Dragon in Exile - eARC (10 page)

“His…
proclivities
?” she murmured, her eyes still on Aelliana Caylon’s face, and her joy-lit eyes. Really, the artist had been extraordinarily talented. Or, perhaps she had been inspired by her subjects.

Beside her, Kareen sighed.

“You will understand that the delm is the…embodiment of the clan. Delms spend lives, when necessary, but, crucially, they husband the clan’s resources, and protect the vulnerable. This was Daav’s training, as the delm’s heir; training that reenforced his natural inclinations. He failed in his most basic duty; he failed his own nature, and he lost, as Er Thom once felt it necessary to inform me, that which was dearer to him than his own life.”

Kamele managed to move her gaze from the portrait to Kareen yos’Phelium’s face.

“But she—Pilot Caylon—was also delm.”

Black brows lifted, perhaps in surprise, before Kareen inclined her head.

“So she was.”

“She must have been…remarkable,” Kamele said.

“We were not friends,” Kareen answered. She looked at the portrait, her brows drawn, as if trying to recall why that had been. “However, yes. Before she came to piloting, she was, like yourself, a scholar. Her field was sub-rational mathematics, where she held place as one of the foremost practitioners of the art. When she was yet quite young, she revised a crucial piloting tool—the ven’Tura Tables—subsequently saving the lives of many pilots. An extraordinary mind. There are of course copies of her work in the house library, should you wish to peruse them.”

“Thank you.”

Kamele glanced beyond Kareen to the portrait next to that of Aelliana Caylon and Daav yos’Phelium: a woman whose bright hair was cut comfortably short; pale blue eyes secretly smiling. There was much in her face that recalled Kareen, and, to a lesser degree, Kareen’s brother.

“Ah.” Kareen turned, and afforded the portrait a light bow.

“The eighty-fourth delm of Korval, Chi yos’Phelium. One’s parent.”

“Forgive my ignorance,” Kamele said. “But I wonder if she remained in an…emeritus status, after the Ring was passed to…Daav.”

“She might have done so,” Kareen said, as one being judicious. “However, she was another taken untimely from us—murdered by assassins, and my age-mate Sae Zar with her. Daav then rose to the Ring, too soon, as he had always contended, and which I believe to be true.”

The room was suddenly too warm. Kamele took a breath, and felt her arm taken anew.

“I have distressed you. Forgive me. It was my intent to inform.”

“Yes, and you have…informed me. But—Delgado is a Safe World. Two murders in two generations is…an aberration. Two murders—three!—in two generations
in the same family
—is unprecedented.”

“Korval has always had enemies,” Kareen said, as if this were perfectly natural, and not at all disturbing. “Some more deadly than others. But come, let us walk down to the morning room. There should be tea at this hour.”

She turned them, and they moved up the room, toward the door.

“Now, tell me, if you will, about this concept,
Safe World
. I believe it is outside of my range.”

There were almost to the door, and Kamele’s eye was caught by a small frame set somewhat apart from the rest.

“Ah,” Kareen murmured, apparently following her eye. “Yes, that will be of interest. Here, let us come closer.”

The frame lit as they approached, highlighting what appeared to be an identification card, complete with a fuzzy flat-pic of a woman’s face, no more than a suggestion of pale hair, long nose, pointed chin. The words on the card were not in a language that Kamele read.

“The founder,” Kareen said, “Cantra yos’Phelium.

Kamele had been doing her research; here was a name that was familiar.

“The pilot who brought the Liadens to Liad?”

“Precisely so. One would have liked a clearer image, but a smuggler would not wish to be remarkable.”

Kamele sighed, suddenly weary.

“A smuggler would have also led a violent life?”

“One does not suppose so, in normal times. Surely, the primary wish of a pilot working the dark markets would be invisibility? Only see the card; I wager that she might have had a better likeness, but it would not have served her nearly so well.

“That she was thrown into violence, and into the role of a hero-pilot—well. The times were…unsettled. I have a book about Cantra’s life. I read it over and over, when I was a child. If you like, I will gladly lend it.”

Her reading ability in Liaden
might
be up to a children’s history book, Kamele thought wryly. She bowed slightly to the other woman.

“I would like it, thank you.”

“Certainly.”

They turned again toward the door, and exited, Kareen taking care to close the door behind them.

“Now,” she said, reverting to Liaden as they turned down the hall. “You were going to tell me about Safe Worlds.”

Chapter Eleven

Jelaza Kazone

Surebleak

“Shan’s work has taken no damage, nor have you.”

Anthora sat back in her chair. The grey-and-white kitten somebody had named Fondi looked up expectantly from his curl by her feet.

“It is precisely as if you had experienced a nightmare, or ridden a fatal sim. You were naturally distressed and unsettled, but in the waking world you have taken no hurt.”

“The link between Miri and I…”

“Functioned precisely as it ought.” That was Ren Zel, sitting next to his lifemate in the double-chair. “If there was error, it is shared among us, for believing that such a force, once activated, could be circumvented.”

He bent down to pick up Fondi, placed him on Anthora’s lap and looked up with a slight smile.

“I accept the greater part of the error, for I have on several occasions remarked how like your link is to the other…strands of event that I perceive. Neither is to be tampered with, except at great peril.”

Miri shivered.

Anthora was only one of the three most powerful
dramliza
—that was Liaden for
wizard
, or, maybe
witch
—of the current and two preceding generations. She was a Healer, like her brother Shan. Unlike him, she also held a full hand of weird abilities, among them telepathy, telekinesis, and clairvoyance.

Anthora was unsettling enough, but her lifemate was downright terrifying.

Ren Zel—sweet-tempered, calm, rational Ren Zel—could see—
could manipulate
—what he explained as “the lines that hold everything together.” In which “everything” equaled “the universe.”

When she’d realized that meant he could unmake the universe as easy as untying the bow on a birthday present, Miri had seriously weighed whether to shoot him dead on the spot. It was a thought that occasionally revisited her, and it always dismayed her, not the least because she happened to like Ren Zel.

To hear that the link that bound her and Val Con was made of the same material as the bindings of the universe—that didn’t surprise her as much as it should have, given this morning’s fiasco.

All that, though, was secondary to the discussion, which was what to do with Rys’ dream.

She nodded toward Anthora.

“If the dream Rys made is only a dream, and has no power in the waking world, that means it can’t be used, as we had hoped, to free the agents we hold.”

Anthora frowned, wrinkling her nose. She looked down at the kitten in her lap, and tickled him under his chin, to the accompaniment of loud, gravelly purrs.

“I would not dismiss Rys’ work out of hand,” she said slowly. “It seems to me, when I gaze upon one of those whom the delm has taken under their wing, that I am seeing the mind of one who is caught in an intense state of dreaming.” She glanced to Ren Zel.

“Does it seem so to you, Beloved?”

He frowned in his turn, eyes narrowed as if he were indeed seeing into the mind of one of the agents.

“My sight is not so deep as yours,” he said at last. “I would agree that they dream, though with…reinforcement…” He turned his empty hands palm up in a gesture in which Miri had no trouble reading frustration.

“I have no words.”

“You would say that training is merely a dream-state?” Val Con demanded, his voice betraying disbelief.

“No,” Ren Zel answered. “Not
merely
a dream-state. A dream-state multiplied by many factors of twelve, and lashed into place—” Again, he showed his palms. “Forgive me;
reinforcement
is inadequate, and yet it is the word available.”

“The
dramliz
are often at a loss for words when attempting to explain that which only we can see,” Anthora told him. “We use metaphor, and approximations, and occasionally, we say,
trust me
.”

She turned her attention to Val Con.

“In the case,
reinforcement
is a good approximation. The state in which the agents live and function is potent. There were, as we know, several steps necessary in order to produce an agent. First, there are the tangible tortures which are applied during training. Once the proto-agent is in a malleable state—confused, in pain, and frightened—someone with the necessary skill binds them to an—an alternate reality—”

“To
a lie
,” Ren Zel said, his normally cool voice hot with anger.

“A lie, yes; very apt, Beloved. I very much fear that this someone must be one of the
dramliz,
though I cannot deduce whether she was herself corrupted, or came willing to the work.” She moved the hand not occupied with kitten in a broad sign for
wrong course
.

“I diverge from the topic, forgive me. The
dramliza’s
part in this process would be to bind into the frightened and abused mind of the trainee the belief that she joined the plan willingly, that she accepts the teachings of the DOI, and that she performs with her whole heart every assignment and atrocity demanded of her.”

“It is the lie that
they chose
which keeps them bound into the dream, and to the Department.”

“This,” Ren Zel continued when Anthora fell silent, “is where we see Rys’ genius. He has understood that one may be bound unwilling, and that, at the core of each agent, damaged and dreaming as they are, is the last shred of the person they had been prior to their acquisition. He has understood that there is a stress-point—a particular, painful, and provocative moment where real choice is not only possible, it is
necessary
.”

“The trigger must resonate strongly,” Anthora added. “As with Rys, who refused to oversee the wholesale slaughter of children.”

Miri turned to Val Con.

“That’s different than how it was for you.”

“Yes,” Anthora said, before Val Con could answer. “And also no. When the two of you—each one half of a wizard’s match, and neither whole without the other—when the two of you met, what happened?”

Miri laughed.

“We ran from people who were chasing us, fought with each other, took up with Edger, interfered with an Yxtrang recovery raid, and about got killed.”

“All of that,” Val Con said, frowning, “but, in terms of
choice
…I
chose
to ignore the Loop. Instead of killing you, I
chose
to tell you the truth. I
chose
to tell you my name; I
chose
to take you with me—”

“So I could have a new name, new papers, and a new face—I remember.”

“Yes. And I continued to make you a priority, refusing to abandon you, or murder you, or betray you. Again and again, I
chose
to tell you as much of the truth as was available to me…” He paused and extended a hand. Miri took it.

“Until,” he said slowly, “the Loop—the program—concluded that I was fatally compromised.”

“Which is when it told you that you were dead,” Miri finished, squeezing his fingers. “I remember that, too.”

“Yes…” He looked to Anthora.

“This dream—made with Old Tech—plucked that from my memory, and wove it into a choice unique to me. It gave me a target…” Miri was holding his hand; he
knew
it had been a dream, though a very powerful one, and still he shivered with horror.

“My target was Miri.”

Anthora’s mouth thinned, but she asked the question calmly.

“And the choice?”

He took a hard breath, his grip on her hand painfully tight.

“The choice was…difficult, because
I very nearly did not recognize her
.”

“No worries,” Miri murmured. “You recognized me in time.”

“A heartbeat longer…”

“Near is not a hit,” Anthora said sharply. “Which you know very well, Val Con-brother!”

Val Con stiffened, then gave her a small, seated bow, which she acknowledged with a bare inclination of her head. It looked to Miri like she was shivering, too—and it must’ve looked that way to Ren Zel, because he moved closer to her on the chair and put his hand on her thigh.

“The choice
must be
terrible,” he said slowly, meeting Miri’s eyes. “The effort of will required to assert that
I do not allow
cannot be less than…terrific. Nothing less than a horrific choice can be sufficient to shatter the restraints and the dream-state.”

Anthora sighed, and leaned against her lifemate’s shoulder even as she tucked both hands around the kitten.

“Rys has been very brave, and very clever. He has shown us the way, but we do not want a sim for this—most especially, I think, we do not want a sim created with the old technology. At least one of those held in the delms’ care is an expert in such technologies, and I would not willingly place a tool in her hand.”

“Surely,” Ren Zel murmured, “between you and I and Master Healer Mithin, we can create a scenario, and a choice targeted at one heart alone.”

“I believe that we can,” Anthora said solemnly. “We must speak with Master Mithin and take her counsel.”

“Master Mithin,” Val Con said, “awaits the Delms’ Word so that she may put those in our care beyond further anguish.”

“Assuredly, then, we must speak with her,” Ren Zel said, and hesitated, before adding, “I ask.”

“Ask,” Miri told him.

“Yes. The Delm understands that we may well, in our efforts, achieve only what Master Mithin can bring about this afternoon, without even the speaking of a word.”

Val Con bowed his head.

“This may, indeed, be an overstep. We may be guilty of inflicting more pain than necessary, and for an identical outcome. The only thing that makes the course we undertake acceptable is that we offer the chance that some of them may survive.”

“I understand,” Ren Zel said, and Anthora added.

“We will do our best.”

“We are confident of that,” Val Con said, and stood, indicating the end of the meeting.

The rest of them got to their feet, as well. Anthora handed the kitten to Miri before turning toward the door, with Val Con beside her.

“Hey!” Miri muttered, as Fondi extended sharp, kitten claws, and began to wriggle energetically.

“Here,” Ren Zel said, holding out his hands. “If we put him on his own feet, he will cease to be a menace.”

“I fear I don’t have the touch,” Miri said, letting him take Fondi and place him on the floor.

“Kittens are easily offended,” Ren Zel said, straightening. “Miri.”

She frowned at him. “Yes?”

“You and I are of one mind in this matter of the lines. It is far too much power for one man to hold. I would only ask that you allow me to tell you, when the time has come for you to kill me. May we make that agreement, between us?”

She considered him: eyes calm, face earnest, and not looking particularly suicidal.

“Have you Seen something?”

He moved his shoulders. “Perhaps I have, but, if so, even I am not certain, yet, of its shape.”

Somehow, that soothed her more than a detailed list of the day, time and location of his upcoming murder would have done. She nodded.

“We have an agreement,” she said, and he smiled.

* * *

“You actually made money from a rug shop in your old port?” Skene asked.

Given the day’s business—or, rather, lack of business—it was, Quin reflected, a fair question.

“You must remember that Grandfather’s
rug shop
at Solcintra had built its client list over fifty local years,” Quin told her.

“Don’t think I knew it to remember it,” she said. “So, how’d he build up bidness on Day One—or, say, Day Two, since we can maybe figure he did part o’Day One like we did, with checking the systems and fine-tuning the lights an’ all.”

Quin leaned against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest, and frowned.

“He had business from the first,” he slowly, though he had been told the story of how grandfather had found his trade many times.

“My great-aunt, who had been the clan’s elder Master Trader, brought him rugs to sell on commission—
that
was how he began. When he had finished with his schooling, he sold rugs at Korval’s booth at the port—much as we are doing—” He saw her grin, and shook his head, his mouth twisting into an unwilling answering grin.

“Much as we are
trying
to do. When he had experience, and people knew his face, he purchased his own inventory, and opened the shop. My great-grandmother, who was delm at the time, bought one of his carpets and had it installed in one of the public rooms at Jelaza Kazone. When her guests admired it, she had no hesitation in telling them where she had purchased it. There were those who came to look at the shop, and those who came to purchase just what Korval had—because there were always those—and there were a small number who came and looked, and talked, and who came back later with a special request, or who sent someone his way.”

Skene shook her head.

“You was a big snowball on the old world, hey?”

He frowned, then grinned again.

“Clan Korval was, yes. I don’t believe that Grandfather ever thought of himself as a big snowball.”

“Well, he wouldn’t, maybe,” she said, and looked up, her hand dropping to her belt, as the door opened, and two Liadens in ship livery entered the shop; weapons showing on their belts.

The woman wore a trader’s ring—respectably garnet. The man had a security stripe on his collar.

Quin walked forward to meet them, gently, not a hurrying, hungry shopkeeper, but a man who was pleased to welcome guests into his home. So had Luken always approached his customers.

“Trader, welcome,” he said when he had achieved a proper distance. “I am Quin yos’Phelium. How may I serve you today?”

The trader bowed as one who was pleased to accept service.

“May I ask, young sir, if you are in fact Quin yos’Phelium Clan Korval, heir to Pat Rin yos’Phelium Clan Korval?”

“Trader, I am,” he said, bowing acknowledgment. “I fear you have the advantage of me. May I know your name?”

“You may—indeed, you must.” She bowed once more…as one seeking Balance.

An alarm bell, sounding very much like the collision warning from the sim he and Padi had trained on, back at Runig’s Rock, went off inside of Quin’s head.

“I am,” the trader announced, “Beslin vin’Tenzing Clan Omterth. When Pat Rin yos’Phelium Clan Korval fired upon Solcintra City, he deprived Clan Omterth of one of its precious children: Kyr Nin vin’Tenzing, my heir. I hereby deprive Pat Rin yos’Phelium of his heir, in full and equal Balance.”