin coldly, ‘I would appreciate it.’

The guard, Gwaun, was right: Garnon might be brazen, but he was no idiot. He had two of his most loyal men standing guard outside his room, and they were understandably surprised when Gwaun turned up after having been missing for a day, accompanied by the Cariad herself. Naturally, they opened the door without question.

Garnon was alone in his bedroom. He too was surprised. ‘I was beginning to worry,’ he said, looking from one to the other. ‘Am I to understand that Onfel and Maelgyn did not survive?’

Neither Gwaun nor the Cariad responded, and Garnon began to look a little uncertain. He addressed the Cariad. ‘Are they still in your room, then,
chilwar
?’ A pause. ‘That
is
you, is it not, Ifanna?’

Nual reached for her veil.

When the Cariad swept out of Garnon’s chambers a short while later, she was alone. After she left, the monitors argued about whether to close the door, which she had left open in her wake, until one called out to the Escori, ‘
Gwas
, can we get you anything?’ When they received no answer, he plucked up courage to go inside, where he found his fellow monitor sitting on the floor of the antechamber, glassy-eyed and mumbling.