Endgame (24 page)

Then I notice a small figure beside Loras, no armor. No shoes. In this weather, she must be freezing. “Tiana’s with us?”

“Yes.” One word, and he sounds like he’d rather chew glass than talk to me.

How do I fix this?

“I didn’t mean to be a sacrifice. I was just trying to help.”

“Do you have any notion how I felt, Sirantha?” He continues without letting me guess, not that I was going to. “When the grenade went off, and you were not with me, I feared the worst. And then…you fell. Twice, I lost hope.”

“Then the next time you saw me, I was yelling at the centurions like an idiot.” I try a smile. “But in my defense, this isn’t the first time. Remember the Silverfish?”

Back when I first met Vel, when he was still hunting me, I
wound up on a ship with him and a bunch of Morgut. He was using them as muscle before the war. I cut myself and drove them into a frenzy, forcing him to save me.

“I recall. But I did not love you then.” His casual use of the word underscores the bond between us, echoed in his colors on my throat, mine on his thorax.

“You still saved me. You always do.” And that’s why I’m never afraid to leap, no matter how stupid the risk seems. He’ll catch me; he has my back.

“And if I do not?” he rages in staccato clicks. “What if I fail? Then you leave me responsible for your death. If you cared for me as much as you claim, Sirantha, you would not place such a burden upon me.”

He’s right.

Remorse buries me. “I’m sorry, white wave.” The endearment comes easily in Ithtorian.” I won’t do anything like that again. I swear.”

He goes on, more gently, “When you gave me your colors, you promised to be my companion. That will not occur, should you perish. There are some wounds, Sirantha, that even you cannot heal.”

“I know.”

These clicks come even fainter, soft like a human whisper. “Some wounds, I could not recover from, either.”

Like losing me.

“What happened after I passed out?”

“I will explain everything when we reach the safe house. It is not far, now.”

“Safe house?”

“Tiana said she knows a place. The legate had it built in case of treachery.”

I smile, despite the lingering pain in my shoulder. The dislocation hurts more than my ribs at the moment. “Good thing for us he was paranoid.”

“Here,” Tiana says in her small, piping voice.

From the outside, it looks like a ramshackle outbuilding, similar to La’hengrin homes, but inside, it’s high-tech. The house
questions
us. “Where is Legate Flavius?”

“Here,” Vel replies in a voice I last heard in an expensive restaurant.

He must have found comm records; those are mission critical. It also contents the VI.

“Voice print confirmed.”

I’m glad the legate cheaped out on security and didn’t include biometric scans, but doubtless he couldn’t imagine there would ever be a real enemy on his property. The most he expected to face is treachery in terms of some political alliance, not outright war.

Loras sends Xirol to scout the place. When he returns, he says, “It’s clear.”

“This is a small cottage he used for…various purposes.” By Tiana’s hesitation, I figure the legate brought women here, ones he didn’t want inside his primary residence.

“I must remove your armor before I can fix your shoulder,” Vel says.

Since I don’t have the range of movement to do it myself, I nod. “Go for it.”

“I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped.”

As Vel carries me up the stairs, Tiana asks Loras, “Should I fix something for the men to eat?”

His measured reply hides a charnel house of pain. Men died on his watch. “If you wish. You don’t serve us. You’re an ally, not our slave.”

“It would please me to repay you for my freedom.”

Vel chooses a bedroom at random and steps inside, kicking the door shut behind us. Pain jolts through me as he sets me on my feet. I sway but don’t fall though the agony that spikes through me when he unstraps my chest piece creates black spots in my vision. I strangle a low moan.

“I am sorry,” he clicks in Ithtorian.

“Don’t worry about it.”

With quick efficiency, he removes the rest, leaving it in a careful pile on the chair by the window. Then he asks, “Do you want to lie down?”

“Moving would hurt more, I think. Just finish.”

He steps in behind me, positions my elbow, and then rotates my shoulder outward. It hurts like a bitch, but on the second attempt, it pops back into the socket, offering immediate relief. There’s still soreness, of course, but not like before.
I moan a little, tears starting in my eyes. The nanites will fix the damage soon, but this helps. I can bear it.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“You need medical attention.” He examines the two places where I’ve been shot; the flesh is black right now, with a hint of red beneath.

“Why bother?” I say with a touch of bitterness. “I’m not going to die.”

“That does not mean you do not suffer.” He’s still behind me, one hand on my elbow, the other on my shoulder. It’s an intimate pose. If I turned, I’d be in his arms.

I change the subject. “You said you’d fill me in after we got here?”

“Indeed. We interrupted a scheme to overthrow their prince. The two legates had hatched a plot together, but our arrival made the other believe that Legate Flavius had betrayed him.”

“Lured him there to die, you mean?” That explained the legate’s shrill terror.

“Precisely.”

“How does that help us?”

“In the morning, after I have a chance to complete the camouflage, I will signal for rescue. In the capital, I will show proof of the other legate’s treachery.”

“Which will endear you to the prince.”

This is far better than anything we could’ve planned using the centurion. Though Legate Flavius was a minor official before, Vel can parlay this opportunity into greater power. With him on the inside, we’ll have access to all kinds of information, such as weapon caches and troop movements, just what the resistance needs to break the Imperial war machine; like all invaders, they’ll lose the will to continue sooner or later.

“That is the plan,” he agrees.

“Did we blow the house?”

“Zeeka took great pleasure in it.”

A pang goes through me; we left our fallen behind.

I step away. “You’d better get to it, then. It will take
most of the night to perfect your disguise, so you can slide into the legate’s life.”

But he doesn’t let me. His talons close gently on my upper arms. “When I thought you had died, Sirantha, I realized I had not been completely honest with you. Or myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before, I said I was not ready to put myself at the center of your world and become responsible for your happiness.”

“I remember.”

“But it seems you are already at the center of mine. I laughed at the idea that I would demand March step aside for me…because I do not see associations as humans do. And I do not seek to interfere in your other relationships. That much is true…but tonight made it clear how important you are…and how horrifying my future appears without you.”

This doesn’t seem like that much of a revelation. “I already knew I matter to you, Vel. You wouldn’t have taken my colors if I didn’t.”

“I am not making myself clear.”

“Not really, no.”

“Imagine my death.” The clicks are curt, merciless, and they summon an instant mental picture.

Desperately, I dive for the far side and catch hold of the stone lip, dangling with one hand as Vel disappears. The torch-tube bounces away into the darkness, leaving me alone with my ragged breathing and the fear of falling.

Oh, Mary, so am I. Get to solid ground, Jax, and then look for Vel. He can’t be dead. Not Vel. Oh, please, don’t leave me alone.

Each movement tears at the wound in my side, but I pull myself up, conscious of fresh blood dripping down my hip. Blindly, I feel for his pack and locate another torch-tube. Our last. I crack it without hesitation and shine it into the pit. At first, I see only the razor-sharp spikes that line the bottom. The Makers hated grave robbers. And then I spot Vel, clinging to the side about halfway down, his claws dug into the soft, crumbling stone.

On the Maker homeworld, I almost lost him, and I glimpsed the future without him. A hole opened up inside me that could never be filled, no matter who else I met or loved. Is that what he faced tonight?

“I understand,” I say. “I went through this when you fell in the catacombs.”

“How do you bear it? I feel as if fear will paralyze me.”

“Didn’t you worry about Adele?” This can’t be wholly new to him.

“Not in the same fashion. She lived a quiet life, full of normal hazards. You court danger like it is your lover.”

I offer a wry smile. “Yeah, if you wanted someone safe, you picked the wrong person to bond with.”

“You say that as if I had a choice.”

Maybe I should be insulted, but I totally get it. Sometimes, people matter, and you don’t even notice it happening until they’re inside your emotional perimeter. “How can I make it better?”

“Stop being so reckless. Show a little self-preservation.” He pauses, his clicks slowing. “Come here, Sirantha.”

Vel draws me close, rubbing the side of his face against my cheek, a tender gesture. This time, when I touch the hinge of his mandible, he doesn’t snarl at me. For long moments,
we stand like this while he adapts his worldview. For once,
I
knew something before Vel.

“I already promised I’ll dial it down. You’re right…it’s not fair of me to expect you to be everywhere.”

“However, I am touched you have that much faith in me,” he clicks quietly.

“You’re incredible, you know. It’s hard
not
to believe you have superpowers.”

“Only compared to everyone else.” The cant of his head and the flare of his mandible reveal his amusement, so I laugh.

“I’m glad you’re not getting cocky on me.”

“It is no more than reasonable confidence.”

At the sound of boots on the stairs, I pull back and head for the door. The movement jars residual pain from shoulder and ribs, but the nanites are already hard at work. Duty calls. “I’ll let you get to work.”

“If it would not repulse you, I prefer you to stay.”

I turn, surprised pleasure curling through me. Though he’s done this in front of me before, in the jungle on the Maker homeworld, it wasn’t like I could give him privacy; we
had
to stay close. This feels like a milestone, an unlocking of the last door between us, more secret than sex.

“Why would it?”

He spreads his talons in an uncertain gesture. “I am not a good judge of what humans find repellent.”

“I’ve seen you do this before.”

“Not by choice,” he replies.

It was cold, as I recall, and he needed the camouflage for warmth. Vel settles in the chair by the window. Thin fingers of light press in through the glass, illuminating his work. The gaps between the chitin—the seams where he can feel a lover’s touch—fill with the material he uses for the faux-skin. He shapes with artist’s hands. The substance is fluid, but thick, and it sets quickly, so he has to work fast.

It takes a couple of hours for him to finish. I’m fascinated by how he creates the eyes and hair, a sort of biological programming that humans aren’t evolved enough to emulate. Otherwise, we’d be able to change our hair and eye color by willing it so. Perhaps someday, a few more rungs up the ladder.

I study his handheld, displaying an image of Legate
Flavius, then compare it to Vel’s new face. He’s got a lean look with an aquiline nose and a strong jaw. It’s a cruel mien, set in the lines of a man who thinks only of his own pleasure and his own advancement. Legate Flavius looks like the bastard he was.

Vel is also a dead ringer for him.

“You nailed it,” I say. “How long did you study him?”

“Loras permitted me to examine the corpse extensively while he searched the comm for clues about what we’d interrupted.”

Most people would probably find that disgusting. Instead, I ask, “Did you make a note of all the birthmarks?”

“Of course.”

“I’m guessing Flavius is single?”

“Correct.”

Vel has been stealing other people’s lives for turns. He’s experienced at it, and it’s for the best he’s going in alone. I just wish it didn’t tie me up in knots.

A knock sounds, then Loras asks, “Vel, are you ready?”

“Yes,” he calls in universal.

Not his voice. Legate Flavius. His vocalizer is a wondrous thing.

I open the door. Loras has some clothes, probably from a master bedroom down the hall. This one isn’t grand enough to be used for his various assignations. For Vel’s sake, I hope Flavius wasn’t too much of a degenerate. He’ll hate debauching countless women as part of his cover.

“Get dressed,” Loras orders. “The rest of us will move out shortly. We can’t be in the vicinity when you call for rescue. Between Tiana’s help and the comm logs I forwarded, you should be able to pass.”

“So the girl goes with me?” Vel asks.

“She can smooth any rough patches, give clues while you settle into his life.”

That’s why he wanted me to stay. This is good-bye, at least for a little while. I can’t read the legate’s face though I know Vel watches me from behind those eyes. I’ve often wondered how he makes the connection between his eyes and the human ones, or whether it’s like a mirrored window, so we see color on this side, but it’s all clear—the same view as he always has from behind them. This isn’t the time to ask.

Loras turns his eyes on me, blasted in their blueness like a
sky in the mountains just before nightfall, arid and untouchable. “Are you fit to march?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” In fact, my injuries are the least of my worries.

“You have five minutes to wrap up,” Loras says in parting.

Vel dresses efficiently; he is experienced in human attire. He’s slid in and out of so many lives. How many does this make?

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper.