Grudgebearer (23 page)

“Once it has been verified? C'mon, Tsan, you won't know if it's correct until you've invaded!” the human protested sharply, saliva spattering Tsan's scales as he shouted.

“You would prefer I back out on our offer and throw you from the tower?” Tsan asked, casually rubbing the human's spit into his dry scales.
Who said humans weren't useful?

“I think I'll pass on that one, Your Scaliness.” Tyree offered Tsan a curt bow.

“Perhaps you would like to feed one of the Zaurruk?”

“Now you're just being nasty.”

“Then be happy we are going to honor our deal. Once the Eldrennai have been eliminated, you will be a very rich man and you will have the gratitude of the most powerful empire on the continent. Surely that won't be such a terrible burden?”

The sour scent of despair, flavored with the bitter taint of disillusionment, floated on the breeze, but Tsan saw the careful way the human maintained exterior calm, forcing his eyes to meet Tsan's. Such composure.

“It seems that I must again thank the general for his generosity.”

“You are quite welcome, my friend.” General Tsan nodded to the Zaur lieutenant and handed him the book of census data. “Be swift. The warlord wants this information immediately.”

“I will let nothing detain us, General,” his underling answered.

“Perform this task well, Lieutenant,” Tsan promised, “and you will have earned a name.”

Pride swelled the chest of the younger Zaur, and his second eyelid nictated in surprise. “Yes, General.”

“When next we meet,” Tsar murmured, sliding his foreclaw along the scales between the lieutenant's eyes, “I hope to call you Lieutenant . . . Kreej.”

The future Lieutenant Kreej eyed Captain Tyree so fiercely that Tsan was forced to stifle a chuckle. Kreej was a good name, but not a great name. This one would work hard to get a new one. Names were addictive to young Zaur. Being called by an identifier strictly referring to their birth order and parentage—the seventh hatchling of the eighth brood of Yat, for example—was so tedious most Zaur would do almost anything to gain their first name. Thereafter, the quest for a second name, a self-chosen name, could be equally inspirational.

Turning his back to the lieutenant and his captive, Tsan waved them both away. “Take four of my personal guards with you, Lieutenant. I will have no further need of them. The port, what is left of it, is ours.”

“To His secret purpose,” the lieutenant said as he turned to leave with his prisoner.

“To His secret purpose,” the general repeated softly. “To His secret purpose indeed.”

CHAPTER 21

SPARING CAIUS

Kholster frowned at the unconscious Long Arm and her child. Both of them were badly crystal twisted, the mother from abusing the crystallized essence of Dienox, and the offspring from birth because of the mother's abuses.

“His eyes.” Rae'en looked a little worse for wear from her most recent bout of Arvash'ae. Kholster expected it had less to do with the Arvash'ae itself (she'd definitely eaten her fill) and more to do with finding parts of the third body afterward. The one in the barn. Kholster'd felt the hostage's death through his link with Grudge but felt no guilt. They'd not known about her going into the battle, and certainly in Torgrimm's hands she'd be safe from further harm. Kholster trusted the Harvester to assist her with her trauma far more than he trusted himself. “The baby has reds instead of whites.”

Kholster unswaddled the exhausted, mewling infant from the smoke-smelling blanket and examined him.

Can you tell how old it is?
he thought at Vander.

No, but Okkust says it's around five months.

If any of the Armored are likely to know . . . 
Kholster let the thought trail away.

Stunted bat-like wings grew out of the child's shoulder blades. It was too early to tell if they would grow big enough to be useful, but the child did seem unnaturally light, so it might be possible. More worrisome, though, was the rounded indentation at the boy's sternum.

He's shard-slotted.
Kholster thought at his Overwatch.

Kill it?
Vander thought back.
The last thing we need is another human the Ghaiattri can trick into using a shard of the World Crystal to open a Wild Gate.

“Is he going to be okay?” Rae'en asked.

“If we let him live.” Kholster swaddled the child as he spoke. “He will be unique, good at whatever trade he tries, and eventually, when the Ghaiattri notice him, he must either become a very good person or a very bad person. His life will affect all Barrone.”

“Of course we'll let him live, right?” Rae'en's eyes went not to the baby or to her father but to the barn. “It's just a baby.”

You want to let her kholster this decision, too?
Vander asked.

If he's ever a problem, Vander, he'll be a problem after she is First . . .

You could show her what happened with Omric . . .

I could, but this is a child, not Omric. I do not wish to make her decisions for her. She has to learn how choices made in one year, particularly those involving life and death, echo through time. And she must make her own decisions about whether those choices were mistakes or not. Do you disagree?

No
, Vander sighed.
I just hope those wings don't work. Can you imagine how much trouble Omric would have been with wings?

I can't see how it would have changed the war all that much.

“Kholster?” Rae'en asked.

Spattered in blood, she looked tired and worn and worried. Kholster thought back to all the times he'd come out of the Arvash'ae to find he'd arvashed someone he hadn't meant to harm. Such a hard lesson to learn. Her mind had to be in turmoil, the blaming and denying blame . . . though her outer layer of skin no longer required a gambeson, Kholster knew the inner Aern was less easily armored from self-inflicted wounds.

“How's your finger?” he asked.

“Fine.” She held it up. Everything had grown back but the nail. That would come in a day or so. Three human livers appeared to have filled the order nicely. If she were Armored, she could have just . . . Kholster banished the thought. There was no Life Forge. There would be no Life Forge. The Freeborn could not go through life wishing for one, nor could their parents.

“Then it's up to you.” Kholster offered her the wriggling bundle. “But I'm not changing its crapcatcher or washing it or feeding it.”

As if to emphasize Kholster's point, the baby's face went still and serious. There was a burbling liquid sound from his nether regions.

“It doesn't smell bad,” Rae'en said, taking the child as Kholster unceremoniously dumped him into her outstretched arms.

“Then his mother must still be nursing him.” Kholster walked over to the unconscious woman. She looked soft and peaceful when she wasn't setting him on fire. He tugged on the green brigandine with which she'd attempted to shield her son during their leap through the second-story window and wondered if that was the only reason she'd saved it, or if it had belonged to the man she'd called Hap. It was too large to be hers. “When they start eating solid food, Gromma puts the stink in.”

“How do you know about human babies?” Rae'en asked.

“I'm over six thousand years old,” Kholster answered. “Some Aern have adopted human infants in that time. Even me. If we kill the mother, we'll have to find something the baby can eat. Usually mashed-up vegetables or rice.”

“No meat?”

“No teeth,” Kholster answered.

“Can't we just find some cow milk or—”

“Yes, but cow milk can kill human babies unless you heat it correctly first.”

“Why?”

“The Dwarves say there are tiny little beasts that live in it, too small to see. The heat kills them. And it will still make the feces stink.”

“Oh.” Rae'en carried the baby over to where his mother lay on the ground. Kholster had dragged the woman away from the burning farmhouse, then left her in the dirt. “Why didn't you kill her? For the baby?”

“She's a slave.” Kholster knelt down and pried open the woman's mouth. Her lower molars were cracked and broken. Her uppers looked bad. Reaching into one of his oversized belt pouches, Kholster pulled out a small metal box and opened it. Inside, an array of bone-steel implements shone brightly in the sunlight. Constant teething meant many Aern carried the right tools to assist in extracting a stubborn tooth. “To the crystals and also, I suspect, to a person named Hap.”

You'd better use the laughing salve you packed for Rae'en
, Vander thought at him,
if you're going to do what I think you're going to do, though you might want to save a little for yourself . . .

Her teeth look about the right size, don't you think?

Are you just doing the molars?

Why would I do more than that? I'm not in love with the woman!

I thought your loins burned for her.

She burned my face, not my pants, Vander.

Yes, Kholster.
Kholster waited for the rest of it. He knew Vander could not resist at least one more jibe.
Still, are you sure you don't want me to send ahead to the Guild Cities to have the ossuary get a selection of incisors ready? Draekar's might be about right.

“Pulling her teeth?” Rae'en asked, peering down. She took a sharp intake of breath when she saw the damage. “That's going to hurt like Kilke's stump.”

“I have laughing salve.” Kholster pulled the small brass jar out of a pouch and held it up for his daughter to inspect.

“That might take the edge off, but—”

“She'll feel better once she has the new ones. Laughing salve has a stronger effect on humans than it does on us.”

“Huh?” Rae'en stared at him, not comprehending.

“Why did Uled say Aern were created with constant tooth replacement?” Kholster eyed his daughter. She'd shared the memories which included that knowledge, just as had all other Aern, but a true kholster could recall that sort of detailed information more quickly than even an Overwatch.

“‘Who wants an eternal army of toothless warriors?'” Rae'en parroted Uled's words back to him.

“And why did he actually do it?”

“Uled had bad teeth and he—Wait. You're giving her—”

“Someone already pulled her wisdom teeth, so there should be room for eight of my molars. If we do it right. It's been few hundred years, but I think I remember how to do it.”

Kholster found the pliers for which he'd been looking. He set a well-worn living wood bite block, which he'd had since the days when Uled still walked Barrone, out on a black cloth Glinfolgo had given him to “repel the little beasts.”

“But won't she just keep crunching crystal?”

“If she does,” Kholster straddled Cadence's prone form, with one knee pinning each shoulder, “I'll have Caz take them back.”

Cadence only woke up once during the procedure, just as Kholster was trying to make sure her bite lined up properly and had to shift one of his own molars which had already taken root. Kholster, unlike Uled, hated to hear women scream. He promptly gave the woman more laughing salve.

When it was finished, they set off at once, Rae'en toting the infant and Kholster carrying the Long Arm over his shoulder.

“We could wait for her to wake up,” Rae'en offered.

“You have an appointment to keep at Oot.”
The Vael representative is probably already heading for Port Ammond
,
he thought at Vander.

Porthost at the very least
, Vander agreed.
Kari sent you her name?

Yavi
, Kholster thought back,
but it hardly matters. This time the Vael representative's errand is doomed before it starts.

CHAPTER 22

YAVI'S ROAD

Yavi woke well after dawn, the dregs of a dream still clinging to her mind, casting an unwanted haze over her thoughts. She rolled off of the goose-down mattress blinking at the cozy room in the inn and the stone room full of glass displays from the dream that still painted itself over her surroundings.

A few blinks, and the display cases faded, leaving her gaze filled only with the here and now . . .

I really need to visit that museum, just to see if any of what I've been dreaming all these years is true. What if it's not?
Then, she guessed, she'd really feel stupid.

Yavi pulled her long head petals back and tied them at the nape of her neck. Thicker than a human's hair with a texture like rose petals, Yavi's head petals were the vibrant yellow of sunflowers. Though she might have wished she'd been an evergreen whose hair was present the whole year round, rather than drying out and falling off in late autumn, it certainly was pretty in the spring and summer.